cheering, the question came to him--"_Why?_"

Janus, whatever his gifts, had been no judge of men--possibly from too
strong reliance in his own power to conquer them by his personal charm.
Had this disbanding been deftly suggested to the facile King by his
friend, the arch-schemer of Naples?

Was the wily Rizzo, even in those days, planning to leave Cyprus
defenceless?

The Admiral gnashed his teeth and sent up a smothered cry to all the
saints that his wrath might not unnerve him to the point of losing his
iron grip upon himself.

But the situation was not rendered less galling by the reflection that
the port of Famagosta--the sole harbor of importance in the island--was
covered by the citadel commanded by a traitor; that just within the port
a galley flaunting the colors of Naples, rode complacently; and that
there were no longer any Cyprian ships-of-war ready for attack.

But retribution must be near; for he knew that Bernardini had sent
warning followed by immediate details of the revolt, by secret
messengers, concealed in trading-ships to the Venetian fleet off the
African coast, and strong help must be at hand. To risk failure by a
premature attack, for want of patience to endure a temporary disgrace,
would be unmanly weakness. The Madonna be praised, the Chamberlain of
the Queen was a man of resource; the people of the cities were devoted
to her, and the end might be nearer than seemed possible.

The Admiral was impatient for the conference with Bernardini who had
implored him to come without delay.

"At all hazards we shall hold the city-gate," the Chamberlain had
written in the first hours of that dark dawn. "With citadel and port in
command of the traitors and the Queen in their keeping, this post may
have no importance in their eyes. _But our help must come from
without._"

And now the little band of faithful knights were coming in sight of the
city-walls--massive and splendid--a monument to the Lusignans.

"For our Queen and Cyprus!" the Admiral said solemnly, his hand upon his
sword.

The tone of the utterance made it a command.

"So help us God our Seigneur, and San Giovanni!" the knights answered
him in a breath, nerving themselves to attack and success: but they came
silently and with no sounds of battle--by order of their chief--not
knowing whether to expect welcome or conflict, or whether secrecy might
be well.

At the tramp of their horses' feet the warden had advanced to the grille