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."