The Boy Crusaders Part 16

'I had already,' says Joinville, 'felt the knife at my throat, and cast myself on my knees; but, by the hands of this good Saracen, G.o.d delivered me from this peril; and I was led to the castle where the Saracen chiefs had a.s.sembled.'

When Joinville was conducted with some of his company, along with the spoils of his barge, into the presence of the emirs, they took off his coat of mail; and perceiving that he was very ill, they, from pity, threw one of his scarlet coverlids lined with minever over him, and gave him a white leathern girdle, with which he girded the coverlid round him, and placed a small cap on his head. Nevertheless, what with his fright and his malady, he soon began to shake so that his teeth chattered, and he complained of thirst.

On this the Saracens gave him some water in a cup; but he no sooner put it to his lips, than the water began to run back through his nostrils.

'Having an imposthume in my throat,' says he, 'imagine what a wretched state I was in; and I looked more to death than life.'

When Joinville's attendants saw the water running through his nostrils, they began to weep; and the good Saracen who had saved him asked them why they were so sorrowful.

'Because,' they replied, 'our lord is nearly dead.'

And thereupon the good Saracen, taking pity on their distress, ran to tell the emirs; and one of them coming, told Joinville to be of good cheer, for he would bring a drink that should cure him in two days.

Under the influence of this beverage, the seneschal ere long recovered; and when he was well, he was sent for by the admiral, who commanded the sultan's galleys.

'Are you,' asked the admiral, 'the king's cousin, as was reported?'

'No,' answered Joinville, 'I am not;' and he informed the admiral why it had been stated.

'You were well advised,' said the admiral; 'for otherwise you would have been all murdered, and cast into the river. Have you any acquaintance with the Emperor Frederic, or are you of his lineage?'

'Truly,' replied Joinville, 'I have heard my mother say that I am the emperor's second cousin.'

'Ah,' said the admiral, 'I rejoice to hear it; and I love you all the better on that account.'

It appears that Joinville became quite friendly with the admiral, and was treated by him with kindness; and, on Sunday, when it was ordered that all the Crusaders who had been taken prisoners on the Nile should be brought to a castle on the banks, Joinville was invited to go thither in the admiral's company. On that occasion, the seneschal had to endure the horror of seeing his chaplain dragged from the hold of his galley and instantly killed and flung into the water; and scarcely was this over when the chaplain's clerk was dragged out of the hold, so weak that he could hardly stand, felled on the head with a mortar, and cast after his master. In this manner the Saracens dealt with all the captives who were suffering from sickness.

Horrorstruck at such a destruction of human life, Joinville, by means of the good Saracen who had saved his life, informed them that they were doing very wrong; but they treated the matter lightly.

'We are only destroying men who are of no use,' said they; 'for they are much too ill with their disorders to be of any service.'

Soon after witnessing this harrowing spectacle, Joinville was requested by the Saracen admiral to mount a palfrey; and they rode together, over a bridge, to the place where the Crusaders were imprisoned. At the entrance of a large pavilion the good Saracen, who had been Joinville's preserver, and had always followed him about, stopped, and requested his attention.

'Sir,' said he, 'you must excuse me, but I cannot come further. I entreat you not to quit the hand of this boy, otherwise the Saracens will kill him.'

'Who is he?' asked Joinville.

'The boy's name,' replied the good Saracen, 'is Bartholomew de Bar, and he is son of the Lord Montfaucon de Bar.'

And now conducted by the admiral, and leading the little boy by the hand, Joinville entered the pavilion, where the n.o.bles and knights of France, with more than ten thousand persons of inferior rank, were confined in a court, large in extent, and surrounded by walls of mud.

From this court the captive Christians were led forth, one at a time, and asked if they would become renegades, yes or no. He who answered 'Yes,' was put aside; but he who answered 'No,' was instantly beheaded.

Such was the plight of the Christian warriors who so recently had boasted of being about to conquer Egypt. Already thirty thousand of the Crusaders had perished; and the survivors were so wretched, that they almost envied their comrades who had gone where the weary are at rest.

Now in the midst of all this suffering and anxiety, what had become of Guy Muschamp? Had the gay young squire, who boasted that if killed by the Saracens he would die laughing, been drowned in the Nile, or was he a captive in that large court surrounded by walls of mud? Neither. But as our narrative proceeds, the reader will see that Guy Muschamp's fate was hardly less sad than the fate of those who had found a watery grave, or of those who were offered the simple choice of denying their G.o.d or losing their lives.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

NEWS OF DISASTER.

WHILE Louis of France and his n.o.bles and knights were exposed to such danger at the hands of their enemies, from whom they had no reason to expect forbearance, Queen Margaret remained at Damietta, with her ladies, expecting to hear of battles won and fortresses taken. At length, one morning about sunrise, a strange and heart-rending cry resounded through the city, and reached the ears of the queen in her palace. What was it? was it fire? No. Another and another wail of agony.

What could it be? The approach of an enemy? No. It was merely tidings of the ma.s.sacre of Minieh!

Margaret of Provence summoned to her presence Oliver de Thermes, whom King Louis had left at Damietta in command of the garrison.

'Sir knight,' said the queen, 'what is all that noise I hear?'

The warrior hesitated.

'Speak, sir,' said Margaret, losing patience; 'I command you to tell me what has happened.'

'Madam,' replied the knight, 'the news as yet is but vague and uncertain.'

'Answer me, directly,' said the queen, speaking in a tone of authority.

'What of the King of France? What of the warriors who marched from Damietta under the banner of St. Denis?'

'Alas, madam,' replied Sir Oliver, 'I would fain hope that the news is not true; but it certainly is bruited about that the king is a captive, and that the warriors of the Cross have fallen almost to a man.'

Margaret did not answer; she did not even attempt to speak. Her colour went, she shuddered, tottered, and would have fallen to the floor had not her ladies rushed to her support. It was indeed a terrible situation for that youthful matron, and--what made matters more melancholy--she was about to become a mother.

And now Damietta was the scene of consternation somewhat similar to that which pervaded Cairo, when a pigeon carried thither intelligence of the victory of the Count of Artois at Djedile. The ladies of the Crusaders, the Countesses of Poictiers and Provence, and the widowed Countess of Artois, among the number, bewailed the fate of their lords; the queen was afflicted to a terrible degree as she thought of the king's peril; and many people only felt concerned about their own extreme peril. Of course much selfishness was exhibited under the circ.u.mstances; and the Pisans and Genoese set a bad example by preparing to save themselves, and leave the city to its fate. But, on hearing of their intention, the queen ordered that the chief persons among them should be brought to her presence, and addressed them in a way likely to convince them of the selfishness of their conduct.

'Gentlemen,' said Margaret, rousing herself from her prostration and raising her head; 'as you love G.o.d, do not leave this city; for if you do you will utterly ruin the king and his army, who are captives, and expose all within the walls to the vengeance of the Saracens.'

'Madam,' replied the Pisans and Genoese, utterly unmoved by the loyal lady's distress, 'we have no provisions left, and we cannot consent to remain at the risk of dying of hunger.'

'Be under no such apprehension,' said the queen quickly; 'you shall not die of hunger; I will cause all the provisions in Damietta to be bought in the king's name, and distributed forthwith.'

The Pisans and Genoese on hearing this a.s.surance consented to remain in Damietta; and, after an expenditure of three hundred and sixty thousand livres, Margaret provided for their subsistence. But the men who were thus bribed to remain as a garrison were not likely to make any very formidable resistance in the event of an attack taking place; and such an event was no longer improbable. Indeed rumours, vague but most alarming, reached Damietta that a Saracenic host was already on its way to capture the city.

The rumour that the Moslems were actually coming made the bravest men in Damietta quake, and inspired the ladies who were in the city with absolute terror. Even the courage of the queen, who had just given birth to her son John, failed; and her faculties well-nigh deserted her. One moment her imagination conjured up visions of Saracens butchering her husband; at another she shrieked with terror at the idea that the Saracens had taken the city and were entering her chamber. Ever and anon she sank into feverish sleep, and then, wakened by some fearful dream, sprang up, shouting, 'Help! help! they are at hand. I hear their lelies.'

It was while Margaret of Provence was in this unhappy state of mind, that a French knight, who was eighty years of age, but whose heart, in spite of his four score of years, still overflowed with chivalry, undertook the duty of guarding the door of her chamber night and day.

'Madam,' said he, 'be not alarmed. I am with you. Banish your fears.'

'Sir knight,' exclaimed the unhappy queen, throwing herself on her knees before him, 'I have a favour to ask. Promise that you will grant my request.'

'I swear, madam, that I will comply with your wishes,' replied the aged knight.

'Well, then,' said the queen; 'what I have to request is this, that if the Saracens should take the city, you, by the faith you have pledged, will rather cut off my head than suffer me to fall into their hands.'

'Madam,' replied the veteran chevalier, 'I had already resolved on doing what you have asked, in case the worst should befall.'