There then we halted; and you may believe me when I say, that the good king performed that day the most gallant deeds that ever I saw in any battle. It was said, that had it not been for his personal exertions, the whole army would have been destroyed; but I believe that the great courage he naturally possessed was that day doubled by the power of God, for he forced himself wherever he saw his men in any distress, and gave such blows with battle-axe and sword, it was wonderful to behold. The lord de Courtenai and Sir John de Salenai one day told me, that at this engagement six Turks caught hold of the bridle of the king’s horse, and were leading him away; but this virtuous prince exerted himself with such bravery in fighting the six Turks, that he alone freed himself from them; and that many, seeing how valiantly he defended himself, and the great courage he displayed, took greater courage themselves, and abandoning the passage they were guarding, hastened to support the king. After some little time, the count Peter of Brittany came to us who were guarding the small bridge from Mansura, having had a most furious skirmish. He was so badly wounded in the face that the blood came out of his mouth, as if it had been full of water, and he vomited it forth. The count was mounted on a short, thick, but strong horse, and his reins and the pommel of his saddle were cut and destroyed, so that he was forced to hold himself by his two hands round the horse’s neck for fear the Turks, who were close behind him, should make him fall off. He did not, however, seem much afraid of them, for he frequently turned round, and gave them many abusive words by way of mockery.
In our front were two of the king’s heralds; the name of one was Guillaume de Bron, and that of the other John de Gaymaches; against whom the Turks led a rabble of peasants of the country, who pelted them with clods of earth and large stones. At last, they brought a villainous Turk, who thrice flung Greek fires at them; and by one of them was the tabard of Guillaume de Bron set on fire; but he soon threw it off, and good need had he, for if it had set fire to his clothes, he must have been burned. We were also covered with these showers of stones and arrows which the Turks discharged at the two heralds. I luckily found near me a gaubison of coarse cloth which had belonged to a Saracen, and turning the slit part inward, I made a sort of shield, which was of much service to me; for I was only wounded by their shots in five places, whereas my horse was hurt in fifteen. Soon after, as God willed it, one of my vassals of Joinville brought me a banner with my arms, and a long knife of war, which I was in want of; and then, when these Turkish villains, who were on foot, pressed on the heralds, we made a charge on them and put them instantly to flight. Thus when the good count de Soissons and myself were returned to our post on the bridge, after chasing away these peasants, he rallied me, saying, “Seneschal, let us allow this rabble to bawl and bray; and, by the Cresse Dieu,” his usual oath, “you and I will talk over this day’s adventures in the chambers of our ladies.”
It happened that towards evening, about sunset, the constable, Sir Humbert de Beaujeu, brought us the king’s cross-bows that were on foot; and they drew up in one front, while we horsemen dismounted under shelter of the cross-bows. The Saracens observing this immediately took to flight, and left us in peace. The constable told me that we had behaved well in thus guarding the bridge; and bade me go boldly to the king, and not quit him until he should be dismounted in his pavilion. I went to the king, and at the same moment Sir John de Valeri joined, and requested of him, in the name of the lord de Chastillon, that the said lord might command the rear guard, which the king very willingly granted. The king then took the road to return to his pavilion, and raised the helmet from his head, on which I gave him my iron skull-cap, which was much lighter, that he might have more air. Thus as we were riding together, Father Henry, prior of the hospital of Ronnay, who had crossed the river, came to him and kissed his hand, fully armed, and asked if he had heard any news of his brother the count d’Artois. “Yes,” replied the king, “I have heard all”; that is to say, that he knew well he was now in paradise. The prior, thinking to comfort him for the death of his brother, continued, “Sire, no king of France has ever reaped such honour as you have done; for with great intrepidity have you and your army crossed a dangerous river to combat your enemies; and have been so very successful that you have put them to flight and gained the field, together with their warlike engines, with which they had wonderfully annoyed you, and concluded the affair by taking possession this day of their camp and quarters.” The good king replied that God should be adored for all the good he had granted him; and then heavy tears began to fall down his cheeks, which many great persons noticing, were oppressed with anguish and compassion on seeing him thus weep, praising the name of God who had enabled him to win the victory.[f]
RESULTS OF MANSURA
The count of Artois had rallied his forces in the town. The Egyptian chief invested Mansura; and, with ability equal to his spirit, placed a body of troops in such a station as to intercept the communication between the count and the king. The soldiers in Mansura engaged the French. The inhabitants partook of the perils of the day, and poured upon their enemy, with deadly effect, burning coals, boiling water, and stones. The count did not survive to witness all the dreadful issues of his rashness. William Longespee and a numerous band of gallant men also perished. The grand master of St. John fell into the enemy’s hands; and the master of the Templars was happy in escaping with the loss of an eye. On the side of the enemy Fakhr ad-Din was slain; but his station was quickly filled by a chief of equal bravery and conduct. The king and his army had crossed the ford, and prevented the total rout of the Christians. The valiant master of the Templars was slain in this renewed engagement. Egyptian and Christian annalists have claimed the honour and rewards of victory for their respective sides; but in truth the result of the battle appears to have been indecisive.
The Saracens, however, cut off all communications between St. Louis and Damietta. Famine and disease appeared in the Christian camp, and the French described the latter of those evils as having sprung from a pestilential air emitted from the dead bodies of their friends and foes, and from eating eel pouts which had fed on corpses in the river.[b] “From this poisonous diet,” says De Joinville, “and from the bad air of a country where it scarcely ever rains, the whole army was infected by a shocking disorder, which dried up the flesh on one’s legs to the bone, and our skins became tanned as black as the ground, or like an old boot that has long lain behind a coffer. In addition to this miserable disorder, those afflicted by it had another sore complaint in the mouth, from eating eel pouts that rotted the gums. Very few escaped death that were attacked, and the surest symptoms of its being fatal was a bleeding at the nose. The barbers were obliged to cut away large pieces of flesh from the gums to enable the patient to eat. It was pitiful to hear the cries and groans of those on whom the operation was performed; they seemed like to the cries of women in labour, and I cannot express the great concern all felt who heard them.”[f]
ST. LOUIS A PRISONER
Negotiations for peace were opened between the contending powers, and the exchange of the lordship of Jerusalem for that of Damietta formed the basis of the treaty. The king offered either of his brothers as a hostage for the delivery of Damietta to the Egyptians; but the sultan objected, and all hopes of peace were abandoned, because the Christians would not consent to the delivery of their king as the hostage. The miserable condition of the French army forbade all thoughts of victory, and called for a retreat to Damietta.
The retreat was ordered; but those who attempted it by the river were taken by the enemy, and the fate of such as proceeded by land was equally disastrous. While they were occupied in constructing a bridge over the canal, the Mussulmans entered the camp, and murdered the sick. The valiant Louis, though oppressed with the general calamity of disease, sustained boldly, with Sir Godfrey de Sergines, the shock of the enemy, and threw himself into the midst of them, resolved to perish in defending his troops. The brave Sergines, who never left him, succeeded at last in drawing him from the foe, and conducted him to a village, where he sank into insensibility and helplessness.[75]