Boy Crusaders: A Story of the Days of Louis IX.

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  HOW JOINVILLE KEPT THE BRIDGE.

  WHEN the Constable of France informed King Louis that the Count ofArtois was in extreme peril, and when Louis made an effort to go to therescue of his brother--the Lord of Joinville, having previously left theruined house, and joined the king, endeavoured to keep in the royalwarrior's company. But all efforts with this object proved vain. TheSaracens, raising clouds of dust and uttering ferocious yells as theyadvanced, came down upon the Crusaders with a force that wasirresistible. The French were scattered in all directions; and Joinvillewas separated from Louis some minutes before the person of the saintlymonarch was in such imminent danger. But in the meantime the seneschal'sband had been reduced to six persons, including Guy Muschamp, whoadhered with determination to Joinville's side; and between them and theking, then struggling to save his liberty, intervened thousands ofSaracens.

  'Impossible for us to make our way through such a crowd,' saidJoinville; 'much better, therefore, will it be to wheel round and get onthe other side of them.'

  Accordingly they wheeled round, and gained the bank of the river, andbegan to descend. But at this moment the aspect of the field became mostalarming to the armed pilgrims. The Crusaders and Saracens met on thebanks, and many of the French, attempting to cross and form a junctionwith the Duke of Burgundy, were drowned; and the river was covered withlances, pikes, shields, and horses and men struggling in vain to savethemselves.

  By this time the Lord of Joinville, heading his knights, had reached abridge on one of the roads to Mansourah; and on perceiving the miserablestate of the army he halted.

  'It is better,' said he, after looking round, 'to remain where we are,and guard this bridge; for, if we leave it, the Saracens may come andattack the king on this side, and, if he is assaulted from two quarters,he will surely be discomfited.'

  Accordingly they posted themselves on the bridge which was between thecanal Achmoun and the gates of Mansourah, and prepared to defend itagainst the Saracens. But such was the danger, that Joinville's heart,brave as it was, beat with terror, and he cried aloud for the protectionof St. James.

  'Good Lord St. James,' exclaimed he; 'succour me, I beseech thee, andcome to my aid in this hour of need.'

  It seemed to him and his companions that his prayer was answered. Almostas he uttered it, the Count of Soissons, who was his kinsman, appearedriding past the bridge; and Joinville hastened to secure his company.

  'Sir count,' said he; 'I beg you to remain with us and guard thisbridge; for, should it be lost, the king will have his enemies upon himboth in front and rear.'

  'Willingly, seneschal,' replied the count; and he placed himself onJoinville's right hand, while a French knight who was with him took hisstation on the left.

  While Joinville and his companions were seated on their horses, preparedto keep the bridge at all hazards against all comers, the Saracens maderepeated efforts to drive them from their post. But they remained firmas rocks. Trusting to accomplish by stratagem what they could not do byforce, the Saracens attempted to lure them from the spot; and onestalwart horseman, galloping suddenly forward, felled one of the Frenchknights with his battle-axe, and then retreated to his own people,hoping that he would be followed. But Joinville, who comprehended thepurpose, would not be decoyed, and resolutely kept his ground, thoughannoyed and wounded by a rabble of half-armed Saracens, who incessantlythrew darts, and large stones, and hard clods.

  At length, however, the Saracens began to make themselves much moreformidable, and to discharge Greek fire, which threatened to do muchmischief, and pressed forward with savage yells.

  'On my faith, we must take order with this rabble,' said the Count ofSoissons, growing angry.

  'As you will,' replied Joinville; and, without further hesitation, theycharged the crowd, put them to flight, and resumed their post.

  But no sooner did the Saracens perceive that the immediate danger wasover, than they turned round, and, keeping at a safe distance, yelledout defiance.

  'Heed them not, seneschal,' said the Count of Soissons, who, in themidst of peril, retained all the gaiety of soul which distinguished theFrench chevaliers from the thoughtful Saxon, and the haughty andsomewhat grim Norman. 'Heed them not. Let this rascal canaille bawl andbray as they please. By St. Denis, you and I will live to talk of thisday's exploits in the chambers of our ladies.'

  'May God and good St. James grant it,' said Joinville, gravely.

  'But who comes hither, and in such a plight?' asked the Count ofSoissons, suddenly, as a Crusader, mounted on a strong horse, camegalloping from the direction of Mansourah--his face wounded, bloodgushing from his mouth, the reins of his bridle cut, and his handsresting, as if for support, on his charger's neck.

  'In truth,' replied Joinville, after examining the horseman, 'it is theCount of Brittany;' as, closely pursued by Saracens, the wounded warriorgained the bridge, and ever and anon turned round and shouted mockinglyto his pursuers.

  'By St. Denis,' exclaimed the count, 'one thing is certain: he is notafraid of his pursuers.'

  And almost as the Count of Soissons spoke, the Count of Brittany wasfollowed by two warriors, who made their way through the Saracens,literally smiting to the earth all who came in their way. Nothing, itseemed, could resist their progress; and their path was tracked withblood. On they came, scornfully scattering their foes till they reachedthe bridge, when reining up where the Lord of Joinville was posted, theystopped to take breath, after their almost superhuman exertions. One hadin his hand a battle-axe; the other a sword. The battle-axe was stainedred with gore; the sword was hacked till it looked 'like a saw of darkand purple tint.' One was Bisset, the English knight, the other was theGrand Master of the Temple. The horses of both were wounded all over;the helmets of both were deeply dinted. Bisset's mail was almost hackedto pieces; the Templar's vestments were torn to rags, his cuirasspierced, and his eye and face wounded and bleeding.

  'You bring tidings of woe?' said the Count of Soissons.

  'Woe, in truth,' answered Bisset; for the grand master could not evenmuster voice to speak; 'of all who rode into Mansourah this morning, nota man, save ourselves, lives to tell the tale.'

  'And what of the Count of Artois, sir knight?' asked Joinville.

  'I know not,' replied Bisset, briefly; 'the count disappeared early, anddoubtless died with the comrades of his jeopardy.'

  'No,' interrupted the Count of Brittany, faintly, 'he was drowned whileattempting to save himself by flight. At least,' added he, 'so I havebeen told.'

  And in truth, to this day it is somewhat uncertain what became ofRobert, Count of Artois, though the most probable account is that,seeing all was lost, he turned his horse's head, with a vague hope ofreaching the main body of the Crusaders, and, while attempting to crossone of the branches of the Nile, sank never more to rise.

  It was about this time that King Louis had moved towards the Achmoun;and the Constable of France, with the king's crossbowmen under hiscommand, just as the sun was setting came to the bridge which had beenso bravely defended.

  'Seneschal,' said he, addressing Joinville, 'you and your comrades havebehaved well in guarding this bridge; and now, all danger being over inthis quarter, I pray you to accompany the Lord John de Valery to theking, who is about to go to his pavilion.'

  And Joinville went as the constable requested; and while his companionswere pursuing their way towards the king's red pavilion--that pavilionin which the Emir Fakreddin had boasted he would dine on the day of St.Sebastian--Guy Muschamp approached Bisset, the English knight, andentreated his attention.

  'Sir knight,' said he, 'I would fain enquire if you know what hasbefallen the English squire, by name Walter Espec?'

  'Boy,' replied Bisset, 'I know not what may have befallen him; but, if Iwere to hazard a guess, I should say that he died, and died bravely. Iremember me that he fought to the last; and I hoped that he was destinedto escape, as I did; but I grieve to say that he failed so to do.'

  'Alas
! alas!' said Guy sadly, and he clasped his hands, as if mutteringa prayer for his comrade's soul; 'woe is me, that I should live to hearthat my brother-in-arms, the good Walter, has fallen.'

  'My brave youth,' urged Bisset, kindly, as he observed that the boy'sface was suffused with tears, 'death has this day been the portion ofmany thousands of valiant men; and, for your brother-in-arms, I cantestify for your comfort that he fought to the last with the courage ofa hero, and I doubt not, that he faced death with the courage of amartyr.'

  'And if we are to give the faith which our fathers did to the words ofholy men,' added Guy, solemnly, 'the souls of all such as fall, fightingfor the Cross, are purified from sin, and admitted straight toParadise.'

  'By the mass, I have heard priests say so,' replied Bisset, after apause, during which he eyed the boy with evident surprise; 'and mayhap,'continued he, 'in the days of Peter the Hermit, and Godfrey of Bouillon,such was the case. But, credit me, in our day, armed pilgrims are guiltyof such flagrant sins during their pilgrimage, and while decked with theCross, that I hardly deem them likely to get access to Paradise on sucheasy terms.'

  'By St. John of Beverley,' exclaimed the squire, in great astonishment,'deem you that matters are so much changed, sir knight?'

  'So much so,' answered Bisset, shaking his head, 'that seeing, savemyself, you are almost the only Englishman left in this army ofpilgrims, I am free to confess to you my opinion, that for aught we arelikely to do for the Holy Sepulchre, we might as well have stayed athome, and hunted, and hawked, and held our neighbours at feud. On mylife, I have seen enough of this army to feel sure that Blacas, thetroubadour knight, is a wise man, when on being asked whether he will goto the Holy Land, answers, that he loves and is beloved, and that hewill remain at home with his ladye love.'

  And already, forgetting his wounds, and his bruises, his hair-breadthescape, and the terrible scenes in which he had that day acted a part,the knight, as he reached the tent of King Louis, and prepared todismount, half chanted, half sung, the lines with which Blacas concludeshis simple song:--

  Je ferai ma penitence, Entre mer et Durance, Aupres de son manoir.