"A friend of Messer Matteo," the fat man was saying, "not to speak of a son of the great Sir James de Chesby, is doubly welcome to my poor home. Pray make use of it as you choose whilst you stay in Venice, and you condescend to recognise me, fair sir. All that I have is at your disposal."
"Certes, you are more than kind, Messer Ziniani," answered Hugh.
They had some more conversation, couched in terms of flattering amiability, and then the merchant ushered them to an upper story. Past room after room heaped with Eastern clothes, rugs, spices, incenses, gold, silver- and steel-ware they strode through endless corridors, until at last they reached a suite of apartments opening upon a courtyard. Below in the growing moonlight, Hugh saw a fountain playing silvery-bright against a fretted stone portico.
"Food shall be served to you at once," Messer Ziniani informed them. "Now, I go to see that your horses are well cared for. Have you any further wishes?"
"Only to ask, an you will favour me so greatly, that you send my servant hither," replied Hugh.
Messer Ziniani bowed to the floor and left them.
"Why, this man waits upon us like an inn-keeper," cried Hugh, as soon as the door had closed upon his back. "And he is noble, you say, and by Our Lady, he lives in a castle built like a palace and crammed with riches!"
"So the Venetians do," assented Matteo. "They are proud of their merchantry, and 'tis likewise their pride to put themselves to every trouble for their guests. Doubt not, he will spare no effort of his own hands to make you comfortable."
"A very gentle person," quoth Hugh. "And a most gentle habitation. I would I might dwell here always."
That night they slept upon silken couches, lulled by the lapping waters against the foundations of the fondaco and the faint clanging of church-bells. It was difficult to realise that they were in the midst of a populous city, so silent was all about them.
In the morning Messer Ziniani appeared again, bearing handsome suits of velvet slashed with cendal. Everything was complete, even to soft leather shoes and taffeta caps after the Italian fashion.
"With your favour, fair sirs," he explained, bowing before them, "'tis not the custom to wear mail in Venice. Moreover, there is danger that so heavily weighted you might fall into the water, in which case 'twould be next to impossible for you to be saved. I have brought these garments for your approval."
The comrades were not sorry to be rid of their cumbersome armour, and whilst they attired themselves in the clothes their host's forethought had made available they plied him with questions.
"You go to Constantinople?" he exclaimed. "That is bad. Ordinarily, there would be no difficulty, but the mustering of shipping for the Crusade has withdrawn so many vessels from the merchant service that sailings are few and at long intervals. You must give me time, Messers. I will cast about and endeavour to learn if any of my friends hath induced the Seignory to permit him to load a galley for Constantinople. Then, too, there is always the chance that the Crusade may not start."
"Not start?" replied Hugh. "Why, how may that be, Messer Ziniani?"
The merchant shrugged his shoulders.
"I tell no State secrets," he answered. "If you attend the Doge's parliament with the Barons at noon to-day in the Square of St. Mark, you will discover more than I know, an all I hear be true."
"What hath happened?" asked Matteo.
"No more than that the Crusaders guaranteed to the Seignory a certain number of knights, squires, foot sergeants and horses to be transported to Outremer. On that guarantee the Seignory proceeded to build and contract for the stipulated number of vessels. Now, the Crusaders find that many of their number are missing, and mayhap they will be unable to pay their debts, and so the Crusade will never start."
Their curiosity spurred by Messer Ziniani's gossip, the comrades left Ralph to attend to the horses and furbish up their armour, and departed in one of the gondolas attached to the fondaco to keep their rendezvous with Villehardouin. Scores of other boats were travelling in the same direction, and it was only by appealing to a police-galley that Matteo was enabled to secure for them a landing at the steps by the Doge's Palace, where thousands of nobles and crusading knights already were gathered.
A space on the Square of St. Mark in front of the Palace had been blocked off by guards, and at one end the throne of the Doge was set up. Around it were clustered the patricians of the Republic, all dressed gaily in parti-coloured silks and satins. Opposite them stood the barons and captains of the host, still clad in their mail, the stalwart figure of the Marshal of Champagne to the fore. It was obvious that the Crusaders were ill at ease. Their faces were overcast with sadness, and they talked together by twos and threes, looking often toward the vacant throne.
Hugh succeeded in attracting the Marshal's attention, and by his orders the comrades were admitted to the Crusaders' ranks.
"By St. Remigius, y'are come in a bad hour," said Villehardouin, as they approached him. "Ill fortune hath welcomed us hither. But by your looks, fair sirs, you have gained a good greeting from the Venetians."
"Even so," assented Hugh. "But what is this ill fortune you speak of, Lord Marshal?"
Villehardouin's face twitched with rage.
"We are betrayed by our friends," he rasped. "Ay, by our brethren whom we trusted. Of the lords and barons who signed the covenant to sail with the host full one-third and more have not appeared, and but last night upon our arrival we had word that the Flanders fleet, under orders from Count Baldwin to join us here, had put in at Marseilles, with intent to sail thence direct to Outremer. Great store of men and treasure had we embarked on that fleet, and now we are in evil case, indeed. I know not what we may do."
"But, certes, the Venetians will be reasonable," replied Hugh. "This is no ordinary transaction. The service of Our Lord Jesus Himself is at stake. They will cheerfully compound with you, an they learn of your sore troubles."
"Mayhap," answered the Marshal doubtfully. "But the Venetians are men of business, Messer Hugh. Good fighters and right lusty men of their hands, I grant you; but——"
"They care less for Holy Church than any Christian people I know," interrupted Matteo. "Their love centres in their Republic. In so far as their interests ride with the course of the Church they will follow it. But not all the powers of the Holy Apostle of Rome will drive them to take any course they deem to be to their disadvantage."
Villehardouin nodded.
"They have us at their mercy," he said hopelessly. "Alas, that I must say it! Never will I trust knightly word again! Men I have known since first they wore hauberk have deceived me, broken the oaths they swore on holy relics. What more——"
A fanfare of trumpets sounded at the Palace entrance.
"The Doge cometh!" exclaimed Matteo.
Villehardouin broke off abruptly and left them, making his way to his place at the head of the deputation of barons of the host, as an imposing procession emerged upon the Square.
First came the trumpeters and heralds, then the members of the Council of Ten, and after them the most impressive figure Hugh had ever seen. Very tall and gaunt, with a dead-white face and silvery hair, this man gave the appearance of great age, but he walked with the splendid, upright carriage of youth. He wore a long loose robe of black velvet and on his head a peculiar cap resembling a bishop's mitre. His eyes were closed, and he rested one hand lightly on the arm of a page.
"Who is he?" whispered Hugh.
"The Doge," Matteo whispered back, "Henry Dandolo."
"Why are his eyes closed?"
"He is blind. His eyes were seared by the Greeks long ago when he went to Constantinople on an embassy for the Republic. 'Tis said he sees a little, but not much."
"He is very old, is he not?"
"He is one of the oldest men in the world," returned Matteo. "He is ninety-two years old."
"By St. James!" gasped Hugh. "He walks as would you or I!"
With firm, confident steps, Dandolo passed from the Palace entrance to the throne which had been prepared for him. Instinctively, as he was seated, the crowd in the Square of St. Mark pressed closer, and the guards gave way to the people, so that all might be within earshot of the council which was to be held. Hugh and Matteo were driven forward with the crowd, and when the confusion was adjusted, as the Doge began to speak, found themselves parted from the Crusaders and wedged amongst the inner circle of patricians.
"God's blessing and St. Mark's on all of you, good people," began the Doge in a clear sonorous voice which carried across the Square almost to where the gondoliers squatted by the poles to which their craft were fastened. "You know that we are gathered here to welcome to Venice the lords and barons of the Crusading host who are come to us, in accordance with the agreement made by them with the Republic, to secure their passage to Outremer that they may battle for Christ's Sepulchre. What say you, lords? Do you meet your bargain?"
Villehardouin stepped forth from the ranks of the mailed knights.
"Be it known to you, Lord Doge," he answered, "that we, whom you behold, are come in accordance with our bond, delivered and sealed. But certain of our brethren whose words are less sacred, have chosen to depart for Outremer by other means, and we may not muster the number we fixed upon."
"But you can satisfy us for the sum pledged for your transport?" questioned the Doge coldly.
"Not so, Lord Doge." Villehardouin flushed. "We have taken stock amongst us, and by pledging each his plate and the last penny in his purse we are short 34,000 marks of the 85,000 promised to your people."
Dandolo leaned his chin on his hand, and looked across the sea of heads below him, out over the lagoons toward the Adriatic. He pondered a moment.
"The bargain we made was this," he propounded slowly. "We promised to build transports to carry 4,500 horses and 9,000 squires and ships for 4,500 knights and 20,000 sergeants of foot. You promised us to supply these numbers of passengers, and to pay us for them at the rate of four marks for each horse and two marks for each man, or 85,000 silver marks of Cologne standard. And furthermore we agreed to provide food for nine months for man and horse, and to transport you to the land of Babylon or wherever else you sought to go in Outremer, and for the love of God we agreed further to add to the fleet fifty armed galleys, on condition that so long as we acted in company, of all conquests on land or sea, one-half should go to us."
He paused.
"Lords, we have fulfilled our part of the agreement. The vessels and the stores lie awaiting you. We have builded as never even Venice built ships before. In the Arsenal and out by the Lido are moored the fifty galleys, with 70 store ships, 120 palendars and 240 transports. What say you to this?"
"What can we say?" countered Villehardouin. "Lord Doge, we have done what we may. We lack more than a third of the number of men who agreed to sail with the host. For Christ's gentle sake have pity on us, and do not prevent us from doing our devoir against the Saracens. It would be foul shame an such a well-appointed host were to be held back for want of but 34,000 marks."
A murmur of assent rose from the crowd.
"You say rightly," approved the Doge. "'Twere ill to have the world think Venice close as a Jew money-lender to the letter of her bargains. Now, look you, my lords and barons, I have somewhat to put before you. 'Tis plain you cannot pay more than you have, and it is no fault of yours that you have been betrayed by those you thought your friends. We would not be the means of defrauding you from carrying out your service to God, but we must gain back the money we have expended for naught."
"That is reasonable, Lord Doge," agreed Villehardouin, seeing that some answer was expected.
"We are of the same mind, then," the Doge replied. "Here are our terms: Know, lords of the host, that the King of Hungary has taken from us Zara in Sclavonia on the opposite shore of the Adriatic Sea, which is a fair, strong city. Do you, therefore, tarry on your way to Outremer and lend us your aid to reconquer the city for us, seeing that it is rightfully ours. For this we will remit to you the 34,000 marks."
An outburst of comment by many tongues greeted this proposition. The Crusaders closed around Villehardouin in an animated discussion, some plainly favourably disposed, others rebellious and perturbed. The Venetians swayed back and forth to the accompaniment of a low murmur of excited speculation. But amid all the contentious clamour of debate, the old Doge sat erect on his throne, his sightless eyes staring across the thronged Square as though he dwelt detached in some other world. The calm, impassive face, with its air of high purpose and proud confidence, fascinated Hugh. He was brought back to the present by Matteo's fist in his ribs.
"To your left," hissed the jongleur in his ear. "Over those heads there are some old friends of ours."
Hugh looked and saw Helena Comnena and her father, standing in a group of richly-garbed Venetian nobles. Her long-lashed eyes were raised to his, and she gave him a quizzical smile, half mockery, half recognition.
"I see naught extraordinary in their being here," he answered curtly, "By St. James, I would take oath the one-half of Venice is about us!"
But he could not keep his eyes from wandering back to the dark, stately figure a few ells distant. He was pondering again her farewell to him, when a man stepped from behind the Cæsar and spoke to Helena. Hugh felt a quiver run through him from heel to crown. The new-comer was Mocenigo.
"Quick!" he cried to Matteo. "Do my eyes see true? Is not that Andrea Mocenigo, the Emperor's——"
Matteo compressed his lips in a low whistle.
"'Tis so! By Our Lady, what does he here? The fellow is outlawed. If the Seignory laid hands upon him 'twould go hard against him, I trow."
"No matter for that," returned Hugh fiercely. "I must have speech with him."
And he started to force his way through the close-packed crowd.
"Take care," cautioned Matteo. "You will fright your quarry. He hath cause enough to fear detection. Also, an you start sword-play in St. Mark's Square before the Doge you are like to end in the dungeons of the Republic."
"I care not," snapped Hugh.
And he spoke to the persons about him.
"Your pardon, Messers, I would pass. And you——"
The courteous Venetians strove to make room for him, but their effort created a bulge in the crowd and attracted the notice of Helena. She touched Mocenigo on the shoulder, and the Italian looked up into Hugh's eyes.
Not a muscle quivered in Mocenigo's face, but he began to back away, his gaze still fixed on Hugh, who flung himself forward with a curse, Matteo behind him pacifying many an angry patrician by assurances that his friend pursued a deadly enemy.
They had not passed the last row of curious citizens, however, when Mocenigo reached the landing-steps and leaped into a green gondola, which flashed across the Grand Canal and disappeared down one of the narrow alleys of the city's watery maze. Hugh would have followed, but Matteo restrained him.
"Wait," advised the jongleur. "If Mocenigo is in Venice—and certes, 'tis not I will deny it!—it shall be poor luck an we do not ferret him out: Let us consult with Messer Ziniani. He will have knowledge where such an one might hide, for depend upon it the rascal does not wish his presence to be known. My counsel is that we watch his friends, the Comnenoi, before we do aught else."
"That is good counsel," admitted Hugh. "I was over-heated at spying the man, Matteo. I have a long account to settle with him, and my suspicions are correct. Moreover, I desire to know how fares it with my lady Edith of whom I spoke to you in England."
Matteo gave his friend a shrewd glance, which brought the colour to Hugh's face. But nothing more was said, for the crowd in the Square behind them raised a sudden tumult of cheers.
"What is it? What hath happened?" cried Matteo to the first man who came running toward them.
"The barons of the host have agreed to go to Zara," he shouted back. "I go to carry the word to the Arsenal to make ready the fleet."
In the confusion caused by the dispersal of the crowd in the Square it was useless for the comrades to attempt to follow the Comnenoi or to remind Villehardouin of his promise to present them to the Doge. They made the best of a bad bargain and returned to the fondaco Ziniani as rapidly as their gondolier could contrive a passage through the teeming canals.
Messer Ziniani heard their story with interest, not unmixed with amazement.
"Say you Mocenigo was in the Square of St. Mark, and undisguised?" he exclaimed. "Now, there is more to this than appears upon the surface. He is a bold rascal, but this passes boldness. There are families in Venice would risk outlawry, root and branch, could they dirk him; and the Council of Ten do not love to have their decrees of banishment ignored."
"Will you report it?" asked Hugh.
"No, fair sir. 'Tis an ill task mingling in that which doth not concern one. Also, an you take my counsel, you will be slow to make a declaration to the State."
"Messer Ziniani speaks sober sense," interposed Matteo. "Let us, at least, first corroborate our evidence by finding where Mocenigo is hiding."
"There I can give you some assistance," offered Ziniani. "If he was with the Comnenoi, they should be connected with the reasons which bring him hither, and I will wager the Eastern convoy they are stopping with Zachario Pisano. All the Byzantines traffic with him, and of late he hath come into trouble with the Angeloi in Constantinople. That would be why they are here. Ay, so it must be! Depend upon it, Messers, there is some intrigue afoot."
"I would give much to uncover it," said Hugh, his old hatred of Mocenigo welling up strong in his breast.
"Easier said than done, Messer Englishman," retorted Ziniani. "But my aid, such as it is, is at your disposal. You shall have my own cabined gondola for your search; there are few swifter on the canals."
"Why a cabin?" questioned Hugh curiously.
Messer Ziniani smiled.
"It will be necessary for you to watch the fondaco Pisano, and perhaps to follow people. It would never do if you yourselves were to be seen. You will sit in the curtained cabin, and the gondoliers will pilot you whither you will."
He clapped his hands thrice, and to a servant who appeared in the doorway said:
"Bid Beppo and Giacomo bring the cabined gondola to the garden gate!"
The man bowed and disappeared.
"Beppo and Giacomo are trusty fellows," Ziniani continued. "They will serve you diligently, and if you come to a fight they can make play with their oars and knives. But I pray you, fair sirs, be cautious in your conduct."
"We will be careful," Matteo assured him. "To say truth," the jongleur added with a smile at Hugh, "my comrade hath a reason for desiring speech with this rogue before we slit his throat—if slit it we must."
Ziniani wagged his head reprovingly.
"Talk not to me of slitting throats," he said. "I am a peaceable merchant, and such subjects consort not with my degree. Short of that, you may command me in all things."
"Heard you of any shipping for Constantinople?" enquired Hugh.
"No, Messer Englishman, and after the outcome of to-day's counsel in the Square, I doubt if there will be any for some time. All craft will be used for the Crusade, now that the Republic hath an interest of its own in the affair."
The servant returned to say that the gondola was ready, and the comrades took their leave of the hospitable merchant. On their way through the garden, which stretched behind the fondaco, they met Ralph, very lonely and downcast. His face brightened at sight of them.
"I thought you would never be home, Messer Hugh," he cried. "St. Cuthbert be my witness, I have been like to go mad for want of a human being to talk with! These folk understand less than do the horses. An you please, Messer Hugh, do not leave me again."
Hugh looked at Matteo.
"I see no harm in taking him," replied the jongleur to the unspoken question. "But you must rid yourself of that armour, Ralph, and leave behind your bow. We go upon secret business, which wants not the intrusion of weight or the questionable length of your goose-feathered shafts. So be about your preparations, lad, an you are coming with us."
"That will I, gentles!" exclaimed Ralph with glee. "A minute, by your leave, and I shall be garbed to suit."
He set off at a run towards the stables, and Hugh and Matteo proceeded to the gate in the wall, where the gondola awaited them by the landing-steps. The gondoliers lounged beside it. One was enormous, a giant in stature, thick-thewed and massive. The other was almost a dwarf, nearly as broad as he was tall, but with a chest development equal to his companion's.
"Which is Beppo?" asked Matteo.
The dwarf touched his gaudy cap.
"I am Beppo, lord," he replied, "and I steer. Giacomo, here, pulls the fore-oar."
Giacomo ducked in what he intended for a bow, but it seemed more like the toppling of a stricken pine-tree. He said nothing.
"Has your master told you what we require?" questioned Matteo.
"Only that we are to obey your Magnificences' orders."
"Do you like to fight?"
Beppo grinned from ear to ear.
"We always enjoy a good fight, don't we, Giacomo?" he answered.
Giacomo's face was convulsed by what must have been meant for a grin of approbation, and one hand caressed the hilt of the knife stuck in his sash.
"Well, you are like to get all the fighting you care for," said Matteo. "We have a dangerous venture. Know you the fondaco Pisano?"
"Yes, lord. It is east beyond the Rio di Santa Polo."
"Good. We watch the fondaco Pisano for one who travels in a green gondola. When he appears we follow him wherever he may go. If we can, we will seize him. Is it understood?"
"Perfectly, lord. We are used to all kinds of work, are we not, Giacomo?"
Giacomo bowed and wrinkled up his face, both at the same time, with frightful effect.
"I see you are dependable varlets," remarked Matteo. "You shall not lose by good service."
"Trust us, Magnificence," returned Beppo composedly. "Do we start now?"
"Anon. We must wait—Ah, here he comes."
Ralph ran through the gate, and halted on the landing, somewhat ill at ease in a flat cap and dark cloak such as were worn by the servants of the fondaco.
"Will this do, Messer Hugh?" he panted.
Hugh laughed.
"Well enough," he approved. "What say you, Matteo?"
"By Our Lady, he looks the part better than do we," protested the jongleur. "But in with you, Ralph. It draws toward evening, and we must survey our ground before the light fails."
The comrades settled themselves in the cabin, and the gondola sped over the canals, propelled by the strong arms of the boatmen. It was still sunlight when Beppo parted the aft curtains.
"The fondaco Pisano is ahead, lords," he announced.
Hugh and Matteo peered through the curtains at a gloomy structure, windowless on the ground level and barred at every opening above, which was almost identical in architecture with the fondaco Ziniani—or, for that matter, with scores of houses in Venice.
"Hist, lords," came Beppo's voice behind them, sibilantly imperative. "Lie close. Bide but a moment. So!"
The gondola shot past the fondaco Pisano, and then, in obedience to the pressure of the stern oar, swung to the left and glided into the mouth of a shadow-filled canal which slit a mass of buildings opposite. It came to rest against the dripping, mossy wall of the house on the right of the opening.
"Now, lords, you may study Messer Pisano as you will," chuckled Beppo. "Few come hither, and such as pass will be none the wiser of our purpose."
The comrades applauded his device. But for more than an hour they watched without result. Not a sign of life was visible in the fondaco Pisano. Two gondolas were moored to the landing-steps, but neither was green. No porters or servants gossiped before the broad, brass-bound door. The windows were tenantless.
The sun dropped lower, and Hugh grew discouraged. Soon it would be too dark to see. But in the very moment when he was prepared to give up hope the green gondola came into view on the main canal, and veered across to the landing-steps. Mocenigo sprang out, and ran lightly up the steps to the great door, which opened as he neared it.
"Note, Hugh, his gondolier bides without," said Matteo.
The twilight deepened, turned to dusk. The gondolas that passed now carried flaming torches or cressets to guide them.
"Can you see, lords?" questioned Beppo in a husky whisper.
"Sufficiently," answered Matteo. "What is that?"
A flare of light illumined the portico of the building they were watching.
"They have opened the door," breathed Hugh.
Torches wove a whimsical pattern on the steps; shadows criss-crossed in a grotesque dance macabre; voices faintly called. As through a veil, the comrades glimpsed several figures that descended to where the gondolas lay.
The lights dimmed and the form of a gondola—without a guiding torch—floated away from the steps of the fondaco. It stole by them, ghost-like, leaving hardly a ripple in its wake. When it had almost vanished Beppo and Giacomo backed their craft out upon the main canal, and bent to the oars in swift pursuit. Keen-eyed and vigilant, when the quarry slowed, they slowed. When it sped forward, they put all their energy into the work.
The chase took them through the network of canals in the city proper and out past the Punta della Salute and the Dogana del Mare, then southeast across the Canal della Giudecca and between La Giudecca and San Giorgio Maggiore. The lagoons stretched before them and tiny wavelets slapped against their bow; behind, the lights of Venice gleamed very softly against the purple sky.
Here on the open water they could see much farther than in the huddled canals, and as the gondola ahead turned to the southward, Beppo clucked with his lips.
"Now I know where they are going!" he exclaimed.
"Where?" asked Hugh eagerly.
"They are bound for the Isle of Rabbits, which is the other side of Malamocco, Magnificence. It is a sandbank where the smugglers and pirates meet for trade with the fishermen, when the Lords of the Night are not too vigilant. A bad place, and one where a law-keeping man may come by much harm."
"Are you afraid to go there?"
Beppo chuckled.
"Afraid? Giacomo, the foreign lord asks if we are afraid to go to the Isle of Rabbits."
A grim noise which might have been laughter grated from the unseen bow of the gondola.
"You hear?" said Beppo. "Giacomo says with me, lords, that he will ask nothing better than a fight on the Isle of Rabbits this night."
"You may be assured of your desire," retorted Matteo. "But shall we not be visible to our enemies out here on the expanse of the lagoons?"
"Not so, lord. We will drop behind and approach the Isle from the west. They will expect nobody from that quarter."
Presently, the blurr that was the green gondola disappeared altogether, swallowed in the darkness, and the comrades were alone. It was a calm night, and the water was scarcely ruffled. Once they passed a group of shipping, lying at anchor with riding-lights showing. After that they saw nothing until a long, ragged shadow loomed across their course.
"The Isle of Rabbits," whispered Beppo to the jongleur, who crouched beside him on the raised deck aft.
They approached slowly, never a sound as the gondoliers dipped their sweeps. A belt of reeds fringed the shore, and the gondola slid through these with a gentle hiss.
"So," said Beppo, as the bow ran up on the sand. "We have done our part, lords. We have brought you hither. Now do you give us that fight you spoke of."
"Fear not," answered Matteo. "You shall have your belly-full. But we are not yet at our journey's end."
"Ay, lord. We know the way, Giacomo and I. Follow me."
He led them into a depression between the dunes, where a faint path was trodden in the dank growth of beach-grass.. Winding and twisting amongst the miniature sand mountains, this path debouched at last upon a central hollow, in which the comrades descried vaguely a crude structure which seemed to lean against the shoulder of an overhanging dune. Dim rays of light shone through chinks in the boarded walls.
They stole forward, bared blades ready to meet attack, until they were just outside the ill-fitting door, with the murmur of voices distinct in their ears. There were no windows in the hut, but the gaping cracks afforded excellent opportunities for studying the interior.
Hugh peered in with bated breath. Immediately in front stood Mocenigo, a brace of villainous-looking bravos at his back. On the opposite side of a rough table sat three other men clad in the loose, flowing garments and white turbans of the East. By their fierce, black-bearded faces and jewelled scimiter hilts Hugh knew them for Saracens of high degree, Emirs of one or another of the Sultans who ruled the disjointed Moslem world.
He had no time to consider the mystery of their presence, for the leader of the three was speaking in the lingua franca.
"But we must have certain knowledge of this, Messer Mocenigo. Our lord the Sultan will not put up with rumours."
"And I do not bring you rumours, Sead Eddin," answered Mocenigo. "The Crusade will not sail for Babylon this year—or next."
"It sails first for Zara," replied Sead Eddin. "That much all men know. But after Zara?"
"It will not sail for any port in the Holy Land."
Matteo nudged Hugh and both strained forward.
"Allah!" exclaimed the Saracen impatiently. "A straight answer to a straight question! Can a Christian never tell the truth?"
"I have told you the truth, my head on it," returned Mocenigo. "More I cannot tell."
Sead Eddin shrugged his shoulders and from the folds of his robe produced a weighty bag which he clinked suggestively on the table.
"Malek-Adel pays well for what he needs," he said sternly. "But he pays nought for service which is grudging and incomplete."
"What he asked for I have told you," protested Mocenigo. "Be content with that. I cannot——"
"You cannot serve other masters before my master—and yours."
Mocenigo hesitated. The Moslem returned the bag to its hiding-place.
"Be it so," he commented. "We will seek elsewhere. There is always a Christian who will sell his soul for gold."
By the flickering torch-light in the hut Hugh could see the Italian's face torn by conflicting emotions. Reluctance, hate, fear, desperation, pride and greed struggled one with the other to the end ordained by human weakness.
"Give me the gold," said Mocenigo, and he reached out his hand.
"You will tell?"
"Yes."
Sead Eddin drew forth the bag once more and dropped it on the table so that it sent a mellow clang, like the chiming of mass-bells, through the hut. Whatever reluctance persisted in Mocenigo's mind was banished by that sound.
"The Crusade will sail against Constantinople," he said.
"By the Prophet's Beard!" exclaimed the Saracen. "How know you this?"
"It matters not, save that I do know it," replied Mocenigo shortly.
"In sober truth doth Allah watch over his own! When Christian might becomes too great for the Faithful to resist, he sets them to fighting against each other. God is great!"
"Is great! Is great!" echoed his companions.
There was a moment's silence broken only by the clinking of the gold as the Italian thrust the bag into his jupon.
"You are sure of this?" demanded the Moslem with sudden ferocity.
"Would I dare to lie to Malek-Adel?" returned Mocenigo. "How long would I last after he discovered it?"
"Perchance long enough to order your shroud. But what madness hath possessed the Frank that——"
There was a crash as Ralph, wearied of standing in one position, tripped over a tussock of grass and fell against the hut wall. The men inside leaped to their feet with a flash of steel. But before they could recover from their surprise Matteo had flung wide the door.
"In upon them," he cried. "Christ and the Sepulchre!"
"A Chesby! A Chesby!" shouted Hugh.
He caught a brief glimpse of Mocenigo. Then the torches went out in a shower of sparks, and the darkness was filled with the clash of swordplay.
Hugh fought his way forward in the confusion until he encountered a blade which pressed him back with supple cunning. It curled serpent-wise about his sword, hissing venomously as it menaced head and throat and loins. Almost he fancied he could see its flashing circles, and he divined that his opponent must be one of the Saracen Emirs, skilled in the Eastern tricks of fencing with the curved-bladed scimiter. The sweat beaded his forehead, his breath came short, for his heavy weapon was ill-adapted for such work.
Then, when the darkness danced before his eyes and a dizziness came over him, he felt a squat figure that brushed between his outspread legs and the terrible sword fell away.
"So, lord," rasped Beppo's voice. "One Paynim dog the less."
All around him Hugh heard the gasping breaths of struggling men, prayers, curses, threats, the whirr of flailing blades. It was impossible to distinguish friend from foe.
"Mocenigo!" he cried. "Mocenigo! Stand forth and meet me!"
A mocking laugh was his answer.
"It may not be, good youth, it may not be!"
"Coward!" taunted Hugh.
Again the mocking laughter.
"Too late, boy."
The words came hollow as from a vault, and Hugh hurled himself in the direction of the voice; but at the first step he ran against the table which barred the hut midway from the entrance. A red mist of anger enveloped him. He hacked and slashed and hewed at the empty air. It was Matteo's voice which brought him back to sanity.
"They have gone," panted the jongleur.
"Whither?" shouted Hugh. "They could not have passed us. A light, make a light!"
"Here, lord," exclaimed Beppo, and the gondolier struck flint and steel above a pitch-pine torch.
The wood flared smokily, revealing the shattered interior of the hut, a single white-robed figure sprawling in a pool of blood where Beppo's knife had dropped him. In the end wall, which backed against the overhanging dune, a door gaped open.
"After them," commanded Hugh, and he started to lead the way.
But Beppo caught his sleeve.
"With permission, Magnificence," said the gondolier. "That is no more than a passage through the sand which comes out by the water. They will be in their gondolas by now."
"Then in St. Cuthbert's name, let us follow as quick as we may."
The comrades ran from the hut along the path they had come by betwixt the dunes. They had reached the edge of the reeds before the gondoliers overtook them, puffing heavily.
"It is right to hurry, lords," remarked Beppo, as he and Giacomo shoved off. "But we should not miss the favours God sends us. The Paynim had a full purse."
"It is yours," said Matteo. "You are good varlets. Now, do you come up with our foes, and there will be yet more gold in your pockets."
"We will, St. Mark helping us," returned Beppo.
They swept forth from the shadow cast by the Isle of Rabbits, and emerged upon the surface of the lagoons, faintly lit by the starshine from the lowering purple sky. The comrades strained their eyes in every direction, but it was Giacomo who first saw the quarry. He pointed to the eastward with a grunt.
Barely discernible in the darkness, two dots were speeding over the water. One, at right angles to their course, made in the direction of the open sea. The other, slightly in advance, was heading towards Venice.
"'Tis they," said Beppo. "See, lords. The Saracens are bound out from the lagoons. No doubt they have a galley lying in wait for them. The others would return to the fondaco Pisano."
"Can you catch up with them?" asked Matteo.
"Do but watch us, Magnificence."
The gondola seemed almost to fly, as Beppo and Giacomo bent their backs to the oars and the ripples purred under the cleaving bow. But for some minutes, despite this pace, the green gondola held its own. Mocenigo's crew were seasoned oarsmen, and they rowed like demons. Yet desperate though they were, they could not hope to match strength with the redoubtable pair who pursued them.
A half hour went by, and the green gondola's lead was reduced to a matter of yards. The comrades could see Mocenigo and his bravos standing on the deck with swords drawn. But the lights of Venice gleamed very close, barred at intervals by the dark mouths of the canals, and once in that network of tangled waterways the task of the pursuers would be redoubled.
"Up with them," cried Matteo. "A Byzant apiece to you, lads."
"Trust us, lord," gasped Beppo.
The gap was spanned as he spoke and their bow overlapped the green gondola's stern.
"Close in, close in," ordered Hugh.
The green gondola made shift to sheer off, but the attempt was hopeless; and in self-defence, Mocenigo's gondoliers were forced to withstand the attack of Beppo and Giacomo. The crack of meeting oars resounded with the clash of swords. Gunwale to gunwale the two craft lay, bobbing at every shock, and it required a clear head and a nimble foot to keep one's balance. But no thought of danger was in Hugh's mind when his blade crossed Mocenigo's.
"At last," he exulted. "I have seen more of your back than your face, Messer Assassin."
"It may be we will amend that, Messer Hugh," rejoined the Italian, fencing cautiously.
"It seems you fear me."
"Not so, good youth. But you have a way of being inconvenient—for a lad unspurred."
"Ay, 'twas you warned me of the dangers of Outremer," retorted Hugh. "Does it surprise you to find me alive?"
Mocenigo laughed grimly.
"Be not too sure of life. My arm is long."
"And mine!"
Mocenigo slipped to the deck to avoid a swinging cut, and Hugh gathered himself to leap the green gondola's rail. One of Mocenigo's bravos was down, and the sole remaining one had all he could do to resist Matteo and Ralph. The gondoliers were waging an independent battle. But in the very moment of victory a hail rang out of the darkness.
"In the name of the Republic!"
And a lean, twelve-oared galley ranged alongside the comrades' gondola.
"In the name of the Republic!" the hail was repeated. "Put down your arms."
"The Lords of the Night!" cried Beppo.
"The Lords of the Night!" was the echo from the green gondola.
Mocenigo sprang to his feet at the cry.
"To your sweeps, knaves," he shouted. "Be swift, and you would escape."
His gondoliers already were thrusting out their oars, and their craft gained headway rapidly. Mocenigo waved his sword to Hugh as the shadows closed round it.
"May the Panagia guard you against the hour I give you the end I have in mind," he called.
Hugh turned in baffled rage to Matteo.
"What fools are these who aid the foes of Venice?" he exclaimed. "Bid them pursue before it is too late."
"They are the police," said Matteo. "The Lords of the Night, who have jurisdiction over Venice from sunset to dawn. I know not what it means, Hugh, but be calm. Here comes one who will answer us."
An officer, handsomely garbed in black velvet slashed with vermeil samite, climbed from the stern of the galley to the deck of the gondola beside them.
"Your names, Messers?" he demanded sternly.
"This is Messer Hugh de Chesby, an English lord, and I am Matteo of Antioch, a jongleur," answered Matteo. "We are in Venice seeking shipping for Outremer. But your business is not with us, noble sir. In that gondola which flees toward La Giudecca is one Messer Mocenigo, who is outlawed from Venice and a spy of the Saracens."
The officer shrugged his shoulders.
"Say you so? Well, Messer, he cannot escape for long, an the Republic chooses to spread her nets for him. But you are caught red-handed in the act of disobeying the laws of the Grand Council against broiling in the city. You must go with me to the Palace for trial."
Matteo affected to be unconcerned.
"Have it your own way, Magnificence," he returned. "We have just overheard this Mocenigo plotting with three Saracen envoys on the Isle of Rabbits. The matter touches narrowly the honour of the Republic. If you will not pursue him, the least we demand is that we be taken straight to the Doge to tell the facts to His Highness in person."
The officer was impressed.
"To the Palace you shall go," he said. "And if his Highness the Doge cares to investigate your story doubt not that you will be arraigned before him."
Matteo saw that no more was to be gained and he bowed assent.
"We are at your disposal, Messer," he said. "Do you wish our swords?"
"No, you may keep them, an you give your words to make no effort to escape."
"We do."
"That is well. Now, Messers, do you and your servants come aboard my galley. We will tow your gondola to the Palace of St. Mark."
It was nearly midnight when the police galley rounded to the landing-steps on the Square of St. Mark, and the comrades, with Beppo and Giacomo—now vastly sobered and no little troubled—were led into the vestibule of the Doge's Palace. There seats were given to them, and they waited for what seemed a long time, until a Chamberlain brought word that the Doge would see them. Even at that hour Dandolo was still engaged in official business. As the two comrades went up the stairs to the audience chamber, they passed a group of chief artisans of the Arsenal, who had been receiving instructions for the work remaining to be done to make ready the armament for the Crusade.
The ruler of Venice sat in a high-backed chair—almost a throne—behind a wide table heaped with parchments, books, maps, writing materials, models of vessels and samples of weapons and armour. He was fingering a miniature petrary when they entered. Half a dozen secretaries, shaven clerics for the most part, bustled around him.
"You must increase the length of the casting arm," he directed a bearded artisan, who stood on the opposite side of the table from him. "I will have it throw the missile as far as a land machine. If the weight must be reduced to fit it on the forecastle of the galleys, then you must save on other parts."
"But, your Highness, if we lighten the other parts it will not rest solid on the deck," objected the artisan.
"Fool!" snapped the Doge. "Bolt it to the deck with iron nails. Do not come to me again until you have succeeded."
The artisan retired, and Dandolo swept the room with his strange, wellnigh sightless eyes.
"Who else?" he asked sharply.
There was no trace of fatigue in his voice, no stoop in his thin shoulders. He carried his ninety-two years as though he had been a man of forty.
"Your Highness," said the police officer, stepping forward, "these are the prisoners, foreigners, who have demanded to be brought before you."
"Crusaders?" expostulated Dandolo. "All such are to be brought before their own chiefs on St. Nicolo. So it has been arranged. You know that."
"But these are not Crusaders, your Highness. They say they have information for the Republic."
"Humph! What are they?"
"They are an English lord and a jongleur of Antioch, with three servants, who were found fighting with a gondola which escaped on the lagoons."
"Yes," broke in Matteo, "and that gondola which escaped contained an enemy of the Republic, an outlaw of Venice, who was trafficking with the Saracens."
The Doge turned quickly toward the jongleur.
"You speak boldly, Messer," he said. "Who was this man?"
"His name is Mocenigo, and he is in the employ of the Greek Emperor."
"So?" Dandolo's dead-white face was emotionless. "Yes, it comes to our memory that Mocenigo was outlawed for debauchery. But what is that to you, Messer? Are you a relative of a family he has aggrieved?"
"No."
"Then could you not have left justice to the duly authorised officers of the Republic?"
"Yes, your Highness. Ordinary justice. But this man is more than outlaw."
"What then?"
"I have said it. He trafficks with the Saracens. We pursued him, without his knowledge, to the Isle of Rabbits, where he met three Emirs, who landed from a galley which lay outside the lagoons. They came to ask him of the Crusade and where it was going, and——"
"Stay," said Dandolo.
He beckoned to his secretaries.
"Clear the room. I wish nobody to remain except these strangers. The guards may wait without."
Dandolo sat silent, his chin cupped in one hand, his eyes staring in front of him in the uncanny direct way which was one of his traits, until the fluttering of robes and the pattering of feet had ended with the shutting of the door.
"Draw nearer," he ordered abruptly. "Both of you. Stand by my side here."
He directed them to a position close to his chair.
"Who are you who have talked thus far?" he asked, peering at them out of eyes which were clouded by a slight film.
"I am called Matteo of Antioch, a jongleur."
The Doge leaned forward and studied his face.
"And you?"
He turned to Hugh.
"Hugh de Chesby, lord of Chesby in England."
"Chesby? That is a name passing well-known in Outremer."
"Sir James de Chesby is my father," answered Hugh steadily.
The Doge's dim old eyes examined his features at close range.
"Both honest faces," was the verdict. "I give frequent thanks to Our Lord Jesus Christ that my sight still serves me on occasion. Well, and what say you, Messer Matteo? These Saracens asked the man Mocenigo of the Crusade?"
"Ay, your Highness. And he told them it would not sail for Babylon or any port in Paynimry."
"This year?" amended the Doge.
"Nay, any year," he said.
"Said he so?" Dandolo murmured. "And then?"
"He said it would sail against Constantinople."
The Doge's gaunt frame snapped upright in his chair, and a light seemed to flash from his face.
"Why did you conceive it necessary to tell me this?"
"Because it seemed to me, your Highness, that it touched the honour of the Republic—ay, of all Christendom."
"You have repeated it to no one else?"
"No."
"You have said nothing of your suspicions to the leaders of the host?"
"Fair sir, we had no suspicions before to-night."
Dandolo drummed on the arm of his chair and stared over the comrades' heads.
"Look you, Messers," he said suddenly. "You have been taken by the officers of the Republic in the violation of her laws. You are strangers here, and none will take interest in your fate—nay, none will know of it. A word from me, and you will disappear."
Hugh frowned in anger at this speech, but Matteo motioned to him to hold his temper.
"What you have said is sufficiently clear, Lord Doge," replied the jongleur placidly. "But I have yet to hear that justice is departed from Venice."
"And I propose to give you justice," retorted Dandolo. "'Tis because you are both plainly honourable and well-intentioned in your blunderings."
"Blunderings, sire? Where have we blundered?"
"You have blundered into that which doth not concern you, into matters of great import. But you gained the knowledge through no fault of your own, and so I would help you to escape the consequences."
"You speak to us in riddles, your Highness," said Hugh impatiently. "In God's name, tell us what you mean! We fear naught! We have no sin upon our souls!"
Not a line quivered in Dandolo's imperturbable face.
"Right knightly spoken!" he approved. "I see that you are men of spirit as well as honour. That is well, for we need such. Messers, all unwittingly you have stumbled upon the most valuable secret in the world. Your possession of it is dangerous to myself and to other people. Therefore I give you the choice of pledging me your word by the Body of Christ that you will speak naught of it to others and that you will agree to accompany the Crusade until I release you from your promise, or—the dungeons of St. Mark. Choose!"
Matteo and Hugh exchanged glances.
"That is really no choice, fair sir," said Hugh. "As it happens, I go upon a private quest to Outremer, and my affairs take me first to Constantinople."
"So much the better for you," returned the Doge. "Do you give your word?"
"Ay, fair sir."
"And for your servants?"
"For them, too."
"I rejoice, Messers. Think not that I have been unjust to you. You shall share in an exploit that will be remembered through the ages, and sung of, Messer Jongleur, wherever brave men love brave songs."
Dandolo's voice clanged like a trumpet and a fire of enthusiasm burned lambently over his waxen features.
"Then it is true what Mocenigo said?" asked Hugh.
"Ay, true, Messer Englishman. Mocenigo was permitted to come to Venice in secret to make certain arrangements for us. He is a spy in our interest in Constantinople. He gave the information you overheard to-night to the envoys of the Sultan of Babylon, in order that the property of Christians in Paynimry might be assured safety against measures of vengeance such as the Saracens take when Crusades are dispatched to their shores. I like not to use such dogs as he, but in affairs of state we accept the tools God gives us. 'Twas no more than to be expected that he should sell additional information together with that which he was charged to impart."
"But, Lord Doge," exclaimed Hugh, "what will Holy Church, what will the Apostle of Rome say to the employment of a Crusade against another Christian country?"
Once more the light of enthusiasm flamed in Dandolo's face.
"What will they say? God knows, young Englishman! He who plans for the future must always face the slurs of the blind who cannot see ahead. But I see, and I am not afraid to venture. Byzantium! What is she to-day? An empty mockery, a worn-out husk, a figment of pomp and blazonry! Her Emperors win the throne by assassination, mutilation, parricide and fratricide. Yet she purports to rule the world!
"I tell you, Messers, we will take her, and on the ruins of her ancient might we will erect a state which will be able to beat back the Saracens and carry Christian arms and commerce to the farthest ends of the earth. What use is any Crusade which chops out a little block of Paynimry, and then collapses for want of support? It is impossible to wage such wars from over-seas. But from Constantinople it will be a different task. With those giant walls to protect us, we will build up anew the Empire of the East, reconquer the provinces of Asia, win back the Holy Land.
"What if the Pope of Rome derides us? What if he excommunicates us? Long after he is dead men will remember us and bless us for our work. The Pope! Bah! He hath not even the address to see to it that these poor, misguided Crusaders receive the funds the holy friars have ransacked Europe for! He and Holy Church have lost the right to dictate the conduct of the Crusade. They should have provided for the welfare of their charges, materially as well as spiritually. But they did not, and so, Messers, this Crusade will fight for something better than relics and holy places. It will fight for the good of mankind!"
The Doge tossed up his arms in a gesture of defiance, and exhausted by the vehemence of his passion, sank down in his chair. The comrades stood silent and ill at ease. They knew not what to say. They were abashed, stupefied. They realised something in this man which was extraordinary, incalculable, a driving force of unearthly energy.
Presently, Dandolo brushed his hand before his face as if to wipe away a veil which hindered him.
"Now you know all there is to know," he said kindly. "Remember your promise, and if I can help you in aught, be sure to come to me. I like not to threaten, but bear my words in mind."
As the comrades were seating themselves in their gondola again, after passing out from the Palace, Ralph heaved a deep sigh of relief.
"I do not mind saying, Messer Hugh, that I was never more frightened in my life than when we came before that terrible old man in there," he said. "It made me think that if only you had let me bring my bow with me to-night, I might have shot this Mocenigo and all his crew and the police would not have captured us."
"And we would not have been taken to the Palace," added Matteo. "True, Ralph, but I am not sure that I regret it. What say you, Hugh?"
"Regret it? I would not have had it happen otherwise for many gold pieces!" returned Hugh. "Do you remember what Messer Fulke, the priest, told us, Matteo?"
"Ay," said Matteo. "And Crusaders—of sorts—we become."
Never since the infant days of the Republic had Venice floated such an armada as that which put out from the Lido in the octave of the Feast of St. Remigius. More than 85,000 warriors and mariners manned the gigantic fleet of 50 galleys, 70 store-ships, 120 palendars and 240 transports. From the foremost galley floated the standard of St. Mark, and beneath its folds stood Dandolo himself, High Admiral of the Venture. The rails of each galley and transport were lined with the shields of the goodliest knights in Europe, whilst thousands of tall warhorses were housed in the roomy palendars built for the purpose by clever Venetian shipwrights. On board the store-ships were also 800 mangonels, petraries, cats, arbalests and other engines of war.
To Hugh, standing with Matteo and Ralph on the poop of the galley Paradise, it seemed as if the lagoons were floored with ships. The hue and sheen of their sails dazzled the eye from the remotest distance. The clang of cymbals, the screaming of trumpets, the clamour of nakirs, the rattle of drums, came from far and near. In the stern-castles the priests celebrated mass, and tinkling bells gave warning of the elevation of the Sacrament. The shouting of war-songs, the intoning of psalms and prayers, the neighing of chargers, the creak of cordage, the rattle of oars,—these were but a few of the sounds that blended together in the wildest confusion.
"St. Cuthbert be my witness!" protested Hugh. "Never thought I to see the like! Can all these vessels be the property of the Venetians?"
"Ay, these and more," answered Matteo.
"It passeth comprehension. Truly, this Dandolo is a wonderful man! To have raised the host—that was a feat worth mentioning, and I say naught to decry the Marshal of Champagne. But to have brought together all these vessels, to have equipped them, ordered their crews and engaged them to work in common—that is close to black magic!"
"Dandolo hath a great stake to play for," returned Matteo.
Hugh looked quickly behind him.
"Hast noted the rumours these past weeks?" he asked.
"Who has not? Be sure, Hugh, a man may not plot to upset the world and no word of it reach mankind."
"I would not have the Doge suspect us of broken faith," said Hugh musingly. "If for no other reason than that it means our heads."
"This talk that hath sprung up is not from any one source," objected Matteo. "It is universal. It permeates all ranks of the host. Lords and knights, sergeants and varlets, all say that they will never reach Jerusalem."
"Ay, Dandolo failed to reckon with the priests. It may be there he erred lamentably. The shaven-heads have great power over simple men."
"Power, belike!" rejoined Matteo scornfully. "Mayhap. But your shaven-head is human, even as you and I, Hugh, and there be a-many shaven-heads will cry 'Out! Harrow!' for such an understanding, with thought of fat abbacies, bishoprics and even cardinal's caps in mind."
Hugh would have answered him, but at that moment the great galley Pilgrim, flying the gonfalon of St. Mark, swept by, her oars beating the sea to foam, and all eyes were riveted upon the splendid pageant on her decks. The fore-castle was a mass of gleaming armour and waving pennons. The waist was thick with foot-sergeants and Venetian bowmen. On the stern-castle Dandolo stood, austere in his long black robe and mitred cap, a flaming group of nobles around him. But what held Hugh's attention was not this lordly picture. It was the dark, passionate face of Helena Comnena, standing by her father close under the bracket of the stern-lantern.
She saw Hugh as the vessels passed. A slow smile parted her lips, and she waved him a satirical greeting. Why, he did not know, but every nerve tingled, as he doffed his cap in acknowledgment.
"A fair sight, Messers," said Villehardouin's voice at his elbow. "It bodes well for a prosperous voyage."
The bluff features of the Marshal of Champagne belied his words, for they were worn and harassed by the worries which had multiplied since the host arrived at Venice.
"Well said, Lord Marshal," replied Matteo. "But whither do we voyage? There is open debate on all sides."
Villehardouin shook his head.
"Of that I may not speak," he said simply. "Nay, what use? 'Tis in my mind you have more knowledge than you admit. Else why do you sail with us, when first you would have none of our venture?"
"Knowledge or no, Messer, we will stand by you, and you come to want friends," answered Hugh, with ready sympathy. "If the talk we hear be true, there will be divided counsels ere the fleet sails from Zara."
"God grant you may be wrong!" Villehardouin spoke with genuine emotion. "I call all to witness I have laboured, head and hand, as hath no other lord of the host; and if all comes to naught at the end, then do I hold myself absolved from responsibility, and I will fare on alone, if need be, and do my devoir in the Holy Land as Heaven wills it. The burden grows over-heavy, and I could wish my Lord Boniface would come to take it from my shoulders."
"An honest man," said Hugh, as he walked away.
"Ay, but he nor any of them is the match of Dandolo," returned Matteo. "That man is power incarnate. By Our Lady of Tortosa, what a king he would make—or, perchance, a Master of the Templars! Ninety-two, Hugh, and in the prime of his years!"
Whilst the comrades watched from the poop of the Paradise, the domes and towers of Venice faded against the western sky. Only the low marshes of the coast remained to show the host that land existed. But the weather was calm and gentle, and the fleet made good progress, sailing on from day to day and skirting the shoreline of the Adriatic, until St. Martin's Eve brought the leading vessels in sight of the crowded battlements of Zara.
And now the sedition that had spread through the host first raised its head in open rebellion. The people of Zara were panic-stricken at sight of the force that had come against them, and sent envoys to arrange terms of surrender before the leaders' tents had been pitched. But the Abbot of Vaux, a monk of the order of the Cistercians, and the Lord Robert of Boves, with other priests and knights, met the envoys at the outskirts of the camp and said:
"Messers, why do you surrender your city? The Crusaders will not attack you. They dare not. The Holy Apostle of Rome has forbidden it. All you have to fear are the Venetians."
When these words came to the ear of the Doge he was white-lipped with rage. He sent hastily through the camp and summoned to a parliament all the principal barons of the host. There were many who sided secretly with the Abbot of Vaux, but of these most were afraid to speak out. Only the Abbot stood his ground and said sturdily:
"Lords, I forbid you to attack this city. The Holy Apostle of Rome gives me my authority, and if you disobey you will risk the terrors of the excommunicate. For these people in Zara are Christians, and you, too, are Christians, pledged to wage war against the Paynims."
Dandolo stood forward, tall and menacing.
"Signers," he cried hotly, "what manner of talk is this? The people of Zara were ready to yield themselves to the authority from which they had rebelled, and that without bloodshed. And now these mischief-makers have taken it upon themselves to stimulate anew the fray. I say that every drop of blood that is shed shall be upon the souls of those who bred rebellion. You, lords of the host, have covenanted to aid me in taking the city, and I call upon you to fulfil your words."
As it happened, many of the barons who opposed the diversion of the Crusade against the fiat of the Church, felt that those who had encouraged the citizens to resist had done wrong. And for this reason there was little opposition to Dandolo's plea. To staunch upholders of the feudal system, there was, after all, nothing very heinous in the assertion by a great feudal lord of his dominion over a feudatory—and this was precisely what Dandolo was doing.
The sentiment of the majority was expressed by Count Baldwin of Flanders, a tall, blonde young prince, who was, after Boniface of Montferrat, the most powerful leader in the host.
"We wot well that you mean only that which is good and worthy by what you have said, Holy Abbot," he declared. "But we have made a bargain to help the Venetians, so that they may help us to go to the aid of Christ's Sepulchre. That is all. If the host accomplishes its purpose, what matter is it that we subdue a city that has rebelled against its rightful lord?"
"Ay, if ye go in sooth to the Holy Land!" flashed the Abbot. "Think well of what ye do, fair sirs! Satan's hands are reaching out to cling to the heels of those of ye who do his bidding."
"What is this that ye say now?" exclaimed Count Baldwin. "If we go, in sooth, to the Holy Land! Know, Holy Sir, that everything we do is aimed to the one end: the greater glory of Christ and the fuller recovery of His country."
The matter ended there in the defeat of the opposition, and the siege was begun. As a military operation it served mainly to train the green men-at-arms. Within five days the hail of stones cast by the engines and the threat of assault by land and sea reduced the inhabitants of Zara to despair. They surrendered on condition that their lives and homes be spared. In return the town was to shelter the Crusaders during the approaching winter, the immanence of which forbade the departure of the expedition on the next stage of the long voyage to Outremer.
To Hugh and Matteo these were dull days, although Ralph covered himself with glory by his feats with the longbow in clearing the walls. Afterwards they settled down to the routine of winter quarters, broken occasionally by tumultuous riots between the Venetian seamen and the Frankish soldiers. For the rest, they rode and hunted in the neighbouring country and practised at arms. In the evenings they joined some body of knights around a fire, and shared in the mirth as the wine-cups went from hand to hand and Matteo strummed his gittern whilst he narrated romaunts and gests—or perhaps some other jongleur bore the burden of entertainment.