He had had more than one embittering experience of
intrigue and perfidy, more than one glimpse of the pitfalls besetting
his course; but his confidence in his own powers and his faith in his
people remained unshaken, and with two such beliefs to sustain him it
seemed as though no difficulties would prove insurmountable.
Such at least was the mood in which, on the morning of his entry into
Pianura, he prepared to face his subjects. Strangely enough, the state
entry began at Ponte di Po, the very spot where, on a stormy midnight
some seven years earlier, the new Duke had landed, a fugitive from his
future realm. Here, according to an ancient custom, the sovereign
awaited the arrival of his ministers and court; and then, taking seat in
his state barge, proceeded by water to Pianura, followed by an escort of
galleys.
A great tent hung with tapestries had been set up on the river-bank; and
here Odo awaited the approach of the barge. As it touched at the
landing-stage he stepped out, and his prime minister, Count Trescorre,
advanced toward him, accompanied by the dignitaries of the court.
Trescorre had aged in the intervening years. His delicate features had
withered like a woman's, and the fine irony of his smile had taken an
edge of cruelty. His face suggested a worn engraving, the lines of which
have been deepened by a too-incisive instrument.
The functionaries attending him were, with few exceptions, the same who
had figured in a like capacity at the late sovereign's court.
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