the smoke.
"My Northmen hold the Galata gate!" Menas raised himself in his stirrups, as if his eyes could see all this. "0 my people, these barbarians shall never enter the grounds of the thrice-to-be revered patriarch or set hand upon the holy altar of Saint Sophia. The prince, Alexius, whom they would set over you as lord, is no more than a dupe-your churches, your souls they seek to enslave under the Latin yoke. I have foreseen this."
Shouts arose anew from the grandees clustered behind him. The Lord of Ships had the biggest voice.
"Take arms-follow the Domastikos, who remained to save you when the emperor fled!"
Others began to make outcry:
"Blessing be upon Menas, the savior! Who is mightier than Menas?"
Those who stood behind me began to push and strain to get nearer, and someone cried that Menas should be made emperor. When men are frightened they will follow anyone that stands firm, girdled in courage.
"Menas reigns! God and the Emperor Menas! "
The nobles about him began to scatter silver and gold coins into the mob, and the shouting became so great that he could no longer be heard. His warriors tossed their spears and the people in the balconies wept and threw down flowers.
And yet his words were false, and he alone had betrayed the city, hoping in this hour of calamity to win the throne.
He had withdrawn his men by order from the wall. Surely he had known the fruit of that, because he had been looking forth. Aye, instead of hastening to the side of the emperor, he was buying the mob by coins and words.
The crush about us was so great that I stooped and lifted the girl Irene by the knees, bidding her climb to the pedestal of the statue against which we had been forced. Others were sitting on the marble block, and she stepped up to the figure itself, sitting upon its knee and swinging her feet, smiling down on the Greeks, who cried out applause-believing her some noble's son trying to gain a clear view of the new emperor. Menas himself glanced toward her, but knew her not.
The statue was of gilded stone-a powerful man, unclad, sitting with tense muscles, and frowning. It was a pagan god called Hercules, and it seemed as if he were angry at the fickle Greeks.
And then, as if the ancient gods of the pagans had spoken aloud, the shouting and rejoicing in the registan ceased. From one of the streets uprose the roar that has one meaning, and no other. It was a thunder of hoarse voices, a steady clanging of steel and crashing of hoofs upon flagstones.
It was still a long way off, yet it came nearer. Out of the maw of this street ran a tall man, with the mail hacked from his bleeding shoulder, hel- metless and unarmed. He was a Northman, and the throng made way for him until he could catch the eye of Menas and make his voice heard.
What he shouted I know not, but no messenger of good tidings came ever thus.
He pointed behind him, and Irene stood up, her cheeks flushing red.
"The Franks!" she cried. "Give way, ye Greeks, before the Crosses!"
In that moment my lord Menas showed himself no leader of warriors. There was need of an instant order, and a clear voice. Yet he turned his head to speak with this noble and that.
When he should have spurred forward his horse, he let fall his rein. And when that moment had passed, the multitude began to make itself heard again.
"The Franks! The city burns! "
Some began to slip away, and blows and cries of pain were heard. By now I could see the iron men.
They were pressing steadily down the street, driving remnants of the northern warriors before them. Their steeds were accoutered in mail, with glistening headpieces. Their long swords flashed up and down, and their faces were hidden behind nasal and vizors.
With shields-battered and stained-before their bodies, and with deep shouts of triumph, they emerged from the street into the square. Some of the Greek spearmen faced about and dressed weapons, looking first one way, then the other.
"Ekh, brother," grunted a
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