This was a dangerous mission; but the six warriors, one of whom was our scribe, with few attendants alighted at the gate of the Blachernæ, and on foot, passing between two lines of Varangians, reached the palace. The two Emperors with their families were surrounded by the court; a brilliant throng of ladies, ministers, and nobles, and an army of attendants filled the hall.
Conon de Béthune delivered the message from the allies in a commanding voice; and, their duty accomplished, the ambassadors retired at once, and fortunately reached their horses in safety.
Their sudden coming and more sudden going caused an unusual excitement in the city; and when the truth was known, the Greeks were in a frenzy of rage that such an insult had been offered them and the perpetrators of it allowed to depart in safety; with one accord they turned their wrath against those who had permitted the ambassadors to escape their vengeance. They cursed the Angeli as unfit to reign, and Alexius for having sold his country to the Latins; they swore that the time had come to choose a loyal sovereign who would lead them to glory and freedom.
The mob destroyed the colossal statue of Minerva in the Square of Constantine, because they believed that her right hand, pointing towards the west, had invited the invasion of the French and Venetians! A bronze figure of a Caledonian boar in the Hippodrome was accredited with power to charm away sedition, and Isaac ordered it brought within the grounds of his palace! Such were some of the preparations for the threatened attack of the allies.
Alexius was enraged, and the blind old Isaac was prostrated by fear; the whole city resounded with the din of confusion, and the Greeks resolved on a characteristic revenge,—the destruction of the fleet by fire. On a dark winter night a French sentinel was startled by the appearance of a broad sheet of flame approaching the Venetian fleet. He gave the alarm instantly, and the alert sailors saw and understood their danger; a line of fire-ships had been lighted and allowed to drift towards the fleet; the sailors hastily rowed towards them, seized them with hooks on long poles, and towed them to the mouth of the harbor, where a current swept them away, the only loss being that of a vessel belonging to the incendiaries.
A tiresome succession of proposals, made only to be modified or withdrawn, now ensued; and the Latins determined to be inactive no longer, but at once to attack Constantinople for the second time.
At this juncture a Greek of a certain sort of influence came to the front. His name was Alexius Ducas, but he was called Marzoufle on account of his shaggy eyebrows. He possessed great energy and boundless ambition, and was utterly void of moral perception or principle. As grand-chamberlain he had been near the Emperors, and gradually had come to be their chief adviser. He flattered them, and incited the people against them; such faith had both father and son in Marzoufle that when the people, by his connivance, assembled in St. Sophia to elect a new emperor, they refused to believe that this was the object of the gathering.
It was with great difficulty that any one could be persuaded to assume the purple under the present conditions; but at last, overcome by intimidation, a young noble of high rank and worthy character, Nicholas Canabes, accepted the diadem. He had no fitness for such responsibilities as now rested on the Greek Emperor. In truth, there was no savior of Constantinople at hand. The strongest man was Marzoufle, and in reality he was conducting the affairs of the Empire. Hypocritically he worked his way until he gained the ear of the treasurer and could tamper with the Varangians, and then in a single night he consigned Canabes to a dungeon, and ordered the murder of the young Alexius before his eyes, and a few days later superintended his interment with great pomp. The old Isaac survived his son's death but a few days, and Marzoufle seated himself upon the vacant throne without opposition.
Immediately after the murder of Alexius, Marzoufle sent an invitation to Dandolo and the barons to sup with the young Emperor, who wished to consult with them. The barons accepted the invitation, and so long as the messenger remained, Dandolo was silent; but as soon as he had departed, the old Doge so forcibly represented the danger of such a step that the acceptance was withdrawn, and, on learning the truth about Alexius, they felt that they owed their lives to the prudence and wisdom of Dandolo.
Marzoufle was greatly vexed at his failure to entrap the leaders of the allies, but watched carefully for another occasion, which soon presented itself. The Count of Flanders, with a thousand men, went to Phinea, on the Bosphorus, in search of provisions. Marzoufle followed with a large body of troops, intending to meet the French on their return and cut them off when they should be overweighted with booty and weary from their expedition. But this second scheme resulted in favor of the allies; the Greeks were totally defeated, and Marzoufle himself only saved from being made a prisoner by the fleetness of his horse.