"Yet you have made it."
"True, lordling. But the way was smoothed for me." The Italian wetted his lips nervously. "There are many dangers in Outremer, dangers on sea and dangers on land. The Saracens pin the Franks closer and closer to their few castles on the seaboard of the Holy Land. The Old Man of the Mountains sends his Assassins to slay whom he pleases. Corsairs ravage the shipping. Men slay the stranger first, and empty his wallet and strip off his armour, afterward. When the Franks are not fighting one another or the Emirs, they are quarrelling with my master. Few men live long in Outremer."
A slight smile twisted Hugh's mouth.
"What you say hath interested me still more in my purposed venture, Sir Ambassador," he said quietly. "And if I find only peril and no aid in the Holy Land, I may come to Constantinople, where all is peace and order."
"To Constantinople?" Mocenigo leaned forward, sweat beading out on his face. "But why Constantinople, young sir?"
"Did not my father's galley sail for Constantinople from Tripoli?"
"Ay, but if there was trace of him in the realms of the Augustus, the Grand Acolyth would have found it by this."
Mocenigo settled back in his seat as he spoke, and smiled palely.
"I must go everywhere," answered Hugh steadily. "I may leave no spot untouched in my quest. I have sworn it."
"If my advice had weight with you, lordling, you would abandon your venture. 'Tis more promising of danger than glory."