Spears of destiny

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

The gonfaloniere beside him waved the standard overhead, so that the crews of the shipping might see where it stood by the walls, and a wave of enthusiasm possessed the Venetians. Officers who had fought half-heartedly, holding that it was impossible for sailors afloat to capture walls on land, now plucked up their courage and followed the lead of the Doge. The ships spewed forth men by thousands. Ladders were reared against the walls; the flying-bridges were flung out from the mast-heads so close that the bolder spirits might jump from their ends upon the battlements. The archers, slingers and engineers at the machines worked tirelessly to keep down the hail of missiles which came from the walls. And through it all, Dandolo stood by the Gate of the Diplophanarion, guarded by the shields of Hugh and Matteo, overseeing everything with his wellnigh sightless eyes, directing and controlling the progress of the attack.

The battle which had been waged so languidly of a sudden flared into a conflagration of the utmost violence. The Greeks on the walls were bewildered by the abrupt change. As the attack waxed bolder and more desperate, their bewilderment became panic. Scores of ladders were raised from the shore; gigantic cats or rams made their appearance and commenced to pick at the foundations, already jarred by the blows of stones from the catapults on the ships. There were no Varangians here to brace the resistance. The defence had been entrusted to troops of the Scholarii, or Noble Guard,—a very different body from the Varangians,—and the train-bands of the city, together with certain mercenary corps. These fought well enough so long as the combat went their way, but courage deserted them at first sight of the banner of St. Mark waving on one of the towers.

The Venetians themselves were surprised at the ease of their victory, and once they had gained a footing on the walls, they pushed ahead at will. Twenty-five towers were taken; the gate was thrown open and the Doge entered the city. The Greeks fled before them. From the streets that led away from the walls there came the wailing and lamentation of the people, who feared the ruthless hand of an enemy and the tortures of the sack. But there was only brief opportunity for looting. The Venetians were still exploring the possibilities of the warehouses which filled the water-front streets when the look-outs posted on towers gave warning of the approach of fresh bodies of Greeks.

So soon as word had reached the Emperor Alexius at Blachernae of the success of the Venetians, he had withdrawn the Varangian Guard and other bodies of picked troops from the land walls and hastened as fast as he could to repair the situation on the Golden Horn. After leaving enough men to hold in check the disheartened attacks of the Crusaders, he was yet able to bring against the Venetians an overwhelming body of tried troops. But in Dandolo he had to reckon with a captain who was second to none in the wiles of warfare.

The Doge heard of the approach of the Greek reinforcements with perfect equanimity.

"Bid the men withdraw to the wall and the towers," he directed. "But first they are to fire the houses in their front betwixt them and the Greeks."

The wind was blowing across the Golden Horn on the backs of the Venetians and drove the flames southward into the faces of the Greeks. Their advance was halted immediately, and their efforts diverted to the essential task of checking the fire. But notwithstanding all the toil of the troops, assisted by the citizens, who were fearful of the destruction of the entire city, it burned over an area of many blocks on the waterfront of the Petrion and wrought untold damage before it was finally stayed by the dying of the wind and the wrecking of buildings in its path. It was the first of many scourges which were to descend upon the Imperial City for its sins, a mere foretaste of the doom to come. But it was no small tribute to the splendour of the New Rome that even those of its attackers who were obliged in self-protection to give it to the torch experienced a sensation of remorseful compunction at the immolation of so much that was beautiful and worth while.

Both Hugh and Matteo were grieved by the spectacle of warehouses, monasteries, churches and mansions, to say nothing of hundreds of meaner buildings, disappearing in clouds of smoke and pillars of flame. They stood behind Dandolo on the tower above the Gate of Petrus, waiting to take from him a report of his operations to Boniface. He brooded over the scene of destruction he had created, remote, unimpassioned, the incarnate spirit of judgment.

"It awes you, Messers?" he said suddenly, stretching out one hand toward the sea of flames.

"Ay, Lord Doge," answered Hugh.