Under mediæval conditions, Muret was naturally strong. The general shape of the town is a right triangle with a short base. The Garonne flows north-east along the perpendicular of the triangle; the winding Louge flows in a general direction east along the hypotenuse and falls into the Garonne at the apex of the triangle where the castle then stood. Adjoining the castle was the old town or “bourg.” The new town or “ville” occupied the space between the “bourg” and the base of the triangle. The road from Toulouse crossed the Louge on a bridge and entered the “ville” by the Toulouse Gate which was pierced in the wall of the northern hypotenuse side near the north-west corner. The Sales Gate opened through the wall of the base near the right angle. On the eastern side, a roadway ran along the Garonne bank under the wall from the south corner of the town past the bridge over the Garonne to the bridge of St. Sernin, which crossed the mouth of the Louge under the walls of the castle, at the apex of the triangle. At the right angle, i.e., the south corner of the town, an outwork or chatelet protected the Sales Gate and the entrance leading to the road along the Garonne bank. The defences of the castle were strong, those of the “bourg” less so, and those of the “ville” were weak.
The Garonne at Muret is unfordable, about a hundred and fifty yards wide, and flows rapidly between steep banks averaging over thirty feet high and nearly forty feet just below the mouth of the Louge. The Louge is a good sized brook between fifteen and twenty-five feet across; fordable in all seasons, except just at its mouth, but a first-class military obstacle because of the height and steepness of its banks, nearly forty feet, as we have seen, at its mouth, and over fifteen just above the town. Half a mile up, its banks are low and gentle and it is no obstacle at all. From a point about three-quarters of a mile west of the town a low ridge runs a little east of north. This ridge (called near the town “the Hill of Perramon”) is not over fifty feet high and of a very easy slope. Between it and the Garonne the ground is quite flat. About a mile north of the town lies a slight marshy depression called in the local dialect “Les Pesquies,” i.e., the fish-pond or fishery, and from this patch of swamp a tiny rivulet runs east to the Garonne, between banks all of ten feet high and fully thirty degrees in slope at the top—an obstacle impossible for charging cavalry.
Pedro, Raymond, Foix and Comminges had made camp on the hill of Perramon. Under cover of the fire of six mangonnels (i.e. catapults) they had promptly attacked the walls in the neighbourhood of the Toulouse Gate, forced the defences of the “ville” and driven the garrison of thirty knights and seven hundred poorly armed infantry into the bourg and the castle. The assault seems to have been the work of the Toulousain militia infantry, the knights and Catalans disdaining siege work. No sooner was the “ville” occupied than word came of de Montfort’s approach. Thereupon Pedro, in high glee, ordered a retirement outside the walls, reckoning that if the Crusaders would only enter the place they would be caught in a trap. The place could then be besieged on all sides and the war finished at one blow. Hence the unopposed entry which surprised de Montfort.
The allies spent the early hours of the evening in consultation. Raymond proposed to entrench the camp so as to secure it against a cavalry charge, and give to the defenders the opportunity to shoot at the Crusaders without fear of being ridden down. Such tactics had at least enabled the Toulousain to bring off his army safely from the unsuccessful siege of Castelnaudary two years before. To the sporting instincts of Pedro, however, this seemed mere cowardice, and he not only rejected it but allowed one of his barons bitterly to taunt Raymond for having made the suggestion. The idea was dropped. Raymond was so completely in Pedro’s power that we do not even hear of his resenting the insult offered him. Two monks now appeared, sent by Bishop Fulk of Toulouse to treat either with the Aragonese, or with his own Toulousain flock. The Toulousains promised an answer and detained the monks. This matter disposed of, Pedro began a night of revelry. Many of the barons of Languedoc, who were completely in his power, had put their wives and daughters at his disposition, and he debauched himself so strenuously that at mass, in the morning (so his own son writes), he was so exhausted that he could scarcely stand for the reading of the gospel.
Even had he thought of the military position seriously, the King had no reason to hurry matters. All his own troops had not yet joined, and in all probability he knew of the shortage of provisions in Muret, which must soon sap the strength of his opponents. That de Montfort would lead his little band to the attack never entered Pedro’s head.
De Montfort, on the other hand, saw clearly that he himself must attack. The same political necessity that had drawn him to Muret made a quick success desirable; the shortage of food in the town made it imperative. He had had four years in which to estimate Pedro, and must have felt reasonably certain that the sportsman king would conduct operations haphazard. His own great inferiority in numbers might be neutralized if he could effect a partial surprise. Possibly he had this in mind when, on the morning of the 11th, he ordered that the Toulouse Gate, which had been forced on the previous day, should be neither closed nor barricaded. The enemy might be tempted to attack it again and be thereby prevented from giving their whole attention to the proposed countermove. Possibly it was the bishops who wished to show that they did not consider diplomatic relations broken off. The ruse, if ruse it was, succeeded. The savage Count of Foix and certain Catalans charged mounted into the town by the open gate, but were driven out by the Crusaders, under Count Simon himself. He had seven hundred infantry, and even mediocre infantry (provided they kept their heads at all) had the advantage of mounted men cooped in the narrow and winding streets of a mediæval town. The unsuccessful attack served the further purpose, of forcing the consent of the clergy to the rash plan, as they considered it, of a sortie. Bishop Fulk, nothing daunted when the Toulousains sent back his two monks with the message they could do nothing with King Pedro, had intended to go barefoot at the head of the clergy present, to beg peace in the very camp of the besiegers.
Now de Montfort, heated with directing the repulse of Foix and the Catalans, strode into the priory and demanded permission to sally out and fight. Meanwhile the southerners, in preparation for a new attack, began a heavy fire of all sorts of projectiles. When missiles began to fall upon the priory roof over their heads, the clergy abandoned all idea of negotiating and gave Count Simon leave to attack.
This permission granted, the crusading leader, who was on foot, made for the castle where he had left his horse. On his way he entered St. Sernin, where the Bishop of Usez was saying mass, and prostrated himself before the altar. As he rose, the supporting strap of one of his chainmail leg-pieces broke, but, quite neglecting the evil omen, he merely had it replaced and continued on his way. His horse had been brought out to him on the high castle terrace, but, as he tried to mount, two more discouraging portents took place. First the saddle girth broke. He calmly had it repaired and again put his foot in the stirrup. Just as he swung into the saddle, the horse jerked up his head and struck him on the forehead so that, for a moment, he was stunned. Some Toulousains, posted in observation north of the Louge, raised a mocking yell to which he defiantly shouted back, “You mock me now, but I trust in the Lord and I hope right well to cry after you this day as far as the gates of Toulouse.”
We may fairly assume that the Toulousains were out of easy bowshot—say a hundred and fifty yards off. Their gestures could therefore be seen and their mocking cries heard, whereas Count Simon’s exact words could not come to them clearly: had they been understood they might have jeopardized his intended surprise.
Mounted at last, Count Simon rode down to the Ville and formed his nine hundred horsemen on the spacious market-place, the “mercadar” making three squadrons or “battles” each, we may safely assume, of about three hundred, i.e., one hundred knights and two hundred sergeants. The first displayed all the banners of the host, so as to concentrate the enemies’ attention upon it. It was commanded by William d’Encontre, accompanied by de Montfort’s half brother, the veteran William des Barres. The second was under Bouchard de Marly and included a handful of knights who had sworn an oath to kill King Pedro. De Montfort himself commanded the third. When formed, he addressed them and explained the proposed manœuvre, stressing the need to file out by a gate not closely observed by the enemy, so that, while deploying, their horses should not be exposed to missile weapons: the men themselves would have nothing to fear thanks to their chainmail armor with its quilted lining. His orders were to charge and fight as a unit and on no account to break ranks in order to attempt some individual feat of arms.