THE BARGAIN OF THE HOST
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.
It was a care-free life and pleasant, such as was found at any
popular court save for the scarcity of high-born ladies. Helena
Comnena had few rivals and the younger knights made much of her.
Many a lance was broken over her favours in the improvised lists
which were erected under the city walls. For Hugh she had ever a
mocking smile or gibe, but little else--never a word of the
confidences she had been wont to bring to him. Once only, as he rode
in the fields, with a falcon he had borrowed from a Flemish knight,
he heard the thud of galloping hoofs behind him, and Helena drew rein
at his side.
"You thought you would never see me again," she challenged him. "But
I knew better."
"How so, Lady?" he asked, surprised.
"I know many things," she returned evasively. "For one thing, I know
why you come to be here at Zara--and mayhap, too, I know why
Constantinople lures you so."
Hugh flushed.
"There is but one object leads me to Constantinople, and that----"
"I know that, too," she interrupted impatiently. "Others know, also.
Give heed, Lord Hugh, for you have enemies--more than you wot of."
"Why do you tell me this?"
"Because you are a youth and innocent and because--because I wish to."
"I thank you," said Hugh gravely.
He was at a loss for words, as always with her. She, for a wonder,
was silent likewise, and they rode so for the space of the sun's
crossing the roadside tree-tops.
"You have been very kind to me," he said at last to break the silence.
"Doubt not I have an object in view," she replied cynically.
"What?"
"Think not I will tell you. I am a Greek, Lord Hugh, and Greeks have
keener wits than you Northern people."
She laughed abruptly.
"Remember I have told you to beware of enemies," she went on,
gathering up her reins. "Any one may be an enemy--even I. Keep
silent."
She was gone like a flash, flogging her horse unmercifully.
It was three days after this that Matteo broke in upon Hugh as he
conned over certain memoranda of counsels which he had writ down for
Villehardouin.
"Who think you hath just arrived?" cried the jongleur.
"Who?"
"The Young Alexius--Alexius Angelos."
"And who is he, Matteo?"
"Who but Dandolo's lure--or I never saw a hawk flown! Nay, put down
your parchments. This is most important. It means much to us. It
tells us why that fat-faced wolf Michael Comnenus hath been hanging
about Dandolo. It tells us how Dandolo intends to swing the Crusade
towards Constantinople."
"Tell, then, Messer Oracle," said Hugh, laughing.
"Be serious," adjured Matteo. "This Alexius--the young Alexius they
call him that he may be distinguished from his uncle, the Emperor who
reigns in Constantinople--is the son of the Emperor Isaac, brother of
this Emperor Alexius, whom Alexius blinded and cast into prison. The
Young Alexius was imprisoned with his father, but he escaped. He is
come now, I will warrant you, to appeal to the Crusade to put his
father back on the throne, promising in return the support of
Byzantium for a descent upon the Holy Land."
"That is fair enough," said Hugh slowly. "But I had thought Dandolo
intended no such legalised expedition."
"Oh, the old eagle talked to us in an unguarded moment as he really
felt, but he is far too cautious to move in such a matter without
ample justification."
Matteo laughed.
"Can you not imagine the twitter the Pope and all his Holy Cardinals
will be in?" continued the jongleur. "A Crusade which they preached
being used to put a new Emperor on the throne of the schismatic
Eastern Empire! I will wager you, Hugh, more than one fat priest
dies of the swelling sickness."
"You seem to mock at religion," Hugh reproached him.
"Not so, Hugh," answered Matteo, laughing again. "But I have seen
much of the world and of priests, and a-many of them do not merit
their priesthood. In the Holy Land they quarrelled over every shrine
that should have been sacred, until their bickering was a scandal.
But let be. We must be off to the Parliament, which is summoned to
meet in the lists. The Lord Marshal and all have gone. I came
hither that you might know of it."
In the lists outside the Hungarian Gate were gathered all the men of
consequence who had embarked upon the Crusade, and on the hills
around stood thousands of the common men and Venetian seamen of the
fleet. At one end three thrones had been set up, and the eyes of the
throng were centred upon the three men who occupied them. In the
centre sat Dandolo, waxen of feature, impassive as ever. On his
right was a gangling lad of eighteen or nineteen, sallow-faced,
lank-haired, with shifty, uncertain eyes.
"The Young Alexius," was the name murmured by all as Hugh and Matteo
circled the outer barriers, seeking a point nearer to the three
thrones, whence they might hear what was said.
"Who is the other?" Hugh asked Matteo.
He pointed to the occupant of the third chair, a splendid-looking
man, well on in middle-age, lion-faced, dark and mighty in frame, who
sat easily listening to the talk of a group of nobles around him.
"That? Oh, that is the Marquis Boniface," answered Matteo. "I
forgot to tell you that he came with Alexius."
"That must mean that he is a party to this plan," said Hugh.
"So 'twould seem. Make haste, Hugh, or we shall be too late to hear
what is said. See, Dandolo is going to speak."
The aged Doge stood erect, a page at his elbow, as the comrades
forced their way into the ranks just behind the thrones.
"Lords of the host," he said, "I greet you well. The dear God
Himself must have sent this day, for it is a right happy one. See,
first of all, I present to you your chief, the commander of us all,
the Marquis Boniface of Montferrat, who hath come to us at last after
many toils to insure the success of our enterprise."
There was a sharp clanging of swords on shields at this, and the
common men on the outskirts of the throng shouted lustily; for
Boniface was a popular noble, and the prestige of his lineage carried
weight. Men said to each other: "It is well to have a lord like
this. He will outwit our enemies, for he is a great captain."
Dandolo raised his hand for silence, and Boniface smiled proudly at
his followers.
"But there is more to say--much more," continued the Doge. "Here,
likewise is come the young Prince Alexius, son of Isaac Angelos, the
rightful Emperor of Constantinople. He greets you by me and says
that your efforts are very close to his heart. Know, Messers, that
his father, who should be Emperor, some years ago ransomed from the
Saracens a brother whom the Paynims had captured in a border foray.
That brother, Alexius by name, in return for this kindness, overthrew
Isaac the Emperor, caused his eyes to be seared with white-hot
irons--ay, Messers, even as those fiends tried to sear my eyes, when
I was a young man and went on embassage from the Republic!--and threw
him into prison."
A hiss of execration burst from the crowded lists.
"Rightly do you give voice to your horror, Messers," approved
Dandolo. "Never was there a more dastardly deed performed in
Christendom. Even the barbarians of the East and the Saracens of
Paynimry were shocked by it. The Lord God in His Divine Wisdom did
not send down a bolt of fire to blast the impious prince. Heaven
provided other means of vengeance. This youth, whom men call the
Young Alexius, was cast into prison with his father, but succeeded in
escaping. He bears an offer from his tortured father, which he hath
charged me to convey to you.
"Know, lords, that having heard of the ordering of this Crusade, he
begs that you will lend your power to throw this monster, the false
Emperor Alexius, from his throne and restore the Emperor Isaac. If
you will do this for him, he engages that he will place the whole
Empire of Byzantium in obedience to the Church of Rome, whence it
hath strayed these many centuries since. Moreover, he will give you
200,000 marks of silver and food for the host for the term of the
venture, and to show his interest more, he will continue with you
into the land of Babylon or wherever else in Paynimry you strike--or,
if you think better of it, he will send instead 10,000 men with you
at his own charges. And in addition to all this, he engages to
maintain at his own charges, all the days of his life, 500 knights in
the Holy Land for the protection of our Lord's Sepulchre."
Dandolo had scarce finished when a hum of comment rose from the
thousands of men who packed every inch of ground within hearing
distance. Several would have spoken at once, but the Abbot of Vaux
forced his way to the front.
"Anti-Christ hath spoken!" shouted the white monk. "God help all
here. On your knees and pray, ye wicked! Would you scout the
commands of the Holy Apostle himself? Would you sin against the
indulgences that have been granted you for a certain cause? Would
you turn from the pursuit of righteousness and go in the path of the
evil-doers? You are sworn to serve Christ against the enemies of
Christendom, and now you are asked to fight in a private quarrel.
Was it for this that the Church fed you and protected you, guarded
your souls against damnation in eternity? Think well over what ye
do, for I say unto ye that woe waits for him who transgresses the
Holy Apostle's commands!"
"Woe! Woe!" shrieked his supporters. "Down with Anti-Christ! To
the devil with Byzantium! Heed the Holy Apostle's word! The Doge
lies! The Holy Spirit speaks in our Abbot!"
But just as frenzied and prolonged was the shout that answered this
storm. It was Boniface who secured temporary silence.
"Lose not your minds, Messers," he cried. "This is a Parliament. We
are come hither to debate this or any question. Every man hath his
say, and afterwards we vote as seems us best. Let not his lordship
the Abbot of Vaux or any other man, noble or common, fill your ears
with phrases. What we have here is an offer, which, if it seems best
to you, may be turned to account in our Lord Christ's service. The
Abbot of Vaux shouts of Anti-Christ, but this offer places in your
hands the opportunity to redeem from schismatic heresy the fairest
realm in all the world. Think well on it, fair sirs."
He sat down, and Count Baldwin of Flanders strode out before the
thrones.
"The Lord Boniface hath argued to the point, Messers," he said, and
his fair, open face won him instant attention. "My counsel is that
you follow him. He knows of old the conditions in Outremer."
Villehardouin stood forth next and a deep cheer greeted him, for the
Marshal was liked by all by reason of his justice and tact.
"If it were not for this chance which hath come to us," he said, "I
know not what the Crusade might do. A full third of those who
bargained to accompany us have gone otherwhere, and our ranks have
been filled by the kindness of the Venetians. We would be as a drop
in the ocean in the wastes of Outremer. We might struggle a while
and die, but what good would come of it? Our families would mourn
us, and Holy Church would preach another Crusade--and mayhap hold
back her stipend of the funds, as hath happened in this venture."
A howl of anger from the Abbot of Vaux and his followers answered
this bold charge. But Villehardouin refused to be daunted.
"I do not speak idly," he declared. "The Holy Apostle himself and
his Cardinals are as much to blame as any for that the Crusade failed
to sail this summer according to plan. Had they seen to it that the
funds were put to the right purposes all would have been well. But
enough of that. What we have to do is not to revile those who
disagree with us, but to make the best use of what means we have.
And for this reason I say to you, Messers, that you can do no better
than accept the offer of Prince Alexius. With Byzantium as a base
for our efforts and the treasure with which he promises to aid us, we
can achieve much more against the Saracens than if we land in any
part of Paynimry, with only ourselves to reckon upon. In this all
warriors of experience will agree."
"He says no more than the truth," muttered Matteo in Hugh's ear. "I
say naught of the honesty of the plan, for I know naught about it,
but by Our Lady, the one way to crush the Saracens is to come at them
steadily and without let-up, so that they may not recover from year
to year."
Others seemed to have the same point-of-view, and the applause for
the Marshal's speech drowned out any dissenting cries.
"What other churchmen wish to be heard?" asked Dandolo, when the
shouting had died down.
Another white monk, the Abbot of Loos, was shoved to the front.
"My lords and people," he said, "I cannot agree with my holy brother
of Vaux. He is led astray by excess of zeal. The one object we have
is to regain the Holy Land, and if we can regain it best by fighting
elsewhere first--and best of all, if in doing so we can redeem from
schism a nation of our fellow-Christians--then I say that we should
do so without fear. Let him hesitate who would sow dissension in the
host, for by such means is Anti-Christ served."
There was more applause at this, for it convinced many who had been
swayed by fear of the Pope's anathema.
"Who will take the oath to covenant with the Prince Alexius?"
questioned Dandolo.
"I," said the Marquis Boniface.
"I," said Count Baldwin.
"I," said Count Louis of Blois.
"I," said the Count of St. Paul.
"I," said Count Bertrand von Katzenellenbogen.
"And I, for the men of Champagne," said Villehardouin.
"And I, and I, and I, and I!"
The barons crowded forward, eager to register their assent.
"Well-played," whispered Matteo, with a cynical smile. "He is a
master, that old Venetian eagle."
"It may well be he serves God better than those who oppose him,"
answered Hugh.
"Oh, ay, mayhap! But I warrant you first of all he serves Venice."
"But never himself," protested Hugh.
"Nay, there you are right. He is better than these barons who are
thinking on the principalities and duchies they hope to carve out for
themselves in Outremer."