WHEN at length the king realized that he and his people could only remain there to the he made up his mind to leave, and issued orders to the army to strike camp late at night on the Tuesday after the octave of Easter and return to Damietta. He sent to tell the men in charge of the galleys to collect the sick and take them to that city. He also commanded Josselin de Cornaut, with his brothers and the other engineers, to cut the ropes that held the bridge between us and the Saracens; however, they did nothing about it.
I and the two of my knights who were left with me, together with my servants, embarked on the Tuesday afternoon, after dinner. As night was beginning to fall, I told my sailors to weigh anchor and let us go downstream with the current; but they said they dared not, because the men in the sultan’s galleys, which were between us and Damietta, would be certain to put us to death. Meanwhile the crews who manned our galleys had made great fires to attract the attention of the sick who had managed to drag themselves to the bank of the river. As I was urging my sailors to let us get away, the Saracens entered the camp, and I saw by the light of the fires that they were slaughtering the poor fellows on the bank.
While my crew were weighing anchor, the sailors whose duty it was to collect the sick cut the cables of their anchors and the ropes that tied their galleys, and coming alongside our little ship crowded so closely round us on one side and the other that they almost ran us down. After we had escaped that danger and were going down with the stream, the king, who was suffering from the sickness that had attacked the army, and from very bad dysentery as well, could easily have got away in the galleys, had he wished to do so; but he said, please God, he would never desert his people. That night he fainted several times, and because the dysentery from which he suffered continually obliged him to visit the privy, they had to cut away the lower part of his drawers.
The men on the bank cried out to us as we were beginning to go down the river, telling us to wait for the king; and when we would not wait they started shooting bolts at us from their crossbows. So we had to stop until they gave us leave to go on.
At this point I will break off, to tell you how the king was taken prisoner, as he himself related it to me. He told me that he had left his own battalion, and gone with Geoffroy de Sargines to attach himself to the one in charge of Gautier de Châtillon, who commanded the rear-guard. He said that he himself was mounted on a little cob with a housing of silk. He told me also that of all his knights and sergeants the only one who had remained with him was Geoffroy de Sargines, who had taken him to a little village, the one, in fact, in which he was eventually captured. In the account the king gave me of this incident, he told me that Geoffroy de Sargines had defended him from the Saracens as a dutiful servant defends his lord’s drinking-cup from flies. For every time the Saracens approached, he had taken his spear, which he had placed between himself and his saddle-bow, and putting it to his shoulder had charged at them and driven them away from the king.
In this way he had brought the king in safely to the little village, where he had been carried into a house and laid, more dead than alive, in the lap of a woman who happened to be a native of Paris. It was thought, at the time, that he would not last till night. Philippe de Montfort had come there and told him that he had seen the emir with whom he had discussed the question of a truce, and, if his Majesty was willing, he would go back to this man and renew negotiations for a truce on terms that would satisfy the Saracens. The king had begged him to go, adding that he was very willing to have this done. So Philippe de Montfort had gone back to the Saracen, and the latter had taken his turban from off his head and removed the ring from his finger as a sign that he would faithfully abide by the terms of the truce.
In the meantime an unlucky accident had brought disaster to our people. A disloyal sergeant, named Marcel, had started to cry out to the army: ‘ Surrender, all you knights, for the king commands it, and do not let his Majesty be slain!’ Everyone had thought that the king had really issued such orders, and had given up their swords to the Saracens. The emir, seeing the Saracens bringing in our people as prisoners, had told Philippe de Montfort that it was not in keeping for him to grant a truce to our army since it was plain to see that our men had already been captured.
As it happened, when all the other people were taken, Philippe de Montfort, being an envoy, did not suffer the same fate. There is, however, a bad custom among the Saracens that when a king sends envoys to a sultan, or a sultan to a king, if either of these monarchs happens to the before the envoys’ return, then these emissaries, no matter from where they come, or whether Christians or Saracens, are arrested and made slaves.
At the same time as some of our people had suffered the misfortune of being taken captive on land, I and my men, as I shall shortly tell you, had met with similar disaster on the water. The wind had been blowing from the direction of Damietta, thus depriving us of any advantage the current might have afforded. Moreover, the knights whom the king had placed in the lighter vessels to defend the sick had fled. Thus our sailors, unable to steer a straight course with the current, had got into a creek, and we had been forced to turn back towards the Saracen lines.
While we were going downstream, we had arrived, a little before daybreak, at a stretch of the river where the sultan’s galleys, that had prevented the coming of supplies from Damietta, were all drawn up. Here there was great confusion and tumult, for the Turks had aimed at us, and at our mounted men on the bank, so great a number of arrows tipped with Greek fire that it seemed as if the stars were falling from heaven.
After our sailors had brought us out of the creek into which they had taken us, we saw the small ships (which the king had given us to shelter our sick) flying towards Damietta. Then the wind had begun to blow so strongly from the north, that, in spite of the current, we could make no headway.
Alongside both banks of the river were a great number of small craft belonging to those of our people who had not been able to get down the stream, and had consequently been stopped and captured by the Saracens. These wretches were killing our men and flinging their bodies into the water, and dragging chests and baggage out of the boats they had taken. The mounted Saracens on the bank shot arrows at us because we refused to go over to them. My men had given me a jousting hauberk to put on, to prevent my being wounded by the shafts that kept on falling into our boat.
Suddenly my men, who were standing aft, cried out to me: ‘My lord, my lord, your crew, alarmed by the Saracens’ threats, are going to take you to the bank!’ I got someone to lift me up by the arms, and, weak as I was, I drew my sword upon the crew, and told them I would kill them if they took me to land. They answered that I must make my choice; whether to be taken to the bank, or lie anchored in mid-stream till the wind had fallen. I told them I would rather they should anchor in mid-stream than take me to the bank, where the only prospect before us was certain death. So they anchored.
Very shortly after this we saw four of the sultan’s galleys coming towards us, with a good thousand men aboard. So I called my knights and the rest of my men together and asked them which they would prefer – to surrender to the sultan’s galleys or to the Saracens on shore. We all agreed that we would rather surrender to the sultan’s galleys, because in that way we should remain together, than yield ourselves to the enemy on land, who would separate us, and sell us to the Bedouins.
Then one of my cellarers, who was born at Doulevant, said to me: ‘My lord, I can’t agree with this decision.’ I asked him what he would agree to do, and he replied: ‘What I advise is that we should all let ourselves be slain, for thus we shall go to paradise.’ But we none of us heeded his advice.
Now that I realized we should have to let ourselves be taken I snatched up my casket and my jewels and threw them into the river, together with my relics. Then one of my crew said to me: ‘My lord, unless you give us leave to say you’re the king’s cousin, they’ll kill everyone of you, and us along with you.’ So I told him I was quite willing for him to say what he liked.
As soon as the men on the foremost galley, which was coming towards us to ram us amidships, heard this man’s announcement, they cast anchor alongside our boat. At this juncture God sent me a Saracen from the Emperor of Germany’s land. He came swimming across the stream, clad in breeches of unbleached linen, and got aboard our ship. He clasped me round the waist and said to me: ‘My lord, unless you act quickly and resolutely you are lost. What you must do is to leap from your ship on to the prow that overhangs the keel of this galley. If you do this, no one will notice you, for they’re thinking only of the booty to be gained from your ship.’ A rope was flung to me from the galley, and by God’s will I leapt on to the projecting deck. I was, however, so unsteady on my feet, that if the Saracen had not leapt after me to hold me up I should have fallen back into the water.
I was drawn forward into the galley, where there were a good two hundred and eighty of the enemy, while the Saracen still kept his arms around me. Then they threw me to the ground and flung themselves on my body to cut my throat, for any man who killed me would have thought to win honour by it. But the Saracen still held me in his arms, and cried: ‘He’s the king’s cousin!’ All the same they twice bore me to the ground, and once forced me to my knees. It was then I felt the knife at my throat. But in this ordeal God saved me with the help of the Saracen, who led me to one of the castles on the ship where the Saracen knights were assembled.
As soon as I met them they took off my hauberk; then, out of pity for me, they threw over me a scarlet wrap of my own lined with miniver, which my dear mother had given me. One of them brought me a white leather belt. I strapped this round me over the wrap, after making a hole in the latter, in order to use it as a garment. Another man brought me a hood which I put over my head. Then, because of the fright I was in, and also on account of the sickness that troubled me, I was seized with a terrible fit of trembling. So I asked for a drink, and they brought me some water in a pitcher. But no sooner had I put the pitcher to my mouth than the water spurted out of my nostrils.
When I saw this happen, I sent for my men and told them I was a dying man, since I had a tumour in my throat. They asked me how I knew it, so I showed them. As soon as they saw the water spurting from my throat and nostrils, they began to weep. When the Saracen knights saw my people in tears, they asked the man who had rescued us why these men were weeping. He replied that he understood I had a tumour in my throat and so could not hope to recover. Then one of the Saracen knights told our rescuer to bid us take comfort, for he would give me something to drink that would cure me within two days. And this, I may say, he did.
Raoul de Wanou, who was one of my following, had been hamstrung in the great battle on Shrove Tuesday and could not stand on his feet. I should like you to know that an old Saracen knight who was in that galley, used to carry him pick-a-back to the privy whenever he so required.
The admiral in command of the galleys sent for me and asked me whether I really were the king’s cousin. I answered ‘No,’ and told him how and why the sailor had said I was. The admiral told me I had acted wisely, for otherwise we should all have been put to death. He asked if by any chance I happened to be related to the Emperor Frederick of Germany. I replied that I had reason to believe that my lady mother was his first cousin; whereupon the admiral remarked that he loved me all the more for it.
While we were dining he summoned a citizen of Paris to appear before us. When the man arrived he said to me: ‘My lord, what are you doing?’ ‘Why, what can I be doing?’ said I ‘In God’s name,’ he replied, ‘You’re eating meat on a Friday.’ As soon as I heard this I put my bowl behind me. The admiral asked my Saracen why I had acted thus, so he told him. The admiral replied that God would not hold what I had done against me, seeing that I had not realized I was doing wrong.
I may tell you that the same reply was given me by the legate after we were freed from captivity. None the less I did not cease to fast on bread and water every Friday in Lent from that time onwards. This made the legate very angry with me, since I was the only man of high standing who had remained with the king.
On the following Sunday, by the emir’s orders, I and all the others taken prisoner on the water were landed on the river bank. While they were taking Jean, my good priest, out of the hold of the galley, he fainted. The Saracens killed him and threw his body into the river. His clerk, who also fainted, from weakness due to the army fever, had a mortar flung at his head. They killed him too, and cast his body into the stream.
While the rest of the sick were being landed from the galleys in which they had been held prisoner, there were Saracens standing by, with their swords ready drawn, to deal with all those who fell as they had dealt with my priest. I sent my Saracen to tell them that I thought this a very wrong thing to do, because it was contrary to the teaching of Saladin, who has said you should never kill a man once you had shared your bread and salt with him. The admiral replied that the men in question did not count, because the sickness from which they suffered had left: them incapable of doing anything to help themselves.
He subsequently had all my crew brought before me, and told me that every one of them had renounced their faith. I warned him not to put any trust in them, for just as lightly as they had left our side so they would leave his, if they saw either time or opportunity to do so. The admiral replied that he agreed with me, for as Saladin used to say, one never saw a bad Christian become a good Saracen, nor a bad Saracen become a good Christian.
Shortly after this he mounted me on a palfrey and made me ride along beside him. We passed over a bridge of boats and went to Mansourah, where the king and his people were held prisoner. We came to the entrance of a big pavilion which housed the sultan’s scribes. There they wrote down my name. At this point my Saracen said to me: ‘My lord, I shall not be going any further with you, for I cannot. But let me beg you, my lord, to keep hold of the hand of the child who is with you, lest the Saracens should take him away.’ The child he mentioned was called Barthélemy; he was the bastard son of the Lord of Montfaucon.
After my name had been written down the admiral took me to another pavilion, where the barons and more than ten thousand other people were gathered. As I entered, the barons gave vent to such loud expressions of joy that we could hardly hear each other speak. They gave thanks to our Lord for my safe-keeping, and said they thought they had lost me.
We had not been there very long before the Saracens ordered the chief men among us to rise, and took us away to another pavilion. Many of the knights and other people were kept inside a courtyard enclosed by mud walls. The custom of our enemies was to take them from this enclosure, one by one, and ask them: ‘Are you willing to abjure your faith?’ Those who refused to abjure were set on one side, and their heads were cut off; those who consented were kept on the other side.
At this point the sultan sent his council to speak with us. They asked to whom they should deliver their master’s message, so we told them to address themselves to the good Comte Pierre de Bretagne. They had with them certain people known as dragomans, men, that is, who knew our language as well as theirs, and these translated the sultan’s message from Saracen into French for the Comte Pierre’s benefit.
What passed in this interview was as follows: ‘My lord,’ said the Saracens, ‘the sultan has sent us to you to inquire if you wish to be set free?’ The count replied in the affirmative. ‘What would you give the sultan to obtain your freedom?’ they asked next. ‘Whatever we can,’ replied the count, ‘so long as it is within reason.’ ‘Would you give us,’ said they, ‘any of the castles belonging to the barons oversea?’ The count replied that he had no power to hand over any of these castles, because they were held from the reigning Emperor of Germany. They then asked whether, to obtain our freedom, we would surrender any of the castles belonging to the Templars or the Hospitallers. The count replied that this could not be done; for the governors of these castles, when taking office, were made to swear on the Holy Gospels that they would never surrender any one of these castles to procure a man’s release from captivity. At this the council remarked that it seemed to them we had no desire to be set free, and told us they would go and send us men who would make sport of us with their swords, as they had done with the others of our army. Then they went away.
As soon as they had gone a great crowd of young Saracens with swords at their sides rushed into our pavilion. They brought with them a man of very great age, with hair as white as snow, who asked us if we believed in a God who had been taken prisoner for our sake, wounded and put to death for us, and who on the third day had risen again? We answered that this was so. Then he told us we ought not to be disheartened if we had suffered these persecutions for His sake; ‘For,’ said he, ‘you have not yet died for Him, as He died for you; and if He had power to come to life again you may rest assured that He will deliver you whenever it pleases Him to do so.’
Then he went away, and all the young Saracens with him. For my part I was extremely glad about this, for I had most certainly thought they had come to cut off our heads. It was not long after this that the sultan’s people came to tell us that our king had made arrangements with their master for us to be set free.
This happened shortly after the departure of the old man who had spoken those words of comfort to us. The sultan’s council returned to tell us that the king had procured our release, and that we must send four of our company to hear how he had done it. We sent the worthy Jean de Valery, Philippe de Montfort, Baudouin d’Ibelin, Seneschal of Cyprus, and Guy d’Ibelin, Constable of that same island, one of the most accomplished knights I have ever known, and one who most loved the islanders in his care. These four brought us back an account of how the king had obtained our release from captivity.