All present were full of joy, and began to congratulate each other, when, with a sudden change of countenance and of manner, the King said: 'My friends, at this present time I am assuredly in possession of my reason and of all my senses. I am neither weak in health nor of clouded mind. I now ask to have my cross given back to me. He who knows all things knows that not one morsel of food shall enter my lips until it is once again affixed to my shoulder.' 'These words plainly showed that the finger of God was in this matter, and therefore no one ventured to raise a single objection to the will of the King.' [Footnote 16]
[Footnote 16: Matthew Paris, p. 407.]
Louis proclaimed his resolve openly, and urged forward the preparations for a new crusade. He announced that he would start after Pentecost in the following year, 1248.
His brothers first, and then the majority of his vassals, knights as well as great barons, also took the cross. The enthusiasm of Louis was contagious, and many were kindled by it, whilst others for very shame could not forsake their king and lord, who was so noble a prince and so faithful a Christian. On Friday, the 12th of June, 1248, the King went to St. Denis, and there received the oriflamme, and then the pilgrim's wallet and staff. After this, he returned to Paris, and went barefooted to Notre Dame to hear mass, followed by a great crowd of people. Queen Margaret was to accompany him to the East, and she went through the same farewell ceremonies, sometimes with and sometimes after her husband. Queen Blanche waited for her son at Corbeil, and Louis there took leave of her, having first appointed her Regent of France, and granted her the fullest powers during his absence. Some say, however, that she accompanied him as far as Cluny.
'O my fair son, my fair and gentle son!' she said when he bade her adieu. 'O my most tender son, my heart tells me that I shall never see thee more!' And one account adds that, in spite of her high spirit and great courage, she fainted twice when she saw her son finally depart.
The King went on his way, and at Lyons received the benediction of the Pope Innocent IV.; he there put a stop to the brigandage of the wicked lord of one of the castles on the banks of the Rhone, and at length reached Aiguesmortes, in Provence, as some say in July, according to others in the beginning of August. He was to set sail from thence, and had requested all the Crusaders who intended to cross the sea with him to meet him there. He took up his abode in a very humble house, which, as it was the King's residence, was dignified by the name of 'palace;' it would not accommodate his own suite and the retinue of his brothers, tents were therefore erected for them outside the town, and in the neighbouring hamlets. A great number of Crusaders, vassals or allies of the King of France, arrived in rapid succession, and these had separate camps distinguished by their standards. There were thirty-eight large ships in the port hard by, and a whole host of vessels of transport. The preparations of the fleet were completed on the 20th of August, and on Tuesday, the 25th, Louis went to the humble church, Notre Dame des Sablons, to invoke the protection of God for his enterprise, and on the same day he embarked. A young writer of the present age, who has collected local details full of interest with regard to this solemn event, says:—
'It was left entirely to the master-mariners to decide when the wind would be favourable for setting sail, and on Friday the 28th, after careful deliberation, they were all agreed. They then summoned the pilot. "Are you ready?" said they. "Yes, masters," he answered. One of them stepped up to the King of France: "Sire, call up your parsons and priests, for the weather is fair and fine." Chaplains, monks, and bishops came on deck, and the same master-mariners called out, "Sing, good fathers; sing, in the name of God!" Whereupon they chant the "Veni Creator," which is taken up in vessel after vessel, until it is heard from one end of the fleet to the other. This pious canticle ended, the pilots call out to the sailors, "Hoist your sails in God's name!" And first from one ship and then from another you hear the captain calling, "Weigh your anchor, for you are too near, and may do us harm."
'Before long the wind filled our sails, and bore us out of sight of the land; we saw nothing but sky and sea, and every day the wind carried us farther away from the places of our birth. And I think this will show you that a man must be very foolhardy if he will run into such danger with other people's goods, or when he is in a state of mortal sin, for he goes to bed at night in a place which may be at the bottom of the sea the next morning.' [Footnote 17]