PASSING THE ACHMOUN.
MORE than six weeks had passed since the Crusaders found their progress
arrested by the Achmoun; and still the causeway by which they had hoped
to pass the canal was not constructed. Indeed, the workmen had made very
little progress since the first week; and Louis was despairing of seeing
the work brought to a completion, when, much to his gratification, he
learned that there was a prospect of crossing the canal by the simplest
of all processes.
On the day when Guy Muschamp was carried off as a captive, the Constable
of France was surprised by a visit from a Bedouin, and demanded his
business. The Bedouin thereupon offered, for five hundred golden
bezants, to point out a ford by which the Crusaders might, without
danger or difficulty, cross in safety to the opposite bank. The
constable at once promised the required reward, in the event of the
information proving satisfactory; but it was not till the money was told
down that the Bedouin conducted him to the spot, and convinced him that
the ford was there. Gladly hastening to Louis, the constable revealed
the means of extricating the armed pilgrims from their embarrassment;
and the king, assembling the princes and nobles, decided on leaving the
Duke of Burgundy on the Damietta side with a sufficient force to guard
the camp; and then, mastering their men and mounting their horses, they
at midnight marched along the bank of the canal to the ford pointed out
by the Bedouin, and awaited the break of day to dash through the water
and move towards Mansourah.
It was the morning of Tuesday, the 8th of February, 1250--Shrove
Tuesday--when the armed pilgrims, under the auspices of King Louis,
halted on the Damietta side of the Achmoun, and awaited the signal to
pass to that on which Mansourah was situated. Everything so far had gone
quite as smoothly as could reasonably have been expected. Some horsemen,
indeed, rode too near the margin of the canal, and, getting on soft and
slippery ground, they and their horses fell in and were drowned. Among
them was Sir John of Orleans, a valiant knight, who bore the French
banner. But this was a slight misfortune compared with that which the
folly and presumption of one man was preparing for that ill-starred
host.
At all times, and under all circumstances, the Count of Artois was one
of the most unreasonable of human beings; and at this moment, so
important to Louis, to France, to the Crusaders, and to the Christian
kingdom of Jerusalem, nothing would satisfy his ambition but being the
first to cross. Not unaware of his brother's failings, Louis protested;
but the count persisted; and, promising to wait with patience on the
opposite bank for the main army, he placed himself at the head of the
van, which was formed of the Templars, the Hospitallers, and the English
Crusaders, and dashed into the canal.
Now, at this moment the opposite bank was occupied by several hundred
Saracen horsemen, who seemed prepared to oppose the landing of the
Crusaders. No sooner, however, did the Saracens perceive that the
Crusaders were fording the canal safely than they gave way, and fled
towards the camp of the Emir Fakreddin at Djedile.
It was then that, in spite of all the warnings he had received and all
the promises he had made, the Count of Artois gave way to the
impetuosity that was destined to lead to the ruin of the pilgrim army.
At the sight of the flying Saracens, he threw all discretion to the
winds, and, attended by his governor, an old deaf knight, who held his
rein, pursued the fugitives towards the camp. In vain the Grand Masters
of the Temple and the Hospital shouted out remonstrances. The count paid
no attention whatever; and the aged knight, who was too deaf to hear a
word, urged on the pursuit, crying loudly, 'Hurrah! hurrah! Upon them!
upon them!'
The Saracens who occupied the camp at Djedile were panic-stricken; and,
supposing that the whole French army was upon them, fled in confusion
towards Mansourah. But there was one man who did not fly; and that man
was Fakreddin. When the camp was invaded, the emir was in his bath, and
having his beard coloured, after the custom of the Orientals; but he
immediately roused himself, dressed himself hastily, and, springing on
horseback, endeavoured to rally his troops, and attempted to resist.
Inspired by Fakreddin's example, the Saracens who had not fled offered a
feeble resistance. But it was unavailing, and they followed the
fugitives streaming towards Mansourah. Fakreddin, however, disdaining
either to fly or yield, continued to struggle bravely; until, left
almost alone, he fell in the midst of his foes, covered with wounds, and
consoling himself, as his breath went, that his end was glorious, that
he died a martyr for Islamism, and that he would be conveyed to the
banks of the celestial river.
'By the head of St. Anthony!' exclaimed the Count of Artois, looking
fiercely on Fakreddin's mangled corpse, 'it was this emir who boasted
that he would dine in the red tent of my lord the king; but now he will
not grumble at a humbler resting-place.'
'My lord count,' said Salisbury, gravely, 'the emir, had he been ten
times a Saracen, was a brave man; and let us merit the praises of the
valiant by showing that we know how to honour the memory of our enemies
as well as of our friends.'
'Amen,' said both the grand masters, in significant accents.