DELAY AND DANGER.
IT was January 1250, and King Louis, at the head of the Crusaders, was
still on the banks of the Achmoun. But it was not from reluctance to
prosecute their enterprise that the armed pilgrims submitted to delay.
The aspect of the country through which they had passed on their way
from Damietta had not been such as to diminish their ambition to be
conquerors. It cannot be doubted that the fertility of the land of the
Pharaohs must have made them more and more eager to become its masters.
In truth, there cannot be a more delightful sight than Egypt at either
of two seasons of the year. Ascend some mountain in the month of July or
August, when the Nile has risen, and you behold a vast sea, in which
appear numerous towns and villages, with causeways leading from place to
place, the whole interspersed with groves and fruit-trees, of which the
tops are only visible, and bounded by woods and mountains. But it is the
peculiarity of the Nile, unlike other rivers, which, in overflowing
lands, wash away and exhaust their vivific moisture, that its waters
serve to fatten and enrich the soil. Accordingly, ascend the same
mountain in January or February, when the waters have subsided and the
husbandman has done his work, and the country is like one beautiful
meadow, dotted with flocks and herds, covered with crops of corn,
enamelled with flowers, and perfumed with the blossoms of oranges and
lemons.
Nor, considering the marvellous history of Egypt, could the imaginations
of the Crusaders be otherwise than fascinated by the prospect of looking
with their own eyes on its cities, its pyramids, its obelisks, its mummy
pits, and all the relics of its ancient and mysterious civilisation.
Persians, Macedonians, Romans, and Saracens, had come hither before them
as conquerors. But it may be doubted whether the warriors of Cambyses,
or Alexander, or the Caesars, or Omar, felt a more thorough confidence in
their own prowess and destiny, than did the warriors who marched from
Damietta under the banner of St. Denis.
It was certainly mortifying to men in so elate a mood to have their
progress arrested by a canal; and, in fact, the French warriors seem to
have been startled out of their senses by its steep banks and deep bed.
At all events, they, instead of looking for a ford, which was certainly
the most natural way of getting over their difficulty, commenced the
construction of a causeway.
Now, Fakreddin no sooner observed that the Crusaders were at work, than
he perceived his advantage, and vowed that the causeway should never be
completed; and, while workmen, protected by machines of war and wooden
castles, were occupied with its construction, the Saracens spared no
pains to retard the operations. As fast as the Crusaders heaped up the
sand and stones, the Saracens dug away the earth in front, thus removing
the opposite bank to a greater distance; and, moreover, they incessantly
showered arrows and javelins at the workmen. Every day brought fresh
annoyances; and every day the Saracens became more audacious in their
attacks. Every night brought fresh surprises; and, in the conflicts
which took place, the Crusaders had not always the best of the struggle.
'A large body of Turks,' says Joinville, 'made an attack on the Count of
Poictiers and me. But be assured they were very well received. It was
well for them that they found their way back as they came; but they left
behind them great numbers of slain.'
'One night the Turks brought an engine, called by them _la perriere_, a
terrible engine to do mischief, and placed it opposite the
chas-chateils, which Sir Walter Curel and I were guarding. From this
engine they flung such quantities of Greek fire, that it was the most
horrible sight I ever witnessed. When my companion, the good Sir Walter,
saw this shower of fire, he cried out, "Gentlemen, we are all lost
without remedy; for should they set fire to our chas-chateils we must be
burnt, and if we quit our post we are for ever dishonoured; from which,
therefore, I conclude that no one can possibly save us from this peril
but God, our benignant creator. I therefore advise all of you, whenever
they throw any of this Greek fire, to cast yourselves on your hands and
knees and cry for mercy to our Lord, in whom alone resides all power."
'As soon, therefore, as the Turks threw their fires, we flung ourselves
on our hands and knees as the wise man had advised; and, this time, they
fell between our two cats, into a hole in front, which our people had
made to extinguish them; and they were instantly put out by a man
appointed for that purpose.
'Each time that our good king, St. Louis, heard them make these
discharges of fire, he cast himself on the ground, and with extended
arms, and eyes turned to the heavens, cried with a loud voice to our
Lord, and shedding heavy tears, said--"Good Lord God, preserve thou me,
and all thy people:" and, believe me, his sincere prayers were of great
service to us. Every time the fire fell near us he sent one of his
knights to know how we were, and if the fire had hurt us. One of the
discharges from the Turks fell beside a chas-chateil, guarded by the men
of the Lord of Courtenay, struck the bank of the river in front and ran
on the ground toward them, burning with flames. One of the knights of
his guard instantly came to me, crying out, "Help us, my lord, or we are
burnt; for there is a long train of Greek fire, which the Saracens have
discharged, that is running straight for our castle."
'We immediately hastened thither, and good need was there, for as the
knight had said, so it was. We extinguished the fire with much labour
and difficulty; for the Saracens, in the meantime, kept up so brisk a
shooting from the opposite bank, that we were covered with arrows and
bolts.'
All this time Fakreddin was diligent in procuring what intelligence he
could as to the position and plans of the Crusaders. This, however, was
not an easy business. Indeed, no intelligence on such subjects could be
obtained, save from captives, and the emir, therefore, offered a high
reward for every Frank brought to his tent. But the Crusaders, taught by
experience, had become marvellously vigilant, and showed a decided
aversion to be captured. A Saracen, however, who was an expert swimmer,
vowed not to be baffled, and performed an exploit, which Arabian
chroniclers, while omitting much more important events, have carefully
recorded.
It seems that this Saracen, having determined to carry a Christian as
captive to Fakreddin's tent, and claim the reward, fell upon a somewhat
whimsical plan for accomplishing his object. Having scooped out a melon,
and thrust his head into the cavity, he threw himself into the canal,
and swam down the stream in such a way that the melon appeared to float
in the water. The trick succeeded in attracting the attention of the
Crusaders, and as the melon was passing that part of the bank where the
Lord of Joinville was encamped, there was much excitement among his men.
'Let us catch the melon,' cried one.
'Who is bold enough to make the attempt?' asked another.
'On my faith,' said a squire, laughing, 'I see no danger to daunt the
most timid.'
[Illustration: Scarcely, indeed, had he stretched forward his hand, when
he found himself seized by the Saracen, and dragged forcibly away in the
direction of the camp on the opposite bank.--p. 118.]
As he spoke, the squire, doffing his upper garments, rushed into the
water, and, striking out, grasped at the melon. But the adventure did
not end so pleasantly as he had anticipated. Scarcely, indeed, had he
stretched forward his hand, when he found himself seized by the Saracen,
and dragged forcibly away in the direction of the camp on the opposite
bank.
At first the Crusaders could hardly believe their eyes. But there was no
mistake about it. Their comrade was gone, and a prisoner in the hands of
the Saracens; and, as they considered what might be his fate, they
raised such shouts of alarm, that their lord was attracted to the spot.
'In St. Denis' name,' said Joinville, after hearing sufficient to be
aware of what had occurred, 'tell me, I pray you, who among my fellows
has met with this mishap?'
'In truth, my lord,' replied one of the knights, 'it is the English
squire who took service with you at Damietta.'
'May the God of his fathers protect him!' exclaimed Joinville, somewhat
sadly; 'as matters are, we can do nothing in his behalf.'
And who was the squire, who had entered the service of Joinville at
Damietta, and afterwards been taken prisoner by the Saracens?
It was one of the brothers-in-arms. It was Guy Muschamp.