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.