Not a line quivered in Dandolo's imperturbable face.
"Right knightly spoken!" he approved. "I see that you are men of spirit as well as honour. That is well, for we need such. Messers, all unwittingly you have stumbled upon the most valuable secret in the world. Your possession of it is dangerous to myself and to other people. Therefore I give you the choice of pledging me your word by the Body of Christ that you will speak naught of it to others and that you will agree to accompany the Crusade until I release you from your promise, or—the dungeons of St. Mark. Choose!"
Matteo and Hugh exchanged glances.
"That is really no choice, fair sir," said Hugh. "As it happens, I go upon a private quest to Outremer, and my affairs take me first to Constantinople."
"So much the better for you," returned the Doge. "Do you give your word?"
"Ay, fair sir."
"And for your servants?"
"For them, too."
"I rejoice, Messers. Think not that I have been unjust to you. You shall share in an exploit that will be remembered through the ages, and sung of, Messer Jongleur, wherever brave men love brave songs."
Dandolo's voice clanged like a trumpet and a fire of enthusiasm burned lambently over his waxen features.