"This will do," he announced. "Come, varlet, be about your business. We have tarried over-long."
The ferryman jumped to obey, drove off his jealous fellows with a wide sweep of his long oar, and then assisted Ralph to lead the horses on board. Presently, they floated from the bank and began to creep over the placid water towards the glowing outline of Venice.
As they drew near the city, and its colours and architecture became distinct, Hugh exclaimed in admiration:
"Never thought I there could be aught so beautiful as this! And the churches! They are frequent as inns."
"It is a great city," agreed Matteo. "After Constantinople, mayhap, the richest in the world. Here you will find men from every country, even the Saracens—yes, and from beyond their lands—and all men meet here in peace to trade and exchange their goods."
"Where are we going?"
"To the fondaco of one Messer Annibale Ziniani, who tradeth with the merchants of Tripoli and Antioch. I am not unknown to him. He will give us right good shelter, and perchance can find us a ship for Constantinople. These merchants each know what the other does. 'Tis their way."
The ferryman and his crew pushed lustily at their huge sweeps, and the flat-bottomed craft forged ahead at a surprising pace. They struck across the lagoons at right angles to the course taken by the flotilla which had borne the Crusaders to San Nicolo, and soon made the entrance to a lane of water which led between the outer groups of buildings in what might be termed the suburbs of the island city.
"They have no walls!" marvelled Hugh.
"What want they of walls?" answered Matteo. "Their stout galleys are walls enough for them, and the water which rings them round is sufficient moat. No enemy ever has dared to strike at the Venetians. His fate would be certain."