His majesty ordered the construction of a mud embankment or causeway. Hence we built two chats-châteaux, which are small turrets, donjons for cats, to shelter the men on guard. We also built covered ways to protect those who were transporting earth. Meanwhile we flung stones at the enemy. They likewise flung stones at us. That was how matters stood when we came to the week before Christmas. And I, God forgive me, too often caught myself remembering Joinville castle.
Presently we observed how the Babylonians hindered us by digging trenches that filled up with water. That is, while we extended the embankment on our side they on their side proceeded to widen the stream. Thus they undid in a day what had cost us three weeks. Also, one night they brought up a petrary and hurled Greek fire. The noise was thunderous, night became day when a horrible burning mass with a long flaming tail soared into our camp. By chance I was on watch with Lord Gautier d’Écurey when they did this. My friends, we are in grave peril, he said, for if the turrets burn we are lost. Yet if we abandon our post we will be dishonored. Therefore my counsel is that each time they hurl fire we should fling ourselves down on knees and elbows and pray the Lord to keep us. So that is what we did. Three times during the night here came Greek fire from the sling of a petrary. Lesser amounts they shot at us from swivel crossbows. I was told that whenever King Louis heard the roaring flame he lifted himself half out of bed and wept. Then he would direct a chamberlain to find out if any were killed or burnt.
On the eve of Shrove Tuesday we buried Hugues de Landricourt, a knight-banneret. While his corpse lay on a bier in my chapel I happened to enter and found the priest much annoyed because half a dozen knights were loitering on sacks of barley chattering as they might in a tavern. I told them to be quiet. I said it was not proper to talk while mass was sung but they laughed and said they were discussing the widow of Hugues. I said this was neither decent nor appropriate, that they seemed already to have forgotten their comrade. Our Lord was listening to them jest and He was angered because next day all were killed or mortally stricken, leaving the wives of all six free to marry.
Thanks to divine providence we learned of a Bedouin who would take us to a ford at the canal of Achmoum in exchange for five hundred bezants. Some people think this man was a Copt, which is to say Christian. However it may be, King Louis agreed so the money was paid.
The Templars were selected to lead. Comte Robert d’Artois with his men should come next.
Shrove Tuesday at dawn we rode into the stream where the Bedouin indicated and our horses began to swim. No sooner did we get to the middle than our horses felt bottom and were happy about not having to swim anymore. Many slipped and some fell on the riders while trying to climb out because the bank was steep and soft. It was here that Jean d’Orléans ascended to glory. I called to those with me that we should continue upstream until we found a better place. When at last we climbed out we could see Egyptians flying away pursued by Comte Robert, which should not have happened because the Templars were chosen to lead. They, much affronted, feeling dishonored, sent word for him to check his people. He did not get this message because a knight in his service, Foucaud de Merle, a gallant knight but also quite deaf, did not hear what the Templar said and continued shouting at the top of his voice that everybody should pursue the Babylonians. After them! After them! he shouted. Because of so much confusion the Templars set spurs to their mounts and galloped forward.
I have heard that the Grand Master tried to stop Comte Robert, saying they were in danger of being surrounded. God’s mercy, he cried. Let us await the king who must get here soon.
They say Comte Robert pretended to laugh and told the Grand Master that among Templars would always be found some hair of the wolf, by which he implied treachery.
Ride as you will, the Master retorted. Nor ever, please God, shall you impeach a Templar for cowardice. Yet will Christendom suffer this day, even as my heart forebodes.
Whereupon both struck spurs to their mounts and rode straightway through the village of Mansourah into fields beyond as if they would chase Egyptians all the way to Cairo. How far they went into the fields I do not know, but as they returned through Mansourah the rooftops thronged with citizens anxious to hurt or kill them, dropping sharpened stakes, hot water, stones, timbers, throwing down all manner of objects, and these Christians pressed so tight in the narrow streets of destruction they lost themselves. Three hundred gave up the ghost, among them Raoul de Coucy and his majesty’s brother, Comte Robert d’Artois. And round about this time here came a strong force of mameluk Turks.
I myself saw none of what occurred at Mansourah because I resolved to attack some enemies of God who were collecting equipment in their camp. When I rode among the tents I saw an unbeliever with hands on the saddle of his mount getting ready to draw himself up. I thrust my lance in his side and he fell dead. We saw a great many who had retreated into the fields. They, after consultation, came charging toward us and killed Hugues de Trichâtel, lord of Conflans, who rode beside me holding a banner. I saw Raoul de Wanou struck down and went to his aid. Egyptians thrust at me with lances and drove my horse to its knees so I pitched forward and shook the earth but got up as best I could with sword in hand. Érard de Silverey, a bold knight, pointed to the ruin of a house, saying we ought to take refuge behind the walls until his majesty arrived. As we went toward it, some afoot, others on horseback, Egyptians charged again and rode over me so I lost my shield. Érard helped me to the ruin. Frédéric de Loupey, Renaud de Menoncourt, Hugues d’Écot, and others whose names I do not recall joined us. From everywhere Egyptians appeared like wasps, some climbing the walls to thrust down lances and prick us, cursing hideously in their language. Hugues d’Écot got three lance wounds in the face. Frédéric took a lance deep in the back, which brought his blood spouting like wine from a barrel. Érard took a sword cut on the face that left his nose dangling over his lips. I thought of Saint James and prayed aloud. Érard heard me. He spoke through the blood streaming down his face and said if I thought neither he nor his heirs would incur reproach for it he would go to fetch help from the Comte d’Anjou in a field close by. I answered that he would earn great honor if he went for help to save us, adding that I thought his life in jeopardy from his wound, which in fact was true since later he died of it. He took counsel with other knights and having listened to them asked me for his horse, which I held by the bridle. I gave it to him and he rode furiously out of the ruin. We saw him approach the Comte d’Anjou. There was some argument, but presently the Comte looked in our direction. Now his sergeants laid spurs to their mounts whereupon the pagans who bedeviled us took flight. I saw Pierre d’Auberive riding toward us with his sword clenched in his fist and could not but think Saint James heard my plea.
I stood there all bloody since I had got a lance thrust between my shoulders when King Louis appeared with his battalions and screeching trumpets and clashing cymbals and kettledrums like thunder, which was the most welcome music on earth. He drew himself up on a raised causeway to look across the field. He wore a gilded helm and carried a long sword of German steel. I never saw a more perfect knight.
When I next saw him he was close to the river. His men had been forced backward by Egyptians attacking with maces and swords. Some of his men thought to swim across to join the duke of Burgundy, but the animals were tired and the day had got very hot so as we moved downstream we saw lances and shields everywhere with horses and men drowning. King Louis was almost captured. Lord Jean de Saillenay told me that some Turks grasped the bridle of his horse but he freed himself with vigorous sword strokes. Then his people gathered up courage and rallied about him.
We were guarding a little bridge when Pierre de Bretagne came toward us and such a cut face that his mouth was full of blood. He rode a stout pony and had dropped the reins in order to grip the pommel with both hands since he did not want to be jostled by the men crowding him. He cursed and spat blood while the pony trotted. Ha! said he. God’s head! Did ever you see worse dregs! By which
oath he meant his own people. Directly after him was Pierre de Neuville, whom they called Caier, and the Comte de Soissons, both leaking blood, followed by Egyptians attempting to finish them off. I told the Comte de Soissons, who was my wife’s cousin, that we ought to hold this bridge since otherwise the enemy would attack our king from both sides. He said he would stay if I remained. I assured him I would. So we faced them, I mounted on a sturdy cob, Pierre to our left. From behind us out of nowhere came an Egyptian who struck Lord Pierre on the head with a mace, laying him across the withers of his pony, and got away before we could do anything.
These accursed unbelievers had brought with them a mob of peasants who flung clots of earth at two of his majesty’s sergeants, Guillaume de Boon and Jean de Gamaches. One threw a pot of Greek fire at Guillaume who stopped it on his shield or he would have turned to ashes. We were now all of us abristle with darts. By good luck I had found a padded Saracen tunic and used it like a buckler. The Comte de Soissons now thought fit to jest. Seneschal! cried he. Let the dogs howl! By God’s bonnet we shall one day speak of this, you and I, at home with our ladies!
Near sunset a company of his majesty’s crossbowmen formed ranks ahead of us, an agreeable sight. When these good men set foot to the stirrup of their bows the enemy did not much care for it, vanishing quick as roaches.
The constable said I should go to King Louis and remain at his side, which I did. As we went riding along I persuaded the king to take off his helm and put on my steel cap so he might get some air. Soon afterward Henri de Ronnay, who was provost of the Hospital, came up and kissed his gauntlet. The king asked if there were news of Comte Robert, to which the provost answered that his majesty’s brother was in Paradise.
Ah, Sire, the provost continued, find solace in the knowledge that no king of France has earned such glory as you, for you have crossed a river to defeat the enemy and have captured their tents. You will sleep at peace tonight.
To this King Louis answered that we should thank God for every blessing. Then he sighed. As he spoke I saw his eyes fill with tears. If, said he, my brother lies dead, God grant him forgiveness of his sins, both him and all the rest.
During the battle certain of our men shamefully quit the field, vitals drained. No argument would make them stay. How unlike the courage and dignity of our sainted king.
We had no more put the infidel troops to flight than Bedouin rushed forward to pillage their empty camp. These wretched nomads who would not expose their bellies to danger now felt entitled to the spoil. What can be said of the Bedouin? It is widely known how they descend like birds of prey to feast on what is vulnerable. I am told they do not obey the precepts of Mahomet but follow the teaching of his uncle, Ali. They do not sleep in castles or villages but in open fields. If the weather is bad they construct little huts with poles and hoops over which they drape sheepskin so they resemble the covered litters in which Frankish ladies travel. The men wear long hairy mantles or cloaks and after it rains they spread these on the ground and apply a dressing of alum. In good weather they wear a tunic like the surplice of a priest and tie up their heads with cloth going underneath the chin. They are very ugly, what with black beards and black hair. They carry no weapons except spears and swords and do not put on armor because they think no man dies until his appointed day, at which time his soul enters a different body. Should they wish to rebuke or shame a child they call him accursed like a Frank who dons armor in hope of cheating death. How many Bedouin exist is not known because they travel constantly through the kingdoms of Egypt and Jerusalem and other lands. Their belief that a man does not die until his appointed day is most offensive, implying that our Lord has no power to assist us when we beseech His aid. We know the opposite is true. Christians rest secure in the knowledge of His omnipotence.
That night we took up lodging in the enemy camp. I myself had need of a peaceful sleep, considering the blows I had taken. It was not to be. At daybreak the infidels came back. My chamberlain, who slept at the foot of my pallet and whom I sent outside at the alarm, returned quaking with fright and said the king’s sergeants were up against the ropes of our pavilion. I gathered my knights and we rushed out, albeit few of us put on hauberks because of our wounds. After we routed the pagans I sent to King Louis for aid. In a little while here came Gautier de Châtillon to establish a position between ourselves and a strong force of the enemy. However, eight of them took shelter behind a stone bulwark from which they let loose flights of arrows. Then a priest in my service, Jean de Voysey, left camp wearing a steel cap and quilted tunic and walked toward them, trailing his spear so they might not see it. They, finding him alone, behaved contemptuously. But when he got close he gripped the spear and ran at them, whereupon they fled. Ever afterward my priest was well known. Look you, said one to another, there goes Joinville’s priest who took the measure of eight Saracens.
The first Thursday in Lent we were told by his majesty’s spies that a very brave Egyptian who had been elected leader held up the shield belonging to Comte Robert. He did this to encourage his people. He pretended it was the shield of King Louis. Behold the royal coat of arms, said he. A body without a head can do no harm, nor an army without its king.
When his majesty got word of this he told us to make ready because the enemy would attack. He gave instructions that our men should be deployed between the tents and a surrounding palisade of stakes. Next morning at sunrise here they came, a good four thousand cavalry with thousands more on foot. Seeing how our forces had been arranged they stopped to consider. About midday they advanced with a huge noise of kettledrums, which they call nacaires. During this assault the Comte d’Anjou was almost taken because he dismounted to fight alongside his knights. King Louis at this news spurred directly into battle and rode so deep among the enemy they burnt the crupper of his mount with Greek fire. Guillaume de Sennac, who was master of the Temple, lost an eye, which injury caused his death. He had lost the other eye during the battle on Shrove Tuesday. God comfort him. The Comte de Poitiers was dragged from his mount and would have been led off to captivity but for some butchers and women selling provisions who began to shout, so he was rescued. After him went Josserand de Brancion with twenty knights afoot, of whom twelve perished. Josserand himself was handled so roughly that he could not stand up and later died of these wounds. During his life he fought thirty-six battles. I met him once before we came oversea. He approached me and my brother on a Good Friday and requested our help because some Germans were desecrating a church. We accompanied him and rushed at the Germans with our swords drawn and forced them away. He then dropped on his knees in front of the altar and prayed aloud. Lord, be merciful to me, he prayed. Release me from these battles among Christians. Allow me to die in Thy service that I may come to Thee in Paradise. Surely his words reached up to the Lord on high.
King Louis assembled his barons and spoke to them when the fighting ended. Many thanks do we owe our Savior, he said, for on Shrove Tuesday we caused the enemy to abandon this camp where we are quartered. And on the day just finished our Lord has enabled us to defend ourselves. His majesty also thanked the barons, graciously and charitably, as was his habit.
Nine days afterward we noticed bodies rising to the surface of the water. Putrefied gall may account for this. Whatever the reason, they floated downstream toward a bridge between our camps, but since the Nile was high they could not float under the arches. There they collected, bumping together, glistening with snakes, nudging each other like swimmers in a current. Now and again a bird would settle on a head or a shoulder. King Louis employed a good many wretches to throw pagan bodies over the bridge so they would float away. Pagans could be identified because they were circumcised. Christians were buried in trenches, which took all of a week. I saw quite a few pilgrims looking for comrades among the dead.
In consequence of my wounds I fell victim to a malady that afflicted legs and head and caused rheum to drip from my nostrils, so during the middle of Lent I took to bed very ill. The priest w
ho came to sing mass was similarly afflicted and at the moment of consecration he turned pale. I got up as best I could and held him in my arms and told him to proceed if he felt able. At length he managed to complete the sacrament but I think he never again sang mass. During this period we had no fish to eat except eels, loathsome creatures that had been gorging on corpses. Because of such hazardous food, I believe, together with the unhealthful climate, many fell sick. Arms and legs withered, bloomed with brown or purple spots that one might find on a mouldy boot or saddle. Teeth loosened in the mouth and whoever was stricken by this malady could not hope to recover. When he bled from the nostrils he understood that he was finished.
One thing we did not know was that Sultan Ayub died at Mansourah. Indeed this was kept secret from his own people. He reigned ten years, but suffered a fistula in the lung. They say it was Ayub who gave dignity to the slaves by organizing them into a militia. Thus, inadvertently, by conferring status he prepared them to seize control of government. How often we see the beginning but cannot imagine the consequence. Now when Ayub died his favorite wife Chegeret ordered everyone to keep quiet until Prince Turanshah arrived from Syria. She may have been so counseled by a most powerful emir, Fakhr al-Din, upon whom she depended for advice. This emir twenty years previous had gone to Sicily at the request of Sultan al-Kamil to acquaint himself with Emperor Frederick and learn about Christians. I am told that from Mansourah he despatched a letter to Cairo saying the people must be ready to sacrifice their lives. His letter was read out loud in a mosque, which brought forth groans and sighs. Many decided to leave Cairo, thinking they could not withstand us, but those with more courage resolved to join the army at Mansourah. Fakhr al-Din was himself a brave man. On Shrove Tuesday when we crossed the ford and charged the infidel camp he was enjoying a bath while an attendant dyed his beard with henna. He at once mounted a horse and came flying against us, albeit his mount had neither saddle nor bridle. I believe some Templars despatched him.
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