At that most perfect hour of early evening when the sun was sinking rapidly behind the mountains in a flood of gold and crimson glory, and the air was filled with a delicious wandering breeze, soft and refreshing after the heat of the day and laden with the perfumes of a thousand flowers, the Queen set forth upon her journey.
She was accompanied by her full court of knights and maidens, a guard of infantry and escort of cavalry, with many mounted nobles besides, to do her honor,—a sumptuous cavalcade of at least two hundred horse; with such state had the Council of the Realm thought fit to decree the royal progress. With them came forth the dignitaries of Famagosta and other nobles, as was the custom of those days in bidding a ceremonious farewell—to journey with the royal train a league beyond the city which the Queen was leaving to take up her residence in Nikosia.
And thus the cavalcade proceeded on its way, pausing anon, for the greetings of the villagers who came forth to meet them and offer homage—Caterina slow-pacing on her snow-white palfrey—six knights from among the noblest in the land in constant attendance at her bridle, giving place continually to the new group pressing forward to claim their part of this so honorable service.
They had journeyed thus for an evening and a long day, with but the needful pauses for rest and refreshment, when they saw before them in the distance, embowered in delicious gardens of palms and cypresses and rich masses of bloom, the domes and minarets of the city of Nikosia—slender and white and lace-like against the deep blue sky—and climbing the hillside, high above the city, the turrets and crenellated walls of its far-famed citadel.
The chances of travel had often brought the Signor Bernardini and Dama Margherita together, and there had been much friendly talk between them of things which both held dear and in which their hopes for the quieting of the kingdom had a large share. She was flushed and eager beyond her wont, when they first came in sight of the distant city of Nikosia, and he laid his hand upon her bridle and lowered his voice. "Let us not hasten," he said entreatingly; "the journey hath been so beautiful; and our bourne is all too near."
"Nay—not too near—for Her Majesty may well be weary."
"The Dama Margherita hath ever a thought for others," he answered her. "And for me?—will she not grant me to reach the bourne I covet?"
"How may I help to that of which I know nothing?" she asked inadvertently, her thoughts being full of the problems they had discussed touching the Queen: then suddenly lifting her eyes and meeting his, she turned her head away in confusion.
"Then I will make confession——" he began eagerly.