THE BATTLE.
NO sooner did Guy Muschamp find the door of his prison opened, than he
rushed out to ascertain the cause of the tumult to which he was indebted
for liberty, and he discovered that the camp was deserted and abandoned,
save by the wounded and the slain. However, he hastily donned his steel
cap, possessed himself of a short sword; and having with little
difficulty caught a stray horse, saddled and bridled, he mounted, and
rode forth with the idea of following the Crusaders, who by this time
were disappearing within the gates of Mansourah.
Fortunately, however, for Guy, he was not destined to share the fate of
his gallant countrymen who fell victims to the vain folly of the Count
of Artois. Nevertheless, his danger was great. By this time the Count of
Brittany and a multitude of warriors were riding towards Mansourah to
aid the Count of Artois; and, as the Saracens who came out to oppose
their progress rapidly spread over the plain, Guy began to find his
position somewhat perilous, and to give himself up for lost. At that
moment, however, his eye and his ear were attracted by the gleaming of
spears and the ringing of mail to a ruined house; and, cantering
thither, he found to his joyful surprise, that the Lord of Joinville and
his knights had taken shelter there, to await the arrival of the king,
who was still engaged in passing the main body of his army over the
Achmoun.
Nor had they long to wait. As with breathless anxiety they watched the
Saracens, swarming like bees from their hives, and covering the plain,
Louis, having at length crossed the canal, with sound of trumpets and
clarions, rode up at the head of his cavalry, and, with a German sword
in his hand, halted on an eminence to survey the field. And neither in
air nor appearance did Louis, at that moment, look unworthy of the part
he was acting as chief of the pilgrim army. His magnificent armour, his
gilded helmet, and his noble bearing, gave him the appearance of being
taller by the shoulders than any of his companions. As he reined up his
white charger--the symbol of sovereignty--and, with the oriflamme
displayed before him, endeavoured calmly to estimate the chances of the
conflict, the Lord of Joinville and his knights, surrounded as they were
with danger, could not but utter exclamations expressive of admiration.
'By St. James,' exclaimed Joinville, 'I never in my life saw a more
handsome man under arms.'
'Certes,' replied one of the knights, 'I could almost believe that the
angel of battles had come to our aid.'
While the king was still surveying the combat, that every moment became
more fierce and sanguinary, the Constable of France rode up to inform
him of the peril of the Count of Artois.
'Sire,' said the constable, 'your noble brother is shut up in Mansourah;
and, albeit he and his comrades hold out gallantly, they must perish if
not aided forthwith.'
'Well, constable,' answered Louis, 'on to the rescue, in God's name, and
I will speedily follow.'
The constable, without more words, gave his horse the spur, and dashed
towards Mansourah, whither the king and his knights also attempted to
make their way. But this was no easy matter. Every moment the Saracens
seemed to increase in numbers; and the Crusaders, while struggling
bravely not to be overwhelmed by odds, were exposed to terrible hazard.
Louis soon found himself in the thick of the fight and environed by
foes. Nothing seemed to remain to him but to sell his life dearly; and
six Saracens, rushing forward simultaneously, attempted to seize his
bridle, and take him captive. But, at that moment, Louis--gentle and
saintly as was his nature--used his German sword with a vigour and
effect, scarcely excelled by Richard Coeur de Lion at Joppa, when he
charged among the Mamelukes of Saladin, or by Edward Longshanks at
Kakhow, when the sweep of his sword, and the rush of his grey steed,
struck terror into the heart of the host of Bibars Bendocdar. Down
before that short German sword went turban and caftan; till the French
knights, aware of their king's danger, spurred in to his rescue, and,
with a mighty effort, saved him from captivity.
And now another attempt was made to reach Mansourah. But it was too
late. All was over with the brave band who had followed the Count of
Artois into the city; and every moment the aspect of affairs became more
menacing; for Bibars Bendocdar, elate with his victory within the walls,
issued from the gate, animating his soldiers with the words--'God is
powerful,' and hoping to deal with the French king, as he had dealt with
the French king's brother. Nor, at first, did it appear that the
Crusaders could escape utter defeat. Not aware what was occurring, and
suddenly attacked by a mighty force led by a dauntless chief, they were
pressed and whirled about and separated from each other, and forced to
encounter countless odds at every disadvantage. Yet even in such
circumstances the warriors of France maintained their high reputation
for valour; and, as the combat proceeded and became keener and keener,
many a strong Saracen went to his account.
On both sides, indeed, great was the display of personal prowess and
courage; but there was no generalship. Amidst clouds of dust, and under
a glowing sun, Christian and Moslem fought hand to hand, and steel to
steel. Helmet and turban mingled confusedly in the struggle; while
banners rose and fell, and knights were unhorsed, and saddles emptied.
From Mansourah to Achmoun, and from the Nile to the ford pointed out by
the Bedouin, the ground, literally covered with combatants, shook with
the rush of their horses, and the sky was rent by the opposing war-cries
of 'Islam! Islam!' and 'Montjoie, St. Denis!' What with the shouts of
the living, the shrieks of the dying, and the yells of the Saracens, as
they bore down on their adversaries like hawks on their prey, all was
bloodshed, confusion, and clamour, and the carnage was such as few men,
who fought on that field and survived it, ever remembered without a
thrill of awe.
And as the day sped on and the battle continued to rage all over the
plain, and warriors fell in heaps before and around him, Louis became
painfully aware that Mansourah could not be reached, and that the
Crusaders were no longer fighting to conquer the Saracens but to save
themselves. And there was considerable danger of Bibars Bendocdar
drawing near to the Achmoun, and cutting off all communication between
the camp of the Duke of Burgundy, and the Christian army struggling for
existence on the plains of Mansourah. On becoming aware of the danger,
the king decided on falling back towards the canal, and, with the
oriflamme displayed, moved in that direction.
Unfortunate were the consequences. A report immediately spread that the
king was retreating because the Saracens were everywhere victorious, and
immediately there was a panic, and several squadrons disbanded and
rushed towards the canal. A terrible scene followed, and men and horses
were drowned while struggling in the water. Nothing could have exceeded
the disorder and dismay. Louis, indeed, made strenuous efforts to
restore confidence, but his voice was scarcely heard in the tumult; and
he must have rejoiced when night put an end to the conflict, and when
Bibars Bendocdar retired to Mansourah, with the determination to attack
the Crusaders on another day, as the tiger draws back to make a more
terrible spring.
Repairing to Djedile, Louis dismounted, and took possession of the camp
which, at daybreak, had been occupied by the Emir Fakreddin; and when
his red tent was pitched there, the Prior of Rosnay presented himself,
and kissed the king's hand.
'Sire,' said he, wishing to break the news gently, 'I know not if you
have heard tidings of your noble brother, the Count of Artois?'
'I know all,' answered Louis, mournfully.
'Sire,' said the prior, endeavouring to administer consolation, 'no King
of France has ever reaped such honour as you have done this day. You
have crossed a dangerous river; you have gained a victory; you have put
your enemies to flight; you have captured their engines of war; and now
you are taking possession of their camp.'
'May God be praised for all that I have, with His aid, been able to do
in His cause,' said Louis, with a faltering voice, and tears rolling
down his cheeks, as he entered his pavilion.
'On my faith, sir prior,' said John de Valery, with the tone of a man
who has a presentiment of coming calamity, 'I marvel how you can speak
of this day's work as a triumph of our arms. Often have I fought for
victory; but this day I have felt too surely that I was fighting not for
victory but for life.'
'In truth,' said the Lord of Joinville, who had joined them, 'I would
fain hope for better fortune in the future; for, call this a victory if
you will, such another victory would be worse than a defeat.'