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 _arriere 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.