IN the meantime, I and my knights had decided to go and attack some Turks who were loading their baggage in their camp on our left; so we fell on them. As we were pursuing them through the camp I caught sight of a Saracen on the point of mounting his horse; one of his knights was holding the bridle. At the moment he had both his hands on the saddle to pull himself up, I gave him a thrust with my lance just under the arm-pits and struck him dead. On seeing this, his knight left his lord and the horse, and thrusting his lance at me as I passed, caught me between the shoulders, pinning me down to the neck of my horse in such a way that I could not draw the sword at my belt. I therefore had to draw the sword attached to my horse. When he saw me with my sword drawn he withdrew his lance and left me.
When I and my knights came out of the Saracens’ camp we found what we reckoned to be about six thousand Turks, who had left their tents and retreated into the fields. As soon as they saw us they came charging towards us, and killed Hugues de Trichâtel, Lord of Conflans, who was with me bearing a banner. I and my knights spurred on our horses and went to the rescue of Raoul de Wanou, another of my company, whom they had struck to the ground.
As I was coming back, the Turks thrust at me with their lances. Under the weight of their attack my horse was brought to its knees, and I went flying forward over its ears. I got up as soon as ever I could, with my shield at my neck and sword in hand. One of my knights, named Érard de Siverey – may God grant him grace! – came to me and advised our drawing back towards a ruined house where we could wait for the king, who was on his way. As we were going there, some on foot and some on horseback, a great body of Turks came rushing at us, bearing me to the ground and riding over my body, so that my shield went flying from my neck.
As soon as they had passed, Érard de Siverey came back to me and took me with him to the walls of the tumble-down house. Here we were joined by Hugues d’Écot, Frédéric de Loupey, and Renaud de Menoncourt. While we were there the Turks attacked us from all sides. Some of them got into the house and pricked us with their lances from above. My knights asked me to hold on to their horses’ bridles, which I did, for fear the beasts should run away. Then they put up a vigorous defence against the Turks, for which, I may say, they were afterwards highly praised by all men of good standing in the army, both those who witnessed their bravery and those who heard of it later.
During this incident, Hugues d’Écot received three wounds in the face from a lance, and so did Raoul de Wanou, while Frédéric de Loupey had a lance-thrust between his shoulders, which made so large a wound that the blood poured from his body as if from the bung-hole of a barrel. A blow from one of the enemy’s swords landed in the middle of Érard de Siverey’s face, cutting through his nose so that it was left dangling over his lips. At that moment the thought of Saint James came into my mind, and I prayed to him: ‘Good Saint James, come to my help, and save us in our great need.’
Just as I had uttered this prayer Érard de Siverey said to me: ‘My lord, if you think that neither I nor my heirs will incur reproach for it, I will go and fetch you help from the Comte d’Anjou, whom I see in the fields over there.’ I said to him: ‘My dear man, it seems to me you would win great honour for yourself if you went for help to save our lives; your own, by the way, is also in great danger.’ (I spoke truly, for he died of his wound.) He consulted the other knights who were there, and they all gave him the same advice as I had given him. After hearing what they said, he asked me to let go his horse, which I was holding by the bridle; so I let him take it.
He went over to the Comte d’Anjou and begged him to come to the rescue of me and my people. A person of some importance who was with the count tried to dissuade him, but he said he would do as my knight had asked. So he turned his horse’s head to come to our help, and a number of his sergeants set spurs to their horses as well. As soon as the Saracens saw them coming, they turned to leave us. Pierre d’Auberive, who was riding in front of the sergeants with his sword clenched in his fist, saw them leaving and charged right into the midst of the Saracens who were holding Raoul de Wanou, and rescued him, sorely wounded.
As I stood there on foot with my knights, wounded as I have told you, King Louis came up at the head of his battalions, with a great sound of shouting, trumpets, and kettledrums. He halted with his troops on a raised causeway. Never have I seen a finer or more handsome knight! He seemed to tower head and shoulders above all his people; on his head was a gilded helmet, and a sword of German steel was in his hand.
The moment he stopped, those good knights in his division whom I have already named to you, together with other valiant knights of his, flung themselves right at the Turks. It was, I can assure you, a truly noble passage of arms, for no one there drew either bow or crossbow; it was a battle of maces against swords between the Turks and our people, with both sides inextricably entangled.
One of my squires, who had fled away with my banner, but had rejoined me, brought up one of my Flemish hores, on which I mounted and rode to take up my place beside the king. While we were there together, the worthy knight Jean de Valery came up to the king and said he advised him to bear to the right towards the river, so as to have the support of the Duc de Bourgogne, and also to give his Majesty’s sergeants a chance of something to drink, for by now the day had grown very hot.
The king ordered his sergeants to go and fetch the good knights of his council who were round about, indicating each of them by name. The sergeants went and summoned them from the thick of the fight, where the struggle between the Turks and our people was most intense. They came to the king, who asked them what they advised. They replied that they considered Jean de Valery’s advice very sound. So the king ordered his standard-bearers to move with the great flag of Saint Denis to the right towards the river. As the royal army began to move there was once again a great sound of trumpets, kettledrums, and Saracen horns.
The king had scarcely advanced more than a few paces when he received several messages from the Comte de Poitiers, the Comte de Flandre, and other men in high command who were there with their troops, all begging him not to move, because they were so hard pressed by the Turks that they could not possibly follow him. The king summoned the worthy knights of his council once more, and they all advised him to wait. Shortly after, Jean de Valéry came back, and reproached the king and his council for remaining stationary. On this all the members of his council recommended the king to move towards the river as Jean de Valery advised.
At this moment the Constable Imbert de Beaujeu came to tell the king that his brother the Comte d’Artois was defending himself in a house in Mansourah, and begged his Majesty to go to his relief. ‘You go on ahead of me, Constable,’ said the king, ‘and I will follow.’ I told the constable I would accompany him as his knight, for which he thanked me heartily. So we both began to make our way towards Mansourah.
As we were going there, a sergeant armed with a mace came after the constable in a terrible state of fright, and told him that the king’s advance was halted, and that the Turks had placed themselves between his Majesty and us. We turned round, and saw that there were more than a thousand of them between us and the king’s army; and we were no more than six. So I said to the constable: ‘My lord, we can’t get back to the king through this mass of men, so let’s go upstream, and place this gully you can see in front of you between the enemy and ourselves. In this way we may manage to get back to the king.’ The constable took my advice; but I can assure you that if the Turks had paid any attention to us they would certainly have killed us all. However at the time they were giving no thought to anything except the king and the big battalions of men, and so assumed we were some of their own people.
While we were coming back down the bank of the river, between a brooklet and the main stream, we saw that the king had come up close to the river. The Turks were driving back his other battalions, slashing and striking at them with swords and maces, and gradually forcing them, together with the king’s own battalion, back upon the river. The rout there was so complete that many of our people attempted to swim across to join the Duc de Bourgogne; but they were unable to do so, for their horses were weary, and the day had become very hot. So, as we were coming downstream towards them, we saw the river strewn with lances and shields, and full of men and horses drowning in the water.
As we came to a little bridge that spanned the brook I said to the constable: ‘Let’s stay here and defend this bridge, for if we abandon it the Turks will hurl themselves against the king from this side too, and if our people are attacked from two sides they may well be overpowered.’ So we did as I advised. Later on we learnt that we should have all been lost that day if it had not been for the king. For, as Pierre de Courtenay and Jean de Saillenay told me, six Turks had seized the king’s horse by the bridle and were leading him away captive, when he delivered himself without anyone’s help by slashing at them with great strokes of his sword. When his men saw how the king was defending himself their courage revived, and many of them, giving up all thought of escaping across the river, rallied round to help him.
Riding straight towards us, as we were holding the little bridge, came the Comte Pierre de Bretagne, with a sword-cut across his face from which blood ran down into his mouth. He was mounted on a very handsome pony. He had thrown its reins over the pummel of his saddle, which he was gripping with both his hands, for fear his men, who were following him too close for comfort, might jostle him out of position as they crossed the narrow bridge. It would seem he had a very poor opinion of them; for as he spat the blood out of his mouth he kept ejaculating : ‘Good Lord, did you ever see such scum!’ Behind his men came the Comte de Soissons and Pierre de Neuville who was nicknamed ‘Caier’; they had both received blows enough that day.
After these men had crossed the bridge, the Turks, seeing that we were guarding it with our faces turned towards them, stopped following the Comte Pierre and his party. I went up to the Comte de Soissons, who happened to be my wife’s cousin, and said to him: ‘I think it would be a good thing, sir, if you stayed to hold this bridge, for if we leave it unguarded the Turks over there will rush across it, and the king will be attacked both from the front and rear.’ He asked me whether, if he stayed, I would remain there with him. ‘I most certainly will,’ I replied. On hearing this the constable told me not to move from the place till he returned, and said he would go in search of help for us.
I remained there, mounted on my sturdy cob, with the Comte de Soissons on my right hand, and Pierre de Neuville on my left. Suddenly a Turk came riding towards us from the direction of the king’s troops, which were to our rear, and struck Pierre such a fierce blow from behind with his mace that he forced him down on to the neck of his horse; then, darting across the bridge, he rushed in amongst his own people.
When the Turks saw that we were not going to abandon the little bridge, they crossed the brook and placed themselves between it and the river, as we had done when we were going downstream. Thereupon we moved towards them so as to be ready to charge them if they attempted either to go in the direction of the king’s troops or to cross our little bridge.
Just ahead of us were two of the king’s sergeants – one called Guillaume of Boon and the other Jean of Gamaches. The Turks who had come between the brook and the river had brought along a large number of peasants on foot, who kept on pelting these two men with clods of earth, but were never able to force them back to where we stood. Finally the Turks brought up a low fellow who threw Greek fire at them three times in succession. Once Guillaume of Boon warded off a bucket-load of the stuff by catching it on his shield, for if the flames had caught any of his clothing he would certainly have been burnt alive.
We were all covered with the darts that failed to hit the sergeants. By some lucky chance I happened to find a Saracen’s tunic, padded with tow. I turned the open side towards me and used the garment as a shield. It did me good service, for I was only wounded by the enemy’s darts in five places, though my horse was wounded in fifteen. It also happened that a certain worthy fellow from Joinville brought me a pennon with my arms affixed to a lance head, and every time we saw the Turks pressing too hardly on the sergeants we charged them and sent them flying.
The good Comte de Soissons, hard put to it as we were at that moment, still made a joke of it and said to me gaily: ‘Seneschal, let these dogs howl as they will. By God’s bonnet’ – that was his favourite oath – ‘we shall talk of this day yet, you and I, sitting at home with our ladies!’
That evening, as the sun was setting, the constable came up with a company of the king’s unmounted crossbowmen, who drew up in rank in front of us. As soon as the Saracens saw them setting foot to the stirrup of their crossbows, they left us and fled. Then the constable said to me: ‘Seneschal, that’s a good thing done. Now go to the king and don’t leave his side till he’s back again in his pavilion.’ Just as I reached the king, Jean de Valery came up to him and said: ‘Your Majesty, the Lord of Châtillon asks you to give him command of the rear-guard.’ The king consented very willingly, and then rode on. As we were going, I made him take off his helmet, and lent him my steel cap so that he might have some air.
After the king had crossed the river Brother Henri de Ronnay, Provost of the Hospitallers, came up to him and kissed his mailed hand. The king asked him if he had any news of the Comte d’Artois, to which the provost replied that indeed he had news of him, for he was certain that his Majesty’s brother was now in paradise. ‘Ah, your Majesty,’ added the provost, ‘take comfort in the thought that no King of France has gained such honour as you have gained today. For, in order to fight your enemies, you swam across a river, to rout them utterly and drive them from the field. Besides this, you have captured their machines, and also their tents, in which you will be sleeping tonight.’ ‘May God be worshipped for all He has given me,’ replied the king; and then big tears began to fall from his eyes.
When we reached the camp we found some of the unmounted Saracen troops pulling at the ropes of a tent they had just taken down, while some of our own troops were tugging away on the other side. The Master of the Temple and I charged in among them, so that the enemy fled and the tent remained in our hands.
In the course of that day’s battle there had been many people, and of fine appearance too, who had come very shamefully flying over the little bridge you know of and had fled away so panic-stricken that all our attempts to make them stay with us had been in vain. I could tell you some of their names, but shall refrain from doing so, because they are now dead.
I shall not however fail to mention the name of Guy Mauvoisin, for he returned with honour from Mansourah. All the way the constable and I had followed up the river, he followed down. And just as the Turks had pressed hard on the Comte de Bretagne and his men, so they harassed Guy Mauvoisin and his; but Mauvoisin’s men, as well as he, won great honour for their part in that day’s fighting. Nor is it to be wondered at that they acquitted themselves so well, since – as I learnt from those who knew of the arrangement of his troops – his whole company, with very few exceptions, was composed of knights who were either members of his family or his own vassals.
After we had routed the Turks and driven them from their tents, and while our people had left their camp empty, the Bedouins rushed in to plunder it, for the Turks who had been quartered there were men of high rank and great possessions. The marauders left nothing at all behind them, but carried away everything the Turks had left. I did not, however, hear that the Bedouins, though they were subject to the Saracens, were any less well thought of for stealing and carrying off this booty – it being well known that the habit of these people is to regard the weaker side as their lawful prey.
As it is connected with my subject, I will now tell you what kind of people the Bedouins are. They do not follow Mahomet, but accept the teaching of Ali, who was Mahomet’s uncle. (The Old Man of the Mountain, who maintains the Assassins, is of this persuasion too.) These people believe that when a man dies for his lord, or in any other good cause, his soul goes into another body, a better and a happier one than before. That is why the Assassins care little whether they are killed when carrying out their master’s commands. However, I will say no more about the Old Man of the Mountain for the present, but speak only of the Bedouins.
These people do not live in villages, or cities, or castles, but sleep always out in the open fields. At night, or by day when the weather is bad, they house their servants, their wives, and their children in a sort of shelter they make with the hoops of barrels tied to poles, somewhat like ladies’ litters. Over these hoops they throw sheepskins, cured with alum, which are known as Damascus hides.
The Bedouins themselves wear great hairy mantles that cover the whole of the body, including the legs and feet. When it rains in the evening, or the weather is bad by night, they wrap themselves up in these mantles, and taking the bits from their horses’ mouths, leave them to browse on the grass near by. In the morning they spread out their mantles in the sun, then rub them and give them a new dressing of alum, after which there remains no trace of their ever having been wetted.
They believe that no one can the before the appointed day, and for this reason refuse to wear any sort of armour. Whenever they wish to curse their children they say to them: ‘Be accursed like a Frank, who puts on armour for fear of death!’ In battle they carry nothing but swords or spears.
Nearly all of them wear a long tunic like the surplice worn by priests. Their heads are all bound round with cloths that go underneath the chin, so that, what with these and the jet-black colour of their hair and their beards, they are an ugly people, and frightful to look at.
They live on the milk from their beasts, paying rent to the wealthy men who own the plains for the pasturage on which these animals subsist. No man can tell the number of these people; for they are to be found in the kingdom of Egypt, the kingdom of Jerusalem, and in all the other lands belonging to the Saracens and other heathen peoples, to whom they pay a large sum of money in tribute every year.
In our own country, since I returned from the land oversea, I have come across certain disloyal Christians who follow the Bedouin faith in holding that no man can the except on the appointed day. This belief is in effect a denial of our religion, since it amounts to saying that God has no power to help us. For those of us who serve God would indeed be fools if we did not think He has power to prolong our lives, and to preserve us from evil and misfortune. Most certainly we ought to put our faith in Him, seeing that He has power to do all things.