On June 18, 1464, the Pope, "an aged man with head of snow and trembling limbs," raised aloft the Cross at the altar of St. Peter's, and vowing himself to the service of Christendom, set forth for Ancona. "Farewell, Rome," he cried, as his barge passed down the Tiber, "living thou shalt never see me more." He was very ill with fever, but the high spirit that had helped him all through life, did not forsake him. The weather was broiling hot, and the Pope suffered greatly on the journey. He was a month reaching Ancona, and had the added discouragement of meeting bands of deserting crusaders on the way. No ships had arrived from Venice, and when at last they appeared, the soldiers they were to embark had nearly all melted away. Pius realised at length that the undertaking had come to naught. Ill, disappointed, heartsick, he remained at Ancona, and when the Venetian fleet appeared, after long delay, he could just bear to be lifted to a window to see the long-watched-for sails. The Doge, who accompanied the fleet, would not at first believe in the reality of the Pope's illness, and sent his physician to see if he were not feigning in order to escape the necessity of setting forth, but the end was near. It was at sunset on the 12th of August that the Venetian ships entered the harbour; at sunset on the 14th the Pope passed away. By his death he escaped the misery of failure; the attempt came to a natural end, and Pius was surrounded with a halo of martyrdom and heroism--not all undeserved, for, unsuccessful as he was, he yet was the only potentate who made any effort to stem the power of the infidel, and his unsupported struggle and baffled aspirations form a pathetic close to his active and successful life. In the fresco there is no hint of the sad and wasted moments. Pintoricchio's part was to glorify and dignify the memory of the Pope, and to please the house of Piccolomini. The Pope is raised on high and borne forward by his followers. In front, dressed in gold brocade, kneels Christoforo Morea, the Doge of Venice. On the opposite side kneels a Turk, and another fierce-looking Oriental stands behind him. These may be recollections of Djem and his followers, whom Pintoricchio had already painted in the Borgia rooms. Behind lie the town and harbour of Ancona, with the Venetian fleet anchored in the bay.