"Ha, Messers," said Villehardouin, patting the flank of his charger, "this promiseth to be a joyous enterprise. Steady, there!"
An arrow, shot high, dropped to the planks betwixt the horse's hoofs, and stuck upright, its feathers quivering.
"And do they call that an arrow, Messer Hugh?" demanded Ralph, stooping over it. "St. Cuthbert be my witness, I gave over playing with such toys before I left the village butts."
"Mayhap, Ralph," said Hugh, amidst the general laughter of the knights, "yet even so, it might have caused the death of Beosund or another."
"Nay, Messer Hugh," protested the archer, "no war-horse could come by his death from such a toy. But I will teach them a thing or two, an they will but bide in bowshot of me."
"I will warrant you do," assented Villehardouin. "St. Remi guide your shafts, brave varlet. But what says the shipmaster?"
The Venetian captain leaned over the rail of the sterncastle and shouted down to them:
"Be prepared, lords! We approach the shore. Ho, there, varlets, draw the door-pins."
The galley which had been towing them sheered to one side, casting off the tow-rope, and their keel ran into the soft sand of the beach. The shipmen let the side-doors drop, and the knights and squires led the horses down the inclined bridges which were formed by this manoeuvre. Hugh found himself splashing along in water up to his middle, clutching Beosund's bridle in one hand and his lance in the other. Matteo was beside him and Ralph a pace or two behind, holding his precious bow overhead to protect its string from the water that was boiling under the tumult of men and beasts.
"Form ranks, Messers," ordered Villehardouin, as the transport's company gained the beach. "So! With the lance! St. Remi be our guardian!"