Chapter XXII: The Treasure of the Bucoleon

A shudder wrenched Sir James's body.

"It cannot be! It cannot be!" he groaned. "Nay, I go mad. 'Tis as I feared. At last it hath come. Oh, Holy Lady of Heaven, I conjure you by my sweet wife, take pity on this poor sufferer, and----"

For the first time Hugh knew tears.

"But it is I, Hugh, father," he insisted. "Be not disturbed. You do not dream. I am Hugh that you left with Prior Thomas as a little babe."

"Hugh? But how come you here?"

"I came seeking you." Hugh laughed bitterly. "I had hoped to save you, mayhap, or bring you such succour as you needed. Well, at the least, I may share your prison with you--thanks to the craft of my enemies."

"And mine, fair son. But prithee tell me how knew you where to seek me?"

Sir James's voice had steadied. He sat by Hugh on the dungeon floor, one arm encircling his shoulders.

"Nay, I knew not. But I have a friend, one Matteo of Antioch, a jongleur, a man wise and cunning in the affairs of Outremer, and from him and others I heard how you had disappeared in Constantinople. By his advice I journeyed hither, trusting that I might learn what had become of you. I had no settled plan. My one thought was to find you."

"But you took great risk, Hugh."

"Nay, for I came with the host."

"The host!" repeated Sir James. "What host, fair son?"

"Know you not----"

Hugh's heart leaped into his throat as he grasped the fact of the awful isolation in which his father had lain.

"I know naught," answered Sir James sadly. "For nigh eight years, Hugh, the world hath gone its way, and James de Chesby ignorant thereof. What kings have passed, who reigneth upon earth, what wars have been fought and lost and won--I know not. I have bided here in my dungeon, living in the memories of the past and in the hope that some day Heaven would welcome me none the less for a shameful end."

The tears came again to Hugh's eyes.

"There is much to tell," he began.

"Nay, it can wait," interrupted his father. "Before all else, I would hear of you yourself, Hugh. You completed your twenty-one years at Chesby, as my charter provided?"

"Ay, father, but with an ill grace."

"I doubt not, but I am glad of it, Hugh. It gave you a few years more of English freedom and the sunlight ere you came to this."

"But what avails this, an I have found you!"

Sir James hugged Hugh's mailed shoulders.

"Selfish I am, God wot," he said. "But I cannot find it in my heart to grieve. Ah, Hugh, for a score of years I have thought of you and wondered how you fared--ay, if you lived. I dealt ill by you, fair son. I was wrong to allow my sore dolour for her that was your mother to sway me from the duty of a parent. But St. James be my witness that I intended to return ere you came to manhood. When I voyaged to Constantinople for the last time 'twas with intent to fulfil my errand there and then return to England."

"If only you had!"

"God did not will it so. Doubt not, Hugh, our Lord dealt wisely when he brought me this suffering. Perchance, I had grown selfish in my quest for fame. But enough of this. I must have your story. 'Twill seem like a breath of the free world outside. This host you speak of, fair son--how came it hither?"

So Hugh recounted the history of the Crusade, and its diversion from Babylon, first to Zara, and then to Constantinople, and the falling-out between the Crusaders and the Greeks. He was interrupted frequently, for Sir James must ask questions as to the leaders and questions of policy, and how battles had turned. And after these had been explained, they came back to Hugh's own story, and Hugh detailed his adventures, beginning with the coming of Mocenigo to Blancherive.

"Mocenigo!" exclaimed his father. "That foul knave! Was there with him a swart, squat shipman----"

"Bartolommeo?"

"Ay, Bartolommeo Caraducci, he who brought you hither?"

"Nay, I met not Bartolommeo at that time. But after, when I came to sail for Outremer, he crossed my path."

Hugh told the story of the sea-fight in the Narrow Seas, and Sir James listened with keen relish.

"Ay, 'twas well-contrived," he applauded. "This Matteo is a man-at-arms of worth. I would I might meet with him. As for Bartolommeo, scoundrel that he is, I have a friendly regard for him, if only that he is no hypocrite and sins openly for the love of sinning. 'Twas he captained the galley _Holy Dove_, which brought me to Constantinople, and he, acting under Mocenigo's instructions, trapped me here."

"But how was that, father?" asked Hugh, amazed.

"'Tis a long story. But first we must have yours. Then I will make all clear to you."

So Hugh resumed the interrupted thread of his narrative, and described the journey across France, with the rescue of the Comnenoi in the forest near Troyes.

"This Comnenus, also, warned you not to journey to Constantinople?" exclaimed Sir James. "Then he is in it, too!"

"In what?"

"Nay, I will tell all, fair son, when the time comes. Do you finish first your tale. By St. James, 'tis one the jongleurs will make much of, or I do not know the breed of chivalry!"

Hugh described the meeting with the Marshal of Champagne, the passage overland into Italy, the arrival at Venice and the reappearance of Mocenigo. Sir James gave eager attention to every statement, but was especially interested in the sidelights Hugh was able to cast upon the intrigues underlying the conduct of the Crusade.

"And where was Lion-Heart all this time?" he broke in impatiently. "I say naught against Boniface of Montferrat. He comes of a good house. But there should have been a prince of kingly rank to lead such a host, and of all princes who is there like Lion-Heart?"

"But--but--" Hugh choked, knowing how hard the blow he must deal, "but Lion-Heart is dead--long since."

"Dead? Lion-Heart dead?"

Sir James was silent a long time, and when he aroused himself it was to sigh deeply:

"It brings home to me that I am become an ancient man, fair son. Lion-Heart is dead, and you are grown to manhood and the world goes well without my aid! Why should I fret for liberty?"

"Because there is many a good stroke to be given," replied Hugh. "I marvel at the breadth and thickness of your shoulders yet, fair lord. We shall win free. I was hopeless, but now I am resolved to be free. Ah, do not despair! Bethink you how much worse would be our lot, an we were separated in our captivity."

"Well spoken, Hugh! The true knight never falters. Let it be so. We will proclaim ourselves unconquered, and hope to the end. To say truth, 'tis only this feeling which hath kept me alive. I have said to myself that I would not yield, that I would keep my body strong and my heart clean and my head clear, so that if God in His infinite wisdom saw fit to recall me to the world, I might take my place without men saying: 'He was James de Chesby.'"

"But how have you kept your body strong?" asked Hugh.

"By labour. This dungeon is sufficiently large. For their own reasons, my captors have sought to protect my health. Therefore I have had sufficient food and covering. I have devised for myself numerous exercises and bodily contortions, which make pliable the muscles and preserve strength. I walk, run, leap and dance for hours in the day, until weariness assails me. For the result do but feel of my limbs."

Indeed, Hugh was amazed at the hardness of the knotted muscles on his father's gaunt body.

"You are a lesson to me," he acknowledged humbly. "An I had been in your place, the desolation would have driven me mad in a year."

"Ay, for you are but a youth, with all life before you," returned Sir James. "My life is behind me. I have memories to dwell upon, and the future holds few worries. Nay, for me the future is only death, and there are times when I would welcome it, an it would but come to me on a hard-fought field, with brave knights at my side. But enough of myself. Tell me more of this venture of yours."

Hugh took up his story, and sketched in detail how the comrades had followed Mocenigo to the Isle of Rabbits and what they had heard there. Sir James could not contain himself.

"The foul hound! So he would do. Not content with playing for two sides, he must try a third. Certes, he is in the pay of the Saracens and the Greeks, as well as the Venetians; and when the time comes he will sell out those two of the three who promise him least profit. I know him--and if I have one prayer I press beyond all others, 'tis that I may be permitted to send him to his doom in hell. But I prick you from your path, Hugh. What of this Comnenus and his daughter whom you met again?"

Hugh told of the Parliament held at Zara, and the introduction of the Young Alexius; the gradual growth of the Comnenian interest with the Prince and the Cæsar's eventual rise to be Chancellor of the Empire.

"Ha, there is another evil plotter!" Sir James interrupted again. "I place him now. He is a cousin of the Emperor Andronicus. I dare swear that he nurseth a hope of obtaining the vermillion buskins. 'Tis a pretty cross-work of villainy."

"Ay, his daughter boasted to me after I was made prisoner that they could place whom they wished upon the throne," volunteered Hugh.

"His daughter? What manner of woman is she?" enquired Sir James with reawakened interest.

Hugh blushed in the darkness.

"Most fair," he answered briefly.

"You have not told me how you were made prisoner, fair son?"

"'Tis not a story I am proud of," replied Hugh. And in as few words as possible he described the coming of the embassy, and the message which had been whispered to him by the page as they withdrew.

"Stay," exclaimed his father. "Who was this maid you thought had sent the page? Oh, a daughter of Sir Cedric Halcroft? She that you mentioned Mocenigo was sent for? Sir Godfrey's niece? Ha, I see. You have an interest in the maid, Hugh?"

Hugh picked at the straps of his armour.

"Ere she left England she gave me her gage to wear," he admitted slowly.

"You still wear it?"

"Ay."

"And she?"

"Nay, I know not."

"She is a good maid?"

"There never lived a sweeter."

"Ha, so, fair son. The Virgin guard her. Now, do you finish your tale."

Sir James sat speechless until Hugh came to the account of the scene in the torture-chamber and Comnenus's question about the Treasure of the Bucoleon.

"And then?" he pressed.

"He would not believe me when I told him I knew not even what it was."

"And you did not?"

"Nay, how should I?"

Sir James drew a deep breath of relief.

"You had no thought of gain in coming hither?" he asked almost jealously.

"Nay, fair lord, I wished only to seek you out, for I was sure always that you lived. I know not why I was so certain, but in my heart there was never doubt. It was as if a voice spoke in my ear, saying: 'Your father lives.' I was wroth with those who doubted it. I have thought--" Hugh hesitated, then plunged on--"I have thought my lady mother, watching over us twain from Heaven, hath whispered the message in my ear."

"Doubt not that she did," affirmed Sir James solemnly.

Both were silent for a space, murmuring prayers upon their knees, for they lived in the Age of Faith and they believed that they had experienced what was close to a miracle.

"Did Comnenus threaten you with torture?" asked Sir James after he had risen from his knees.

"Ay, and at Mocenigo's suggestion they demonstrated it to me on the body of a prisoner."

"What said you?" questioned Sir James eagerly.

"I told them an they tormented me in any way, I would kill myself."

"Said you so, indeed? By St. James, fair son, you are as I would have you! 'Twas so I have answered them, each time the threat was made, and because they knew I meant what I said and that if I died my secret would perish with me, they forbore to make good the threat."

"They said as much, but I did not then know whom they meant," replied Hugh. "Prithee, fair lord, an I do not ask what is forbidden, what is this Treasure of the Bucoleon? Is it the cause of your imprisonment?"

"Ay, so, Hugh. But that you may understand the matter wholly, I will tell my story from the beginning. 'Tis a long tale, and a fair bargain, mayhap, for the entertainment you have given me. Ah, God, Hugh, if you only knew what these hours have meant to me! My own son by my side, his love for me made known, brave tales of knightly venture in my ears and new hope for the future! It gives strength to my right arm again."

"God send that you may yet use your sword on these knavish Greeks," declared Hugh impetuously.

"An He wills it, doubt not 'twill come to pass! But to my tale. Hugh, as I have said, I owe you amends for the injustice I did you in leaving you to the upbringing of priests and strangers; but if you have known love for a woman you will understand the passion of desolation that possessed me when your mother died. I loved her not as many lords love wives. She was not a plaything, a toy, a source of diversion when I returned weary from the chase or the lists. I loved her with all my soul; she was everything to me. She seemed to represent life itself.

"When she died, I even hated you for being the cause of her death, and I could not bear to look upon your face. Prior Thomas knew my trouble, and his advice was that I should fare forth to Outremer, seeking in action surcease from the pain which threatened the welfare of my soul and eke the greater ease of my gracious lady. He offered to protect you and guard my lands. I accepted his advice, hoping that in service against the infidel I might not only win relief from the burden of sorrow I bore, but induce God to forgive me for the blasphemies I had been guilty of in the first realisation of my loss.

"It is not necessary, Hugh, that I should tell you now everything which occurred in the years that followed, but on my way to the Holy Land I visited Constantinople. In those days the Emperor who ruled was Andronicus Comnenus, a man of advanced years, but indomitable courage and enterprise. He had been an exile most of his life, and had suffered much. It was his policy to bear down upon the nobles and the clergy and to exalt the common people. Much ill is said against him now. He is accused of grave crimes and wickednesses, many of which--God rest his soul!--I doubt not he committed.

"But in the main he strove for justice for the oppressed, and that was something the nobles and the priests could not forgive him. They resisted as best they could, and he dealt with them heavy-handedly, slaying, torturing, mutilating and despoiling, and amassing vast treasures thereby. He was hated and feared. I cannot tell you how terribly he was hated. There was a fierceness in his temper which was almost inhuman. Mayhap, suffering in youth and over-indulgence had injured his mind. Howbeit he had few friends, and when I came to Constantinople he conceived a liking for me. Ere long he could not bear that we should be separated.

"Ask not why this was so. For one thing, I did not fear him. For another thing, being not a Greek, he had no cause for doubting my faithfulness. But I do not profess to penetrate the interior of his dark soul. Only God can know the reasons which actuated him. At his solicitation, I prolonged my stay and dwelt in a suite of rooms in the Great Palace. He was a true friend to me. He sympathised with me in my loss. He respected my endeavour to make reparation for the blasphemy of my grief. He trusted in me absolutely.

"One night when we sat together alone, he told me that he was convinced he should not reign long. The nobles were too eager in their hatred of him, and the Angeloi were then already lifting up their heads, anxious to seize the throne. The priests, too, were against him, and the common people would side with whoever gained success, forgetting quickly the justice he had given them. He asked me if I would assist him in a certain matter, and when he assured me that it would not involve the shedding of blood, I assented.

"Then he told me that all the treasure he had amassed from the nobles he had punished--truly, Hugh, a sum passing belief, millions of Byzants--he had set aside to constitute a fund for the rebuilding of the Empire. But he could not trust the rulers who came after him, and therefore he had hidden it in a certain place in the confines of the Palace of the Bucoleon. It was his desire that I should consent to have the secret of its location imparted to me, and after he was dead exert my own judgment as to whether the treasure should be revealed or not. It was his wish, in this respect, that I should carry the secret with me to my grave, an I had any doubt that whoever was entrusted with the wealth would employ it for aught save the advancement of the Empire.

"Shortly thereafter by the terms of my vow I was obliged to depart for the Holy Land, and not many months had passed when Andronicus was assassinated, as he had foreseen, and Isaac Angelos took his place. In some way--I know not how--the story of the Treasure of the Bucoleon had become known to the inner circle of Greeks who ruled the Empire. Isaac knew of it, and sent to me repeatedly, bidding me come and reveal it to him. But I was fighting lustily to preserve the Holy Sepulchre and, afterwards, to save what we could of the Kingdom of Jerusalem from Saladin, and moreover I doubted always Isaac's right to the treasure, for report said of him that he was more concerned with dissipation and pleasure than with the well-being of his subjects.

"But in Lent of the year 1196, he sent me a most urgent request, placing it in the light of a favour to him and pointing out that under the terms of my obligation to Andronicus I owed it to him to give him the opportunity of proving his right and claim. As I have told you, I was then hungering for a sight of you, the babe I had so unjustly hated, and it was in my mind to return to England. Therefore I resolved to go to Constantinople, saying naught as to my purpose to the knights of my acquaintance in Tripoli, where I then dwelt, and if, as I supposed, I was unable to agree to Isaac's claims, intended to journey on home.

"In some manner, it was arranged privily that I should sail to Constantinople in the _Holy Dove_, a Venetian galley, commanded by Messer Bartolommeo Caraducci. I learned afterward that Mocenigo was present in Tripoli at the time, and oversaw the plot, sailing on ahead of us by a swifter craft. Arriving in Constantinople, Mocenigo met me, and advised me that the Emperor wished to keep secret the purpose of my coming, lest some unscrupulous persons might attempt to secure my person and hold me for the ransom of the treasure. I thought little of such a danger, but I agreed to accept the advice, and so went by night to the Palace of Blachernae, where Isaac lodged. Here he spoke me fair, until I told him that I could not give up the secret to him, for in my bare passage through the Palace and my brief intercourse with him I saw sufficient to prove that he would misuse the treasure.

"When he understood that I would not give up the secret he waxed furious and threatened me with divers punishments. I laughed in his face, reminding him of his invitation, which amounted to a safe conduct. And he laughed back at me, telling me that he thought nothing of deceiving me an I would not give him what was rightfully his. I was carried by guards, as you were, to the torture chamber, and when I convinced Mocenigo, the Emperor's agent, that I could not be forced thus to reveal the treasure, I was brought hither to this dungeon. Here have I been since. Many times they have examined me; again and again they have threatened me. But I have never told, as I never shall."

"You have never been out of this place?" asked Hugh in horror.

"Never, save to go to the torture-chamber. I knew not even that Isaac had been dethroned until you told me, even as I knew not that his despoiler had been cast forth by your comrades of the host. They hold me here in hopes that some day my spirit will break, and it is to the interest of any Emperor of any party to keep me. 'Tis one point they agree upon. I am a stake in the game they play, as is the city itself--and the Empire."