"Oh, ay, mayhap! But I warrant you first of all he serves Venice."
"But never himself," protested Hugh.
"Nay, there you are right. He is better than these barons who are thinking on the principalities and duchies they hope to carve out for themselves in Outremer."
CHAPTER XV
HUGH'S ENEMIES STRIKE AGAIN
The comrades stood once more on the stern-castle of the galley Paradise, and watched the ruined walls of Zara dwindle in the distance. From below came the hoarse "Ha-hee-ho-ha!" of the galeotti as the long oars lifted, feathered and bit the water. In the distance frowned the savage mountains of the Sclavonian coast. All around them the pageantry of the Venetian fleet painted the sea a myriad hues—crimson and purple, Tyrian blue, orange-yellow, green and gold and silver, the colours clashed and blended in one gorgeous sheen of dazzling brilliance out of which leaped an occasional escutcheon or a saintly figure blazoned on a sail.
"Right glad I am to be no longer idle," said Hugh contentedly.
Matteo was silent for a space, his eyes drinking in the wonder of the spectacle.
"I would not have missed this," he answered at last. "No, Hugh, not for anything would I have missed this. Ha, comrade, think on the songs men will sing of what we do."
"Songs?" repeated Hugh. "Belike. But I think more of the mission we take up. Hast not forgot our quest, Matteo?"