Chapter XXVI: Lords of the World

Constantinople had fallen. Murtzuphlus abandoned his first intention of holding the Palace of the Bucoleon as a citadel of last resort and fled in the night. The next day the entire city was occupied by the Crusaders. From the Golden Horn to the Golden Gate the capital of the Eastern Empire--by actual fact the capital of the Christian world--was in their possession. The prize was the richest won by any army of their time--money, jewels, vessels of gold and silver, the costliest cloths and furs, works of art such as existed nowhere else in Europe, all the hoarded accumulation of centuries of conquest and security.

Every lord of the host had a palace assigned to him for his residence; every knight won a fortune; every sergeant and shipman of the fleet received enough to make him independent. The chiefs gave strict commands that order should be established and the lives and property of citizens respected; but it was impossible immediately to secure full recognition of this obligation. Only when punishments were inaugurated for those who abused their power was anarchy at an end. The Count of St. Paul hung one of his knights with his shield around his neck as a lesson to other marauders, and sergeants and camp followers were flogged.

So complete was the triumph of the host that men were bewildered by it. They wandered through the miles of streets of the city, gazing at the public parks, the cisterns like lakes, the hundreds of stately churches, the baths fitted up with a luxury unknown in the West, the palaces of the nobles and merchant-princes, the schools and colleges, and most of all at the tremendous walls. It was size and grandeur which impressed these rude Frankish warriors. Few among them had any conception of the store of art and learning at their feet, which outweighed in value the material wealth which committees of Crusaders and Venetians were reckoning and distributing.

Now and then a churchman joined with Hugh in admiration of a statue showing that pure outline of form which distinguished Greek sculpture of the golden age. There were thousands of statues, marble, porphyry, granite and bronze, scattered about the city. Every square or forum, the porticoes which lined the principal thoroughfares and market-places, the fountains, the public buildings, were decorated with them. Some were monumental in proportions like the bronze equestrian statue of Justinian, mounted on a structure of seven arches, in the Augustaion. Some were exquisite miniature representations of Pagan gods and goddesses.

Hugh found more among the clerks who appreciated the contents of the libraries of the palaces, the Senate, the churches and monasteries. Constantinople was the treasure-house of the learning of the ancient world. The complete works of the ancient Greek and Roman philosophers, poets, mathematicians, dramatists and historians were ranged on the library shelves of the capital. Manuscripts of priceless worth were common in the schools. Hugh could scarcely restrain his delight when he found himself able to secure the books of men of the past whom he had known only by their names or monkish corruptions of their liquid texts.

It was natural, perhaps, that the essentially sensuous beauty of Greek art and architecture should not appeal to the great body of the Crusaders, men whose own national souls were to find expression in the massive dignity of Gothic art. But it was deplorable. The whole artistic development of Western Europe, as well as the history of the world, might have been changed and human progress advanced centuries ahead of time, had the lords of the host perceived the full measure of their opportunity. They did not, and for that they cannot be blamed.

They rejoiced in the splendour of St. Sophia and the vast harmony of its echoing interior, decked with mosaics and frescoes, whose melting polychromes were brought out in fascinating detail by the myriad lamps of silver that hung on golden chains from the roof. They rioted in the fastidious comfort of the palaces, fitted with conveniences which were not to be common in Europe for six centuries to come. They regarded with respect the huge dimensions of the Hippodrome, with its tens of thousands of marble seats and the hundreds of statues that decorated it, including bronzes depicting the winners of the chariot races, standing in their chariots, life-size, beside the eastern goals.

But they could go no farther in their appreciation of the wonders which surrounded them. Statues to them were stone and bronze, and the value of the metal consisted in the possibility of melting it down to turn into so many denarii. The statue of Helen, the colossal figure of Juno from Samos, Paris presenting the apple of discord to Venus, the Hercules of Lysippus which had been brought from Tarentum, the ass and rider which had been cast by Augustus to commemorate his reception of the news of the battle of Actium, and, most precious of all, the very group of the wolf suckling Romulus and Remus, founders of the Elder Rome, which had been brought by Constantine from the Palatine--all these and many more as notable were consigned to the melting-pot.

Hugh saved what he could of the smaller objects which appealed to him. The Venetians reserved for themselves the four bronze horses which the Emperor Theodosius had brought from Chios and shipped them home to adorn the front of their new cathedral church of St. Mark. An occasional churchman, broader-minded than his fellows, obtained a bust of Emperor or general; but the delicate nude figures of old Greece were ruthlessly banished from view.

What did appeal to churchman, soldier and shipman alike was the remarkable accumulation of holy relics in Constantinople. It was by long odds the largest collection extant in Christendom. Its dispersal served to stock the churches and shrines of Western Europe. Spurious as it undoubtedly was in great part, nevertheless it exerted an influence of inestimable proportions. Not a saint recognised by the Eastern church was unrepresented in it. All the greater apostles and disciples were perpetuated by some garment or mortal fragment. There was not a knight in the host who did not send home some relic, more or less miraculous in its properties, to the church or monastery of the district whence he had come.

After the distribution of the booty, the question which confronted the host was the selection from among their number of a new Emperor. All were agreed that the rule of the Greeks must be ended, that for the sake of Western Christianity and the redemption of the Holy Land, the empire must be reorganised under Latin dominion.

"You are the lords of the world, Messers," declared Dandolo in the parliament which met in the Palace of the Bucoleon to decide the matter. "An you use rightly the power which God hath conferred upon you, it will multiply and increase a thousand fold. Certes, no empire was ever so powerful as this one in its prime. It hath fallen because of the wickedness of its rulers and the schism which its people affected. Now do you set about to rear it again, in accordance with Christian rule, giving justice to all and promoting commerce, for 'tis only by commerce that the best empire may prosper."

They debated the question this way and that, and in the end it was decided that twelve electors should be nominated from the host, six by the Crusaders and six by the Venetians. And lest there should be any question of feudal influence in the voting of the Crusaders' representatives, it was decreed that these six should all be churchmen, who were not bound by ties of service or blood to any of the lords of the host. The twelve, after attending high mass in St. Sophia on the morning of May 9th, 1204, were led into the Church of Our Lady the Illuminator, which was situated within the walls of the Palace of the Bucoleon, and the door was locked behind them.

All day the lords and knights thronged the halls and courts of the Palace, whilst the deliberation of the electors went on. Excitement filled the air and partisanship ran high. The Lombards and Italians, other than the Venetians, favoured the Marquis Boniface; the northern French were for Count Baldwin of Flanders; the Burgundians and Germans demanded that the sovereignty of the Eastern Roman Empire should be given to Philip, King of Suabia, who, in defiance of Pope Innocent, had claimed the title of Western Roman Emperor. The Venetians said little, and a rumour grew that the Doge was likely to be the choice of their electors. During the afternoon this rumour became so pronounced that Dandolo himself went to the door of the Church where the electors were sitting and in the presence of all who could crowd within hearing expressly forbade his election.

"I am a citizen of the Republic," he said. "By the suffrage of my fellow-citizens I have been elected to rule over them. But it would not be fitting for any Venetian to accept an Imperial crown. The Republic cannot permit it; I, as Doge, must forbid it."

"Who think you will receive it?" asked Hugh of Villehardouin after this renunciation had thrilled the thousands who heard of it.

"Messer Dandolo can tell you better than I," replied the Marshal shrewdly. "There can be no doubt he might have had it an he wished. There is no man in the host like him in wisdom."

"But why is there so little talk of Lord Boniface?" urged Hugh. Both Villehardouin and Sir James, who stood by, laughed at this question.

"Set a man over others and he makes enemies," said Sir James. "How say you, Lord Marshal?"

"Ay, you have put your finger on it," Villehardouin agreed. "Moreover--I say this of my own judgment--it is not to the interest of the Venetians to have Boniface for Emperor. His lands of Montferrat are too close for comfort to the confines of their state."

"Who then?" asked Hugh.

Count Baldwin of Flanders, tall, handsome in figure, in the flower of youth, a merry smile on his blonde face, made his way by them. He did not force others aside, as many a great noble might have done, but stepped slowly and with a pleasant word for all he met.

"By your leave, Messer! Ha, Sir James, I greet you well! Messer Fulk, we have not met this week past; prithee dine with me at Blachernae. Messer, I regret to trouble you, but----"

Villehardouin did not answer, but Matteo, who had been silent hitherto, raised his hand in a slight gesture.

"There walks a _man_" he said.

"God send that you be right, Messer," added Villehardouin.

The afternoon passed, and evening came on. Still the Bucoleon was crowded by all who had the right of admittance. The excitement increased. From the tensity in the atmosphere it might have been supposed that each knight anticipated his own election. Men forbore to eat and drink. The court in front of the Church of Our Lady the Illuminator was packed to suffocation. More rumours filled the air. It was said that the electors could not agree.

But at midnight the doors of the church were thrown open. Nevelon, Bishop of Soissons, appeared on the topmost step. He raised his arms in a benediction, and a hush fell upon the sea of faces upturned in the light of the torches.

"Messers," he said slowly, "thanks be to God, we are all agreed upon our choice. Ye have sworn that ye would accept him whom we should elect to be Emperor, and that you would support him against all opponents. This hour of the night, which saw the birth of God, sees also the birth of a new Empire. We proclaim as Emperor Count Baldwin of Flanders and Hainault."

For the space of a man's breath silence lasted, drawn taut as a bowstring to the breaking point. Then cheers rent the night, such cheers as had greeted no new Emperor of Rome since the legions elected their chosen generals.

"Harrow! Harrow! Long life to Emperor Baldwin! Success to him! Harrow! Harrow! Baldwin reigns!"

They tore him from his knights, and Boniface, Count Louis of Blois, Count Hugh of St. Paul, Villehardouin, Sir James and the chief lords of the host made a throne for him of their shields, then swung him up on it, shoulder-high above the throng. And an Emperor he looked, with his yellow beard sweeping his hauberk and his youthful face glowing with pride and satisfaction.

When Dandolo came to greet him, he leaped down from his shield-throne, and met the old Doge with arms spread wide.

"God keep and cherish you, Sire," the Doge said. "You are the best man of us all."

"Nay," protested Baldwin. "Certes, there is no one of us the equal of you."

"I am old," returned Dandolo. "My course is run. 'Tis for you, fair lord, to build up from the foundations we have laid for you. An you succeed, your children will sit upon a throne above all others."

"An you help me, I will," said Baldwin.

"That will I right cheerfully. And I pray for you the spiritual help of St. Mark, even as I promise you the physical help of the Republic."

On Sunday, May 16th, Baldwin was crowned in St. Sophia. The Papal Legate placed the Imperial crown on his head, saying: "He is worthy."

"He is worthy!" thundered back the knights.

The lords of the host elevated him again upon their shields. The Greek Empire of Constantinople was at an end.

On the following day Hugh and Edith were married in the Church of Our Lady of Blachernae. Sir Cedric had recovered sufficiently from his wounds to be present, and all the barons came to wish the couple happiness. The Emperor Baldwin himself stood at Hugh's elbow, and when the service was ended drew him to one side.

"The Marshal of Champagne is a close friend to me, Messer Hugh," he said, "and he has told me much of your merit. It is my desire that you will remain here and assist me in the work of conquering my Empire, for there is much to be done before we may move against the Saracens. How say you if I give you the Duchy of Adrianople?"

Duke of Adrianople! Hugh's head swam at the thought.

"Prithee, give me leave to think upon it for a day, Augustus," he answered.

The Emperor nodded.

"Be it so. I need a young, active lord to be Warden of the Bulgarian March. There will be great glory for you, Messer Hugh."

That night Hugh told Edith.

"What think you of becoming Duchess of Adrianople?" he asked.

She looked at him, troubled and uncertain.

"Whatever you wish, Hugh, that is my wish, too. But----"

She hesitated.

"But what?"

"I love our England."

"Ay, so do I," admitted Hugh.

He could not make up his mind, and in the middle of the night he sought his father's chamber. Sir James listened to his tale in silence.

"Duke of Adrianople," he repeated when Hugh had finished. "Ay, 'tis a vast honour. Boniface is to be King of Salonica, and chief feudatory of the Imperial Crown, but you would press him close. You should win great place and power, fair son. But----"

He hesitated as Edith had done.

"My mind is open, lord," said Hugh.

"Then hear my counsel," replied Sir James, with sudden decision. "Hugh, I would not have you make the mistake I made. 'Tis well enough for a man to go upon Crusade or aventuring to fulfil a vow, mayhap. But he who severs himself from home loses more than place and power can supply. Get you to England, Hugh. In England lies your lot. There will you be Lord of Chesby soon--ay, and of Blancherive, too, I make no doubt. England is your home. For England should you work. I say naught of those who remain here. But for myself----"

"Ay?" Hugh prompted.

"Nay, Hugh, I will do that which you do."

"You will stay, if I stay?"

"Ay, there must be work for old knights like me."

"Work!" retorted Hugh. "For you, with the Treasure of the Bucoleon in your power to disclose! You may have what you will!"

Sir James buried his face in his hands.

"It may not be," he answered tonelessly. "You know not what you say, fair son."

"But why?"

"For that this treasure is not mine. It belongs to a dead man--who trusted me. I may not betray his trust. My honour would be soiled thereby. It was his wish that this wealth, which he wrung from those he deemed to have defrauded their fellows, should be put to use to build up anew this broken Empire."

"Is not that what we do?" cried Hugh.

"Ay, but do we?" replied Sir James. "Bethink you, fair son. Our people are drunk with victory. Lords of the world, Dandolo called them, and lords of the world they may become, if they are content to serve as well as conquer, to deal righteously with those beneath them. I hope for much from Baldwin. I fain would see him succeed. But I will not give up to him the treasure that Andronicus amassed. 'Twould do no more than create discontent and grumbling because it might not be divided. And certes, he hath enough problems on his back, without that added to them. Let Baldwin--let the host--prove their worth. Let them make the most of the tools they have in hand. Then will I give up to them the secret--or if I am dead, 'twill be for you to do so, for ere I pass it is my purpose to render it to you."

Hugh stood up, a light shining in his face.

"I have learned my lesson," he said. "You have taught it to me, fair lord. I would have put place and power before all else. But you set honour over all, and I prefer to walk as you have walked."

"And England, Hugh?"

"I am for England--England and Chesby. I would rather hold one knight's fee in England than be Duke of Adrianople. Certes, and we labour aright, we may erect in England an Empire no less rich and powerful than this, which we have helped to conquer."

"That may we, fair son!" exclaimed Sir James. "Right knightly spoken! I rejoice in my heart at your decision. Doubt not you will never regret it."

But Hugh did find cause to regret--and almost to cancel his determination--when he told his decision to Matteo.

"So we sail for home by the first galley which leaves the Golden Horn," he concluded. "Ha, Matteo, think on the times we shall have at Chesby and in Crowden Wood! We shall live over again every venture we have made, and you shall sing gests and romaunts of them which will bring lords from all the country round."

"Nay, Hugh," said Matteo sadly. "I do not sail with you."

"Not sail with me? St. Cuthbert! comrade, dost think I'll be content to part with you?"

Matteo threw his arm around Hugh's shoulders. There were tears in his eyes.

"Ah, I would that I might cast in my lot with you until eternity! Art more than friend, Hugh--ay, more than brother! But this that you ask of me, I may not do. I have no place in England, save that which you make for me. I do not belong there. Your English lords care not for the jongleur's company. They seek the gleeman and juggler. An I went with you, I should be no more than a hanger-on in your train."

Hugh cried out in protest.

"Oh, well I know 'twould never seem so to you, Hugh! But my pride might not suffer it. In England you have a high rank to fill. You must take your part with the other barons of the realm. You will have your wife--children, in time. You do not need me--or I would come, ay, an it were to clean your stables! Nay, my place is here in Constantinople, or belike, in Outremer. My blood calls me here. Here there is work for me to do. Here men count it not against me that I am a jongleur or that my birth was unhallowed by wedlock.

"There is a rift in my heart at thought of losing you; but certes, you will treasure me in your memory, as I will treasure you in mine. And I will make a chanson of your deeds that men shall sing all the way from Outremer to the land of the Scots. Mayhap you will tell your sons of Matteo, and if you have friends who voyage to Outremer, you will bid them seek me out that I may know you are in life. And always, Hugh, there will be none other in my heart save you."

Hugh bowed his head in mute acceptance.

"Let it be as you wish, Matteo," he answered. "An I do not hold with all that you say, still I know right well that you would do naught which was not worthy and honourable. Only, prithee, take my sword and Beosund as keepsakes of the days we rode together."

"Gladly, Hugh."

That day week, Hugh, with Sir James, Edith, Sir Cedric and Ralph, set sail from the Golden Horn in the galley _Good Adventure_, Messer Contarini, Master.

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A charter in the possession of the Abbey Church of St. Cuthbert of Crowden, bearing date of All Hallows, A.D. 1204, provides for the celebration of a mass weekly for the salvation of the soul of a Paynim lady, mother of the jongleur, Matteo of Antioch, who perished in mortal sin.

There are still Chesbys in England, and men still find friends loyal and unselfish in adversity--and England is a greater Empire to-day than ever was the Eastern Rome.