Ere long, however, suspicion was aroused, and it became more and more difficult to conceal the truth. Of itself this was sufficient to create consternation; but, at the same time, rumour brought to Mansourah intelligence that the French, having left Damietta, and marched in hostile array along the banks of the Nile, had reached Pharescour; and the approach of the Crusaders converted the consternation into panic, which rapidly extended its influence to Cairo. Every cheek grew pale; and the Egyptians exhibited such anxiety and terror as had never before been felt in their cities.
At this crisis, Fakreddin, to whom the sultana had entrusted the command of the Egyptian army, took measures to reanimate his countrymen with courage and confidence, and called upon them to hazard their lives freely for their religion.
'In the name of God, and Mahomet his prophet,' said the emir, 'hasten, great and small—the cause of God has need of your arms and of your wealth; the Franks—Heaven curse them!—are arrived in our country, with their standards and their swords. They wish to obtain possession of our cities, and to ravage our provinces. What Mussulman can refuse to march against them, and avenge the glory of Islamism?'
But, at Cairo and Mansourah, the Egyptians only answered with sighs and groans; and, at first, Fakreddin's appeal failed to produce the effect he intended. The emir, however, was not dismayed. Indeed, he showed a courage worthy of the fame he had won by his military exploits, and gradually rallied the more courageous of his countrymen around him. Marching from Mansourah, he encamped at Djedilé, on the side of the canal known as the Achmoun, which has a deep bed and steep banks; and halted with the Nile on his left and the city in his rear.
'Here,' said he, addressing his men, 'I await the invaders. Be brave; we will yet avenge Islamism; and on Sebastian's-day I will dine in the scarlet tent of the French king.'
Meanwhile, the Crusaders continued their march, and they soon approached Mansourah. At this point, however, their progress was arrested by two obstacles—the canal of Achmoun, and the army of Fakreddin.
'Who is the leader of that army?' asked King Louis, as he looked earnestly across the canal to where the Saracens were encamped.
'Sire,' answered one of his knights, 'it is Fakreddin, the emir, who fled from Damietta; but who, nevertheless, as I learn, does not hesitate to boast that it is his intention to dine in your red tent on St. Sebastian's-day.'
'Does the emir intend to dine in my tent on St. Sebastian's-day?' said Louis, mildly; 'however, I will take good care to prevent him.'
'In truth, sire,' said the knight, smiling, 'I hold that you are much more likely to dine in the sultan's palace.'