A petrary farther down the wall had jerked a stone fairly into another crowded ladder, which, in overturning, had upset a second one.
"It is those cursed Englishmen of yours," said Matteo gloomily. "The Greeks would never fight like that. There are no men-at-arms in the world better than the Varangian Guard."
"So much the more glory for us if we vanquish them," replied Hugh. "You are impatient, comrade. Ay, by St. James, 'tis so! We have the wall! We have won!"
There was a murmur of comment in the group surrounding Boniface. What had begun to seem impossible was actually happening under their eyes. A dozen or more of the assailants were on the wall, their swords clashing on the axes of the sturdy Varangians. The ladders behind them creaked with hurrying reinforcements; they had almost cleared the curtain between two towers. But in the very moment of victory the scarlet surcoat of Sir Cedric appeared in the ranks of the Varangians. The defence tensed, contracted and pushed back the invaders. The Varangian axes rose and fell resistlessly; the curtain was reconquered; one by one the Crusaders were thrust over the battlements or slain.
Undaunted by the defeat, the attacking battalions of the host recoiled only long enough to secure fresh ladders and mantlets. Then, shouting their war-cries, they returned to the hazardous assault of those mighty walls, beside whose massy cliffs men looked insignificant as flies. But a look of deep concern clouded the face of the Marquis of Montferrat.
"I like it not, Messers," he said uneasily. "We have lost many good knights, and naught gained thereby. Messer Hugh, I prithee take boat to Messer Dandolo. Tell him that we of the host have done all that men may, and unless his people can exert some diversion in our favour it is like to go hard with us."
"Ay, Lord Marquis," answered Hugh, and saluting with his lance, he rode off with Matteo to the basin behind the hill where certain of the smaller craft of the Venetians were beached. One of these he secured, together with the necessary shipmen, and, leaving Ralph in charge of their horses, the comrades bade the mariners row them down the Golden Horn to the fleet.
The ships and galleys were drawn so close to the shore that the boarding-parties on the flying-bridges which were rigged from the mast-heads were able to cross lances with the Greeks behind the battlements of the towers. But notwithstanding the clamour of the fighting and the volumes of arrows and other missiles, the Venetians were no farther forward in their project of seizing the harbour walls than were the Crusaders on the landward side. So much Hugh and Matteo saw for themselves in their progress behind the line of the fleet.
They found Dandolo on the prow of his galley Pilgrim, with the gonfalon of St. Mark beside him. Despite the burden of the day and the weight of his full armour, the gaunt, white face of the Doge gave no sign of fatigue, fear or other emotion. He stood serene amidst all the uproar and confusion, looking away over the masts and the city walls, seeming to scrutinise some vision that was only for him to see.
He received the comrades courteously, and heard their message without comment.