The Emperor thoroughly understood the friendly solicitude of his host. He had had large experience with Greek treachery in little as well as in great affairs. He was well aware that their greed and their hatred of the Western Christians would lead them to work against him at every opportunity. It was easy enough to protect himself against the fisherman’s hostile designs by killing him or by putting him in safe custody until his work was accomplished, but he regarded such action as ungrateful, cowardly, and vile. He knew also that he could purchase the man’s faithfulness, but he would not debase himself so far as to redeem his pledge by the use of gold. He must rely, therefore, upon his own resources. He decided to make no further concealment of his purpose, but at the same time to be cautious about revealing his identity. He would defeat any treacherous act the fisherman might be contemplating, by prompt action, and at the same time astonish his enemy by the boldness of his exploit, whether he succeeded or perished in the attempt. He quickly made his plan and lost no time in putting it into execution, for the moment was favorable. Quickly donning his armor, helmet, and cloak, he stepped out of the hut. A little boat was dancing on the gentle waves, and a light wind was blowing toward the castle. “Everything is propitious,” he said to himself, delightedly; “now to my work with God’s help.” He sprang into the boat, seized the oar, and rowed as deftly as if he were an oarsman by occupation. The sun was already high and beat down upon our seaman scorchingly. Great drops of perspiration ran down his face, for he was unused to the work, and his armor made it all the more laborious; but he did not lessen his efforts. Now and then he would let the boat glide along of its own motion, and then, resuming the oar, send it ahead with still more vigorous strokes.