When mass had been said, the Doge desired the envoys to humbly ask the
people to assent to the proposed covenant. The envoys came into the
church. Curiously were they looked upon by many who had not before had
sight of them.
Geoffry of Villehardouin, the Marshal of Champagne, by will and consent
of the other envoys, acted as spokesman and said unto them: “Lords, the
barons of France, most high and puissant, have sent us to you; and they
cry to you for mercy, that you take pity on Jerusalem, which is in
bondage to the Turks, and that, for God’s sake, you help to avenge the
shame of Christ Jesus. And for this end they have elected to come to
you, because they know full well that there is none other people having
so great power on the seas, as you and your people. And they commanded
us to fall at your feet, and not to rise till you consent to take pity
on the Holy Land which is beyond the seas.”
Then the six envoys knelt at the feet of the people, weeping many
tears. And the Doge and all the others burst into tears of pity and
compassion, and cried with one voice, and lifted up their hands,
saying: “We consent, we consent!” Then was there so great a noise and
tumult that it seemed as if the earth itself were falling to pieces.
And when this great tumult and passion of pity—greater did never any
man see—were appeased, the good Doge of Venice, who was very wise and
valiant, went up into the reading-desk, and spoke to the people, and
said to them: “Signors, behold the honour that God has done you; for
the best people in the world have set aside all other people, and
chosen you to join them in so high an enterprise as the deliverance of
our Lord!”
All the good and beautiful words that the Doge then spoke, I cannot
repeat to you. But the end of the matter was, that the covenants were
to be made on the following day; and made they were, and devised
accordingly. When they were concluded, it was notified to the council
that we should go to Babylon (Cairo), because the Turks could better be
destroyed in Babylon than in any other land; but to the folk at large
it was only told that we were bound to go overseass. We were then in
Lent (March 1201), and by St. John’s Day, in the following year-which
would be twelve hundred and two years after the Incarnation of Jesus
Christ-the barons and pilgrims were to be in Venice, and the ships
ready against their coming.
When the treaties were duly indited and sealed, they were brought to
the Doge in the grand palace, where had been assembled the great and
the little council. And when the Doge delivered the treaties to the
envoys, he knelt greatly weeping, and swore on holy relics faithfully
to observe the conditions thereof, and so did all his council, which
numbered fifty-six persons. And the envoys, on their side, swore to
observe the treaties, and in all good faith to maintain their oaths and
the oaths of their lords; and be it known to you that for great pity
many a tear was there shed. And forthwith were messengers sent to Rome,
to the Pope Innocent, that he might confirm this covenant-the which he
did right willingly.
Then did the envoys borrow five thousand marks of silver, and gave them
to the Doge so that the building of the ships might be begun. And
taking leave to return to their own land, they journeyed day by day
till they came to Placentia in Lombardy. There they parted. Geoffry,
the Marshal of Champagne and Alard Maquereau went straight to France,
and the others went to Genoa and Pisa to learn what help might there be
had for the land oversea.
When Geoffry, the Marshal of Champagne, passed over Mont Cenis, he
came in with Walter of Brienne, going into Apulia, to conquer the land
of his wife, whom he had married since he took the cross, and who was
the daughter of King Tancred. With him went Walter of Montbéliard, and
Eustace of Conflans, Robert of Joinville, and a great part of the
people of worth in Champagne who had taken the cross.
And when he told them the news how the envoys had fared, great was
their joy, and much did they prize the arrangements made. And they
said, “We are already on our way; and when you come, you will find us
ready.” But events fall out as God wills, and never had they power to
join the host. This was much to our loss; for they were of great
prowess and valiant. And thus they parted, and each went on his way.
So rode Geoffry the Marshal, day by day, that he came to Troyes in
Champagne, and found his lord the Count Thibaut sick and languishing,
and right glad was the count of his coming. And when he had told the
count how he had fared, the count was so rejoiced that he said he would
mount horse, a thing he had not done of a long time. So he rose from
his bed and rode forth. But alas, how great the pity! For never again
did he bestride horse but that once.
His sickness waxed and grew worse, so that at the last he made his will
and testament, and divided the money which he would have taken with him
on pilgrimage among his followers and companions, of whom he had many
that were very good men and true-no one at that time had more. And he
ordered that each one, on receiving his money, should swear on holy
relics, to join the host at Venice, according as he had promised. Many
there were who kept that oath badly, and so incurred great blame. The
count ordered that another portion of his treasure should be retained,
and taken to the host, and there expended as might seem best.
Thus died the count; and no man in this world made a better end. And
there were present at that time a very great assemblage of men of his
lineage and of his vassals. But of the mourning and funeral pomp it is
unmeet that I should here speak. Never was more honour paid to any man.
And right well that it was so, for never was man of his age more
beloved by his own men, nor by other folk. Buried he was beside his
father in the church of our lord St. Stephen at Troyes. He left behind
him the Countess, Ws wife, whose name was Blanche, very fair, very
good, the daughter of the King of Navarre. She had borne him a little
daughter, and was then about to bear a son.