THE CARNAGE OF MANSOURAH.
IT was still early morning, and King Louis was still on the Damietta
side of the Achmoun, when the Count of Artois, the Earl of Salisbury,
and the Grand Masters of the Temple and the Hospital, found themselves
victors in the camp.
'Now, gentlemen,' said the Count of Artois, 'let us forward, and
complete the rout of our foes while affairs prosper in our hands and
they are in dismay. Speed will now avail more than strength; and the
fewer we are the greater will be the honour of a victory. Forward then,
and crush them at a blow!'
'Forward!' shouted the old deaf knight, who held the count's rein.
'Hurrah! hurrah! Upon them! upon them!'
But the count's companions hesitated, and exchanged glances of alarm.
'Noble prince,' said the Master of the Temple, after a pause, 'I give
all praise to your valour; but I entreat you to be advised, and not to
act rashly. Our men are weary; our horses are wounded; we are few in
number; and we must not overvalue our victory, or suppose our enemies
are vanquished because they have lost a handful of men. Let us,
therefore, return to the king, that we may be strengthened by his
counsel and aid.'
'In truth,' said the Grand Master of the Hospital, 'we should be
foolhardy to attempt aught rashly. We are in a strange country; and our
best instructors are behind. Let us stay for our lantern and not go
forward in the dark.'
'Ah!' exclaimed the Count of Artois, swelling with pride and anger,
'this is ever the way with military monks. But for the treachery of the
Templars, and the sedition of the Hospitallers, the Holy Land would long
since have been won.'
'Noble count,' said the Grand Master of the Temple, reproachfully, 'you
do us grievous wrong. Why should we take the habit of religion, and pass
our lives in a foreign land amid perils and fatigues? Is it, think you,
to overthrow the Church and betray the cause of Christ, that we abandon
our homes and kindred? However,' added the Grand Master, waxing wrath,
'let us forward, in God's name, and try all together the fortunes of
battle. Standard-bearer, unfurl the banner of the Temple. Ha!
Beau-seant! Beau-seant!'
At this moment the Earl of Salisbury made an effort to save his comrades
from the destruction on which they were about to rush.
'My lord,' said he, addressing the Count of Artois, 'I implore you to
listen to the wholesome counsel of the grand masters. They have been
long in this country, and learned by experience the craft as well as the
strength of our foes. We, being strangers, are ignorant of the perils;
but we know that, as far as the east is from the west, so far are my
ways different from the ways of the Orientals.'
'Hearken to this Englishman!' exclaimed the count, scornfully. 'What
cowardice there is in these English! But their timid counsel suits not
us. Happy should I be if the Christian army were purged of the English
tails!'
A flush of rage crimsoned the earl's bronzed cheek, and his eye flashed
fire.
'Now, by my father's sword!' cried he, striving to be calm, though he
literally quivered with indignation, 'this passes human patience! Ho!
there, Lord Robert de Vere, raise my banner; and you, Count of Artois,
lead on, and see if the danger of death hinders us from following. The
touchstone must try which is gold and which is brass; and I swear, by
good St. George, as I put on my helmet, that the English knights whom
you have taunted with cowardice will this day penetrate farther in the
ranks of our foes than any warrior of France--be he prince or
paladin--will venture to do.'
And the dispute having there been terminated, the Count of Artois and
his Crusaders put on their helmets and mounted their horses. At that
moment the eye of Salisbury alighted on Walter Espec; and his
countenance, which had expressed the most scornful indignation, suddenly
changed, and expressed something like pity.
'Boy,' said he, in a low, kindly tone, 'fall back and wait for the
French king. We are rushing on certain death; and you are too young to
die.'
'Nay, my good lord,' replied Walter, calmly. 'A man, whether young or
old, can die but once: I would rather fall fighting in the cause of our
Redeemer, and under your banner, than in a less holy cause and in meaner
company.'
'As you will,' said the earl. 'It shall never be told that I prevented
knight or squire from dying the death of a martyr.'
'By the might of Mary! Master Espec,' whispered Bisset; the English
knight, 'were I your age, and had my choice, certes, I should think
twice ere hazarding life against such odds. Wherefore should you fall a
victim to the madness of my Lord of Artois, or the pride of my Lord of
Salisbury?'
'On my faith, I know not,' answered Walter, smiling. 'But this I do
know, that a man can die but once, and that a Christian warrior who
falls with the Cross on his shoulder is understood to win the crown of
martyrdom.'
'Nevertheless, were I you, and of your years,' argued Bisset; 'I should
little relish the notion of being killed; for, as the Saracens say, when
man dies there is no hope of his living again; because, as they add
truly, man is not a water-melon; when once in the ground he cannot grow
again.'
By this time French and Templars and Hospitallers and English were
mounted; and, without further argument, they dashed towards Mansourah.
At first they encountered no obstacle; and, while the inhabitants fled
in terror along the road to Cairo, the Count of Artois and his
companions, after destroying one of the gates, so as to secure egress
if necessary, penetrated into the city, carrying all before them; and,
reaching the palace of the sultan, they commenced the work of pillage.
But during this process they were rudely interrupted; for Bibars
Bendocdar perceived the imprudence of which the Crusaders had been
guilty, and suddenly, at the head of a Saracen army, appeared to give
them battle.
And now the Crusaders were in a fearful predicament. Ere they had time
to rally, they were fiercely attacked. From the roofs and windows of the
houses around, the Saracens hurled stones, and poured heated sand and
boiling water. Before them were the Mamelukes, headed by Bibars
Bendocdar, fiery with fanaticism, and panting for blood. It was a
terrible situation even for brave men; and the very bravest there felt a
thrill of awe and terror.
'All is lost!' said Salisbury, in a whisper.
'The King of France may hear of our peril, and come to our rescue,'
suggested Lord Robert de Vere.
'No hope of succour,' said Bisset, in a conclusive tone. 'But let us not
droop. We can at least sell our lives dearly.'
A brief and painful silence succeeded, while still upon the Crusaders
the Saracens hurled stones and poured boiling water.
'Englishmen and friends,' at length said Salisbury, raising his voice so
as to be heard at a distance, 'it were vain at this moment to deny our
peril. But take courage, my brave companions; and let us not faint in
the hour of adversity. Everything, save dishonour, may be borne by
valiant men; and adversity sheds a light upon the virtues of mankind, as
surely as prosperity casts over them a shade. Here there is no room for
retreat; for our enemies encompass us about; and to attempt to fly would
be certain death. Be of good cheer, then, and let the urgency of the
case sharpen your valour and nerve your arms. Brave men should either
conquer nobly, or die with glory; and martyrdom is a boon which we
should accept without reluctance. But, before we fall, let us, while we
live, do what may avenge our deaths; and, while giving thanks to God
that it is our lot to die as martyrs, let us, in our last efforts of
valour and despair, prove ourselves worthy soldiers of the Cross.'
'Earl William,' said the Count of Artois, riding up, and now conscious
of his folly, 'God fights against us. Resistance is vain, but escape is
possible. Let us consult our safety, and fly while yet our horses can
carry us.'
'Fly if you will!' answered the earl, scornfully; 'but God forbid that
any but liars should ever have it in their power to tell that my
father's son fled from the face of a Saracen.'
And now the heavens and the earth seemed to resound with the noise of
horns and enormous kettle-drums; and, urged on by Bibars Bendocdar, the
Saracens rushed upon their enemies. The plight of the Crusaders was
desperate. But, few as they were in comparison with the swarming foe,
they fought gallantly and well; and, though wounded and exhausted,
maintained the conflict for hours after the flight of the Count of
Artois. But fearful in the meantime was the carnage. Full fifteen
hundred knights had fallen; and of these, three hundred were of the
order of the Temple. Gradually the numbers diminished, till there
remained not a dozen of the men who had that morning invaded Fakreddin's
camp; and among these were the Earl of Salisbury, Lord Robert de Vere,
the Grand Masters of the Temple and the Hospital, Bisset the English
knight, and Walter Espec, still unwounded, and fighting as if he bore a
charmed life, and felt invulnerable to javelins or arrows.
But all possibility of continuing to resist was now at an end, and every
hope of succour had vanished. Salisbury, resolved to sell his life
dearly, faced the Saracens with desperate valour, and used his
battle-axe with such effect that a hundred Saracens are said to have
fallen that day by his hand. At length his horse was killed under him;
and, after rising to his feet, and fighting for awhile with disdain, he
fell covered with wounds. Robert de Vere, already bleeding and
exhausted, no sooner saw Salisbury sink than he wrapped the English
standard round his body, and lay down to die by the great earl's side.
Bisset, Walter Espec, and the two grand masters, found themselves
surrounded by a host of foes, and defending themselves desperately
against every species of assailant.
'Alas!' exclaimed the grand masters of the Temple, 'we are clearly
doomed.'
'I would fain hope not,' answered Bisset, resolutely. 'Our weapons are
not willow-wands; we can cut our way through the pagan rabble.'
'Shame upon us if we hesitate!' said Walter Espec.
And drawing close together, with a rush which for a time bore down
opposition, the four survivors made a stern endeavour to reach the
gate,--the axe of Bisset and the swords of the military monks doing
terrible execution. Twice the Saracens formed in a mass to prevent their
reaching the only gate which was not closed; as often Bisset,
penetrating singly into the Saracen ranks, dealt death and destruction
to his foes, and opened the way for his friends; till gradually, having
by force of arm overthrown every obstacle in his path, he reached the
gate, and, followed by the Grand Master of the Temple, dashed through
the opening, with a shout of defiance at his assailants.
But the Grand Master of the Hospital and Walter Espec had not such good
fortune as the Templar and the English knight. Bibars Bendocdar, enraged
at the rumour that some Christians were escaping from the carnage,
hastened to the open gate, and, with his arrival, every chance vanished.
Dragged from his steed, the grand master was fain to surrender himself
prisoner. Wounded by an arrow and a javelin, but still struggling to
fight his way out, Walter Espec cut down a Saracen soldier, and, rising
in his stirrups and shouting, 'St. Katherine for Espec!' made a fierce
thrust at Bendocdar. But next moment he was felled to the ground; he
felt that his blood was flowing fast, and that horsemen were riding over
him; and then he lost all consciousness, and lay prostrate and
insensible among the dead and the dying.