HOMEWARD BOUND.
ON the vigil of St. Mark, after Easter, the Crusaders having mustered at
Acre, flocked on board their ships and prepared to set sail for Europe.
On that day also the King of France, leaving Geoffrey de Segrines with a
hundred knights to aid in the defence of what remained of the once grand
kingdom of Godfrey and the Baldwins, left the palace which he had
occupied, and, attended by the papal legate, the Patriarch of Jerusalem,
and the Christian nobles and knights of Palestine, walked on foot to the
port, amid an immense crowd assembled to witness his departure, who all,
while lamenting his departure, applauded him as the Father of the
Christians, and implored Heaven to shower blessings on his head.
'This is the day of St. Mark, seneschal,' said Louis to Joinville, as
they went on board; 'and on St. Mark's-day was I born at Poissy.'
'Sire,' replied Joinville, 'you may well say that you have been born
again on St. Mark's-day; for you are escaping from a pestilent land,
where you have remained so long.'
Bisset, the English knight, resolute to his purpose, had taken farewell
of his companions, and embarked for Constantinople, to wield his
ponderous battle-axe in the cause of Baldwin de Courtenay, whose empire
was falling to ruins. But Walter Espec and Guy Muschamp were on board
the king's vessel, through the influence of the Lord of Joinville; and
there also was Beltran the renegade, who, touched with remorse, had
abandoned his wealth in Egypt, and was doing penance by labouring as a
seaman.
At length the fleet weighed anchor and set sail, with every prospect of
a prosperous voyage. But, ere long, a somewhat alarming accident
occurred. On Saturday, as the French approached Cyprus, about vespers,
the vessels were suddenly enveloped in a thick fog, and the ship in
which were the king and queen struck on a sandbank, and was so damaged
that Louis was recommended to leave it without loss of time.
'Sire,' said the skipper, 'if you will believe me, you must remove from
this ship to another. We well know that, since the keel has suffered so
much damage, all the ribs must be started, and should there be a high
wind, we fear she will be unable to bear the sea without sinking.'
'Now,' said the king, 'I put it to you on your faith and loyalty, to
tell me truly, if the ship were your own, and full of merchandise, would
you quit it?'
'No!' said the skipper; 'for we would rather risk our lives than lose a
vessel worth forty or fifty thousand livres.'
'Why, then, do you advise me to quit it?' asked the king.
'Oh, sire,' answered the skipper, 'we are different sort of beings; for
there is no sum, however great, that could compensate for the loss of
yourself and the queen and your children; and we cannot advise you to
run such a risk.'
'Ah,' replied the king, 'now that you have answered, I will tell you
what I think of the matter. Suppose I quit this vessel, there are five
hundred persons on board, who will remain in Cyprus for fear of the
danger that may befall them should they stay on board. Now,' continued
Louis, 'there is not one among them who is attached to his own person
more than I am myself; and, if we land, they will lose all hope of
returning to their own country. Therefore, I declare I will rather
expose myself, the queen, and my children to some danger, under the
providence of God, than make such numbers of people suffer as are now
with me.'
The example which Louis set inspired the companions of his voyage with
courage; and the fleet having resumed its course, encountered, but
survived, a violent storm, took in water at Cyprus, and soon after came
in sight of Lampedosa, an island which was then uninhabited. And here a
strange incident occurred.
It happened that King Louis and his company, including Walter Espec and
Guy Muschamp, landed, and, while climbing among the rocks, discovered a
hermitage, with a handsome garden, planted with olives, figs, vines, and
many other fruit trees, and watered by a beautiful spring. On going to
the upper end of the garden, the king and his company found an oratory,
the roof of which was painted white, with a red cross in the centre,
and, in a chamber more retired, two bodies laid toward the East, with
their hands on their breasts. Soon after the king and his company,
conversing about what they had seen, returned on board their ship, and
the skipper was about to weigh anchor, when it was discovered that one
of the warriors who had gone ashore was missing; and this caused much
excitement.
'I think I can account for this,' said the skipper. 'One of the sailors
was desirous of turning hermit, and I doubt not he has seized so fair an
opportunity.'
Walter Espec and Guy Muschamp exchanged glances. It was Beltran the
renegade, who had thus devoted himself to solitude.
'Well,' said the king, on hearing this, 'let three sacks of biscuit be
left on the shore; the man may find them, and, if so, they will serve
for sustenance.'
Soon after this an accident happened to one of the squires on board the
ship of one of the barons of Provence, which, at the time, was about
half a league from that of the king. One morning, finding, as he lay in
bed, that the sea dashed into his eyes and much annoyed him, he ordered
the squire to stop it up. Having in vain attempted to do so from the
inside, the squire went outside, and was endeavouring to stop the hole,
when his foot dipped and he fell into the sea. The ship kept on her way
without the mariners being aware of what had happened, and as the
squire did not attempt to move, those on board the king's ship thought
some piece of furniture had tumbled overboard. On coming nearer,
however, they perceived that it was a human being, and Walter and Guy,
with some mariners, lowered a boat, rowed to the rescue, and succeeded
in saving him.
On being brought on board the king's ship, the squire related how he met
with the accident, and was asked why he did not endeavour to save
himself by swimming.
'In faith,' answered the squire, 'I had no occasion so to do; for, as I
fell into the sea, I cried, "Our Lady of Valbert!" and she supported me
by the shoulders till I was rescued.'
'In good sooth,' remarked the Lord of Joinville, on hearing this, 'it is
truly marvellous; and, to perpetuate the memory of this miracle, I vow
to have it painted on the windows of my chapel at Joinville, and also on
the windows of the church at Blecourt;' and, on reaching home, the noble
seneschal kept his word.
And now the ships tilted over the waters; and, after a voyage of ten
weeks, they reached the Port of Hieros, in front of a castle which, in
right of his spouse, belonged to the king's brother, the Count of Anjou.
Louis, however, was not inclined to land. In vain the queen and his
council advised him to disembark.
'No,' said he, 'I will not land till I can do so on my own territory; I
will not disembark till I arrive at Aigues Mortes.'
Everybody looked extremely disappointed.
'Seneschal,' said Louis, turning to Joinville, 'what is your opinion?'
'Sire,' replied Joinville, 'it seems to me that you ought to land; for
Madame de Bourbon, being once in this very port, put again to sea to
land at Aigues Mortes, and she was tossed about for seven long weeks
before she could make that harbour.'
'Seneschal,' said the king, 'you have persuaded me.' And soon after, to
the joy of the queen and all on board, Louis landed at Hieros, and with
Margaret and his children took up his residence in the castle, to rest
from his fatigues ere setting out for his own dominions. Indeed, the
saint-king was so weak, that Joinville had to carry him in his arms; and
for some time he could hardly support the weight of his armour, or
remain on horseback.
But Louis had yet many years of life before him; and after repairing for
a time to recruit his health at Montpellier, where then, as in after
ages, the medical science eminently flourished, he in the autumn arrived
at Vincennes, and after prostrating himself before the altar of St.
Denis and restoring the oriflamme to the abbot, he proceeded to Paris,
where he was received with profound respect. But the saint-king bore on
his brow traces of the sorrow caused by the multiplied disasters of his
expedition, and still wore the symbol of salvation on his shoulder, as
if to intimate that he was not yet done with the Holy Land.