None disputed him, and many thought that he was over-confident in presuming they had left even a chance of conquest. But in the night whilst the tired warriors of the host slept in their tents on the hill over against Blachernae, a panic was let loose behind the bulwarks which had hurled back each assault by daylight. The comrades were awakened in the morning by loud shouts and hurrying feet.
"Is it an attack?" exclaimed Hugh, struggling into his hauberk.
"Belike," returned Matteo. "We must——"
The curtain of the tent was torn away as Ralph stumbled in.
"A miracle, Messers," he cried. "The False Alexius is fled. Messengers have come from the city. The Emperor Isaac, he that is father to our Lord, the Young Alexius, is made Emperor, and he hath invited the barons to come to him with his son."
The comrades stared at him unbelieving.
"Nay, Ralph, you dream," said Matteo, shaking his head. "Or mayhap some camp scoundrel hath——"
"Were you struck in the fighting yesterday?" demanded Hugh, afraid lest his follower might be suffering from some unknown injury.
But Ralph denied stoutly these and other imputations.
"Do you but come with me to the Lord Marshal's pavilion, and you will see that I speak no more than truth," he declared. "For he hath the messengers there, entertaining them the while the Marquis Boniface and the Doge deliberate on their words."