with Marie of Durazzo. But this cowardly act of treason was not to go
unpunished. The wind rose with fury, and drove him towards Gaeta, where
the queen and her husband had just arrived. Renaud bade his sailors
keep in the open, threatening to throw any man into the sea who dared
to disobey him. The crew at first murmured; soon cries of mutiny rose
on every side. The admiral, seeing he was lost, passed from threats to
prayers. But the princess, who had recovered her senses at the first
thunder-clap, dragged herself up to the bridge and screamed for help,

"Come to me, Louis! Come, my barons! Death to the cowardly wretches who
have outraged my honour!"

Louis of Tarentum jumped into a boat, followed by some ten of his
bravest men, and, rowing rapidly, reached the ship. Then Marie told him
her story in a word, and he turned upon the admiral a lightning glance,
as though defying him to make any defence.

"Wretch!" cried the king, transfixing the traitor with his sword.

Then he had the son loaded with chains, and also the unworthy priest
who had served as accomplice to the admiral, who now expiated his odious
crime by death. He took the princess and her children in his boat, and
re-entered the harbour.

The Hungarians, however, forcing one of the gates of Naples, marched
triumphant to Castel Nuovo. But as they were crossing the Piazza delle
Correggie, the Neapolitans perceived that the horses were so weak and
the men so reduced by all they had undergone during the siege of Aversa
that a mere puff of wind would dispense this phantom-like army. Changing
from a state of panic to real daring, the people rushed upon their