_ CHAPTER XXXI
Piero had watched all night before the little inn of the "Buon Pesce," impatient to meet and conquer his fate, while above, in an upper room, the ladies Marina and Beata tried to sleep; but before the dawn they were off again, down by the way of the brown, rolling river, taking the weary length to Brondolo and the sea.
There were two gondolas now, and the men in each pulled as if the prize of a great regatta awaited them--Nicolotti against Castellani--and silently, saving voice and strength for a great need.
It might have seemed a pleasure party, save for the stress of their speed, as they swept by the groves of poplar and catalpa, which bordered the broad flood, to the sound of the waters only and the song of the birds in the wood; water-lilies floated in the pools along the shore; currents of fragrance were blown out to them on wandering winds; and in the felze, as they were nearing Brondolo, Marina and the Lady Beata, soothed by the gliding motion and the monotonous plash of the oars into the needed sleep which the night had failed to bring them, were unaware of the colloquy between Piero and his gondolier.
"Antonio!" Piero called cautiously to the man who was rowing behind the felze, "I have somewhat to say to thee; are there those within thy vision who may hear our speech?"
"Padrone, no; but the time is short for speaking much, for we reach the lock with another turn of the Brenta."
"May the blessed San Nicolo send sunshine to dazzle the jewels in the eyes of Messer San Marco till we are safe beyond it and out of Chioggia!" Piero exclaimed fervently. "And thou, Antonio, swear me again thy faith--or swear it not, as thou wilt. But thou shalt choose this moment whom thou wilt serve; and it shall go ill with thee if thou keep not thy troth."
"By San Marco and San Teodoro," Antonio responded readily, crossing himself devoutly as he spoke, "I swear to do thy bidding, Messer Gastaldo."
"And thou wilt die for the people against the nobles if need should be?"
"If thou leadest, Gastaldo Grande."
"Hast thou a pouch beneath thy stiletto where thou mayest defend with thy life what I shall give thee?"
Antonio displayed it silently.
"This for the need of the cause in thy hand," said Piero, passing him a purse of gold. "But gold is worthless to this token which shall win thee the hearing of the bancali, and the aid of every loyal son of San Nicolo, and shall be proof that thou bearest my orders and my trust."
The trust was great--the bancali were the governing board of the traghetti.
Antonio unfastened his doublet and secured the precious token under his belt.
"Command then, caro padrone."
"Slacken thy pace, for this may be our last speech together. Are those who follow true as thou?"
"Messer Gastaldo," Antonio answered with reluctance, "by signs which be but trifles to relate,--by a word dropped in Padua, and not for mine ear,--one of them--I know not which--hath, perchance, affair with a master mightier than thou." He made the usual gesture which indicated the Three of that terrible Inquisition whose name was better left unsaid--a sign much used in Venice where the very walls had ears.
It was a blow to Piero, but he wasted no words.
"They then--both--are apart from this and all my counsel. It shall be for thee alone, Antonio."
"So safer, Messer Gastaldo. I listen--and forget, save as it shall serve thee."
"First, then, Antonio; I have sworn to escort the Lady of the Giustiniani in safety to Rome, from which naught shall keep me--save if the Ten have other plans, the Madonna doth forgive the broken vow!"
It was a strange admission from a man stalwart and fearless like Piero, but he made it without shame, as a soldier acquiescing in destiny.
"Santissima Maria!" Antonio ejaculated with unusual fervor and crossing himself in full realization of the meaning.
"At Brondolo a brig is waiting--orange and yellow of sail, device of a blazing sun; a hunchback, with doublet of orange above the mast for luck, and a fine figure of a
gobbo upon the deck--a living hunchback--by which thou shalt know it for mine, and bound to my order whether it come by me or by my token. If we reach and board her it shall be well--and Rome, so will it heaven, before us all! But if the dreaded ones are on the search and overtake us----"
Again the sign.
The tragedy of the situation was in his face as he looked steadily at Antonio, who did not flinch.
"Thy duty, then, Antonio, shall lie elsewhere. Thou must escape, unseen, while they lay hands upon the lady and me, whom first they will secure before they give thee a thought."
Antonio instantly touched his stiletto, and looked his question with a fearless glance.
"Nay," said the gastaldo scornfully, and drawing a line quickly about his own throat. "Thou wilt serve me better with thy head in its place. Thou shalt return to Venice--by Fusina or Brondolo, as thy wit shall serve thee--leaving the precious gondolieri to prove whether their silken sashes be badges of men or traitors! Art thou listening?"
"Command me, padrone!"
"Within two days, if I be free, the bancali shall have news of me. Listen well, Antonio,"--again the hand and eyes went up with the dreaded unmistakable sign,--"if thou seest THEM seize me before thou takest leave, wait no longer than to plan with the bancali to come and demand my release. Thou shalt tell the bancali that I sent thee; thou shalt tell them there are affairs of moment for the Nicolotti which shall go hard for the traghetti if I be not there to work them--Art listening, Antonio?" he questioned feverishly.
Antonio's eyes were fastened upon his. "Padrone, yes!" he answered breathlessly.
"With my token thou canst command the loyalty of every Nicolotto--is it thine oar that made that rustle?--and perchance, if there were a rising of the traghetti to demand aught of the Signoria--come nearer, Antonio!--the Castellani also, if they willed to join with their traghetti in asking for justice--would not serve under my token the less heartily for the word, confided low to their bancali--dost understand?--
that if their taxes and their fines oppress them, these also, I being free, will pay this year to the maledetto Avvogadoro del Commun."
Antonio gravely bowed his head in assent.
"This at thy discretion--thou understandest, Antonio--and so that no violence come from the massing of the people, but only the proof of its will and of the numbers who make the demand. Only--if it be not granted, they shall make a stand at the traghetti and
fight----"
"Padrone, yes!"
"For--thou dost mark me, Antonio?--this Lady of the Giustiniani hath been a saint among the people; she hath given them much in gifts--she hath given almost her life in prayers and penances, that heaven may avert its wrath from Venice, which she in truth believeth the Holy Father--may the saints make him suffer for it!--hath brought upon the people by his curse--may heaven forbid! And she, being now noble, hath preferred the cause of the
people to the cause of the
nobles, and bringeth upon her the displeasure of the Signoria by her flight to Rome. For--see it well, Antonio!--if the Senate hold the Lady of the Giustiniani for fault in this,"--Piero paused and uttered the last words with a slow, mysterious emphasis, while Antonio listened with an intensity that missed no shading of meaning,--"
it will be the cause of the people against the nobles."
"If they harm her not," he resumed in his usual tone, after a moment's pause, "my fate shall be avenged in the judgment and command of the bancali of the Nicolotti only. They shall not risk the people's good for the poor life of one leader!"
"Padrone!" Antonio cried, with flashing eyes. "Commandi altro?" ("Hast thou other commands?")
"None, save that if I return not--and not otherwise--thou shalt seek with my token the Master Girolamo Magagnati; thou shalt tell him of this my confidence, holding nothing back; and thou shalt pray him, of his honor, to discharge the debt which may be found lacking in the treasury of the Nicolotti,--since the moneys have been taken for the need of the lady on her journey,--the which, if I return, I have means, and more, to repay."
The two men grasped hands and looked into each other's eyes for a brief recording moment, having each touched that
best in the other which was not shown to all men, and so begotten trust each in each.
"By the Holy Madonna and San Nicolo, I will not fail!" Antonio promised, and in a moment had seized his oar again and was springing forward on the bridge of his gondola, as if his thoughts were light and rhythmic as his motions.
They sped on with a few swift, silent strokes--then, "Brondolo!" he cried brightly; but a sudden desperate steadying of resolution was felt in the fierce stroke which sent the gondola forward with a jerk.
The fishing-skiffs of Chioggia fluttered like gaudy butterflies before them, dipping their wings of orange and crimson and every conceivable sunset tint to catch the breeze; and the air was suddenly vibrant with sounds of traffic and busy life. Men called to each other with song and jest from heavily laden barks, while they waited the hour of sailing; or lay at ease on the top of their wares, smoking luxurious draughts of content from their comrade pipes,--lords of their craft, though their couch was but a pile of cabbages or market produce,--exchanging some whimsical comment upon the affairs of busier neighbors which brimmed these frequent hours of
dolce far niente with unflagging interest.
And there, among the lighter shipping, was the brig bound to the order of the gastaldo grande, with the yellow sails and device of the rising sun--with the gobbo in orange doublet on the masthead for good luck, and the gobbo on the deck to make it sure. Piero turned and looked for it, as they passed the lock. And there too----
"
Corpo di San Marco!" ejaculated Antonio under his breath, for he stood higher than Piero upon the bridge of the gondola and facing forward.
There, full in sight, and riding proudly at anchor, the beautiful curves of her swan-like prows made cannon proof with plates of shining steel,--and below, in lieu of figurehead to promise victory, those letters of dread omen, C.D.X.,--with thirty oars-men from the arsenal of Venice, to ensure her speed, each ready at his oar-lock to wield his oar, with a band of marksmen trained to finest tempered arms to quell the resistance which no Venetian would dare offer with those letters on the prow; the gold and scarlet banner of San Marco, for good fortune, at her masthead; the wind swelling her impatient sail, as the curb but frets the steed--
the galley of the Ten was not waiting without a purpose!
The shock of the boats as they passed through the lock had roused the sleepers rudely, and Piero had time but for a swift glance of command to Antonio, bidding him escape, when a gondola bearing the ducal colors floated out from the sea of small waiting craft and saluted them courteously. The dignified signor who addressed them wore the violet robe and stole of a secretary of the Doge, and his face was the face of that secretary in whose silken hand the gastaldo's had lain prisoned when he took the oath of office!
Resistance was impossible.
"Messer Gastaldo," said the secretary suavely, "it hath pleased those who have ever the welfare of Venice at heart to provide for the most noble Lady of the Giustiniani an escort which better fitteth her rank than the size of thy
barchetta permitteth, and a dwelling more honorable than the 'Osteria del Buon Pesce,' where, in company of the Lady Beata Tagliapietra, she hath passed the night."
The secretary paused and placidly noted the effect of his words upon Piero, who could have gnashed his teeth for anger at those talking walls of Venice which had betrayed him--so cautiously had he told his secret to the Lady Beata only, in that short moonlight stroll!
At a sign from the secretary a second gondola, wearing the ducal livery and filled with the gorgeous costumes of the palace guards, came out from the floating mass and approached the gondola of the people, where the Lady Marina sat trembling like a frightened fawn.
There was a struggle among the lesser craft to draw closer to this dramatic centre; they jostled each other unceremoniously; a splash, like a falling oar, was heard, but scarce noted in the absorbing interest of the moment; only a bare-legged boy jumped off from a tiny fishing-skiff near which the oar had floated, and swam with it to to the gondola from which it had fallen--since it was this boat which was making the carnival for them! Piero, alone, had slightly turned his head and noted that no one now stood on the
ponte piede behind the felze of his gondola.
"The galley waits to receive the noble ladies to whom I am commissioned
by those who have sent me to offer my respectful homage," said the secretary, bowing low before the felze. "The noble ladies will proceed thither in the ducal gondola which attends them. And thou, Messer Gastaldo, wilt graciously aid me in their escort--since, verily, they owe much to thy chivalry."
It was a pleasant scene for the onlookers.
But the Lady Marina sat motionless, and gave neither word nor sign in response to the invitation of the ducal secretary.
"Shall the pleasure of the lady of this noble house not be consulted?" Piero questioned, struggling to cover his defiance under a tone of deference.
But his answer was only in the secretary's eyes,--smiling, imperious,--more defiant than his own impotent will; and in the courtly waiting attitude, which had not changed, and which seemed unbearably to lengthen out the passing seconds.
The Lady Beata, winding compassionate arms around her friend, had raised her veil, whispering words of tenderness.
But there was no recognition in the glance that met hers--only the immeasurable pathos of a hopeless surrender; the fervent passion of Marina's will and faith had made all things seem possible of achievement, though Venice was against her, for had not the mission been given her in a vision by the Holy Madonna of San Donato--Mother of Sorrows--and was not the issue sure? And yielding all thought of self she had braced every faculty to accomplish the holy task of which she alone felt the urgency. But the overtaxed heart and brain could endure no longer thwarting; their activity and unquestioning purpose had been her only power; and the moment she ceased to struggle will and reason fled together.
Pitifully acquiescent, she went with them unresisting.
* * * * *
A haze that was not luminous hung in the sky; night was creeping on without a sunset, as they battled their way up the Giudecca against the current which rushed like a boiling torrent around San Giorgio--the blue calm of the waters turned to a frenzied, foam-lashed green.
The men rowed fast, with tight-furled sail, but the storm came faster; ranks of threatening clouds were hurrying from the east, gathering like armies of vengeful spirits, darker, closer about them, shutting off every breath of air; an oppression, throbbing with nameless fears, was upon them--a hush, as if life had ceased; then the scorching, withering torment of a fierce sirocco, and the moan of the wind, like a soul in pain.
Marina grew faint and wide-eyed for terror, but they could not soothe her by word or touch; she sat with clasped hands, gasping for breath, listening to the low, long boom on the shores of the Lido, like muffled thunder, ceaselessly recurring--the terrible noise of the great waves beating against the sea-walls--beating and breaking in fury, tossing their spray high in air and whirling it in clouds, like rain mists, far across the lagoon. Would the barriers stand--or yield and leave them to their doom? Were the great waters of the Adriatic uprising in vengeance to overwhelm this city in her sin? Boom upon boom sounded through all the voices of the storm. Santa Maria! was it this that the Tintoretto had foretold!
A dazzling, frenzied flash of light,--a vast peal of thunder that was like the wrath of a mighty, offended God,--then darkness, and a torrent of rain--the waters in the shifting path of the wind leaping up to meet the waters from the sky!
The vesper bells of Venice came sobbing through the storm, tossed and broken by the tornado into a wraith of a dirge; and now, by some fantastic freak of nature, as the winds rose higher, the iron tongues from every campanile--for a brief moment of horror--came wrangling and discordant, as if tortured by some demon of despair.
"
Ave Maria, Gratia plena!"
the women cried together, falling on their knees, while the men toiled and struggled to hold the invincible galley of the Ten outside the whirling path of the storm--advancing and retreating at the will of the elements, against which their own splendid, human strength was like the feeble, untaught effort of a helpless infant.
"
Mater Dei, Ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae."
The words rose in a wail between the gusts.
For measureless moments, mighty as hours, they battled between San Marco and San Giorgio, tossed to and fro--now nearer the haven of the great white dome, now--as a lightning flash unveiled San Marco--near enough to see a cloud of frightened doves go whirling over the flood which swept the Piazza from end to end and poured out under the great gates of the Ducal Palace into the lagoon.
"
Summa Parens clementia--nocte surgentes----" _