, to strike fear into Giovanna's
friends and stir them to Charles's purposes.

"Why, first and foremost, I should place Giovanna's counsellor Isernia,
that man of law whose evil counsels have hurt your rights as king. Next
come--"

But here Charles craftily paused and looked away, a man at fault.

"Next?" cried Andreas. "Who next? Speak out!" The Duke shrugged.

"By the Passion, there is no lack of others. You have enemies to spare
among the Queen's friends."

Andreas paled under his faint tan. He flung back his crimson robe as
if he felt the heat, and stood forth, lithe as a wrestler, in his
close-fitting cote-hardie and hose of violet silk.

"No need, indeed, to name them," he said fiercely.

"None," Charles agreed. "But the most dangerous is Isernia. Whilst
he lives you walk amid swords. His death may spread a panic that will
paralyze the others."

He would say no more, knowing that he had said enough to send Andreas,
scowling and sinister, to sow terror in hearts that guilt must render
uneasy now, amongst which hearts be sure that he counted Giovanna's own.

Andreas took counsel with Friar Robert. Touching Isernia, there was
evidence and to spare that he was dangerous, and so Isernia fell on the
morrow to an assassin's sword as he was in the very act of leaving the
Castel Nuovo, and it was Charles himself who bore word of it to the
Court, and so plunged it into consternation.

They walked in the cool of evening in the pleasant garden of the Castel
Nuovo, when Charles came upon them and touched the stalwart shoulder of
Bertrand d'Artois. Bertrand the favourite eyed him askance, mistrusting
and disliking him for his association with Andreas.

"The Hungarian boar," said Charles, "is sharpening his tusks now that
his authority is assured by the Holy Father."

"Who cares?" sneered Bertrand.

"Should you care if I added that already he has blooded them?"

Bertrand changed countenance. The Duke explained himself.

"He has made a beginning upon Giacomo d' Isernia. Ten minutes ago he
was stabbed to death within a stone's throw of the castle." So Charles
unburdened himself of his news. "A beginning, no more."

"My God!" said Bertrand. "D' Isernia! Heaven rest him." And devoutly he
crossed himself.

"Heaven will rest some more of you if you suffer Andreas of Hungary to
be its instrument," said Charles, his lips grimly twisted.

"Do you threaten?"

"Nay, man; be not so hot and foolish. I warn. I know his