A COUNCIL OF WAR.
ON the morning after the return of the Earl of Salisbury to Damietta, and the violent proceedings of the French Crusaders against the English companions of their expedition, King Louis summoned a council of war to deliberate on the measures most likely to lead to the conquest of Egypt—the grand object of the saintly monarch's ambition.
By this time arrivals from various quarters had swelled the army that, under the banner of St. Denis, lay encamped at Damietta. Thither, under the grand masters of their orders, had come the Templars and the Hospitallers, whose discipline and knowledge of the East rendered them such potent allies. Thither had come the Duke of Burgundy, who had passed the winter in the Morea; and the Prince of Achaia, who forgot the perils surrounding the Latin empire of Constantinople, in his eagerness to combat the Moslem on the banks of the Nile; thither, recovered from their fright, had come the Crusaders whose vessels the storm had driven on the Syrian coast; and thither, with the arrière ban of France, Alphonse, Count of Poictiers—'one of that princely quaternion of brothers which came hither at this voyage, and exceeded each other in some quality—Louis the holiest, Alphonse the subtlest, Charles the stoutest, and Robert the proudest.' No fewer than sixty thousand men—twenty thousand of whom were cavalry—-were now encamped around the oriflamme; and with such an army, led by such chiefs, the saint-king would have been more than mortal if he had not flattered himself with the hope of accomplishing something great, to be recorded by chroniclers and celebrated by minstrels.
And the princes and nobles assembled to hold a council of war; and Louis, with his crown on his brow, took his place to preside, with that serene dignity which distinguished him. But, ere the proceedings began, the Earl of Salisbury rose, and intimated his desire to address the king on a subject of great importance. Louis immediately signified consent; and the earl, raising his hand to ensure silence, proceeded with a calm but resolute air:—
'Sire,' said he, 'I crave your pardon, and that of the princes and noble warriors here assembled, for trespassing upon their time. But I have that to state which demands your attention and interference, inasmuch as it nearly concerns the safety and welfare and honour of the army of pilgrims, of which you are the recognised chief. Sire,' continued the earl, 'however others may plead ignorance of the circumstances, you, at least, are fully informed and well aware that, in taking the Cross, and coming from a distant land to aid you in the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, I made sacrifices of no ordinary kind. My doing so exposed me to the wrath of King Henry, my kinsman and liege lord, who took from me my earldom and all my substance. This, however, he did judicially, not in his anger, or any violence of self-will; and I do not blame him. But I came hither with my countrymen, and we have fought as faithfully for God's cause as any man in your army. Nevertheless we have been exposed to insults and injuries which brave men cannot long tolerate. The chief offender is your brother, the Count of Artois. I lay my complaint before you, and I ask you to judge between us. I promise to abide by your decision, and, if I am found to be in the wrong, to render every satisfaction for my fault. So help me God, and good St. George!'
Louis listened with attention to the earl's speech. Indeed, the grandeur of Longsword's aspect, and his eloquence, so frank and so manly, produced a strong impression both on the king and the assemblage, and many of the French, notwithstanding their prejudices, murmured approbation.
'This English earl,' said they, 'speaks words of truth and soberness, and he asks nothing more than the justice that ought not to be denied to the meanest man in the army of pilgrims.'
Louis, however, paused, and appeared to be in extreme perplexity.
'William Longsword,' he said, at length, 'you have spoken boldly; and I do not deny that you have spoken the truth. The Lord, who is ignorant of nothing, is aware of the injuries you have suffered. But what can I do? You know how serious an affair it would be for me to offend any of my nobles in the position in which I now am, and it therefore becomes you to exercise the patience becoming a soldier of the Cross.'
And now the Count of Artois started up, his face flushed and his limbs trembling with rage:
'King,' exclaimed he, in accents of menace, 'what mean you by the words you have spoken? Do you defend this Englishman and take part with him against Frenchmen, who are of your own country and kindred?'
The countenance of Louis expressed more annoyance than he was in the habit of exhibiting.
'Now, Longsword,' said he, turning with an imploring look to the earl, 'you see the position of affairs, and how easily a quarrel might arise; and God forbid it should occur in an army of Christians. At such a crisis it is necessary to endure much for the sake of Christendom.'
'Sire,' exclaimed Longsword, giving way to his indignation, 'if this is the only answer you can give to my complaint, I advise you to call yourself no longer a king; since you have no longer the privilege of being obeyed, or of administering justice, or punishing offenders.' And rising with a dignity which awed most of those present, he left the council.
'Frenchmen,' said Louis, reproachfully, 'why do you persecute this man? What madness excites you?'
'I do it,' cried the Count of Artois, 'because I dislike the tailed English, and because I think the army of Crusaders would be well purged of them.'
But none present ventured to give the count the support he seemed to expect; and the wise and prudent bent their brows, and intimated their disapprobation.
'The matter is too serious to be lightly spoken of,' said they, significantly; 'and this dispute is a sad presage of future events; and well will it be if the anger of the Most High is not provoked by such offences.'
'And now,' said Louis, anxious to drop the subject, 'let us to the business on which we assembled to deliberate. Let us consult on the line of march, and on the measures to be taken for completing the conquest of Egypt.'
'Sire,' said John de Valery, a baron, whose probity and courage were the admiration of the army, 'it seems to me that the best and safest policy is to undertake the siege of Alexandria. That city has a commodious port, where the fleet could find shelter, and where munitions and provisions could be procured with facility. My voice, therefore, is for marching to Alexandria.'
Many of those whose experience in war was greatest—among whom were the Master of the Temple and the Master of the Hospital—-echoed John de Valery's opinion.
'For my part,' said the Count of Artois, with his characteristic rashness, 'I dislike timid counsels. Why not at once attack Cairo, which is the capital of Egypt? When you wish to kill the serpent,' added he, 'you ought always to endeavour to crush his head. Then, I say, let us on to Cairo.'
A warm and somewhat angry discussion ensued; and Louis, having given his opinion in favour of marching to Cairo, the project was adopted: and it was resolved to leave Queen Margaret, with the Countesses of Artois, Poictiers, and Anjou, at Damietta, to send the fleet with provisions and engines of war up the Nile, and then to march with banners displayed along the banks of the river.
'Gentlemen,' said Louis, as he dismissed the council, 'I feel assured that we shall have no reason to repent adopting the bolder of the projects discussed this day; for, with an army of sixty thousand men, and the blessing of God on our endeavours, I see no reason to despair of accomplishing something great against the enemies of Christ.'
'Sire,' replied John de Valery, 'may God grant that your hopes be realised.'
And the nobles and princes separated to make the necessary preparations for marching to Cairo.
Little did they foresee the terrible circumstances under which many of them were to reach that city.