But the end was drawing daily nearer.  Vatatces of Nicaea died.  He was succeeded by his son Theodore, on whose death the crown of Nicaea devolved upon an infant.  The child was speedily, though not immediately, openly dethroned by the regent, Michael Palaeologus.  When at length the imperial title was assumed by the latter, Baldwin thought it advisable to attempt negotiations with him.  His ambassadors were received with open contumely; Michael would give the Latins nothing.  “Tell your master,” he said, “that if he be desirous of peace, he must pay me, as an annual tribute, the sum which he receives from the trade and customs of Constantinople.  On these terms I may allow him to reign; if he refuses, it will be war.”

That was in the year 1259.  Michael, no putter-forth of empty and boastful words, prepared immediately for the coming war; so in his feeble way did Baldwin, but his money was spent, his recruits were melting away, the Venetians alone were his allies, and the Genoese had joined the Greeks.  And yet Michael did not know—­so great was the terror of the Frank and Flemish name which the great Baldwin, Henry of Flanders, and John de Brienne had left behind them—­how weak was the Latin empire; how unstable were the defences of the city.

Michael, in 1260, marched into Thrace, strengthened the garrisons, and expelled the Latins yet remaining in the country.  Had he, the same year, marched upon Constantinople, the city would have been his.  But the glory of taking it was destined for one of his generals.

The Greek Emperor, returning to Nicaea, sent Alexius Strategopoulos, his most trusted general, on whom he had conferred the title of caesar, to take the command of his armies in Europe.  He laid strict orders upon him to enter the Latin territory as soon as the existing truce was concluded:  to watch, report—­act upon the defensive if necessary—­but nothing more.

Now the lands round Constantinople had been sold by their Latin seigneurs to Greek cultivators, who, to defend their property, formed themselves into an armed militia, called “Voluntaries.”  With these voluntaries Alexius opened communications, and was by their aid enabled to get accurate information of all that went on among the Latins.  As soon as the truce expired, he marched his troops across the frontier and approached the city.  His force—­doubtless the Latins were badly served by their spies—­seemed too small to inspire any serious alarm, and the Latins, who had recently received succor from Venice which made them confident, resolved on striking the first blow by an attack on the port of Daphnusia.  They accordingly despatched a force of six thousand men, with thirty galleys, leaving the city almost bare of defenders.  This, then, was the moment for successful treachery.  One Koutrilzakes, a Greek voluntary, secured the assistance of certain friends within the town.  Either a subterranean passage was to be opened to the Greeks, or they were to be assured of