A murmur of comment greeted this.
"It may be that all your Magnificence says hath truth in it," spoke up a Burgundian boldly. "Yet certes no man will deny we failed miserably where all thought victory would be easily won."
"Fools!" snarled Dandolo. "'Twas for that you were defeated!"
Those blind eyes hovered over the room, cowing the disaffected who had not spoken. But the Burgundian persisted.
"Mayhap, Lord Doge," he kept on doggedly. "But there were other reasons. We attacked where the Greeks were ready for us. Belike, we should have gone otherwhere. Why were we not led against the sea-walls? They are the lowest of all, and the Greeks were not there in force."
"If you had listened in our councils, you would not have asked that question," replied the Doge wearily. "Know, sir knight, that the current through the strait which washes the land walls is so swift that no vessel can remain stationary opposite the walls without risking being dashed to pieces against them."
The Burgundian and his friends were silenced, but the blanket of gloom was not lifted from the assembly. And when Sir James rose in his place, all eyes turned hopefully to his lean figure, erect and vigorous as a youth's, despite the snow-white hair which crowned his splendid head. Hugh, sitting beside him, wondered if others there were as proud as he was of this knight who had stepped so debonairly from the oblivion of the tomb back to the life of men.
"With your favour, Lord Doge," began Sir James.
"I speak for all the lords of the host when I say we are right glad to hear your counsel, sir knight," replied Dandolo courteously.
"I cry you thanks, Magnificence. I have listened here to what hath been said and it hath come to me that there is somewhat of justice in the complaint that our attack was ill-conceived—for which are we all to blame, in that we did not prepare as we should have done."