Spears of destiny

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

"There are some forty divisions of them, Lord Doge," returned Boniface. "And this is without counting a foison of their people who have but now issued forth from the Gate of Blachernae and are assailing the guards upon our machines."

"Do they prevail against the Lord Henry?"

"Not so, by God's grace. We hold our own. An we made a sharp assault upon them I think we might do them great hurt."

"Nay, do not quit your ranks," answered Dandolo sharply. "If you take my counsel you will not stir a step from this place where you stand. For know, lords, if you do move hence it is likely that you will be swallowed up in the Greeks as a sinking galley is swallowed by the waves of the sea. Never before this did so few people venture against so many, and I advise you with all the wit that I have to do nothing to make it easier for the Greeks to encompass you round about. Bide here, and with such help as my people can give, it may be we may withstand the enemy until they weary of their efforts."

The barons of the host all approved of Dandolo's suggestion, more especially because he assured them in no uncertain words that he was determined to cast in his lot with them no matter what happened. The host joined its ranks in close order and stood motionless whilst the Greeks drew nearer. Old men-at-arms who had fought on many fields, at Acre and Ascalon with Lion-Heart, watched that approaching horde with wondering eyes. More than a hundred thousand strong, the Greeks spread over hill and plain and menaced the host on every side, except toward the Golden Horn. Thousands of other Greeks watched the manoeuvres of their brethren from the walls, expecting to witness the final humiliation of the invaders whom they looked upon as barbarians.

But there was something forbidding in the quiet, vigilant ranks of the Crusaders which quenched the ardour of the attackers. The battalions on the hill stood firm in their positions. When columns of Greek horsemen galloped to the front and sought to draw them into separate combats they lowered their lances to meet a charge—and remained where they were. Perceiving that they could not lure the Crusaders into breaking formation, the Greeks next sought to induce them to advance as a body. The forty divisions of the enemy surged forward, trumpets blowing, cymbals clashing and drums thudding. Hundreds of banners waved. The Greek archers darkened the sky with their arrow-flights. But still the Crusaders clung to the hill and refused to be drawn down to the plain. Their archers and crossbowmen answered the discharges of the Greeks, but that was as far as they would go.

The confidence of the Greeks seemed to wane as twilight came on. Several times they made preparations to deliver a charge, but when they were about to come to the shock they drew off. Those bristling lances, those tall, armoured men on the gigantic horses of Western Europe, exerted a grim spell upon the Greek chivalry, and when the Greek footmen saw that their lords would not endure a charge, they, too, weakened and held back. With the gathering darkness the Greeks began a slow withdrawal toward the farther gates in the land-walls, and Dandolo and Boniface gave order for the host to follow them. Slowly and cautiously, the Crusaders and Venetians advanced from the camp, gained the foot of the hill and passed out upon the plain. But now the Greeks refused to come forward. They followed their Emperor in precipitate flight.

There was no elation in the Crusaders' camp. The men of the host were too weary and dispirited from their toil and the loss of many brave comrades. The Venetians nourished the bitter memory of the victory they had been compelled to sacrifice. Moreover, no man could be sure what the morrow would bring forth. It might be that the Greeks would come out again with still greater numbers and force battle with disastrous results to the host. And to crown all, there was but little food for the hungry men. Provisions were running low, and the rations served out consisted of a handful of mouldy flour and a slice of bacon.

Matteo summed up the situation in a single sentence.

"We are come hither to conquer," he said, "and we are now come to the point that we must conquer or perish. For we cannot go back."