herself contrived
that her son, Robert of Cabane, became Giovanna's lover.

One of Giovanna's first acts upon her grandfather's death had been to
create this Robert Count of Evoli, and this notwithstanding that in
the mean time he had been succeeded in her favour by the handsome
young Bertrand d'Artois. This was the group--the Catanese, her son,
and Bertrand--that, with the Princes of the Blood, governed the Queen's
party.

With what eyes Andreas may have looked upon all this we have no means
of determining. Possibly, engrossed as he was with his hawks and his
hounds, he may have been stupidly blind to his own dishonour, at least
as far as Bertrand was concerned. Another than Charles might have
chosen the crude course of opening his eyes to it. But Charles was too
far-seeing. Precipitancy was not one of his faults. His next move must
be dictated by the decision of Avignon regarding the coronation.

This decision came in July of 1345, and it fell like a thunderbolt upon
the Court. The Pope had pronounced in favour of Andreas by granting the
Bull for the joint coronation of Andreas and Giovanna.

This was check to Charles. His uncle the Cardinal of Perigord had done
his utmost to oppose the measure, but he had been overborne in the
end by Ludwig of Hungary, who had settled the matter by the powerful
argument that he was himself the rightful heir to the crown of Naples,
and that he relinquished his claim in favour of his younger brother. He
had backed the argument by the payment to the Pope of the enormous sum,
for those days, of one hundred thousand gold crowns, and the issue,
obscure hitherto, had immediately become clear to the Papal Court.

It was check to Charles, as I have said. But Charles braced himself, and
considered the counter-move that should give him the advantage. He went
to congratulate Andreas, and found him swollen with pride and arrogance
in his triumph.

"Be welcome, Charles," he hailed Durazzo. "I am not the man to forget
those who have stood my friends whilst my power was undecided."

"For your own sake," said the smooth Charles, as he stepped back from
that brotherly embrace, "I trust you'll not forget those who have been
your enemies, and who, being desperate now, may take desperate means to
avert your coronation."

The pale eyes of the Hungarian glittered.

"Of whom do you speak?"

Charles smoothed his black beard thoughtfully, his dark eyes narrowed
and pensive. There must be a victim