a fierce
laugh.

"Yes, master," put in Dick, "but you've done that several times before
and always ended back to back. Pray the Saints such may not be the
finish of this meeting also."

Then he turned and went to clean his master's armour, for in this
martial dress, notwithstanding the great heat, Hugh determined to appear
before the Doge. It was good armour, not that, save for the sword, which
Sir Arnold had given him, whereat the Court at Windsor had laughed as
out of date, but mail of a newer fashion, some of it, from the bodies of
knights who fell at Crecy, after which battle such wares had been cheap.

Still, Dick could have wished that it had been better for so fine an
occasion, seeing that it was marked with many a battle dint and that
right across the Cressi cognizance, which Hugh had painted on his shield
after he was knighted--a golden star rising from an argent ocean--was a
scar left by the battle-axe of a Calais man-at-arms. Moreover Hugh, or
rather Dick, took with him other armour, namely, that of the knight, Sir
Pierre de la Roche, whom Hugh had killed at Crecy thinking that he was
Edmund Acour, whose mail Pierre wore.

For the rest, Dick clad himself in his uniform of a captain of archers
of King Edward's guard, wearing a green tunic over his mail shirt, and a
steel-lined cap from which rose a heron's plume, pinned thereto with his
Grace's golden arrow.

All being ready they started in a painted barge, accompanied by Sir
Geoffrey Carleon, who wore his velvet robe of office, and grumbled at
its weight and warmth. A row of some fifteen minutes along the great
canal brought them to a splendid portal upon the mole, with marble
steps. Hence they were conducted by guards across a courtyard, where
stood many gaily dressed people who watched them curiously, especially
Grey Dick, whose pale, sinister face caused them to make a certain sign
with their fingers, to avert the evil eye, as Sir Geoffrey explained
to them. Leaving this courtyard they went up more steps and along great
corridors into the finest apartment that they had ever seen. It was a
glitter of gold and marble, and rich with paintings.

Here on a kind of throne sat the Doge Dandolo, an imperial-looking man,
magnificently attired. Guards stood like statues behind him, while in
front, talking together and moving from place to place, were gathered
all the great nobles of Venice, with their beauteous ladies. From time
to time the Doge summoned one