IN the name of God Almighty we have now put down in writing some part of the pious sayings and good teaching of our saintly King Louis, so that those who study this book may find such things introduced in their proper sequence, and may thus derive more profit from them than if they had been recorded amongst his deeds. From this point onwards we begin, in the name of God and in the name of King Louis, to speak of the things he did.
As I have heard him say, King Louis was born on Saint Mark the Evangelist’s Day, shortly after Easter. On that day it is the custom, in many different places, to carry crosses in procession, and these are known in France as ‘black crosses’. This may be taken in some way as a presage of the great number of people who were to die in the two Crusades – that is to say, the Crusade in Egypt, and the one during which the king himself died at Carthage – both of which caused great mourning in this world, and great rejoicing in paradise, for such as died as true Crusaders in the course of these two pilgrimages.
King Louis was crowned on the first Sunday in Advent (29 November 1226). Mass for that Sunday opens with the words: ‘Unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in thee.’ And indeed, the king always put great trust in God, even from his childhood up to the time of his death; for in the last words he spoke as he lay dying he called on God and his saints, and particularly on Saint James and our patroness Saint Genevieve.
God, in whom he put his trust, kept watch over him throughout the whole of his lift, from his childhood up to the end; and especially in his early youth, when he had great need of protection, as you shall shortly hear. As for his soul, God kept it from harm through the good instruction he received from his mother, who taught him both to believe in God and to love Him, and brought her son up in the company of religious-minded people. Child as he was, she made him recite all the Hours, and listen to sermons on days of high festival. He always remembered how she would sometimes tell him that she would rather he were dead than guilty of committing a mortal sin.
King Louis had great need of God’s help in his youth, for his mother, who came from Spain, had neither relations nor friends in the whole kingdom of France. Moreover, because the king was only a child, and the queen, his mother, a foreigner, the barons made the Comte de Boulogne, who was the king’s uncle, their chief, and behaved to him as if he was their lord. After the king was crowned, certain of the barons presented the queen with a demand to be given great estates, and because she refused they and the rest of the barons assembled in a body at Corbeil.
The saintly king once told me that neither he nor his mother, who were then at Montlhéri, dared to return to Paris until the people of that city had come, fully armed, to fetch them. All the way, he said, from Montlhéri to Paris, the roads had been thronged with people, armed and unarmed, all calling on our Lord to grant their young king a long and happy life, and defend and guard him from his enemies. And God answered their prayers, as you shall later hear.
At the conference the barons held at Corbeil those present decided, so it is said, that the good knight, the Comte de Bretagne, should rise in revolt against the king; they agreed besides that the rest of them, with no more than two knights apiece, would turn up to accompany the count when he obeyed the summons the king would send him. They arranged this because they wanted to see whether the count would manage to get the better of that foreign woman, the queen. Many people say that the count would have succeeded in mastering the queen, and her son as well, if God had not helped the king in his hour of need, as He never failed to do.
The help God gave him was such that the Comte Thibaut de Champagne, who later became King of Navarre, arrived with a company of three hundred knights, to place himself at his Majesty’s service. Because of this count’s support of the king, the Comte de Bretagne was forced to throw himself on his sovereign’s mercy, and make peace with him, so it is said, by surrendering the counties of Anjou and Le Perche.
Since it is important for you to have a full understanding of certain things I shall be touching on later, I think it well at this point to make a slight digression. I will therefore tell you here that the good Comte de Champagne, known as Henri the Generous, had by his wife the Comtesse Marie – who was the sister of King Philip of France and sister-in-law of King Richard of England – two sons, the elder of whom was called Henri and the other Thibaut. The elder son went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land as a Crusader, at the time when King Philip and King Richard besieged Acre and took it.
As soon as Acre had been taken, King Philip returned to France, an action for which he was greatly blamed. King Richard remained in the Holy Land, performing such deeds of valour that the Saracens were terrified of him. So much so, indeed, as you will find recorded in the book on the Holy Land, that whenever a Saracen child began to cry, its mother, in order to keep it quiet, would call out: ‘ Stop that do, King Richard’s here.’ Whenever, too, any horses of the Saracens or the Bedouins shied at a bush, their masters would say to them: ‘D’you think that’s King Richard?’
This king, after long negotiations, arranged a marriage between the young Comte Henri de Champagne, who had remained with him, and the Queen of Jerusalem, who had inherited this kingdom from her father. By this queen the Comte Henri had two daughters, the elder of whom became Queen of Cyprus, while the younger was married to the Comte Érard de Brienne, from whom a noble line has sprung, as everyone in France or Champagne knows. For the moment I will say nothing about the Comte Érard’s wife, but speak to you of the Queen of Cyprus, because she is concerned in the matter I have in hand.
Now to resume my story. After King Louis had, so to speak, checkmated the Comte de Bretagne, all the other French nobles were so angry with the Comte Thibaut that they decided to send for the Queen of Cyprus – who, as you know, was the daughter of the elder son of Henri the Generous – so as to dispossess the Comte Thibaut, whose father was the Comte Henri’s younger son.
Certain of the barons, however, took steps to bring about a reconciliation between the Comte Pierre and the Comte Thibaut, and were so successful in their negotiations that the latter promised to take the Comte de Bretagne’s daughter as his wife. A day was fixed on which the Comte de Champagne was to marry the young woman.
She was to be taken for the ceremony to a Praemonstratensian abbey near Château-Thierry, called, so I believe, Val-Secret. The French barons, nearly all of whom were related to the Comte Pierre, undertook to escort his daughter. After she had been conducted to Val-Secret word of her arrival was sent to the Comte Thibaut, who was then at Château-Thierry.
As the count was riding towards Val-Secret for the marriage Geoffroy de Chapelle came to meet him, bearing a letter of credence from the king. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘the king has heard that you have made an agreement with the Comte de Bretagne to marry his daughter. He therefore warns you that unless you wish to lose everything you possess in the kingdom of France you must not do such a thing, for, as you know, the count has done the king more harm than any man alive.’ So the Comte de Champagne, on the advice of those who were with him, went back to Château-Thierry.
When the Comte Pierre and the French barons, who were expecting the Comte Thibaut to arrive at Val-Secret, heard what he had done, they were almost beside themselves with rage at the affront he had offered them, and immediately sent to fetch the Queen of Cyprus.1 As soon as she arrived they made a common agreement to send for as many men-at-arms as they could, and enter Brie and Champagne from the French side, while the Duc de Bourgogne, whose wife was the daughter of the Comte Robert de Dreux, would enter Champagne from Burgundy. They fixed a day for their forces to assemble before Troyes, with the idea of taking that city if they could accomplish it.
The Duc de Bourgogne called in all the men at his disposal; the barons assembled theirs. The barons moved forward, burning and destroying everything on one side; the Burgundians did equal damage on the other. Meanwhile the King of France advanced from another direction to attack them. The Comte de Champagne was so alarmed that he set fire to all his towns himself before the barons could reach them, so that his opponents might not find them full of supplies. Among other towns the Comte Thibaut thus destroyed were Épernay, Vertus, and Sézanne.
When the citizens of Troyes realized that they could not count on support from their own lord, they sent to ask Simon, Lord of Joinville, the father of the present lord, to come to their aid. As soon as this message reached him, he got all his men-at-arms together, left Joinville that same night, and arrived at Troyes the next morning before daybreak. Thus the barons’ plan to take the city was foiled. So they passed along in front of Troyes without attempting anything, and went to pitch their tents in a meadow known as the Field of Isle, where the Duc de Bourgogne was already encamped.
The King of France, hearing that they were there, advanced straight towards the place to attack them. Thereupon the barons sent and begged him to withdraw himself in person from the fight, and then they would go and confront the Comte de Champagne, the Duc de Lorraine, and the rest of the king’s men, with three hundred knights less than the duke and the count had in their own army. The king sent back a message to say that he would not let them fight against his men unless he himself was there in person with them. The barons, in their turn, sent to tell the king that they, for their part, would willingly persuade the Queen of Cyprus to make peace. The king replied that he would not agree to any sort of peace, nor allow the Comte de Champagne to do so, till the barons had withdrawn their troops from the count’s domains.
The barons acceded to his request, but only so far as to withdraw from Isle and go to encamp at a spot to the south of Jully. The king then encamped at the place from which he had driven them. As soon as they heard he was there, the barons struck camp and went to Chaource; but not daring to wait there for the king’s arrival, they moved their camp to Laignes, which belonged to the Comte de Nevers, who was of their party. So the king persuaded the Comte de Champagne and the Queen of Cyprus to come to terms, and peace was concluded on the understanding that the count would give the queen estates bringing in about two thousand livres a year, together with a lump sum of forty thousand livres.
The king paid the latter sum on the Comte de Champagne’s behalf, and in return the count sold the king some four of his fiefs – that is to say the counties of Blois, of Chartres, of Sancerre, and of Châteaudun. Certain people have said that the king only held these fiefs in pledge; but it is not the case, for I asked his Majesty about it when we were oversea. As for the estates which the Comte de Champagne gave to the Queen of Cyprus, these are now held in part by the present Comte de Brienne, and in part by the Comte de Joigny, because the great-grandmother of the Comte de Brienne, who was the Queen of Cyprus’s daughter, married the great Comte Gautier de Briennne.
So that you may understand how the Comte de Champagne came to possess those fiefs he sold to the king I will tell you that his ancestor, the great Comte Thibaut, who now lies buried at Lagny, had three sons, the eldest of whom was Henri, the second Thibaut, and the youngest Étienne. Henri, who became Comte de Champagne et de Brie, was commonly known as Henri the Generous. He was well named, for he was generous both in his dealings with God and with the world: generous towards God, as is still evident from the Church of Saint Étienne at Troyes and the other beautiful churches which he built in Champagne, and generous in his conduct of worldly affairs, as appeared in the case of Artaud of Nogent, as well as on many other occasions of which I would willingly tell you if I did not fear to overload my book.
This man Artaud was a citizen of Nogent, and one whom the Comte Henri trusted more than anyone else in the world. He became so wealthy that he built the castle of Nogent l’Artaud at his own expense. Now it happened one Whitsunday, as the Comte Henri was coming down the steps of his great house at Troyes to go and hear mass at the Church of Saint Étienne, that a poor knight came to the foot of the steps and knelt down before him. ‘My lord,’ said he, ‘I beg you to give me some of your money so that I may marry these two daughters of mine, who are standing here before you.’ Artaud, who was behind the count, said to the suppliant: ‘My good knight, it is not fitting on your part to ask my lord for money, for he has already given away so much that he has nothing left to give.’ The large-hearted count turned towards Artaud and said to him: ‘My good villein, you’re not telling the truth when you say that I’ve nothing left to give, for, indeed, I have you. Take him, knight, for I give him to you, and what’s more I’ll stand guarantee for him.’ The knight, in no way taken aback, seized hold of Artaud’s cloak, and said he would not let him go till he had talked business with him. Before Artaud escaped, he had done business with the knight to the tune of five hundred livres.
The Comte Henri’s second brother, Thibaut, was Comte de Blois; the third, Étienne, was Comte de Sancerre. These two brothers held from the Comte Henri everything they inherited, including their counties with all their dependent rights and privileges. Later they held these fiefs from any descendant of the Comte Henri who held the county of Champagne, until such time as the Comte Thibaut sold them to the king.
Now let me resume my story, and tell you how, after the events I have already recorded, King Louis held a plenary court at Saumur in Anjou. I was there and can assure you that it was the most well-ordered court I have ever seen. At the high table, next to the king, sat the Comte de Poitiers, whom his Majesty had knighted on Saint John’s Day; next to him was the Comte de Dreux, another newly made knight; then came the Comte de la Marche and next to him the good Comte Pierre de Bretagne. In front of the king’s table, facing the Comte de Dreux, sat my lord the King of Navarre,1 in tunic and mantle of satin, well set off by a fine leather belt, a brooch, and a cap of gold tissue. I was set to carve his meat.
The king’s brother, the Comte d’Artois, stood facing his Majesty, ready to serve his meat, while beside the count the good Comte Jean de Soissons wielded a carving knife. Imbert de Beaujeu, later High Constable of France, with Enguerrand de Coucy and Archim-baud de Bourbon, were on guard at the king’s table, and behind them stood some thirty of their knights, in tunics of silk, to keep guard over their lords. Behind these knights stood a great company of sergeants, in suits of taffeta embroidered with the arms of the Comte de Poitiers. The king himself was wearing a tunic of blue satin and a bright red surcoat and mantle of the same material lined with ermine. On his head he wore a cotton cap, which was hardly becoming headgear for one who was still quite young.
The king held this banquet in the hall of Saumur, which was said to have been built by the great King Henry of England, so that he might hold his own banquets there. This hall is constructed on the model of a cloister in a Cistercian monastery; but I do not believe there is any other hall that even approaches it in size. I will tell you why I think so. It is because by the wall of the cloister where the king was dining, surrounded by his knights and sergeants who occupied a very great space, there was also room for a table at which twenty bishops and archbishops were sitting, and, in addition to all these prelates, Blanche the Queen Mother had a table near them at the far end of the cloister, facing the one occupied by the king.
In attendance on Queen Blanche were the Comte de Boulogne, who later became King of Portugal, the good Comte Hugues de Saint-Pol, and a young German lad of eighteen, who was said to be the son of St Elizabeth of Thuringia. On account of this, so it was said, Queen Blanche kissed the boy on the forehead, as a pure act of devotion, because she thought his own mother must often have kissed him there.
At the end of the cloister, on the other side, were the kitchens, the wine cellars, the pantries, and the butteries, from which the king and the queen mother were served with meat, wine, and bread. To right and left of the main hall and in the central court so many knights were dining that it was more than I could do to count them. Many people declared that they had never, on any other festive occasion, seen such a number of surcoats and other garments of cloth of gold and of silk. It was said that no less than three thousand knights were present on that occasion.
After the festivities had come an an end the king went to Poitiers, taking the Comte de Poitiers with him, so that the latter’s vassals might do homage to him for their fiefs. But his Majesty had no sooner arrived at Poitiers than he wished with all his heart that he were back in Paris, for he found that the Comte de la Marche, who had dined at his table on Saint John’s day, had assembled as many men-at-arms as he could get together at the neighbouring town of Lusignan. The king remained at Poitiers for close on a fortnight, for he did not dare to leave the town till he had come to terms – I cannot say how – with the Comte de la Marche.
During that time I noticed that the count came several times from Lusignan to speak with the king at Poitiers, and each time he brought his wife with him. She had formerly been Queen of England,1 and was the mother of its present king. There were many people who asserted that the king and the Comte de Poitiers had made peace with the Comte de la Marche on very unsatisfactory terms.
Shortly after the king’s return from Poitiers the King of England came into Gascony to make war on his fellow monarch. Our saintly king rode out to fight against him with as large a force as he could get together. The King of England and the Comte de la Marche advanced to join battle with him before the castle of Taillebourg, which stands beside a wretched little stream called La Charente, at a point where one cannot cross except by a very narrow stone bridge.
As soon as King Louis reached Taillebourg, and the two armies had come in sight of one another, our men, who were on the side of the stream where the castle stood, spared no efforts to get across to the other side. With great risk to themselves they passed over the stream in boats and on pontoon bridges, to fling themselves on the English. Then a fierce and furious fight began. The king, who saw the way things were turning, rushed headlong into danger with the others; but for every man he had with him when he had crossed the stream, the English had at least twenty. None the less, as God willed, the moment the English saw the king cross over, they lost heart and fled for refuge to Saintes. Some of our men followed them into the city but got entangled in their midst and were taken prisoner.
Those of our people who had been taken at Saintes reported later that they had heard talk of a serious quarrel between the King of England and the Comte de la Marche, in which the king had accused the count of sending for him on the pretext that he would find great support in France. At any rate, on the night of his reverse at Taillebourg the King of England left Saintes and went back to Gascony.
The Comte de la Marche, as one who saw there was no help for it, surrendered to King Louis, and took his wife and children with him to prison. Since he now had the count in his power, the king, in making peace with him, was able to obtain a great part of his land, but how much I cannot say, for I had nothing to do with the matter since at that time I was not as yet a knight.1 I was told, however, that apart from the land the king thus gained, the Comte de la Marche paid ten thousand livres parisis into the royal treasury, and a similar sum every subsequent year.
While I was with the king at Poitiers, I had met a certain knight, called Geoffroy de Rançon, who, so I was told, had been greatly wronged by the Comte de la Marche. Because of this he had vowed on the Holy Gospels never to have his hair cut short, as is the custom with knights, but wear it long like a woman’s until such time as he should be avenged on the count, either by his own hand or another’s. As soon as this knight saw the Comte de la Marche, his wife, and his children kneeling before the king and crying for mercy, he immediately sent for a little stool, and had his hair trimmed there and then, in the presence of the king, the Comte de la Marche, and everyone else who was there.
In the course of his recent campaign against the king of England and the barons King Louis had made many generous gifts of money, as I was told by those who returned from this expedition. But neither on account of such gifts nor on account of expenses incurred in that campaign, nor in any others, either oversea or at home, did he ever demand or accept any monetary aid from his barons, his knights, his men, or any of his fine cities in such a way as to cause complaint. Nor is this to be wondered at; for he acted thus on the advice of the good mother at his side, whose counsels he always followed, and also on the advice of certain wise and worthy men who had remained loyal servants of the crown since the time of his father and his grandfather.