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THE 
 
 CRUSADES 
 
 AND 
 
 THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 By JOHN G. EDGAR, 
 
 ACTIIOK OF " BOVIIOOD OF GRKAT MEN," " WARS OF THE HOSES," 
 
 ETC. 
 
 WITH EiaUT ILLUSTRATIONS BY JULIAN PORTO U. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 TICK NOR AND FIELDS. 
 
 M DCCC LX. 
 
Author's Edition. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 THURSTON, MILES, AND PRITCnETT. 
 PRINTERS AND ELECTROT\ PICKS. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 ■r 
 
 o 
 
 The piety and cliivalry exliibited by those 
 Christian warriors, who, at an early period of 
 European civilization, left their homes and their 
 countries to rescue the Holy Sepulchre from the 
 grasp of Moslem conquerors, have since seldom 
 — save in the case of men too sceptical to sym- 
 pathize, or too stupid to comprehend — failed to 
 excite admiration and curiosity. My object, in 
 this book for boys, is to give an idea of the 
 heroes who, animated by religion and heroism, 
 took part in the battles, the sieges, the marvellous 
 enterprises of valor and despair, which make up 
 ^^ the history of those great adventures known as 
 
 V) J to 
 
 the Crusades. 
 
 I have endeavored, I would fain hope not with- 
 out some slight degree of success, to narrate the 
 events of the Holy War, from the time Peter the 
 Hermit rode over Europe on his mule, rousing the 
 ^ religious zeal of the nation, to that dismal day 
 "^ Avhen Acre, the last stronghold of the Christians 
 in the East, fell before the arms of the successor 
 of Saladin and of Bibars Bendocdar. During the 
 
 185531 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 two centuries that intervened, many of the great- 
 est personages of Europe stitched the red cross 
 on their shoulder, and signalized their prowess 
 arainst the enemies of their religion. To that 
 period w^e can, in a national point of view, look 
 back with pride ; for, while Germans can point 
 to Frederick Barbarossa, and Frenchmen to God- 
 frey of Bouillon, Philip Augustus, and St. Louis, 
 as prominent in " the world's debate," English- 
 men can discern among the armed throng, far 
 away, indeed, but still distinct in the distance, 
 Kichard Coeur de Lion, " the feudal king par 
 excellence ; " William Longsword, the flower of 
 Anglo-Norman nobles ; and our First Edward, 
 the greatest of those mighty monarchs, strong in 
 battle and w^ise in council, wdio for more than 
 three hundred years were the pride of England 
 and the terror of England's foes. 
 
 I believe that the examples of the great men, 
 whose gallant deeds are depicted in the following 
 pages, are calculated to exercise a wholesome in- 
 fluence on the minds of youthful readers ; and I 
 trust that the work will not be deemed inappro- 
 priate to those for whose perusal it is more par- 
 ticularly intended. 
 
 J. G. E. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 
 RESCUE OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 
 
 chap. pagb 
 
 1. Peter the Hermit, . . . . . . • 1 
 
 2. Pilgrimages to Palestine, 6 
 
 3. Hermit, Patriarch, and Port:, .... 13 
 
 4. The Pilgrim Princes, 21 
 
 6. The Peasant Pilgrims, 27 
 
 6. Walter the Penniless, 37 
 
 7. Satan's Soldiers in Christ's Livery, ... 41 
 
 8. Alexis and the Pilgrim Princes, . . . 48 
 
 9. BoEMUND OF Tarentum, 54 
 
 10. The Siege of Nice, 59 
 
 11. The Battle of Dogorgan, 66 
 
 12. The Siege of Antioch, 74 
 
 18. Emipher and Boemund, 82 
 
 14. The Great Battle, 87 
 
 15. Siege of the Holy City, 96 
 
 a* 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK SECOND. 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 1. Godfrey axd his Successors, 107 
 
 2. The Fall of Edessa, 118 
 
 3. The Preaching of St. Bernard, . . . v 122 
 
 4. Much Bruit and Little Fruit, .... 127 
 
 5. The Hospitallers and the Templ.4.rs, . . . 137 
 
 6. Affairs of the East, 141 
 
 7. Saladin the Great, 149 
 
 8. The Conference of Gisors, 160 
 
 9. Frederick Barbarossa, ...*.. 163 
 
 10. The Voyage of Cceur de Lion, .... 170 
 
 11. The Siege of Acre, 180 
 
 12. Battle of Assltb, .*.... 189 
 
 13. After Assur, 197 
 
 14. Richard's Return, 208 
 
 15. Sack of the Holy City, 214 
 
 BOOK THIRD. 
 
 THE EXPEDITION OF ST. LOUIS. 
 
 1. The S-Unt-King, ..♦..-. 222 
 
 2. France in Motion, ~^28 
 
 3. The Earls or Salisbury and Dunbae. . . . 233 
 
 4. The King and the Chronicler, .... 238 
 
 5. The Capture of Damietta, 243 
 
CONTENTS. VU 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 6. Discord and Disoedeb, 249 
 
 7. The Emir Fakreddin, 255 
 
 8. The j\Lajich to Maxsouraii, 259 
 
 9. BiBARS Bexdocdar, 266 
 
 10. The Battle of Mansourah, 269 
 
 11. Disasters and Caiajmities, 280 
 
 12. The Queen at Damietta, 288 
 
 13. The Last of the Atoubites, 293 
 
 IL The Saixt-Klxg's Return, 300 
 
 BOOK FOURTH. 
 
 THE LAST STKUGGLE. 
 
 1. A Sultana and the SLoielukes, .... 305 
 
 2. The Conqueror of Evesham, 310 
 
 3. The Saint-King in Old Age, 316 
 
 4. Prince Edward and his Knights, . . . 320 
 
 5. The French at Tunis, 326 
 
 6. Edward on his Voyage, 332 
 
 7. Relief of Acre, 336 
 
 8. Edward in the East, 341 
 
 9. Henry of Cornwall, 350 
 
 10 The Prince and the Assassin, .... 357 
 
 11. Edwae.d's Return, 362 
 
 12. Mameluke Sultans, •. 366 
 
 13. The City of Refuge, 371 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Preachinq op Peter the Hermit, Frontispiece 17 
 
 The Death of Count Robert op Paris, • . . 69 
 
 Godfrey of Bouillox at the Tomb of Christ, . . 105 
 
 Conflict on the Heights near Lo.aj)icea, . . 132 
 
 The Meeting op Henry and Philip at Gisors, . . 160 
 
 Cceur de Lion on the Battle-Field op Assur, . . 191 
 
 LONGSWORD and THE CoUNT OF ArTOIS BEFORE SaINT-LoUIS, 253 
 
 Landing op the Conqueror of Evesham at Acre, . 341 
 
THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 BOOK FIRST. 
 RESCUE OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PETER THE HERMIT. 
 
 About the middle of the eleventh century, feudal- 
 ism was rampant. That great system, having rescued 
 Europe from chaos and anarchy, was rapidly attaining 
 its complete development. Feudal laws decided claims ; 
 feudal customs regulated society ; feudal castles, de- 
 fended by rampart and moat, crowned every height ; 
 and feudal magnates, wearing chain mail, bestriding 
 mettled steeds, and attended by mounted spearmen, 
 rode about imposing awe alike on mitred priests and 
 crowned kings, on peasants occupied with tillage and 
 burs^hers engao-ed in trade. 
 
 At that period, when feudal chiefs exercised an 
 
 influence which enabled them to defy kings and 
 
 oppress people, Eustace, Count of Bouillon, was one 
 
 of the great nobles of Europe. From his ancestors, 
 
 1 
 
2 THE CUTJSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Eustace inherited power and authority ; and by mar- 
 riage with the heiress of Lorraine, he greatly added 
 to his weahh and importance. The designation of 
 Count, as understood in modern days, of course con- 
 veys no idea of the grandeur of such a man. The 
 Count of almost every French province maintained a 
 state which threw royalty into the shade. When at 
 peace, his board was surrounded by seneschals, cup- 
 bearers, and pages, falconers and minstrels. When at 
 war, his banner was attended by knights, squires, and 
 grooms, vavasours and varlets. 
 
 Amono; those who fed at the board and rode under 
 the banner of the Count of Bouillon, was a young 
 man who could hardly have failed to attract notice. 
 He was a native of Amiens ; and his name was Peter. 
 Some said he was of patrician origin ; but nature had 
 denied him noble features and a noble presence. In 
 truth, his face was plain even to ugliness, and his 
 stature was so short, that contemporaries called him 
 " little Peter." But he was gifted with a quick intel- 
 lect and wondrous eloquence. When he spoke, his eye 
 brightened with the fire of genius ; and his enthusi- 
 asm was such that he carried away the feelings of 
 listeners in spite of their judgment. 
 
 At the openmg of his career, Peter, in pursuit of 
 happiness, determined on a dash at matrimony, and 
 wedded a lady of the family of Roussy. The marriage, 
 however, would seem to have been contracted without 
 any excessive degree of prudence. The bride was old 
 and apparently as unattractive as the bridegroom was 
 eccentric ; and domestic feuds were doubtless the con- 
 sequence. In any case, Peter, growing weary of his 
 
PETER THE HERMIT. 3 
 
 plain spouse's company, began to look wistfully toward 
 those religious houses, situated in pleasant places and 
 shaded by stately trees, where holy men, dedicated to 
 God's service, kept alive the flame of ancient learning, 
 and dispensed befitting charities to the indigent and 
 poor. Ere long, he found himself a widower, gave 
 way to his restless mood, threw aside his steel cap and 
 coat of mail, and broke the ties that bound him to a 
 world with which he could not sympathise. 
 
 But Peter had been born with a spirit which, until 
 satisfied with some mighty achievement, could not 
 know repose. His brain was quite as restless under 
 the monk's hood, as it had been under the warrior's 
 basnet. Every day his existence was troubled with 
 regrets. The errors of youth and the absurdities of 
 manhood remained in his memory, and perpetually 
 presented themselves to his mind's eye in their worst 
 colors. Having sought, without finding, rest in the 
 cloister, Peter, tired of monastic as he had tired of 
 military life ; and assuming the garb of an anchorite, 
 he passed liis days and nights in meditation, fasting, 
 and prayer. Whenever seen by accident, he appeared 
 in the weeds of a " sohtary," and soon became known 
 as " the Hermit." 
 
 Notwithstanding mortifications of the body, Peter's 
 soul remained unsatisfied. Penance and devotional 
 exercises were of no avail in dispeUing restlessness of 
 spirit. Memory brought back the past ; and imagina- 
 tion conjured up a future. In his silent cell he still 
 felt a craving for excitement ; and as enthusiasm, 
 favored by sohtude, elevated his soul above facts and 
 circumstances, he surrounded himself whh visions, 
 
4 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 which convinced him that he was designed by Heaven 
 to accompUsh something great. 
 
 While Peter, in his soHtary cell, thus gave way to , 
 enthusiasm. Christians every year assumed " the scal- 
 lop shell and sandal schoori," and made pilgrimages to 
 the East. An especial virtue was supposed to attach 
 to the Holy Land ; and persons of all ranks, with an 
 idea of atoning for their sins, were in the habit of 
 repairing to pray at the Holy Sepulchre. Even in 
 this life, a man derived advantages from having made 
 the pilgrimage ; and his departure and return were 
 celebrated with rehgious ceremonies. Ere setting forth, 
 he was presented by priests with a staff, a scrip, and 
 a gown, marked with the cross, sprinkled with holy 
 water, and ceremoniously accompanied to the boun- 
 daries of his parish. If the pilgrim returned, he was 
 regarded with a mysterious veneration ; and, after pre- 
 senting a palm branch to the priest to be deposited on 
 the altar, he acquired the reputation of extraordinary 
 sanctity and the privileges which accompany such a 
 . reputation. 
 
 About the year 1094, Peter the Hermit resolved 
 upon an expedition to Jerusalem. With a brain on 
 fire, and in a mood the reverse of serene, he prepared 
 to fulfil his pious purpose ; and set out from his native 
 town. Princes, peers, and prelates had trodden the 
 path he pursued. They, however, had died by the 
 way, or returned merely to boast of having seen the 
 Holy City. Peter, as he left Amiens, with no de- 
 fence but the sign of the cross, and no guide but his 
 sanguine spirit, and journeyed from place to place, 
 faring as he best could, and causing surprise by his 
 
PETER THE HERMIT. 5 
 
 excited manner and eccentric gestures, probably in- 
 dulged in anticipations of far different results from his 
 adventure. Men, who granted him hospitality and 
 asked his prayers in requital, little dreamt what great 
 idea was occupying his mind and agitating his frame. 
 They would have wondered had they been told what 
 influence the odd-looking pilgrim was to have on the 
 destinies of Europe and of Asia. 
 
THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PILGRIMAGES TO PALESTINE. 
 
 When Peter the Hermit assumed the scrip and staff 
 at Amiens, and travelled eastward on his way to 
 Jerusalem, Christians had for centuries been in the 
 habit of making pilgrimages to Palestine. 
 
 It was while Constantino the Great wore the im- 
 perial purple, and ere yet the seat of empire had been 
 removed from Rome to Constantinople, that Christians 
 began to manifest interest in the Holy City. Destroyed 
 by the Romans under Titus, and rebuilt by the Romans 
 under Adrian, Jerusalem enlisted the pious sympathies 
 of Helena, widow of Constantius Chlorus ; and, in 326, 
 the Empress, then in her eightieth year, undertook a 
 pilgrimage to the places which had witnessed the birth 
 and crucifixion of the Redeemer of mankind, and ren- 
 dered her visit memorable by founding the church of 
 the Nativity at Bethlehem. Influenced by his mother's 
 example, Constantino built a magnificent church on 
 the site of the Holy Sepulchre, made explorations, 
 which resulted in the discovery of the true cross ; 
 and so smoothed the way, that Christians freed from 
 fear of persecution, and secure under protection of the 
 Roman eagles, resorted eagerly to Palestine. 
 
 The privileges, however, which the pilgrims en- 
 
PILGRIMAGES TO PALESTIXE. 7 
 
 joyed proved temporary. Julian, the nephew of 
 Constantme, on succeeding to the imperial throne, and 
 abjuring the Christian faith, treated its professors 
 as visionaries, and even attempted to Aveaken the 
 authority of prophecies hy rebuilding the temple. 
 This operation entrusted to Jews, was commenced 
 with vigor. ' But the death of the apostate Emperor 
 put a stop to the work ; and Christians thanking God 
 for having confounded the designs of the Heathen, 
 continued their pilgrimages with renewed ardor. 
 
 No sooner had the warlike nations of the West been 
 converted from the worship of Thor and Odin to a 
 knowledge of the truth, than they became eager to 
 visit those places where their Redeemer had taught 
 and suffered, made the blind to see and the lame to 
 walk, restored life to the dead and given hope to the 
 living. The roads to Zion were crowded with pilgrims, 
 eager to worship at the Sepulchre ; Jerusalem became 
 the seat of a patriarch ; new and splendid churches 
 were erected; monasteries sprung up on the banks of 
 rivers and on the sides of mountains ; and thousands 
 of Europeans remained in Palestine to devote then* 
 lives to works of beneficence and charity. 
 
 But evil days were at hand. At the beginning of 
 the seventh century, while Herachus occupied the 
 throne of Constantinople, the Persians, who had long 
 been formidable foes of the Empire, penetrated to 
 Palestine, and under their king, Cosroes, took the 
 Holy City by storm, and destroyed the church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre. After shedding much blood, and 
 doing much mischief, they withdrew, carrying with 
 them the true cross, the patriarch, and many of the 
 
8 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 principal inhabitants. After ten years of mourning 
 and vv'oe, however, the scene chemged, and Heraclius, 
 triumphing over his Pagan foes, brought back the 
 survivmg captives. Deeming the true cross by far 
 the most glorious of his trophies, the Emperor entered 
 the city walking barefoot, and carrying the sacred relic 
 on his shoulders. 
 
 Heraclius now prepared to repair the sacred edifices, 
 which the Persians had profaned and damaged. Every- 
 thing, indeed, seemed prosperous, and Christians con- 
 gratulated each other on their troubles being at an end. 
 But at this period the East was astonished by the rise 
 of the Saracens, a new race, destined as conquerors, 
 to display a degree of energy which enabled them to 
 influence, m a remarkable manner, the fortunes of the 
 world. 
 
 It was at the close of the seventh decade of the sixth 
 century, while the heirs of Adolphe the Goth were 
 flourishing in Spain, and the heirs of Clovis were 
 cutting each other's throats in France, that Mahomet 
 drew his first breath in the city of Mecca. Nothing 
 in his birth or boyhood indicated the influence he was 
 destined to exercise. From his earliest youth, how- 
 ever, he indulged in rehgious meditations, and ere 
 long conceived the idea of feigning a mission and 
 founding a faith. Every year, with this view, Ma- 
 homet retired to a cave, and, pretending to conferences 
 with the angel Gabriel, he at length produced the 
 Koran, and declared that there was only one God, and 
 that Mahomet was the prophet of God. 
 
 The imposture was not perpetrated without incon- 
 venience. Mecca became the scene of popular tumult, 
 
PILGKIMAGES TO PALESTINE. 9 
 
 and the pretended prophet, at the age of fifty-three, 
 fled to Medina. Mahomet, however, did not despair ; 
 and joined by Omar, a vahant soldier, he proceeded 
 to propagate his doctrines, subdued all Arabia, and took 
 several cities of Syria. 
 
 At the age of sixty-three Mahomet expired in the 
 midst of his successes. But the warriors who had 
 followed his fortunes prosecuted his conquests, and 
 Omar, elected to the caliphate, a^ter seizing Eg\'pt 
 and the whole of Persia, wrenched Syria from the 
 Empire of Constantinople. At an early period of their 
 victorious career, the Saracens advanced some mys- 
 terious claim to Jerusalem; and, in G36, they appeared 
 in hostile array before the walls. " Let us," they said, 
 approaclimg the city, " enter into the holy place which 
 God has promised." 
 
 After sustaining a siege of four months' duration, 
 the Christians agreed to surrender ; and Omar, enter- 
 ing Jerusalem in his garment of camel's wool, ordered 
 the mosque bearing his name to be erected on the site 
 of the Temple. It appears, however, that the austere 
 Caliph exhibited forbearance, and left the vanquished 
 liberty to exercise their religion. But Christians, pre- 
 vented from ringing their bells and displaying their 
 crosses, were perpetually reminded of lost privileges, 
 and the Patriarch, yielding to grief, sickened and died. 
 " Alas ! alas ! " exclaimed the godly man, '' the abomi- 
 nation of desolation is in the holy place ! " 
 
 The presence of jMoslem rulers in Syria and Pales- 
 tine did not prevent pilgrimages to the Holy Sepulchre. 
 Indeed, when the heirs of Omar ceased to reign as 
 cahphs, and the Abassidcs, Mahomet's male heirs, 
 
10 THE CKUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 established their throne at Bagdad, Christians found 
 their poshion at Jerusalem far from intolerable. Haroun 
 Alraschid, the great caliph of liis dynasty, prompted 
 by respect for the name of Charlemagne, regarded 
 them with favor, and treated them with kindness. All 
 pilgrims to the Holy City, without danger, found en- 
 tertainment in an hospital, composed of twelve hostel- 
 ries, and surrounded by gardens and vineyards, in the 
 vale of Jehoshaphat ; and many found a last resting- 
 place in a cemetery, shaded with trees and dotted with 
 cells, near the fountain of Shiloe. 
 
 Under protection of the black banner of the Abas- 
 side cahphs. Christians for a time prayed in peace and 
 worshipped in security. But, about the middle of the 
 tenth century, events occurred to blast their hopes and 
 destroy their comfort. The Abasside dynasty no 
 loncrer produced men capable of dealing with countless 
 difficulties ; and the Fatamites, clauning the caliphate 
 as heirs of Ah, Mahomet's son in law, fixed their 
 throne at Cairo, and projected the conquest of Syria. 
 
 This crisis roused the Emperor of Constantinople, 
 and an effort was made to save the Christians from 
 impending danger. At first, fortune smiled on the en- 
 terprise ; but the death of the Greek Emperor soon 
 rendered it hopeless. Jerusalem surrendered in 960, 
 and the black banner of the Abassi des was di splaced 
 b y the green flag of the Fatimiteat 
 
 For a time, the Caliphs of Cairo treated the Chris- 
 tians with some degree of favor ; indeed they felt 
 anxious to enrich their dominions, so long desolated 
 by war, and encouraged pilgrimages for the sake of 
 the gold and silver received in exchange for relics and 
 
PILGRIMAGES TO PALESTINE. 11 
 
 consecrated trinkets. During the first five decades of 
 the eleventh century, saints and sinners flocked from 
 the West to Jerusalem. A behef prevailed in Europe 
 that the " second coming of Christ " was at hand ; and 
 the attractions of the Holy City became more irresistible 
 than ever. People of all ranks, in hopes of atoning 
 for their sins, rushed to the East ; and a Duke of Nor- 
 mandy, the father of William the Conqueror, and a 
 Count of Anjou, the ancestor of the Plantagenets, ap- 
 peared among those who assumed the garb of pilgrims. 
 The Caliphs, glad of such an opportunity to replenish 
 the treasury, demanded a piece of gold from every 
 one who entered the gates of Jerusalem ; and, as 
 most of the Christians left home with nothing but their 
 scrip and statf, the exaction of this tribute proved most 
 cruel. 
 
 But whatever their trials under the government of 
 the Fatimites, Christians, ere long, found themselves 
 in the power of masters still less merciful. While the 
 luxury of Bagdad and Cairo was debilitating the de- 
 scendants of men who had followed the banner of 
 Mahomet and Omar, from the deserts beyond the 
 Oxus came bands of fierce horsemen, with woollen 
 caps and wooden stirrups, to continue the struggle of 
 Moslem against Christian. These Turks after seizing 
 the Empire of Persia, embraced the Mahometan faith, 
 allied themselves with the Caliph of Bagdad, attacked 
 the possessions of the Fatimites, and speedily restored 
 the banners of the Abassides to the walls of the cities 
 of Syria. 
 
 Jerusalem naturally excited the ambition of this 
 new band of Moslem warriors ; and, in 1065, the Holy 
 
12 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 City jdelded to their impetuous assault. Entering 
 where Roman, and Persian, and Arabian had come 
 before them, the Turks slaughtered and devastated 
 without the slightest distinction. Mosques and churches 
 were given up to pillage, and the blood of Christian 
 and Egyi)tian flowed in the same stream. 
 
 While one army of Moslems wrested Jerusalem 
 from the Fatimites, another, having captured Edessa 
 and Antioch, proceeded to wrest Nice from the Greeks. 
 Dominant in Asia ^rlinor, a Turk named Soliman 
 erected his throne at Nice ; and in that city, fifty miles 
 from the capital of the Empire of the East, the Mos- 
 lem warriors, occupying as it were, an advanced post, 
 awaited a favorable 0])portunity to cross the Bospho- 
 rus, possess themselves of Constantinople, and pre- 
 cipitate themselves on Christendom. 
 
 With ferocious foes in Jerusalem, and ferocious 
 foes in Asia Minor, Christians in the East found their 
 plight deplorable. Those who resided in the Holy 
 City were exposed to cruel persecutions. Those who 
 made pilgrimages from Europe to the Holy Sepulchre 
 •were exposed to extreme peril. When Peter the 
 Hermit turned his thoughts towards Palestine, matters 
 had come to the worst. Christians were beaten with 
 rods, loaded with chains, sold as slaves, and harnessed 
 like oxen. Never had they felt so much misery, never 
 had they entertained so little hope, as when Peter took 
 the cross at Amiens, and turned his steps eastward to 
 worship at the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
HERMIT, PATRIARCH, AXI) POPE. 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HERMIT, PATRIARCH, AND POPE. 
 
 One day, in the year 1094, when the conquest of 
 England by the Normans had inspired feudal warriors 
 with a desu'e for adventurous expeditions, a little man, 
 mounted on a mule, might have been observed to 
 ascend the heights of Emmaus, and come in sight of 
 Jerusalem. The appearance of the rider was most 
 eccentric ; indeed, the woollen mantle gathered round 
 his person, the thick cord, that girded his waist, the 
 monk's hood thrown over his head, and the sandals on 
 his feet, formed a costume so grotesque as to attract 
 notice wherever he appeared. But the rider, being 
 Peter the Hermit, was probably in no mood to notice 
 criticism ; for his soul must have glowed with ardor as 
 he ambled onwards to the Holy City. 
 
 Jerusalem could no longer have been described as 
 the most glorious city of tne East. All the grandeur 
 by which she was distinguished, when peace was within 
 her walls, and prosperity within her palaces, had de- 
 parted. Formed of mosques, and churches, and square 
 houses, surmounted by flat terraces, situated on four 
 hills, encircled by a strong wall which undulated with 
 the uneven ground, and surrounded by sterile plains 
 and barren mountains, where a few thorns and oliycg 
 2 
 
14 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Struggled into growth, and where a solitary palm tree, 
 here and there, stood erect, the city presented an 
 aspect suggestive of mournful reflections. But the eye 
 of such a man as the Hermit met everywhere with 
 objectsto excite his rehgious enthusiasm. His fervor 
 was roused to the highest pitch when he gazed with 
 entranced eye on Zion and Olivet, and on Moriah, 
 where the site of the Temple was occupied by Omar's 
 mosque, and on Calvary, where the church of the 
 Resurrection stood as a monument of Constantino's 
 piety. 
 
 ' At Jerusalem Peter took up his residence under 
 the roof of a Latin Christian, and soon drew his host 
 into interesting conversation. The recital of all the 
 woes endured by Christians in the Holy City made the 
 Hermit's blood boil. While listening to an account 
 of the oppressions and indignities of which they were 
 the victims, he glowed with indignation, and occupied 
 himself perpetually with meditating schemes for their 
 relief. 
 
 At length, one day, when the Hermit had, with a 
 crowd of pilgrims ascended Mount Calvary, and pros- 
 trated himself at the Holy Sepulchre, a celestial voice 
 seemed to sound in his ear. " Peter," it said, " arise ! 
 Hasten to proclaim the tribulation to my people. For 
 it is time that my servants should be aided, and that 
 the holy places should be freed ! " The enthusiast, 
 after listening to these words entertained no doubt 
 that he was desinrned bv Heaven to deliver Jerusalem. 
 "Rising from the ground he repaired to the house of 
 the Patriarch. 
 
 The Patriarchate of Jerusalem, which had been 
 
HERMIT, rATKIARCH, AND POrE. 15 
 
 created in 457, was not, in 1094, a dignity which the 
 worldly or luxurious were likely to covet. Indeed, it 
 seems to have brought little with it but persecution 
 and peril. Simeon, who now held the office was a 
 man advanced in life, with white hair and a most 
 venerable figure. But neither his white head nor his 
 venerable figure availed to save him from injury and 
 insult. He bewailed the condition of the Holy City, 
 and wept over the woes of the faithful. 
 
 " But can no remedy be devised .? " asked Peter, 
 after the Patriarch had bewailed the unhappy plight of 
 his people ; " can no termination to such calamities be 
 expected ? " 
 
 " Most faithful of Christians," answered Simeon, 
 " it is plain that our sins have shut us out from the 
 mercy of God, and that no power on earth can assist 
 us." 
 
 " Yes," cried Peter, with glistening eye, " there is 
 a power. The warriors of the West will ere long set 
 Jerusalem free." 
 
 " Doubtless," said the Patriarch, with pious resig- 
 nation, " when the measure of our afflictions shall be 
 full, (4od may touch the hearts of princes, and send 
 them to our succor." 
 
 " If the people of Europe had evidence of your 
 
 miseries," said Peter, excitedly, " they would come to 
 
 the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre. Write, therefore, 
 
 to the Pope, and to the Latin Christians, and affix your 
 
 seal to the epistle. I will, as a penance for my sins, 
 
 travel through the "^Vest, and urge them to save you 
 
 from longer do 'on." 
 
 -iio" was ' 
 
 After .t^;^j^^.^ ^^^ ..'ation, the Patriarch and the Her- 
 
 2* 
 
16 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADEES. 
 
 mit shed tears of joy at the idea of deUverance. 
 Though probably not quite so sanguine as his coadjutor, 
 Simeon addressed letters to the Pope ; and Peter, 
 having promised to rouse Christendom to arms, left 
 Jerusalem to return to Europe. 
 
 Having made his way to Rome, Peter craved an 
 audience of the Pope. A native of France, with the 
 title of Urban the Second, then figured as vicar cf 
 Christ. The idea of a war for the deliverance of 
 Jerusalem was neither new nor unpleasing to this 
 personage ; for the great Hildebrand had thought of 
 such an expedition as likely to contribute to the Papal 
 power ; and Urban, a disciple of Hildebrand, was not 
 blind to its advantages. On being admitted to Urban's 
 presence, therefore, Peter had the gratification of 
 finding that his project was regarded with favor. 
 In eveiy respect the interview between the Hermit 
 and the Pope appears to have been most satisfactoiy. 
 Urban treating Peter as a pro})het, commissioned him 
 to rouse the warriors of Europe ; and the Hermit, 
 mounting his mule, fared forth to preach a holy war 
 and promise Heaven to all who sliould take part in the 
 enterprise. 
 
 Never was enthusiast more successful in convincins: 
 mankind of the grandeur of his idea. Crossing the 
 Alps, and penetrating into France, Peter electrified 
 castle and city, town and hamlet with his eloquence. 
 All France was soon in a blaze, and Frank lord and 
 Gaulish slave manifested equal ardor. Sometimes he 
 preached in a church, sometimes q*- the market-cross, 
 and sometimes under a tree by} "'ayside. * But 
 
 wherever he appeared, people revV? which is a saint, 
 
HERMIT, PATRIARCH, AND POPE. 17 
 
 crowded around him, followed his footsteps, and doomed 
 themselves happy if they could touch the hem of his 
 mantle, or pluck a hair from the mane of his mule. 
 Ere long his fame crossed the Channel, and the minds 
 of victor Norman and vanquished Saxon were alike 
 fired with zeal. All hailed the Hermit as "the man 
 of God," and expressed their eagerness to be led 
 against the enemies of their religion. 
 
 While Peter was riding over Europe and preaching 
 a holy war, the Pope did not neglect the grand project 
 to which he had given his countenance. At this very 
 time, when Peter was rousing Christendom to arm for 
 the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, ambassadors 
 reached Rome to intimate the danger which existed of 
 Constantinople falling into the hands of the Moslem. 
 In fact the Greeks no longer possessed the courage to 
 fight their own battles, and the Emperor Alexis Com- 
 menus appealed for aid to the Pope and the Princes of 
 Europe. To the Pope, Alexis pointed out the danger, 
 to which Christicuiity would be exposed, in the event of 
 infidels capturing Constantinople ; to the Princes of 
 the West, he promised treasures as the reward of their 
 services, and hinted that the love of the Greek women, 
 whose charms he described in glowing terms, would 
 repay their country's champions. 
 
 After seriously musing over the project of Peter, 
 and considering the message of Alexis, Urban con- 
 voked a council at Placentia, and there, at the Pope's 
 summons, hundreds of prelates, thousands of eccle- 
 siastics, and tens of thousands of laymen assembled. 
 The gathering was so numerous that the council was 
 held in a plain outside the city ; and after the ambas- 
 2* 
 
18 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 sadors of Alexis bad implored the aid of the warriors 
 of the AVest, Urban pointed out the duty and the 
 necessity of saving Constantinople and Jerusalem. 
 Nevertheless, the Council after occupying days with 
 other matters, separated without coming to any de- 
 cision as to a holy war. 
 
 No sooner, however, did the Council of Placentia 
 break up, than Urban convoked a Council at Clermont. 
 At that place three hundred bishops and a multitude 
 of princes and nobles presented themselves. It was 
 winter, the season was severe, and the ground was 
 covered with snow. Nevertheless the Pope, braving 
 cold and fatigue, crossed the Alps to preside, and found 
 Clermont like a vast camp. The city was crowded 
 with princes, prelates, and ambassadors ; every town 
 and village in the neighborhood was thronged ; and, 
 cold as was the season, multitudes were lodged beneath 
 pavilions and tents in the meadows and the fields. 
 
 For several days the Council of Clermont was oc- 
 cupied with questions in which few of those assembled 
 took interest ; and the majority who thought of nothing 
 but an expedition to Palestine, manifested impatience. 
 At length, on the tenth day, the Council held a sitting 
 in the great square of the city : and the Pope, accom- 
 panied by Peter the tiermit, and attended by cardinals, 
 ascended a throne, and described in pathetic language, 
 the desolation of the Holy Places. 
 
 " Christian warriors," said Urban, addressing the 
 assembled multitude, " rejoice for you, who without 
 ceasing seek vain pretexts for war, have to-day found 
 true ones. You are not now called to avenge the in- 
 juries of men, but injuries offered to God ; and it is not 
 
HEllMIT, PATRIARCH, AND POPE. 19 
 
 now a town or castle that will reward your valor, 
 but the wealth of Asia, and a land flowing with milk 
 and honey. If you triumph over your foes, the king- 
 doms of the East will be your heritage. If you are 
 conquered, you will have the glory of dying where 
 Christ died. This is the time to prove that you are 
 animated by a true courage, and to expiate so many 
 violences committed in the bosom of peace. When 
 Christ summons you to his defence, let no base affec- 
 tions detain you at home — listen to nothing but the 
 groans of Jerusalem, and remember that the Lord has 
 said — ' He that will not take up his cross and follow 
 me, is unworthy of me.' " 
 
 The speech of the Pope was at first listened to in 
 solemn silence. Gradually, however, as he proceeded, 
 sobs broke from the crowd. Noticing this, and skil- 
 fully picturing the insolence of the enemies of Christ, 
 Urban asked the warriors of the West to drive out the 
 handmaid and her children, and significantly reminded 
 them that if the infidels were not encountered in Asia, 
 they would yet accomplish the conquest of Europe. 
 
 " Gird your swords to your thighs, ye men of 
 might," exclaimed the Pontiff in conclusion ; " it is 
 our part to pray, and it is yours to fight — ours (with 
 Moses) to hold up unwearied hands ; yours to stretch 
 forth the sword against the children of Amalek." 
 
 " God wills it ! It is the will of God ! " cried the 
 assembled Christians, rising in a mass as Urban 
 paused. 
 
 " Yes," added the Pope, " without doubt it is the 
 will of God ! Go, then, brave warriors of the Cross, 
 
20 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 and let the shout of ' God wills it ! ' be your war-cry 
 in the holy enterprise." 
 
 Immediately after this scene had been enacted, 
 Urban, by a gesture, intimated his wish for silence ; 
 and while the crowd bent their knees, one of the car- 
 dinals pronounced a form of confession. Adhemar, 
 Bishop of Puy, then stepping forward, asked to be 
 allowed to enter into " the way of God," and received 
 from the Pope one of the red crosses which had been 
 consecrated for the ceremony. Many knights and 
 barons, following the bishop's example, received the 
 sacred badge, and swore to avenge the cause of Christ. 
 All who took the oath, stitched the red cross of silk or 
 cloth on the right shoulder of the mantle. After this 
 they w^ere termed " bearers of the cross," and the 
 holy war, on which they had vowed to enter, was 
 called a Crusade. 
 
 This ceremony over, the Pope promised to all who 
 assumed the cross, entire remission of sins : and the 
 Crusaders appointed a rendezvous for the following 
 spring. The Council of Clermont was then dissolved ; 
 and while the knights and barons separated to prepare 
 for their expedition, the Pope went on his way re- 
 joicing in the prospect of uniting the nations of 
 Christendom against the enemies of Christ. 
 
THE pilgrim: nilNCES. 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE riLGHIM PRINCES. 
 
 After havlno; dissolved the Council of Clermont, 
 Urban the Second travelled through France to preach 
 the crusade and describe the miseries of the Christians 
 in the East. Wherever the Pope went, men of all 
 ranks listened with sympathy ; and, far and wide, 
 spread rumors of the war about to be undertaken for 
 the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre. Almost every 
 country of Europe was agitated ; and in France, where 
 the excitement was most felt, warriors of j)ride and 
 nobility borrowed money and enlisted men to take 
 part in the expedition. Among the chiefs, Godfrey of 
 Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine, a man of piety, learning, 
 and courage, was most eminent. 
 
 Godfrey of Bouillon was son of that old Count, in 
 whose household Peter the Hermit commenced life ; 
 and from his mother, in whose veins flowed Carlovin- 
 gian blood, he inherited the dukedom of Lorraine. 
 Few men in Europe appeared to occupy a position 
 more enviable than Godfrey. His name was stainless, 
 his reputation high, his influence great, his property 
 vast, and none of his castles without the means of ren- 
 dering feudal life pleasant. But all these advantages 
 failed to insure happiness ; for memoiy was perpetually 
 recalling scenes in which he had figured conspicuously, 
 
22 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 and in which he had played a part of which his con- 
 science could no longer approve. 
 
 It appears that Godfrey, born in the castle of Baysy, 
 and trained from 3-outh at the German court, was early 
 engaged in that memorable struggle between the Pope 
 and the Emperor, which is known in history as " The 
 War of Investiture." While fio-htina; in that war for 
 Henry the Fourth against Hildebrand, Godfrey won 
 high renown. It was he who, in the bloody battle on 
 the banks of the Elster, struck down, with his own 
 hand, Rodolph of Swabia, whom Hildebrand had gifted 
 with the crown of Germany ; and it was he who, at the 
 siege of Rome, on that day when Henry's banners 
 appeared before the Eternal City, and when Hilde- 
 brand took refuge in the Castle of St. Angelo, first 
 forced his way through the walls, and opened the gate 
 to the Imperial troops. He had since reflected with 
 remorse on the part he had taken against the head of 
 the church ; and he now eagerly assumed the cross, in 
 hopes of expiating exploits which he could not recall 
 without sadness. 
 
 No sacrifices appeared to Godfrey too great to 
 entitle him to pardon for what he deemed the sin of 
 having fought against the vicar of Christ. Not only 
 did he with that object exhibit wilUngness to leave his 
 home ; but before doing so he deprived himself of 
 every temptation to return. He alienated his castles 
 and domains, sold his cities and principalities, and 
 disposed of all right in his duchy. With the money 
 thus obtained he arrayed a magnificent army ; and 
 marched eastward at the head of ten thousand horse 
 and eighty thousand foot. Godfrey's brother Eustace, 
 
THE PILGRIM TRINCES. 23 
 
 Count of Bouillon, his brother Baldwin, and his kins- 
 man Baldwin du Bourg, accomj)anicd him, and many 
 knights and nobles of the provhice joined his stand- 
 ard. 
 
 At the time when Godfrey was mustering his forces, 
 other chiefs were preparing to share his peril and his 
 glory. Hugh, Count of Vermandois, brother of the 
 King of France ; Robert, Count of Flanders ; Stephen, 
 Count of Blois ; and Count Robert of Paris, were 
 among the distinguished. 
 
 But no crusader displayed more promptness than 
 Raymond, Count of Thoulouse, under whose banner 
 gathered the men of the south of France. Raymond 
 was a warrior of age and experience, who had fought 
 against the Saracens in Spain at the right hand of the 
 Cid, and wedded the daughter of the great Alphonso. 
 But age had not diminished his ardor, and he roused 
 hmaself to take part in the enterprise. " In my youth," 
 he said, " I fought the Saracens m Europe ; and, in 
 my old age, 1 will go and fight them in Asia." The 
 Bishop of Puy, who after the Council of Clermont had 
 been named papal legate, accompanied Raymond of 
 Thoulouse, and a hundred thousand men of Gascony 
 and Provence followed the old Count's standard. 
 
 While Godfrey of Bouillon, Raymond of Thoulouse, 
 Robert of Flanders, and Hugh of Vermandois, were 
 taking the cross, fame carried tidings of the crusade 
 to two princes, who resided at the Castle of Rouen. 
 They were bosom friends, though utterly unlike, phy- 
 s cally and mentally. One was short of stature, fat to 
 excess, volatile, adventurous, and ever aspiring to 
 something which he could not attain. The other was 
 
24 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 tall, handsome, fair to behold, slow, unready, and 
 much too inert even to claim a crown which was his 
 by hereditary right and popular election. Both had 
 reached the age of forty, displayed high courage, and 
 borne much adversity. One was Robert Curthose, 
 eldest son of William the Conqueror ; the other was 
 Edgar Athcling, heir of the Anglo-Saxon kings. 
 
 Excluded by his younger brother, William Rufus, 
 from the English throne, the situation of Curthose was 
 not enviable. It is true he was Duke of Normandy 
 and lord of numerous castles. But in regard to pecu- 
 niary matters, he was so improvident that he found 
 himself continually in difficulties. Women and para- 
 sites, jesters and mountebanks, preyed without mercy 
 on his substance, and he was sometimes reduced to 
 ludicrous distress. Indeed the chronicler states that 
 he was frequently prevented from leaving his bed and 
 .being present at mass for want of decent clothes. 
 
 While affairs in the castle of Rouen were in this 
 unhappy state, and when the crusade became the 
 fashion, the imagination of Curthose was immediately 
 inflamed by the idea. Perhaps of all people in Europe, 
 he had least temptation to stay at home. The prospect 
 of escaping from the avarice of usurers and the inso- 
 lence of duns, must under the circumstances have been 
 too tempting to be resisted ; and Curthose, resolving 
 to take part in the expedition, looked around for money 
 to defray the expenses. 
 
 Fortune proved rather propitious than otherwise. 
 Less difficulty was experienced in obtaining the means 
 than mi""ht have been anticipated. William Rufus, in 
 fact, was glad to hear of his brother's intention of 
 
THE PILGRI-M PRINCES. 25 
 
 leaving Europe, and willing, on certain conditions, to 
 provide him with funds. A bargain was accordingly- 
 struck. Rufus furnished the sum of ten thousand 
 marks, and Curthosc gave a mortgage over Normandy 
 for five years. 
 
 When Curthose took the cross, Edgar Atheling had 
 lono; resided at Rouen -amusina; himself with doo;s 
 and horses, and reflecting with pliilosophic calmness 
 on the crown of which he had been deprived and the 
 country from which he had been banished. He had 
 now passed the age of forty, and suppressed every 
 personal ambition. But, infected by the prevailing 
 enthusiasm, he resolved to take part in the expedition 
 to Jerusalem, and associate the history of the House of 
 Cerdic with the history of the Holy War. 
 
 At this period, however, a Scottish prince, named 
 Donald Bane, happened to have usurped the throne of 
 Atheling's nephew ; and the heir of Cerdic exhibited, 
 in regaining the rights of his sister's son, a degree of 
 energy which he had never displayed when his own 
 interests were at stake. When the crusade was preached, 
 he was just setting out to head an army of Anglo- 
 Saxons and Scoto-Saxons against- the usurper. But he 
 engaged to join Curthose in the Holy Land, and to lead 
 against Saracens the army with which he was now 
 going to conquer Scots. 
 
 In the meantime, Curthose was nobly attended. 
 When he set up his white banner embroidered with 
 gold, multitudes came readily to fight under a leader 
 so generous and brave. A goodly band of warriors, 
 led by feudal barons sprung up in Normandy ; and 
 Stephen, Earl of Albemarle, and Everard Percy, 
 3 
 
26 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEES. 
 
 Aubrey De Vere, Earl of Oxford, and Joceline Cour- 
 tenay, Conan de Montacute, and Girard de Gourney, 
 were amon2; the Norman barons whom Eno-Iand sent 
 forth to accompany the Conqueror's heir. 
 
 The pilgrim princes appointed Constantinople as a 
 rendezvous, and agreed to set out at different dates and 
 to pursue different routes. Indeed so numerous were 
 those who took the cross, that, marching in one army, 
 they would have exhausted the countries through 
 which they had to pass. They therefore commenced 
 their expedition eastward in four divisions, all grandly 
 arrayed. Every warrior wore a casque and a hauberk 
 of chain mail. The infantry carried long shields, the 
 cavalry round bucklers for their defence, and a goodly 
 supply of swords, lances, poinards, axes, maces, bows, 
 slings, and cross bows, with which to pursue the work 
 of carnafTe and destruction. 
 
 It would appear, however, that the crusaders had 
 no adequate notion of the dangers and difficulties of 
 the way. Knights and nobles, grooms and squires, 
 were equally unaware of the obstacles to be encoun- 
 tered. Many of the warriors took with them their 
 wives and children, and rode along with bugles at 
 their girdles, hawks on their wrists, and hounds running 
 by their side. They seem to have considered the 
 crusade as a sort of pleasant excursion, and to have 
 anticipated reaching the Holy City if not without 
 fighting battles, at least without storming fortresses. 
 
THE PEASANT-PILGRIMS. 27 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE PEASAXT-PILGEIMS. 
 
 While the princes who had assumed the cross were 
 pawning their castles and ahenating their domains, a 
 muhitude, under the influence of an enthusiasm that 
 would brook no delay, insisted on setting forth at once 
 for the Holy Land. 
 
 Nor is it wonderful that impatience should have 
 been manifested. It appears that every serf who took 
 the cross, shook off his collar and became a freeman ; 
 and the peasant of France must have hailed any oppor- 
 tunity of exchanging a cabin associated in his mind 
 with the cruelty of man, for places associated in his 
 mind with the mercy of God. Religion was to him 
 everything. Princes and nobles had castles, where 
 minstrels and jongleurs ministered to their diversion, 
 where retainers saddled horses and unleashed hounds 
 for their recreation, and where chaplains read ro- 
 mances of chivalry for their amusement. But save 
 the sentiments and hopes which he owed to the church, 
 the peasant had no consolation in his misery ; and 
 when told, that, by going to a land which the Pope 
 described as " flowing with milk and honey," he would 
 secure pardon without penance in this world, and hap- 
 piness without purgatory in the next, he naturally be- 
 
28 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 came an enthusiast, witli the single idea of accom- 
 plishing his pilgrimage. 
 
 Moreover, the very name of Palestine exercised a 
 magical influence on the men of the eleventh century. 
 At the mention of the Holy Land, their imaginations 
 conjured up the most picturesque scenery : graceful 
 palms rustling in the air ; fig-trees overhanging the 
 paths ; gardens ^vith jasmines, pomegranates, golden cit- 
 rons, mantling vines, and odoriferous flowers ; a sandy 
 soil, glowing under a hlue sky ; oriental women veiled 
 in white and grouped around fountains ; long caravans 
 of camels bearing priceless merchandise ; Saracenic 
 castles ; cities of which the names were recorded in 
 tliat sacred book, which the poorest knew by picture ; 
 Sharon, famous for roses without thorns : Lebanon, 
 celebrated for cedars and vines ; and Carmel, with its 
 solitary convent, and its thyme-covered summit, 
 haunted by the wild boar and the eagle. Such were 
 the objects picturesquely described by pilgrims, which 
 touched the imagination and excited the curiosity of 
 our ancestors. 
 
 The French people were first in motion. No feeling 
 of prudence, indeed, interfered with their ardor. 
 Leaving their fields and towns, agricultural serfs 
 and petty traders, displayed eagerness to reach the 
 Holy City. Without considering distance or danger, 
 many of the peasant-pilgrims took their wives and 
 children to share their perils ; and if any rational 
 individual interfered with a word of salutar.y warning, 
 their answer was ready : " He who will not take up 
 his cross and come with me," bawled these enthusiasts, 
 " is not worthy of me." 
 
THE rEASAXT-PIIiGRIMS. 29 
 
 But while many assumed the cross with the idea 
 of securing eternal salvation, numbers did so from 
 motives the reverse of laudable. Many a thief and 
 cut-throat, whose life had been a defiance of God and 
 man, appeared to take part in this armed pilgrimage ; 
 and the most immoral and irreligious characters in 
 Europe decked their shoulders with a badge sym- 
 bolizing everything pure and lioly. Mingled with 
 pious peasants and decent traders, were men who had 
 long defied every law ; and, mingling with wives of 
 peasant and trader, were women who had long dis- 
 carded all modesty. 
 
 From the banks of the Maes and the Moselle, and 
 from the provinces of Burgundy and Champagne, the 
 peasant-pilgrims, arrayed in every variety of costume 
 and armed with every variety of weapon, crowded 
 confusedly towards the point of rendezvous. A sight 
 of the camp which they formed, would have daunted 
 the most skilful war-chief. Eighty thousand men of 
 different races, with their wives and daughters, with 
 infants taken from the cradle, and grandsires on the 
 verge of the grave, and a considerable number of sick 
 and dying — such was the multitude that now de- 
 manded to be led to Jerusalem, and raised the shout 
 of " God wills it." 
 
 But the task of leading them was clearly one from 
 which Alexander the Great or Julius Cajsar might 
 have shrunk. A chief, however, was wanted ; and 
 the multitude did not hesitate in their choice. With 
 one voice they nominated Peier the Hermit, and defying 
 the difficulties in prospect, the apostle of the crusade 
 accepted the post of general. Ere long, Peter had 
 3* 
 
30 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 reason to rue the day when he was rash enough to 
 make hhiiself responsible for the conduct of an un- 
 disciplined host. 
 
 A leader having been found, the mob was arranged 
 in two divisions. A knight celebrated as Walter the 
 Penniless was appointed to lead the van. Peter, under 
 the delusion that he could control men whom he had 
 persuaded to take up arms, assumed without hesitation 
 
 /e command of the main body. 
 Every arrangement was soon made ; and Walter 
 the Penniless, having on the 8th of March, 1096, 
 begun his march, traversed without annoyance the 
 French territories, and the banks of the Rhine. The 
 Germans, though not yet roused to zeal, were the 
 reverse of hostile to the expedition. Some, indeed, 
 said, " These Frenchmen are fools for their pains ; " 
 but others expressed sympathy with the Christian 
 ardor displayed. 
 
 On leaving the German territory, however, Walter 
 had to deal with nations from whom little sympathy 
 could be expected. It was necessary, in fact, to cross 
 a countiy inhabited by Hungarians and Bulgarians, 
 neither of whom were unlikely to manifest antipathy. 
 Both nations had lately embraced Christianity. But 
 the Hungarians and Bulgarians had none of that zeal 
 which is supposed to animate recent converts, and 
 they appear to have regarded the crusade with indif- 
 ference, and the crusaders with hatred. 
 
 The position of Walter was difficult ; but the pen- 
 niless knight, finding that the Hungarians treated the 
 pilgrims as enemies, exerted himself to prevent re- 
 taliation. Success attended his efforts, and his soldiers 
 
THE PEASAXT-PILGRIMS. 31 
 
 left the territories of the IIun<Tarians without a hlow 
 having been exchanged. 
 
 So far the expedition was characterized by order 
 and decency. It happened however, that the modera- 
 tion of Walter was not relished ; and on entering 
 Bulgaria, the crusaders resolved to set his authority 
 at defiance. Want rendered them desperate, and they 
 broke from restraint. Spreading themselves over the 
 country, they put men to the sword, burned houses, 
 and plundered sheep-folds. No prudential considera- 
 tions restrained their ferocity. 
 
 Such conduct could hardly produce other than dis- 
 astrous results ; and the desperadoes soon found that 
 outrages of the kind were not to be perpetrated with 
 impunity. Now, in fact, began the misfortunes of the 
 crusade. No sooner did rumors of sheep stolen, 
 houses burned, and men killed, spread over the country, 
 than a cry for vengeance rose loud and high. Rushing 
 to arms, the Bulgarians fell on the soldiers of the 
 cross, and slaughtered them without mercy. Nothing 
 worthy of the name of resistance appears to have been 
 ofTercd. Some of the crusaders sought refuge in a 
 church, and the others fled fast from their assailants. 
 The Bulgarians hastening to the church, burned the 
 sacred edifice and those who had taken refuge within 
 its walls ; while Walter, gathering in the fughives, 
 secured them by a hasty and skilful march from the 
 vengeance they had provoked. 
 
 After this disaster, Walter pursued his way through 
 the forests of Bulgaria. But famine dogged the 
 steps of his followers. Finding that matters were 
 reaching a dangerous stage, the pilgrim warrior ap- 
 
32 TUE CRUSADES AND THE CllUSADEKS. 
 
 peared before Nissa, a city on the river Moravia, and 
 implored the governor, in the name of Christianity, to 
 save the soldiers of the cross from dying of hunger. 
 Touched with pity, the governor of Nissa furnished 
 food and raiment ; and the crusaders passing quickly 
 through Thrace, arrived, after weeks of fatigue, be- 
 fore the gates of Constantinople. 
 
 While Walter the Penniless was leading the van of 
 the pilgrim army toward Constantinople, Peter the 
 Hermit was in motion. Enveloped in his woollen 
 mantle, mounted on his mule, and attended by sixty 
 thousand pedestrians, he passed through Germany. 
 Everything went pleasantly enough ; for, the evil pas- 
 sions of the mob being still under restraint, the elements 
 of disturbance had not yet made themselves felt. Men 
 sang psalms ; women gossipped about every novelty 
 that presented itself; and children, whenever a town 
 or castle came in sight, asked with curiosity, " Is this 
 Jerusalem ? " 
 
 But a change was at hand. On reaching Hungary, 
 Peter was informed of the disasters of his vanguard, 
 and, betrayed into a threat of vengeance. Even after 
 this, the Hermit might have reasoned himself mto 
 calmness ; but unfortunately, on reaching Semlin, he 
 perceived the bodies of several crusaders hangmgfrom 
 the walls. At this sight Peter gave way to frenzy ; 
 and, a craving for vengeance taking possession of his 
 soul, he resolved to attack the city. 
 
 The crusaders were both ready and willing. In- 
 deed, by this time, they wanted somethmg new in the 
 way of excitement, and with gladness received the 
 order to take Semlin. Seizing their weapons and 
 
THE PEASANT-riLGKlMS. 33 
 
 sounding their trumpets, they rushed to the assault. 
 No savage valor could resist such enthusiasm ; and 
 the Bulgarians, giving way, fled in terror. Peter 
 M'ould probably have been satisfied with this triumph ; 
 but the fury of the mob once let loose could not be 
 restrained. With clamor and threats they pursued the 
 Bulgarians, sword in hand, and never ceased from the 
 slaughter till four thousand men had fallen. 
 
 The bodies of the slain, carried by the river to 
 Belgrade, gave the inhabitants of the Bulgarian capital 
 an idea of the carnage, and the crusaders had soon 
 reason to regret their rashness. While they were at 
 Semlin, and celebrating their victory, an army, as- 
 sembled by the King of Flungary, suddenly approached 
 the city. Alarm immediately appeared on every face. 
 The crusaders were, in fact, in no condition to en- 
 counter a disciplined host ; and Peter not unaware of 
 the hopelessness of trying conclusions, gave orders for 
 departure, passed the Moravia, and gamed the Bulga- 
 rian territories. 
 
 The peasant-pilgrims now found their progress un- 
 opposed. Not a Bulgarian was to be seen, cities and 
 villages were alike deserted. This produced serious 
 inconveniences. Neither guides nor provisions were 
 to be obtained ; and with no small difficulty Peter and 
 his pedestrians found their way to Nissa. 
 
 Nissa was the city where Walter the Penniless 
 had found relief Such being the case, the inhabitants 
 doubtless considered that from the pauper Imight's 
 friends they were entitled to forbearance. The aspect 
 of Peter's army, however, was not such as to inspire 
 confidence, and the Bulgarians, on viewing the motley 
 
84 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEUS. 
 
 multitude from their Avails, became somewhat ap- 
 pi-ehensive. But Nissa was strongly fortified, and 
 the crusaders did not entertain the idea of attacking it 
 rashly. 
 
 At first, both parties appeared anxious to avoid 
 giving offence. The pilgrims asked for provisions, 
 with an intimation that they intended to pursue their 
 journey. The Bulgarians supplied the provisions with 
 a desire that they should be freed from the presence of 
 their guests. Their intercourse, so far, was amicable ; 
 but unluckily, at this point, some of Peter's men 
 imprudently set fire to mills on the river ; and at 
 sight of the flames, the citizens of Nissa rushing from 
 the ramparts, fell upon the rear of the pilgrim-army, 
 and after killing every one who came in their way, re- 
 turned with a host of prisoners and wagon-loads of 
 baggage. 
 
 The crusaders beheld the retreat of the Bulgarians 
 with shouts of indignation, and Peter turned back to 
 demand satisfaction. The warlike enthusiasm of the 
 Hermit, however, had cooled smce he fled before the 
 king of tlungary ; and perhaps he retained sufficient 
 tincture of the soldiership acquired wliile riding in 
 the ranks of the Count of Bouillon, to know how unfit 
 his undisciplined followers were to encounter men ac- 
 customed to war. In any case, he expressed a wish to 
 negotiate, and sent messengers to the Governor of 
 Nissa, demanding restitution of the prisoners and 
 baggage. 
 
 Peter's ambassadors proceeded into the city, and 
 had an interview with the Governor. But that func- 
 tionary ascribed their peaceful demeanor to fear ; 
 
THE PEASANT-PILGRIMS. 35 
 
 and, though appealed to in the name of Christianity, 
 he gave no hope of redress. 
 
 " You perceive we have taken the cross," said the 
 ambassadors, " and, as Christians, we appeal to you, 
 holdinfT the same relimon." . 
 
 " Go back to your general," said the Governor, 
 sternly, " and tell him that I can recognize in you 
 nothing; but enemies." 
 
 When the ambassadors returned to their comrades 
 and reported the Governor's answer, the crusaders 
 loudly expressed their indignation. Every face im- 
 mediately flushed, and every blade glittered in the 
 sun. In vain Peter remonstrated. The spirit of in- 
 subordination was rampant ; and, charging the apostle 
 of the crusade with infidelity to the cause, the exas- 
 perated mob brandished their weapons, advanced to 
 the city, and attempted to scale the walls. Repulsed 
 by the Bulgarians, they redoubled their efforts, and, 
 in spite of the remonstrances of Peter and his knights, 
 mingled confusedly with their foes. For a time, the 
 struggle was savagely maintained on both sides. But 
 at length the crusaders gave way. Their rout was 
 complete ; and women, children, and equipages fell 
 into the hands of their conquerors. 
 
 After witnessing the dispersion of his army, Peter 
 retired to a hill near Nissa, where he passed the 
 summer night deploring his defeat and digesting 
 his mortification. Li the meantime, however, his 
 trumpets were continually sounded, and gradually 
 thousands of the fugitives returned to his standard. 
 With the wreck of his army, Peter marched through 
 Thrace ; and, rendered docile by disaster, his fbl- 
 
3G THE CPtUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 lowers pursued their way without exposing themselves 
 to further mishaps. 
 
 At length, in rags and poverty, the peasant-pilgrims 
 carrying palms in their hands, appeared at Constan- 
 tinople ; and met with a hospitable reception from 
 Alexis Commenus. The Emperor mvited Peter to the 
 palace, extolled his zeal, loaded him with presents, 
 and distributed money and provisions among his fol- 
 lowers. At the same time, he recommended Peter 
 to defer the holy war till the arrival of the princes and 
 barons who had assumed the cross. 
 
 The Emperor had early reason to repent of his 
 advice. No sooner were the. crusaders clothed and 
 fed, than they began to cast their eyes wistfully on 
 the wealth of Constantinople. In vain did Peter 
 exert himself to keep their passions in check. The 
 thieves and outlaws who had joined the crusade, 
 now exercised far more influence than the Hermit. 
 At length they began to plunder the houses and 
 churches in the suburbs ; and Alexis, eager to get 
 rid of such visitors, hastened their departure and 
 furnished vessels to convey them across the Bos- 
 phorus. 
 
WALTER THE PENNILESS. 37 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WALTER THE PENNILESS. 
 
 Walter the Penniless was a gentleman by birth, 
 and a Burgundian by nation. In other days, he had 
 won golden spurs and inherited a fortune. But, 
 whatever had become of the spurs, Walter's property 
 had vanished, and he possessed nothing save his horse, 
 his armor, and a degree of military skill, which, had 
 he been at the head of fighting men, would have made 
 him a formidable warrior. Having on his arrival 
 before Constantinople encamped under the walls, 
 Walter joined Peter the Hermit, crossed the Bos- 
 phorus, and exerted his energy to keep the peasant- 
 pilgrims in order. 
 
 On reaching Asia, the apostle of the crusade found 
 himself in command of a hundred thousand men ; 
 for at Constantinople, besides being joined by Walter, 
 he had been reinforced by large bodies of Germans 
 and Italians. All these were as enthusiastic and re- 
 fractory as the crusaders from France, and never 
 had men to perform a more difficult duty than had 
 devolved upon the Hermit and the Knight. Their 
 united efforts failed to preserve anytliing like disci- 
 pline ; and while on the plains bordering the gulf of 
 4 
 
38 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Nicomedia, their camp became the scene of discord 
 and disorder. 
 
 At length the crusaders of the Germany and Italian 
 States came to dacsjers' drawn with those from France 
 about plunder. Not relishing the superiority assumed 
 by the boastful Frenchmen, the Germans and Italians 
 elected a leader, and, leaving the camp, advanced 
 towards Nice. Arriving before a fort, they com- 
 menced an assault ; and, entering, sword in hand, 
 slaufrhtered the garrison. Though without means of 
 subsistence or defence, they boldly took possession, 
 and displayed their standard. Their audacity was not, 
 of course, long left unpunished. A Turkish army soon 
 appeared ; and the Germans and Italians, unprepared 
 for resistance, fell victims to their temerity. 
 
 When news of this disaster reached the camp of 
 the crusaders, the French, forgetting their feud, vowed 
 to be the avengers of the Germans and Itahans, and 
 gave way to extraordinary excitement. Peter had 
 repaired in disgust to Constantinople ; but Walter did 
 all he could to prevent fatal consequences. 
 
 " The Germans and Italians are unworthy of the 
 sacrifice you would make," said the penniless Knight 
 to those who had constituted themselves ringleaders of 
 the mob. " These men have fallen victims to their 
 own imprudence ; and it is our duty to avoid their 
 example." 
 
 "That," cried the ringleaders in chorus, "is the 
 language of a man who lacks courage." 
 
 " I tell you," answered Walter, with a gesture of 
 indignation, " that the enterprise you propose prom- 
 ises nothing but ruin. But have your own way. I 
 
■WALTER THE PENNILESS. 89 
 
 cannot sanction your folly, but 1 will share your 
 fate." 
 
 " God wills it," cried the ringleaders, as they 
 rushed from the tent and roused the mob to arms. 
 
 The man who at this period figured as Sultan of 
 Nice was not one whom the crusaders, if they had 
 been discreet would have rashly defied. Reared in 
 the midst of civil strife, and accustomed in his youth 
 to adversity, he was dauntless m defeat and calm in 
 victory. His foes named him with respect ; and his 
 friends, with pride, surnamed him " The Lion." On 
 this occasion, he was under no serious apprehension ; 
 for he was aware of the imprudence of the pilgrims, 
 and quite prepared to avail himself of its result. 
 
 Little dreaming of the reception with which they 
 were to meet, the crusaders placed themselves in 
 marching order ; and Walter the Penniless, groaning 
 in spirit, and leaving the women and children, and old 
 men in the camp, led the van towards Nice. For a 
 time he pursued his way without interruption. Sud- 
 denly, however, horns and drums heralded an attack ; 
 Saracens, with white turbans, green caftans, and long 
 spears came in sight ; and, on reaching a plain at the 
 base of a mountain, the peasant-pilgrims found them- 
 selves face to face with countless foes. Walter halted, 
 formed his men, and did all that a brave and sagacious 
 leader could do under such circumstances ; but his 
 skill was exerted in vain. Surrounded on all sides by 
 superior numbers, and shrinking from the peril they 
 had defied, the crusaders lost heart and energy. At 
 first, indeed, the conflict was fierce, and the carnage 
 fearful. But ere long every hope expired ; and, with 
 
4(5 
 
 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Christian blood flowing around him like water, Walter 
 fell in the midst of his foes, transfixed with arrows 
 and covered with wounds. 
 
 Nor did the camp where the women and children 
 had been left long escape. While the priests were 
 performing mass, the victorious Turks suddenly ap- 
 peared ; and the unfortunate women and children were 
 either put to death or carried into captivity. No one, 
 however, escaped to tell the tale of horror. 
 
 It was only by accident that Christendom learned 
 the catastrophe that had befallen the wreck of the 
 first army of the cross. A soldier escaping to Con- 
 stantinople carried to Peter the Hermit tidings of the 
 fate of his comrades ; and on the plain where the 
 Sultan of Nice fought with Walter the Penniless, a 
 quantity of human bones heaped confusedly together, 
 remained a melancholy monument of the carnage of 
 the peasant-pilgrims. 
 
Satan's soldiers ix cierist's livery. 41 
 
 CHAPTER YIL 
 
 SA.TAIf's soldiers IX CHRISt's LIYERY. 
 
 When Walter tho Penniless was vainly endeavoring 
 to save the peasant-pilgrims from ruin, a goat and a 
 goose left Germany at the head of many thousand 
 men. 
 
 This mob of crusaders described as " a wicked rout 
 of people, who served the devil under Christ's livery," 
 appears to have been composed of the ofF-scourings of 
 society. Notorious pads, cut-throats, and malefactors 
 of every description, incapable of leading peaceful 
 lives, and eager to turn their terrible talents to the 
 most profitable account, took the oath to rescue the 
 Holy Sepulchre ; and being informed that the fact of 
 bearing the cross would ensure pardon for sins, and 
 concluding that they might, while bearing the sacred 
 badge, commit crimes with impunity, they assembled 
 in great force on the banks of the Rhine. 
 
 But unfortunately for these crusaders, everybody 
 knew them to be wolves in sheep's clothing ; and no 
 captain would risk his reputation by assuming the 
 functions of leader. In these circumstances, they 
 placed a goat and a goose at their head, and, under 
 
42 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 tlie influence of some gross superstition, ascribed to 
 these animals divine attributes. 
 
 Under the auspices of the goat and goose figured a 
 priest named Volkmar, and a count named Emicio, " a 
 tyrant-prince near the Rhine," who having in youth 
 indulged in debauchery, believed he might atone for 
 his sins by devoting middle age to fanaticism. The 
 priest and the count, who naturally exercised consid- 
 erable influence over their comrades, declared that it 
 was impolitic to go in search of Saracens in Asia, till 
 they had dealt with the Jews in Europe ; and the mob 
 immediately intimated readiness to commence a general 
 massacre. 
 
 The Jews were then odious to Christendom ; and, it 
 must be confessed, that they did much to merit hatred. 
 Their substance was considerable, and their avarice 
 intense. At an early period they had come to Europe, 
 formed a colony at Prague, established themselves as 
 slave-dealers, and by the inhuman traffic acquired 
 immense wealth, which enabled them daily to grind 
 the faces of the poor. Nearly all the gold of Europe 
 had gradually found its way into their hands ; and, in 
 the dearth of the circulating medium, they extorted 
 the most exorbitant interest. Of course as usurers 
 they transacted much business, and possessed much 
 power. It was not merely the inmates of castles and 
 monasteries who were their debtors. While the baron 
 pledged his armor and the abbot his plate, the trader 
 pawned his wares, the husbandman his ploughshare, 
 and the craftsman his tools. All these men were at 
 the mercy of the Jews ; and the mercy of a Jew was 
 generally, in the long-run, found to be infinitely worse 
 than the cruelty of a Christian. 
 
Satan's soldiers in Christ's liyery. 43 
 
 These circumstances would of themselves have 
 rendered the Jew an object of fear and hatred wherc- 
 ever he appeared — with his sensual lip, his hook 
 nose, his peculiar features, his high square yellow 
 cap and his russet gaberdine. But there were other 
 and still stronger reasons for the detestation with 
 which the multitude re2;arded the Hebrew race. 
 Almost every Jew was understood, openly or secretly, 
 to insult the Christian faith. It was known that one 
 Jew had defaced an image of the Virgin ; that others 
 had crucified a boy in mockery of the Saviour ; and 
 that a third had stabbed the host. At the time 
 of the first crusade, all these things were recalled to 
 memory ; for the Jews were strongly suspected of 
 sympathising with the Saracens ; of showing their 
 sympathy by furnishing arms to carry on war ; of 
 insulting by their railleries, the enthusiasm then pre- 
 vailing in Christendom ; and of laughing at the zeal 
 that prompted Christians to " take the stafT and sandal, 
 in superstitious penance, and walk afoot to visit the 
 graves of dead men." 
 
 No sooner, therefore, did the Priest and the Count 
 suggest the propriety of attacking the Jews, than the 
 crusaders led by the goat and the goose, spreading 
 themselves through the cities on the Rhine and the 
 Moselle, killed every Hebrew with whom they met. 
 Neither age nor sex was spared. Helpless women 
 and innocent children perished with their husbands 
 and fathers. Escape appeared impossible ; and those 
 Jews who did not at once fall victims gave way to 
 despair. Some shut themselves up in their houses 
 and perished amid the flames ; and others, carrying 
 
44 THE CUUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 their treasures with them, sought a termination to their 
 miseries beneath the waters of the Rhine. 
 
 In the midst of this fearful carnage, the Jews 
 found protection from the ministers of tliat religion 
 which they were suspected of insuhing. Prelate after 
 prelate raised his voice loudly, in the name of human- 
 ity, against the outrages that were being perpetrated. 
 Their voices might not, under the circumstances, have 
 been listened to, but their palaces were open to the 
 afflicted Hebrews ; and, under the protection of the 
 crosier, the enemies of Christ found an asylum from 
 the fury of their persecutors. 
 
 At length the storm passed over. Satiated with 
 blood, loaded with booty, and elate with pride, the 
 crusaders commenced their march eastward. Terror 
 preceded them wherever they went ; and the approach 
 of the goat and goose was sufficient to make people 
 fly from town and hamlet. Without regret for the 
 past, and without apprehension for the future, they 
 moved towards Hungary ; and ere long appeared be- 
 fore Altenburg-Owar, a town situated on the Danube, 
 strongly fortified and defended by marshes. 
 
 On reaching Altenburg-Ovvar, the Priest and the 
 Count demanded a supply of provisions ; but the in- 
 habitants, in alarm, closed their gates and declined to 
 comply. Indignant at what they deemed disrespect, 
 the crusaders vowed to treat the Flungarians as they 
 had treated the Hebrews, and prepared to execute 
 their threat. Having cut down a forest, and con- 
 structed a causeway which enabled them to reach the 
 walls of the town, they reared ladders against the 
 parapets and commenced the siege. The energy of 
 
Satan's soldiers in Christ's livery. 45 
 
 the citizens, however, was doubled by despair ; and, 
 knowing wliat would be the consequence of surren- 
 dering, they made a vigorous defence. The position 
 of the besiegers soon became tlie reverse of pleasant ; 
 for arrows and darts and stones, and gallons of boiling 
 oil were unceasingly discharged from the ramparts, 
 and the citizens intimated in a manner not to be mis- 
 taken, their determination to resist to death. 
 
 The crusaders, however, were not to be daunted. 
 Shouting and swearing, they ])ressed the siege and 
 battered the walls. Indeed, at one time, they had 
 every hope of entering Altenburg-Owar in triumph. 
 But suddenly a fearful change occurred. Part of the 
 towers and parapets gave way ; the ladders fell with 
 a crash, and thousands of the besiegers were crushed 
 and mann-led at the foot of the walls. 
 
 Nothing could have been more fortunate for the 
 Hungarians. The noise, the crash, the cries of the 
 wounded, and groans of the dying, created a panic 
 among the crusaders, and led to their instantly aban- 
 doninjT the siece. At the same time the Hungarians 
 sallied from the gates, rushed upon their enemies, 
 and put them to the rout. Scarcely a crusader escaped 
 to tell the fate of his comrades. ]\Iany fell by the 
 sword ; many perished in the marshes ; and so many, 
 after being wounded, were drowned in the river, that 
 corpses, in countless numbers, floated over waters red 
 with gore. 
 
 While one band of the German pilgrims, whose 
 memory is associated with the goat and the goose, 
 were destroyed by the Hungarians, another band 
 appeared to fill their place. This body, consisting of 
 
46 
 
 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 twenty thousand men, proved hardly less unruly than 
 their countrymen, and astonished the Hungarians by 
 their frightful excesses. Arriving about the end of 
 summer, they gave themselves up to the most brutal 
 debauchery. Outrage after outrage was recklessly 
 perpetrated ; and day after day tidings went to the 
 King of Hungary of villages plundered, women vio- 
 lated, and men murdered. 
 
 AVhile these Germans were losins; all thoughts of 
 the Holy Land, the King of Hungary sent an army to 
 avenge the injuries which his subjects had sustained ; 
 and the crusaders learned that enemies were ap- 
 proaching. Housing themselves from the brutal in- 
 temperance in which they had passed weeks, the 
 Germans seized their weapons to resist. But the 
 leader of the Hungarians, far from exhibiting hos- 
 tility, presented himself to the Germans in the most 
 amicable manner, declared his anxiety to settle matters 
 quietly, and only requested that they would, to faciU- 
 tate negotiations, lay down their arms. 
 
 No suspicion of foul play appears to have crossed 
 the minds of the crusaders. Perhaps they had been 
 indulging in debauchery to such a degree, that they 
 could hardly have been in full possession of their 
 faculties. In any case they consented to lay aside 
 their weapons ; and scarcely had they done so, when 
 at a signal from the Hungarian chief, the soldiers 
 sprung into the camp. The Germans amazed, shed 
 tears, and pointed to the badge on their shoulder. 
 But the chief was deaf to cries for mercy. Every 
 crusader was sent to his account ; and the Hungarians 
 rejoiced that their murdered countrymen and violated 
 countrywomen were avenged. 
 
Satan's soldiehs ix Christ's liveky. 47 
 
 Such was the end of those crusades, undertaken 
 by the populace without placing themselves under 
 chiefs of skill and experience. From this period, we 
 find the armed pilgrims going to the Holy Land under 
 the banner of their natural leaders ; men with strong 
 hands, stout hearts, and long heads. No more expe- 
 ditions were undertaken by multitudes on their own 
 responsibility, or under the mysterious auspices of the 
 seat and the <2;oose. 
 
48 THE CKUSADES AND THE CPvUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ALEXIS AND THE PILGEIil PKINCES. 
 
 When news reached Constantinople, that the war- 
 riors of France were marching towards the capital of 
 Greece, on their way to encounter the Saracens, the 
 Emperor Alexis began to repent of having implored 
 their aid, and to apprehend that they might, after the 
 example of other auxiliaries, seize the dominions they 
 had been invoked to save. 
 
 Indeed the game which Alexis had to play was 
 somewhat difficult. The empire over which he reigned 
 was corrupt in all its parts ; and the crown which he 
 wore was a crown of thorns. Few persons who put 
 on the imperial purple were allowed to wear it long. 
 Since the time of Heraclius, the emperors of the East 
 had fared badly. Some had been assassinated in their 
 own palace ; some, after being deprived of sight, had 
 been sent into exile ; and others, after being mutilated, 
 had been consigned to a cloister. Alexis, formerly 
 grand domestic of the empire, had obtained the dignity 
 after incarcerating his benefactor ; and his position was 
 by no means the most enviable. The very first day 
 
ALEXIS AND THE PILGRIM PRINCES. 49 
 
 on which fortune happened to frown, might witness his 
 downfall ; for discord reigned in Constantinople ; and 
 the Greeks were readier to depose a sovereign than to 
 resist a foe. 
 
 Moreover, Alexis had a vague idea what manner of 
 men were the Franks, and especially the Normans, 
 who were now moving eastward. He was aware that 
 they regarded as an enemy every man who possessed 
 anything which they coveted ; and he was not unaware 
 that some of them were in the habit of turning their 
 eyes covetously towards a certain rich city on the 
 western shore of the Bosphorus. hi the event of the 
 crusaders proving hostile, the Emperor hardly had the 
 means of resistance. The Greeks had long considered 
 cunning more meritorious than courage, and contented 
 themselves with exercising every faculty to deceive. 
 The Emperor's subjects could not fight ; the Em- 
 peror had no military force but mercenaries, whom 
 his subjects called barbarians ; and the idea of match- 
 ing hireling soldiers with crusaders led by Godfrey 
 of Bouillon, Raymond of Thoulouse, and Robert 
 Curthose, was not to be entertained. Such being his 
 circumstances, Alexis felt that craft, not courage, 
 must save him from the peril which he dreaded. 
 
 While Alexis was forming his plans, and the French 
 
 crusaders were approaching his territories, Hugh, 
 
 Count of Vermandois, who had previously gone to 
 
 Rome and received the banner of the church from the 
 
 hands of the Pope, happened to be wrecked on the 
 
 shores of the Epirus. Trusting to make the Count, 
 
 who was brother of King Philip, a hostage for the 
 
 good conduct of his comrades, Alexis ordered that he 
 5 
 
50 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRITSADERS. 
 
 should be brought as a prisoner to Constantinople. As 
 no secret was made of this faithless proceeding, God- 
 frey of Bouillon, soon after having landed at Philip- 
 popoli, became aware of the circumstance, and 
 immediately despatched messengers to demand the 
 Count's liberation. The Emperor, on receiving God- 
 frey's message, returned an answer the reverse of 
 satisfactory ; and soon a crowd of Greeks, flying to 
 the capital, brought information that the crusaders 
 were ravaging the country and treating the inhabitants 
 as enemies. Terrified at the consequences of his 
 policy, Alexis sent to promise satisfaction ; and God- 
 frey, content with this assurance, marched quietly to 
 Constantinople. 
 
 Untaught by the lesson he had received, Alexis no 
 sooner saw the crusaders at his gates, than he con- 
 ceived the great idea of starvins; them into submission. 
 With this view he forbade the Greeks to supply 
 provisions. The crusaders, however, were in a 
 position to help themselves with impunity ; and dis- 
 persing through the suburbs and over the countiy, 
 they plundered palaces and villages, and brought to 
 the camp everything necessary for their subsistence. 
 The inconvenience of such a system was of course 
 soon felt ; and it became clear that a better state of 
 feeling must be cultivated. Gradually both parties 
 became reasonable. After some hesitation, Alexis 
 sent provisions ; and, with some reluctance, the 
 crusaders refrained from pillage. 
 
 But scarcely had this difficulty been overcome, 
 when new disputes arose. Between the Greeks and 
 the crusaders, no sympathy could exist. Reciprocal 
 
ALEXIS AND THE PILGRIM PEIXCES. 51 
 
 contempt was daily manifested. The Greeks regarded 
 the crusaders as barbarians ; and the crusaders taunted 
 the Greeks with being unable to fight their own battles. 
 Quarrels, of course, were of frequent occurrence. 
 On one occasion a chief among the crusaders proposed 
 to seize Constantinople. On more than one occasion 
 the Frank warriors were on the point of conflict with 
 the Emperor's mercenaries. Even the leaders of the 
 crusade showed little inclination to restrain the soldiers 
 of the cross from chastising the insolence of the 
 Greeks. 
 
 Alexis now felt that there was too strong a proba- 
 bility of the crusaders' standard waving over the walls 
 of Constantinople. It was in these circumstances, that 
 the Emperor set his heart upon a scheme, which he 
 believed would avert mischief. This was to obtain 
 from the chiefs of the crusade such an oath of fidelity 
 and obedience, as could not decently be broken. At 
 first this object seemed unattainable ; but, having 
 already extracted such an oath from the Count of 
 Vermandois, Alexis did not despair of success with 
 other peers and princes. On hearing this proposal, 
 the pilgrims expressed nothing but indignation. But 
 after the Emperor had sent his son to the crusaders' 
 camp as a hostage, Godfrey, with Robert Curthose, 
 and the Count of Flanders, and the Count of Blois, 
 yielded. Raymond of Thoulouse scornfully refused. 
 " I have not," exclaimed the aged warrior, " come to 
 the East to seek a master." But Alexis found a way 
 of overcoming Raymond's scruples ; and fixed a day 
 for the crusaders performinjr their homatre. 
 
 At the appouitcd time, Godfrey and his companions 
 
52 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 proceeded to the imperial palace, and found that no 
 pains had been spared to impress them with a high 
 opinion of the Emperor's weakli and grandeur. 
 Seated on his throne and surrounded by his court, 
 Alexis received their homage, and placed his empire 
 under their protection. Entirely occupied with the 
 attempt to conceal his weakness by a display of super- 
 ficial magnificence, Alexis regaled his fancy with the 
 idea that he was achieving a victory over the French 
 princes, and did not perceive that those who had bent 
 their knees before his throne, felt a thorough contempt 
 for his power. While the Emperor was presenting 
 the crusaders with rich gifts, a slight incident awoke 
 him from liis delusion. 
 
 Among the French nobles present at the memorable 
 ceremony, was a count, known as Robert of Paris. 
 This warrior, whose name is celebrated in history and 
 romance, little rehshing the airs assumed by the court 
 of Constantinople, could not refrain from showing his 
 contempt. With a gesture of scorn for the ceremonial 
 by which he was surrounded, Robert advanced to the 
 throne before which the crusaders had bowed, and, 
 disregarding all signs, seated himself by the Emperor's 
 side. The Greeks expressed intense horror at the 
 Count's defiance of etiquette, and even the Franks 
 could not help feeling the awkwardness of the scene. 
 
 " When you are in a foreign country," said one of 
 the crusaders, pulling Count Robert by the arm, " you 
 ought to respect its customs." 
 
 " Truly ! " exclaimed Robert, looking mockingly 
 towards Alexis ; " but this is a pleasant clown who is 
 seated, while so many noble captains are standing." 
 
ALEXIS AND THE PILGRIM miNCES. 53 
 
 " What is your birth, and which is your country ? " 
 asked Alexis, detaining Robert of Paris, as the 
 crusaders were leaving, 
 
 " I am a Frenchman," replied the Count, " and of 
 the highest rank of nobles. And one thing I know, 
 that in my country there is a place near a church, 
 whither repair all who are eager to signalise their 
 valor. I have often been there, without anybody 
 having ventured to present himself before me." 
 
 " If you waited there without enemies," said Alexis, 
 turning uneasily from Count Robert, but taking no 
 notice of the challenge, " you are now going where 
 you are likely to meet with plenty." 
 
 5* 
 
51 THE CliUSADES AND THE CHUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BOEMUXD OF TARENTUM. 
 
 While the warriors and nobles of France were 
 arming for the Holy War, a Norman prmce, known 
 to posterity as " the Ulysses of the First Crusade," 
 roused the zeal of the inhabitants of southern Italy. 
 
 Early in the eleventh century, some pilgrim-knights 
 of Normandy, having landed on the southern coast of 
 Italy, aided the dwellers in Salerno to repel an incur- 
 sion of the Saracens. Animated by reports of their 
 countrymen's valor, Robert and William Guiscard, 
 sons of Tancred of Hauteville, a Norman gentleman, 
 conducted to Italy a band of warriors, and effected a 
 series of conquests, which were consolidated into the 
 Idngdom of the Two Sicilies. 
 
 Boemund, one of the sons of Robert Guiscard, was 
 hardly inferior to his father in courage and talent. A 
 native of Italy, but Norman to the backbone, he early 
 displayed, in full perfection, the qualities that made 
 the Normans so formidable. Brave, accomplished, 
 and utterly unscrupulous, he fought with courage, 
 spoke with eloquence, and acted without regard either 
 to conscience or God. 
 
 At an early age, Boemund liad fought by his father's 
 side against the Emperor of the East, and had imbibed 
 
BOEMUND OF TAKEXTUxM. 55 
 
 a notion that the Greek emph-e would one day be the 
 prize of his valor and genius. But fortune did not 
 prove quite favorable to such an aspiration. At his 
 father's death, the ambitious Norman found himself 
 without means to make any great attempt. But, 
 though without lands or Uving, " Boemund, son of 
 Guiscard," was still formidable ; and having declared 
 war against his brother Roger, he succeeded in making 
 that prince yield the principality of Tarentum. 
 
 For a time Boemund figured as Prince of Tarentum. 
 But Tarentum was far too small a place for a Norman 
 noble of such aspiring vein ; and he perpetually 
 watched for an opportunity of realising his ambilious 
 project. When he learned that the princes of France 
 were arming for the crusade, he congratulated himself 
 on his day having arrived, and with a smile of ridicule 
 at the enthusiasm that prompted such an expedition, 
 considered how it could be turned to account in 
 advancing his fortunes. 
 
 Boemund's brains, once set to work, soon enabled 
 him to comprehend his position. Musing over the 
 matter, he decided that, at this crisis of his career, it 
 was necessary to have an army of his own. This was 
 a difhculty ; for Tarentum could not furnish any large 
 body of fighting men. But he soon formed a plan for 
 getting as many soldiers as he wished, and immediately 
 proceeded to put the plan in execution. 
 
 At that time, Boemund's brother was bcsien;incr 
 
 ' DO 
 
 Amalfi, a city lying within the territories of the Guis- 
 cards, but refusing to acknowledge their authority. 
 No expedition could have been more favorable to 
 Boemund's wishes. Proceeding to xVuialli, the Prince 
 
56 THE CEUSADES AND THE CEUSADEES. 
 
 of Tarentum affected to take gi-eat interest in the 
 siege, and insinuated himself into the good graces of 
 the soldiers. Indeed he was precisely the man to win 
 their respect. Besides having a strong arm and an 
 eloquent tongue, he had been gifted by nature with a 
 most noble presence. His tall stature, enabling him 
 to tower above ordinaiy men, never failed to impress 
 beholders ; and his aquiline features, fair hair, and blue 
 eyes, at once marked him as a genuine descendant of 
 those valiant Northmen, who, with Roll the Ganger, 
 sailed up the Seine and seized on Neustria. 
 
 After reaching Amalfi and surveying his brother's 
 army, Boemund went to work with his wonted craft. 
 He preached the crusade in language not less eloquent 
 than Peter ; and he produced under the walls of 
 Amalfi an effect hardly less mai'vellous than Urban 
 had produced at the Council of Clermont. Everybody 
 was attracted by his orations ; and ere long the camp 
 throbbed with enthusiasm for the Holy War. 
 
 " God -wills it ! " at length resounded from thousands 
 of voices. 
 
 " Yes," said Boemund, " it is the will of God ; and 
 when all the brave captains and soldiers of Europe 
 have taken the cross, we shall be unworthy of Heaven 
 if we hesitate." 
 
 Congratulating himself on the triumph of his elo- 
 quence, Boemund tore to pieces his red banner, formed 
 the strips into crosses, and presented them to the 
 besiegers. Ere long the whole army vowed to accom- 
 pany him to the Holy Land ; and, the siege having 
 been abandoned, he prepared for the expedition. Nor 
 was his success temporary. No sooner had Boemund 
 
BOEMUND OF TARENTUM. 57 
 
 set up his standard, than around its red folds came 
 warriors of all ranks ; and he found himself at the 
 head of thirty thousand men, eager to be gone. To 
 the camp of Boemund, among other barons and 
 knights, came his nephew Tancred, destined to be 
 celebrated in chronicle and sons;. 
 
 Having embarked for Greece, the Prince of Taren- 
 tum landed at Durazzo. The sight of this place, 
 where in youth he had distinguished himself in battle 
 against the Greeks, recalled all Boemund's aspirations ; 
 and he immediately sent to recommend Godfrey of 
 Bouillon to seize the empire of the East. Godfrey, 
 however, reminded the Norman chief, that they were 
 soldiers of the cross ; that they were in arms, not to 
 take Constantinople, but to deliver Jerusalem ; and 
 that their duty as Christians was not to attack the 
 Greeks, but to vanquish the Pagans. Boemund never- 
 theless indulged his soul with visions of acquiring the 
 empire, and, without any effort to restrain the excesses 
 of his soldiers, advanced through Macedonia. 
 
 It was with a feeling of dread, that Alexis heard of 
 Boemund having sent proposals to Godfrey. The 
 Emperor knew the Norman warrior's character and 
 feared his ambition. But ambition misrht be thwarted 
 by cunning, and courage might be overcome by 
 bribery. Without delay, therefore, Alexis invited 
 Boemund to Constantmople ; and Boemund, preceding 
 his army, hastened forward to oppose craft to craft. 
 
 Alexis received Boemund with the utmost distinc- 
 tion, and Boemund treated Alexis with the utmost 
 deference. They complimented each other on their 
 exploits, and exchanged vows of friendship. As both 
 
58 TKE CRUSADES A2iD THE CJRUSADEKS. 
 
 were devoid of conscience, no scruple interfered with 
 their promises ; and while Alexis solemnly engaged to 
 grant the Prince of Tarentum large possessions in 
 Greece, Boemund vowed to prove himself in all things 
 the Emperor's fahhful vassal. 
 
 At Icnij-th their conversation took a turn which 
 betrayed Boemund into rashness and startled Alexis 
 into sincerity. The Emperor happened to display to 
 the Norman prince a chamber with treasure ; and 
 Boemund, surprised at the sight, could not, even in the 
 Emperor's presence, repress his admiration. 
 
 "There is here," he exclaimed, "enough where- 
 with to conquer kingdoms." 
 
 " Let these treasures," said Alexis, turning to the 
 officers of his household, " be immediately conveyed 
 to the tent of the Prince of Tarentum." 
 
 " Ah," said Boemund, affecting to decline the gift, 
 " your munificence is too great. I cannot accept this 
 treasure; but, if you would bind me to you for ever, 
 confer on me the dignity of Grand Domestic of the 
 Empire." 
 
 " I cannot at present grant that dignity," answered 
 Alexis, starting at a demand which alarmed him with 
 the recollection that he had used the office as a step- 
 ping-stone to the throne ; " but I promise it, brave 
 prince, as the reward of your future services." 
 
 Boemund, baffled, retired to muse over his pros- 
 pects ; and Alexis remained to consider how lie might 
 best free his capital from the presence of men, whose 
 pride lie was weary of flattering and whose avarice he 
 was weary of gratifying. 
 
THE SIEGE OF NICE. 59 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SIEGE OF NICE. 
 
 The crusaders, gathering gradually from difFerent 
 nations to the banner of the cross before the walls of 
 Constantinople, presented so formidable an appearance, 
 ihat the Emperor of the East grew more and more 
 alarmed. Forgetting the fear he had entertained of 
 Moslem foes, Alexis became only anxious to be saved 
 from Christian friends. At length, in May, 1097, the 
 wily Greek had the satisfaction of knowing that the 
 crusaders were on the other side of the Bosphorus ; 
 and, by way of fulfilling a promise to accompany 
 them with an army to Jerusalem, he prepared to fol- 
 low their march — " like the bird that seeks its prey 
 in the lion's track." 
 
 Having landed in Asia Minor, the crusaders crossed 
 the plains of Bithynia, and advanced, in martial array, 
 towards Nice. A hundred thousand horsemen, and 
 five hundred thousand footmen, formed the army. 
 Dukes who had mortgaged their duchies, and counts 
 who had pledged their counties, figured as its chiefs. 
 Priests, whose sober vestments proclaimed them dead 
 to the world, and prelates, whose chain mail and price- 
 less chargers proved that they laid claim to no such 
 distinction, mingled with dukes and counts. Women 
 
GO THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 in their teens, who relished every novelty, and grand- 
 mothers of threescore, who declared that all was 
 vanity and vexation of spirit, conversed by the way 
 with warriors and churchmen. Young knights, with 
 white hawks on their wrists and red scarfs on their 
 arms, listened with patience to stately dames and talked 
 merrily to laughuig damsels, or rode to and fro to view 
 the coimtry, and guard against being attacked un- 
 awares. As yet most people found the expedition 
 cheerful and exciting. Everything, indeed, wore an 
 encouraging aspect. Banners waved ; bridles rang ; 
 mail rattled ; steeds pranced ; trumpets sounded ; 
 monks sang hymns of praise ; and heralds shouted, 
 " Save the Holy Sepulchre 1 " Such was the com- 
 position, and such the appearance, of that army with 
 which Godfrey of Bouillon on his war-horse, and Peter 
 the Hermit on his mule, approached the capital of 
 Bithynia. Never had the Saracens seen such foes as 
 those who were now marching to deliver the Holy 
 Sepulchre. 
 
 But the Sultan of Nice held no counsel with despair. 
 Whatever came to pass, he was not likely to be found 
 by armed foemen lolling luxuriously in the recesses of 
 his palace. Exhibiting characteristic energy at the 
 news of the approach of foes, he fortified his capital, 
 and summoned subjects and allies to his aid. Confident 
 in the fortification and the enthusiasm of Nice, the 
 Sultan placed his wife, his children, and his treasures 
 whhin the walls ; and having encouraged the garrison 
 with assurances of aid and promises of reward, he 
 encamped, with a numerous army, on the neighboring 
 mountains, 
 
THE SIEGE OF NICE. 61 
 
 Scarcely had the SuUan completed liis preparations, 
 when, on the lOth of May, the crusaders appeared 
 beibre Nice. Tlie aspect of the place was not such 
 as to encourage hopes of an easy capture. Strong 
 walls environed the town; hundreds of towers and 
 turrets protected the walls; a ditch broad and deep 
 surrounded the fortifications; Lake Ascanius washed 
 the foundations, and communicated conveniently with 
 the sea. Moreover, the Sultan's choicest troops 
 manned the ramparts ; and, in white tents spread over 
 the mountain side, around the black banner of the 
 Abassides, a mighty army of Moslem warriors lay 
 ready, at a signal, to grasp their spears and rush 
 down to the city's rescue. Every precaution, which 
 skill could devise, the Sultan had taken to prevent the 
 triumph anticipated by the Christian invaders. 
 
 But the Normans and Franks were not daunted. 
 Encamping on a level plain, watered by rivulets that 
 flowed from the mountains, the crusaders commenced 
 the siege with zeal and courage. Such, indeed, was 
 the enthusiasm, that chiefs did the work of soldiers ; 
 and priests, passing continually along the ranks, 
 reminded them of the holy cause of which they were 
 the champions. Under such influences, the crusaders 
 made several attempts with more zeal than discretion ; 
 but the exploits performed convinced the Saracens of 
 the marvellous valor with which they had to contend. 
 
 The Sultan, on becoming acquainted with the opera- 
 tions of the Frank warriors, considered that the time 
 had come for a great effort ; and, calling his cliiefs 
 together, he addressed them in inspiriting language, 
 6 
 
62 THE CRUSADES ANT) TTIE CE.USADEKS. 
 
 promised them not only victory, but the richest booty, 
 and assured them that their enemies were at discord 
 with each other, and would be easily vanquished. This 
 ceremony over, the Sultan girded on his armor; and, 
 at the head of his soldiers, suddenly descended from 
 the mountains and advanced to the attack. ^ 
 
 But the Moslem warrior found that he had to 
 encounter men of very different mould from those who 
 composed the mob led by Walter the Penniless. At 
 first, indeed, fortune seemed to smile on his adventure. 
 Charging the soldiers of Raymond of Thoulouse, he 
 succeeded in producing some disorder among the 
 Provencals. But the voice and example of the old 
 Count soon restored the courage of his men ; and, ere 
 the Saracens had time to pursue their advantage, 
 Curthose and the Count of Flanders charged upon 
 them with the lance. A brief but bloody struggle 
 ensued ; and the Sultan, finding his antagonists infi- 
 nitely more formidable than he had anticipated, sounded 
 a retreat. 
 
 The. crusaders raised the song of triumph, and the 
 Sultan, finding how futile had been his efforts, aban- 
 doned Nice to its fate, and postponed a decisive battle 
 with the Christian warriors. Relieved from the pres- 
 ence of a watchful foe, the crusaders pressed the 
 siege with renewed vigor ; and with the aid of a Lom- 
 bard engineer, carried on the work of destruction. 
 All the warlike science of the age was brought to bear 
 upon the siege. Rams battered the walls ; balisters 
 unceasingly discharged huge stones ; catapults slung 
 blocks of wood and masses of stone with a crash into 
 the city ; and tall wooden towers, wheeled forward to 
 
THE SIEGE OF NICE. 
 
 63 
 
 the ramparts, conveyed the besiegers to close conflict 
 with the besieged.* 
 
 Nevertheless, Nice hold out bravely ; and week 
 after week passed without the crusaders gaining any 
 signal advantage. Every male inhabitant, capable of 
 drawing a bow or casting a stone, had taken arms ; 
 and the defence was of the most desperate nature. 
 Machines covered the ramparts, and hurled destruction 
 upon the assailants ; beams of wood and blocks of 
 stone fell constantly ; and one Saracen of gigantic 
 proportions particularly distinguished himself during 
 the siege. He seldom missed his aim ; and with 
 arrows, javelins, and stones, he was equally successful. 
 One .day when thus engaged, he stood up and defied 
 the bravest Christian, and loaded them with abuse. A 
 hundred arrows were immediately directed against 
 him ; but he seemed to bear a charmed hfe. At length 
 Godfrey of Bouillon seized a crossbow and took aim. 
 In another moment the huge carcass of the Saracen 
 rolled into the ditch, shot through the heart. 
 
 By lliis time, the siege of Nice had lasted for 
 several weeks, and the crusaders perceived that, so 
 long as supplies reached the city by Lake Ascanius, 
 
 * " "Wc must not think," says Fuller, " that the world was at 
 a loss for war-tools before the brood of guns was hatched. It 
 had the battering I'am, first found out by Epeus at the taking 
 of Troy : the balista, to discharge great stones, invented by the 
 Phenicians : the catapulta, being a sling of mighty strength, 
 whereof the Syrians were authors. But these and many more 
 voluminous engines (for the ram alone had one hundred men to 
 Avork it) are now virtually epitomised in the cannon." — His- 
 tury of the JIuly War. 
 
64 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 the defence might be indefinitely protracted. Measures 
 were, therefore, taken ; and one night boats, brought 
 overland, were launched in the water. On board 
 of each boat a band of warriors embarked ; and 
 next morning the besieged, with dismay, observed 
 the lake covered with countless foes. Ere long it 
 became known throughout the city, that while 
 attempting to escape, the wife and children of the 
 Sultan had been captured ; and the Saracens gave 
 way to despair. 
 
 It was now the 20th of June ; and the crusaders, 
 considering the result no longer doubtful, girded them- 
 selves up for a last strenuous effort. Alexis, how- 
 ever, had prepared at this point to cheat them out of 
 the fruits of their valor. He had previously sent to 
 the siege an admiral and a general ; and these men, 
 coming ostensibly to aid the crusaders, but in reality to 
 prevent them getting possession of Nice, obtained 
 admission at a critical moment, and persuaded the 
 inhabitants that, to escape the vengeance of the 
 Franks, their best plan was to surrender to the Em- 
 peror. The Saracens took the advice of the Greeks ; 
 and when the crusaders were about to make a crown- 
 ing effort, the standard of Alexis was suddenly dis- 
 played from tower and turret. 
 
 Enraged at what they regarded as perfidy, the 
 crusaders retired to their tents and gave vent to their 
 indignation. Alexis, however, invited the leaders to 
 a conference ; and, having highly lauded their valor 
 and conduct, he contrived, by valuable gifts, to silence 
 their murmurs. Nevertheless, the crusaders now re- 
 garded the Emperor of the East as the worst of foes ; 
 
THE SIEGE OF NICK 65 
 
 and, with undisguised hatred and contempt for the 
 potentate to whom they had done homage, they set 
 forward from Nice on their marcli towards tlie Holy 
 City. 
 
 G* 
 
6G THE CJiUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF DOGORGAN. 
 
 Before marching from Nice, the pilgrim princes, 
 the more easily to procure provisions and forage by 
 the way, arrayed their men in two divisions. One of 
 these, and by far the most numerous, was conducted 
 by Godfrey of Bouillon, Raymond of Thoulouse, the 
 Count of Vermandois, and the Count of Flanders. 
 The other, composed prmcipally of fighting men, 
 brought by Norman princes to the holy war, was head- 
 ed by Curthose, Tancred, and Boemund of Tarentum. 
 
 While Godfrey, at the head of the main army, took 
 his way across the plain of Doryleum, Boemund and 
 the Norman warriors, pursuing a somewhat different 
 course, marched along the margin of a river, and en- 
 tered the valley of Dogorgan. They were utterly un- 
 acquainted with the country. But, confident in their 
 valor, they followed the stream, and trusted to sharp 
 swords and strong arms extricating them from any 
 dangers into which they might fall. 
 
 On the evening of the 30th of June, the Norman 
 crusaders reached a spot where they were tempted to 
 encamp. At one side was the river, on the other a 
 sedgy marsh ; while around grew plenty of grass ; 
 and, hard by, abundance of timber. Everything ap- 
 
f. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF DOGORGAN. 67 
 
 pearing secure, Boemund called a halt ; heralds, ac- 
 cording to custom, cried three times, " Save the Holy 
 Sepulchre ! " and the crusaders having pitched their 
 tents, and tethered their horses, indulged in what cheer 
 they had, and stretched their limbs to rest. 
 
 The sun set ; darkness overshadowed the valley : 
 and the night passed over in peace. At break of day, 
 however, Greeks came to the camp with intelligence 
 that the Sultan of Nice was on the opposite side of the 
 river with a numerous army ; and, scarcely had the 
 crusaders sprung in a somewhat incredulous mood 
 from their lairs, when clouds of dust, on the ridge of 
 the mountains, announced the presence of a foe. All 
 doubt was now removed. The Sultan, with two hun- 
 dred thousand Moslems at his back, had come to enjoy 
 his revenge. 
 
 It was well for the crusaders, in that hour of peril, 
 they had at their head such a warrior as Boemund. 
 With skill and coolness worthy of his reputation, the 
 Norman chief rapidly prepared for resistance. Having 
 hastily fortified the camp with wagons and palisades, 
 and placed the women and sick in the centre, he posted 
 the mfantry around, and moved forward the cavalry, 
 under Tancred and Curthose, to dispute the passage of 
 the river, lance in hand. Boemund, after thus array- 
 ing his men, stationed himself, with his riders, on some 
 rising ground, there to watch the battle, and issue such 
 orders as events rendered expedient. 
 
 The Prince of Tarentum had scarcely formed the 
 crusaders into battle order, when white turbans, and 
 green vests, and long spears, on the edge of the moun- 
 taui, began to move : and the Saracens descended 
 
68 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 into the valley. Blowing their horns, beating their 
 drums, and minghng their voices in a fearful yell, the 
 turbaned warriors approached the river's margin, and 
 thence discharged volleys of arrows and darts, which 
 rattled among the Norman knights. This led to serious 
 consequences ; for though the linked mail of the riders 
 saved them from injury, many horses, writhing under 
 wounds and utterly unused to the Saracens' drums and 
 yells, grew restive at such sounds, capered, pranced, 
 and flung furiously. The position of the horsemen, 
 who were exposed to a sun of intolerable brightness, 
 gradually became worse ; and, galled by the incessant 
 flight of arrows, they gave way to impatience, which, 
 at first, manifested itself in muttered imprecations and 
 at length broke through all restraint. 
 
 " We must take order with the infidel rabble," cried 
 one warrior. 
 
 " Yes," said a dozen voices, " let us charge :" and 
 with a cry of " Dieu aide," the Norman knights dashed 
 into the river, and spurred through the stream. 
 
 But the Saracens had no intention of indulo-incr their 
 foes with a close conflict. Trusting to their horses, 
 which seem.ed swifter than eagles, they opened their 
 i*anks whenever the Normans presented themselves, 
 dispersed to a distance, and then rallying, discharged 
 fresh missiles. Unaccustomed to such a style of war- 
 fare, the crusaders soon fell into disorder ; and the 
 Saracens availed themselves so speedily of the circum- 
 stance, that saddle after saddle emptied, and knight 
 after knight reeled to the dust. The carnage increased 
 every minute ; and horses without riders, running 
 hither and thither, added to the confusion. 
 

 
 ^, > j\c. 
 
 
THE BATTLE OF DOGOKGATC. 69 
 
 The armed pilgrims now began to lose energy. It 
 was in vain that such leaders as Tancred and Count 
 Robert of Paris threw themselves into the melee. Count 
 Robert, after having seen forty of his comrades killed, 
 fell mortally wounded. Tancred, whose lance had 
 been broken, was on the point of being struck down ; 
 but Boemund, hastily crossing the stream, shouted his 
 war-cry, in a voice of thunder, spurred into the rescue, 
 and bore off his nephew in safety. 
 
 While this struggle was taking place, and troop after 
 troop of Saracens descended the hill to continue the 
 fight, the Sultan, with a body of choice horsemen, 
 dashed over to the Christian camp, and scattered Boe- 
 mund's infantry right and left. Fearful was the scene. 
 Priests gave themselves up for lost ; and dames and 
 damsels began to anticipate a fate worse than death. 
 
 But the priests and ladies soon found that there was 
 hope. At this point Curthose, who had prudently re- 
 frained from crossing the river, advanced to the rescue, 
 and with a shout of " God wills it ! " spurred into the 
 midst of the foe. Nothing could resist his onset. 
 Followed by a host of knights, with his banner flying 
 and his sword flashing, the Norman duke overcame all 
 obstacles, and, cutting down three of the principal 
 Saracens with his own hand, inspired every crusader 
 with new courage. 
 
 While Curthose was performing prodigies of valor, 
 and carving a path through the Saracens, Boemund, 
 hearing of the danger to which the camp was exposed, 
 drew his rein, and hastened with his riders to the 
 rescue. Meeting a body of crusaders who were flying, 
 he pulled up his steed, and pointed out the absurdity of 
 their conduct. 
 
70 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 " AVhither are you riding, Christian soldiers ? " he 
 asked. " Don't you see that the horses of the Sara- 
 cens, have more speed than yours ? " 
 
 "It is true," muttered the fugitives in accents of 
 despondency. 
 
 " Come, then, follow me," said Boemund ; *' I will 
 show you a safer road than flight ; " and charging the 
 Saracens, sword in hand, he succeeded in expelling 
 Sultan and soldiers from the camp. 
 
 Nevertheless the battle wore an aspect most alarming 
 to the crusaders. Notwithstanding the prowess dis- 
 played by Boemund and Curthose, and the valor with 
 which they inspired their followers, every one felt that 
 the struggle could not longer be maintained. The sun 
 was high in the heavens, the heat was scorching ; men 
 were choked with dust, parched with thirst, and 
 fatigued with bearing up the fight against such odds ; 
 and horses, tired, wounded, and bleeding, hardly re- 
 tained sufficient strength to carry their riders. While 
 in this plight they retreated to the camp. Before 
 them were hosts of Saracens eager for carnage; and 
 at the head of the Saracens was a Sultan panting for 
 
 revenge. 
 
 " We need cherish no hope of seeing Jerusalem," 
 said the crusaders, mournfully. " Our doom is clearly 
 to die to-day." 
 
 " We need not yet despair," Boemund. would argue, 
 " it is hours since I despatched messengers to the Duke 
 of Lorraine. Ere this he knows our peril. Any mo- 
 ment may bring thousands of spears to our rescue. If 
 not, we can at least sell our lives dearly." 
 
 Boemund's courage, however, was shared by few. 
 
THE BATTLE OF DOGORGAN. 71 
 
 Heroism itself could not sustain the spirit of a handful 
 of men, who saw before them a host bent on their de- 
 struction, and thousands of sabres thirsting for their 
 blood. Everywhere in the Christian camp appeared 
 consternation and despair. Women were bewailing 
 their fate ; priests were imploring God's aid ; and sol- 
 diers, on their knees, were entreating priests to grant 
 them absolution. 
 
 But suddenly, from the midst of dismay and dread, 
 arose a shout of exultation, which was echoed and re- 
 echoed by hill and rock. The imperilled Christians 
 might well shout with joy ; for clarion and trumpet an- 
 nounced the approach of friends ; and soon, under the 
 sacred standard, borne by the Count of Vermandois, 
 fifty thousand horsemen, headed by Godfrey Bouillon, 
 came cantering over the hill. 
 
 The Sultan of Nice now seemed to think his plight 
 the reverse of enviable. After pausing to survey the 
 coming foe, and attempting to appear disdainful of the 
 danger, he deemed it prudent to sound a retreat and 
 return to the mountain. Perhaps he thought the 
 crusaders would not follow. If so, he was mistaken. 
 No sooner did Godfrey arrive, than he set his men in 
 order and prepared for the assault. 
 
 All were soon ready : but, ere Godfrey gave the 
 signal, priests passed along the lines, and after bestow- 
 in o- the church's blessing, reminded the Christian war- 
 riors of the Holy Sepulchre, and exhorted them to fight 
 manfully. An order to rush upon the foe was then 
 passed from rank to rank ; and, with a cry of " God 
 wills it ! " every man sprang forward. 
 
 The Sultan witnessed the preparations of the cru- 
 
72 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. 
 
 saders from tlie mountain, to which he had retreated, 
 and appeared to consider that hills, and crags, and 
 rocks guaranteed his safety. But the Moslem chief 
 soon found that he was in error. Indeed the crusaders, 
 to whom the sight of their slaughtered comrades was 
 as scarlet to the wounded bull, felt a craving for car- 
 nage, and the soldiers of Raymond of Thoulouse ascend- 
 ed the acclivity with such impetuosity, that the first 
 ranks of the Saracens were instantly broken. 
 
 While Raymond and his men were carrying every- 
 thing before them, the Saracens found themselves at- 
 tacked on one flank bv Boemund and Curthose, and on 
 the other by Godfrey of Bouillon and the Count of 
 Flanders. All was now disorder ; and to make their 
 situation desperate, the Bishop of Puy, who had con- 
 ducted the reserve round a hill, fell upon their rear 
 and completed the rout. Vain then proved the sound 
 of Saracenic horn and drum ; vain the sweep of sword 
 and crooked sabre. Surrounded as the Saracens were 
 on all sides, the idea of flight scarcely suggested a hope 
 of safety. Animated, however, by despair, they en- 
 deavored to escape through woods and over rocks. 
 But the crusaders proved vigilant and active ; multi- 
 tudes of the turbaned warriors fell on the mountain 
 side ; and the Sultan, seeing his army scattered in 
 dismay, lost heart, spurred from the scene of action, 
 " and, to prop up his credit, gave out that he had 
 gotten the day, pleasing himself to be a conqueror in 
 report." 
 
 The pilgrims, finding themselves victors, proceeded 
 to the camp of the enemy, where a rich booty reward- 
 ed their valor. Provisions, treasures, camels — which 
 
THE BATTLE OF BOGORGAN. 73 
 
 they had never before seen — and tents, the magnifi- 
 cence of which excited their admiration, fell into their 
 possession. 
 
 As evening was closing over the plains of Doryleum, 
 the crusaders, loaded with booty, returned to their 
 camp. Before them marched priests singing hymns 
 of gratitude ; behind them came the camels and horses 
 which had become their prey. Many, however, had to 
 deplore the loss of brothers and kinsmen. No fewer 
 than four thousand European warriors had perished in 
 the melee of the morning. But the mourners were 
 not without consolation. Indeed, it was believed that 
 the souls of those who fell with arms in their hands 
 and the cross on their shoulders, were purified from all 
 sin ; and priests while committing the dead to their 
 graves in the valley of Dogorgan, reminded survivors 
 that the names of men who died for the Holy Sepul- 
 chre were at once enrolled in the army of martyrs. 
 
74 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE SIEGE OF ANTIOCH. 
 
 After celebrating their victory at Dogorgan, the 
 warriors of the cross took their way towards Antioch. 
 Marching in a body, they avoided tlie hazard of an 
 attack by superior numbers, as on the 1st of July. 
 But they were ere long exposed to other disasters, 
 scarcely less disagreeable. 
 
 It soon appeared, indeed, that the march of the cru- 
 saders to Antioch was not to prove quite so pleasant as 
 that to Nice had been. The Sultan, with a desire for 
 vengeance, but without hope of gratifying it in battle, 
 determined to lay waste the country through which his 
 conquerors had to pass : and performed the operation 
 so effectually, that they soon experienced extreme 
 perplexity. Neither food for men nor fodder for 
 horses could be met with ; and the pilgrims for some 
 time subsisted on roots of plants, and such ears of corn 
 as the Sultan's cavalry had failed to destroy. 
 
 The utmost distress soon prevailed. Hawks, hounds, 
 horses, and human beings suffered alilve. Hawks 
 drooped and died ; hounds scampered off in search of 
 food ; horses sank exhausted ; women rolled on the 
 sand, and in accents of despair invoked death ; and 
 robust men, giving way to toil and famine, perished by 
 
THE SIEGE OF AJSTIOCII. 75 
 
 hundreds. Ere long, to the suffering caused by want 
 of food was added the misery arising from scarcity of 
 water. At length not a well, not a spring, not a brook 
 was to be met with. Every throat was parched — 
 every tongue felt as if on fire. 
 
 But at this desperate stage Providence, by sending 
 the dogs back to the camp, mercifully interposed to 
 save the Christian army from destruction. Observing 
 that their canine companions returned with wet skins and 
 paws covered with sand, the crusaders judged that water 
 was near, and, following the foot-prints, found a supply. 
 No discovery could have been more welcome. The 
 pilgrims rushed in a mass towards the place, and threw 
 themselves into the water. But moderation, under the 
 circumstances, was hardly to be expected ; and while 
 hundreds, from quenching their thirst without prudence, 
 died on the spot, many became too sick to continue 
 their journey. But still in the midst of suffering the 
 cry of the chiefs was " Onward ;" and still the burden 
 of the heralds' proclamation was — " Save the Holy 
 Sepulchre I" 
 
 At length this march, memorable for its miseries, 
 drew to a close ; and about the middle of October, the 
 crusaders, passing mountain chains, came in sight of a 
 fertile and charming country, and forgot all mishaps 
 and misfortunes, as the city of Antioch appeared before 
 their eyes. 
 
 Antioch was known as " Queen of the East," and 
 seemed not unworthy of the name. A beautiful situa- 
 tion, a lofty castle, magnificent edifices, and strong 
 walls fortified by four hundred and sixty towers, gave 
 a dignified and picturesque aspect to the city. On the 
 
76 THE CEUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 north rose one mountain covered with houses and gar- 
 dens ; on the south another mountain celebrated for its 
 forests and springs. The suburbs, which boasted of 
 the fountain of Daphne, wx're fair to look upon : and 
 the ramparts were washed by the River Orontes, 
 which communicated with a lake abounding in fish, 
 and, at a few miles' distance, flowed into the sea. 
 
 But to the crusaders Antioch was interestino; from 
 its historical connection with the faith of which they 
 were the champions. At Antioch the disciples of our 
 Redeemer assumed the name of Christians : and there 
 Peter was named first bishop of the Christian church. 
 Moreover, Antioch was associated with miracles ; with 
 saints and martyrs ; and with Christian pilgrims, who 
 regarded the " Queen of the East " with hardly less 
 veneration than the Holy City. 
 
 When approached by the crusaders, Antioch was 
 possessed by the Saracens, governed by a prince 
 named Auxian, and prepared for an obstinate defence. 
 But the warriors of the West were in no mood to be 
 daunted. The successes achieved by the army on its 
 march had been considerable. Tancred and Baldwin 
 of Bouillon had talven Tarsus. Tancred had then 
 seized Malmistra and Alexandretta ; while Baldwin not 
 only made himself master of the principality of Edessa, 
 but, by marriage with the daughter of an Armenian 
 prince, extended his sovereignty over the richest prov- 
 inces of Ancient Assyria. Besides, many cities of 
 Minor Asia had voluntaiily offered homage ; and the 
 crusaders, elate with success, approached Antioch with 
 an idea that no enterprise was too difiicult for them to 
 accomplish. 
 
THE SIEGE OF ANTIOCH. 77 
 
 Between the pilgrims, however, and the city of 
 which they proposed to take possession, flowed the 
 Orontes, which was spanned by a bridge, defended by 
 towers masked with iron. In order to arrive before 
 the walls, it was necessary to seize this bridge, and the 
 adventure seemed somewhat perilous. But Curthose 
 led the van ; and the Norman duke, who never shrunk 
 from danger in any form, charged with so much valor 
 that every obstacle gave way. Forcing a passage, and 
 cutting down all who opposed, Curthose chased the 
 defenders of the bridge to the gates of Antioch, while 
 the main army, with banners flying and trumpets sound- 
 ing, passed the river. 
 
 Encamping near the walls of Antioch, the cru- 
 saders held a council of war, and, after much solemn 
 debate, resolved on a siege. With this object they ad- 
 vanced to the gates. Strangely enough, however, not 
 a foe appeared on the ramparts. The crusaders, of 
 course, felt some surprise ; but, believing that men 
 who lay hidden at such a time would prove an easy 
 prey, they trusted to the course of events, and said — 
 " Let us meanwhile eat, drink, and be merry." 
 
 And now the armed pilgrims brought discredit on 
 their enterprise ; in fact, the soldiers of the cross 
 abandoned themselves to license and debauchery, and 
 perpetrated outrages utterly at variance with the 
 laws of God and man. All the country around An- 
 tioch witnessed their reckless proceedings. In every 
 village the work of plunder went on ; and in every 
 orchard, crusaders made love to the dark-eyed damsels 
 of Syria. Even men dedicated to the most austere of 
 professions were infected with the prevailing immoral- 
 7* 
 
•38 THE CRUSADES AND THE CHUSADERS. 
 
 ity ; and Christian bishops, forgetful of vows might 
 have been seen stretched on the grass and playing at 
 dice with nymphs whose reputations were not the 
 highest. 
 
 While the crusaders were defying danger and 
 decency, the Saracens availed themselves of the cir- 
 cumstance to make a sally from Antioch. The camp, 
 scarcely guarded, could not resist their progress ; and 
 sweeping out of the city, they cut off all whom the 
 hope of pleasure or plunder had attracted to the 
 villages and orchards. The Saracens, on returning, 
 cast the heads of the slain into the camp ; and the 
 Christians, roused to fury, vowed to revenge the 
 slaughter of their comrades. 
 
 The crusaders now resolved upon storming An- 
 tioch ; and a signal was given for the attack. Havmg 
 neither scaling ladders nor machines, however, their 
 efforts failed ; and they found the necessity of a more 
 systematic siege. Accordingly, they entrenched their 
 camp, constructed a bridge over the Orontes, erected 
 wooden towers, and occupied themselves with the 
 blockade. But at this point they experienced the 
 consequences of their imprudence : for winter setting 
 in, and provisions beginning to fail, they were exposed 
 *at once to the hazard of cold and famine. 
 
 When matters reached this stage, Curthose and 
 Boemund scoured the neighborhood in search of 
 provisions ; and the Norman princes returned with a 
 considerable supply. But the relief was temporary, 
 and every subsequent expedition of the kind was less 
 successful. Indeed, the forays were so frequent, that 
 the country soon had nothing to yield, and the most 
 
THE SIEGE OF ANTIOCH. ' 79 
 
 experienced border riders, who in later centuries won 
 fame by their predatory exploits, would have given up 
 the game. Neither Kinmont Willie nor Christy of the 
 Clinthill could have found it otherwise than impossible 
 to wring out of Upper Syria, sufficient spoil to subsist 
 the hungry army before Antioch. 
 
 The plight of the crusaders soon became intolerable. 
 Not only was the want of food severely felt : other 
 horrors accompanied hunger. One day they suffered 
 from torrents of rain ; another day, they had to strug- 
 gle against gusts of wind. When the rain fell and the 
 wind blew, the camp was flooded with water, and the 
 tents were carried away by the hurricane. The cru- 
 saders were in rags ; and disease appeared to add to 
 their miseries. At this point many abandoned the 
 camp. Among these were Peter the Hermit and 
 Robert Curthose. But Peter having been pursued, 
 was brought forcibly back ; and Curthose, after being 
 summoned in the name of Christ, returned from 
 Loadicea. 
 
 At the time when matters were getting past the 
 worst, the Caliph of Bagdad sent ambassadors to offer 
 the crusaders his alliance and protection. Wretched 
 as was their plight, the chiefs answered with indigna- 
 tion, and sent the Caliph a message as full of defiance 
 as if they had been safe and comfortable in their 
 French and Norman castles. 
 
 One day, when winter had worn away, the cru- 
 saders' chiefs learned with gratification that a fleet of 
 Pisan and Genoese ships had entered the port of St. 
 Simeon. No sooner did the news spread, than 
 numbers of the soldiers rushed off to hear news and 
 
80 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRIJSADEIIS. 
 
 purchase provisions. While returning to the camp, 
 the pilgrims were attacked by Saracens ; and being, 
 for the most part unarmed, they dispersed in dismay. 
 Hearing of this disaster, Godfrey of Bouillon, with 
 Curthose and Tancred, called out their men, mounted 
 their horses and galloped to the rescue. 
 
 At this point, the prince of Antioch was on a 
 tower of his palace ; and, having witnessed the skir- 
 mish, he descended, and ordered a numerous body of 
 troops to the rescue. Accompanying them to the 
 bridge, he pointed to the enemy whom they had to 
 encounter, and closed the gate after them. " This," 
 said he, " can only be opened to you if you return 
 victorious." 
 
 The Saracens thus incited, issued forth from the 
 walls ; and, meeting the crusaders as they rushed 
 forward, commenced a skirmish. But the Moslem 
 warriors soon became convinced of their inferiority ; 
 and, giving way in a body, made an attempt to regain 
 the city. Godfrey, however, who had no idea of 
 lettincr his foes off so easily, forced them to renew the 
 combat. A sanguinary battle was then fought. No 
 generalship was displayed ; but Pagan and Christian 
 contended hand to hand, and steel to steel. Helmet 
 and turban mingled confusedly in the struggle, and 
 on all sides deeds of marvellous prowess were per- 
 formed. 
 
 But none showed more valor than Godfrey and 
 Curthose. Godfrey defied by a gigantic Saracen to 
 single combat, spurred forward, and, with one sweep 
 of his sword divided the challenger's body from 
 shoulder to haunch. Curthose, assailed by the Sar- 
 
THE SIEGE OF ANTIOCH. 81 
 
 acen who figured as chief in command, raised his 
 falchion, and with a stroke cleft the infidel's head 
 from crown to chest. " Pagan dog ! " exclaimed 
 Curthose, as the Saracen fell lifeless to the ground, 
 *' I devote thy impure soul to the powers of hell."" 
 The carnage and the chase continued for hours ; and 
 not till it was dark did Auxian open the gates and 
 admit the fugitives. 
 
 After the fight before Antioch, the Saracens re- 
 garded the besiegers with awe ; but month after 
 month passed away, and May, 1098, was drawing to a 
 close, without the prospect of a surrender. The tempt- 
 ing prize for which the crusaders had waited so long, 
 appeared not unlikely to escape their grasp. Vague 
 rumors already announced the march of a IMoslem 
 host, when circumstances opened up to the warriors 
 of the cross a prospect of seizing by stratagem the 
 city which they had been unable to win by valor. 
 
82 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADEKS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 EMIPHER AND BOEMUND. 
 
 From the day on which the crusaders seized the 
 bridge, and approached the walls of Antioch, Boemund, 
 who had left Constantinople with the determination to 
 possess a principality long ere the pilgrims reached 
 Jerusalem, indulged in visions of his steeds stalled in 
 the stables of the palace, his soldiers manning every 
 tower on the w^alls, and his red banner waving from 
 the highest turret of the castle. Even when matters 
 were at the worst, the Prince of Tarentum patiently 
 enacted his part in the enterprise. At length fortune, 
 which throughout the siege had in reality been favor- 
 able to his aspirations, condescended to place the game 
 in his hands. 
 
 It happened that within the beleaguered city, an 
 apostate from Christianity was entrusted with an im- 
 portant post, without being very well satisfied, either 
 with himself or his situation. The name of this man 
 was Emipher ; and he had originally been an Arme- 
 nian, of obscure parentage. His father is said to have 
 been a maker of cuirases. But whatever the sire's 
 condition, the son's aspirations were high ; and, in 
 efforts to realise them, he was neither restrained by 
 considerations of morality or religion. At an early 
 
EMiniER AXD BOEMUND. 83 
 
 ase, he renounced his faith to take service with the 
 Prince of Antioch : and, having once assumed the tur- 
 ban, he played his cards so cleverly, that when the 
 crusaders appeared before Antioch, he was high in the 
 prince's confidence and in command of the principal 
 towers. 
 
 At the beginning of the seige, Emipher would seem 
 to have discharged his duty with fidelity. But as 
 months passed over, the idea of betraying his trust to 
 advance his fortunes, took possession of the renegade's 
 mind. At last he formed his resolution, and contrived 
 to make the Prince of Tarentum aware of his wish for 
 some conversation on business of importance. Boe- 
 mund, who was not slow to comprehend such a mes- 
 sage from such a quarter, intimated his readiness to 
 grant an interview. 
 
 Emipher and Boemund met without delay ; and the 
 hypocritical renegade, pretending to open his heart to 
 the ambitious Norman, expressed deep regret at having 
 deserted the religion of Christ, and deplored the perse- 
 cution to which Christians were exposed. Boemund, 
 who comprehended the point towards which his new 
 acquaintance was driving, encouraged the traitor to 
 proceed ; and Emipher, assuming a solemn air, de- 
 clared that Christ had appeared in a dream and 
 commanded him to betray Antioch to the crusaders. 
 Boemund, who could play the hypocrite as well as 
 Emipher, preached a little sermon, and proved beyond 
 question that never before had man been vouchsafed 
 such a golden opportunity of making a full and com- 
 plete atonement for an act of apostasy. 
 
 After this interview, during which, of course, Emi- 
 
84 THE CRUSADES AND THE CHUSADEHS. 
 
 pher was assured of high reward, in the event of his 
 scheme proving successful, Boemund called the pil- 
 grim princes together, and offered to have the gates of 
 Antioch thrown open to them on certain conditions, one 
 of which, he hinted, would be the sovereignty of the 
 city for himself. But the chiefs, far from relishing the 
 project, distinctly refused their countenance ; and Ray- 
 mond of Thoulouse elicited general applause, when he 
 expressed his opposition in the strongest language. 
 Boemund retired from the council baffled and vexed ; 
 but he felt that his failure was temporary, and that his 
 proposal would ere long find more favor in the eyes of 
 his comrades. 
 
 The Prince of Tarentum was not deceived. 
 Scarcely, indeed, had the crusaders rejected his offer, 
 when news arrived which created the utmost conster- 
 nation in the camp. The Sultan of Nice, it appeared, 
 had succeeded in rousing half the East ; and the Sul- 
 tan of Mossoul, a man of age and experience, was 
 marching at the head of four hundred thousand Moslem 
 warriors to exterminate the Christians. 
 
 The pilgrim princes, alarmed at their prospects, now 
 consulted Boemund, and on the 2nd of July, gave their 
 adhesion to his project. " After all," said they, " it 
 was Jerusalem, and not Antioch, we came to deliver." 
 Boemund, after hearing the explanations of his fellow- 
 soldiers, and sneering at their confused efforts to appear 
 consistent, communicated with Emipher, and made ar- 
 rangements for the execution of the project. 
 
 Every precaution having been taken, Boemund, to 
 throw the Prince of Antioch off his guard, gave out 
 that he was going to encounter the Sultan of Mossoul, 
 
EMIPIIER AND EOEMUXD. 85 
 
 and marched the pilgrim army away from the walls. 
 Halting near Antioch, he passed the day in a valley ; 
 and returning at night took up his position beneath the 
 towers, where Emipher was, with breathless anxiety, 
 awaiting the result of the plot. 
 
 In fact, Emipher found his head in danger ; for by 
 some means a rumor spread through Antioch that 
 treason was at work. Even the name of the traitor 
 was whispered. But Emipher's audacity was equal to 
 the crisis ; and his cunning was equal to his audacity. 
 On being summoned by the Prince, he appeared with 
 perfect readiness, and gave advice for defeating con- 
 spiracy, Auxian, completely deceived, took the ad- 
 vice ; and Emipher, loaded with thanks, returned to his 
 post. 
 
 While Emipher meditated and reflected the day 
 closed ; darkness overshadowed the city ; and gradu- 
 ally all became quiet. A storm which arose deepened 
 the gloom and the silence, save where broken by the 
 flash of lightning and the roll of thunder. At that 
 time the crusaders began to move noiselessly under the 
 walls ; and the Lombard engineer, having ascended to 
 the ramparts by a ladder, returned to tell that all was 
 ready for their reception. 
 
 But while Boemund's heart was beating high, and 
 Emipher's heart was beating anxiously, an unexpected 
 difllculty suddenly arose. Neither leaders nor men 
 showed the slightest inclination to venture up the lad- 
 ders. Threats and promises alike failed ; and Boemund 
 at length ascended alone, in the hope of his example 
 inspiring them with courage. Even after this nobody 
 moved, and the Prince of Tarentum reached the ram- 
 8 
 
86 THE CKUSADES AND THE CKUSADEKS. 
 
 parts unattended. Emipher, however, received Boe- 
 mund with joy, and at once presented terrible evidence 
 of sincerity. " That," said he, pointing to a bed on 
 which a man recently stabbed lay weltering in blood, 
 " that is my brother ; I have just killed him because he 
 refused to join our enterprise." 
 
 Boemund, who perhaps did not feel so much horror 
 at this fratricide as he ought, ascertained that every- 
 thing was prepared, and descended to his comrades. 
 With some difficulty he persuaded the Count of 
 Flanders and sixty other crusaders to accompany him, 
 and again ascended to the ramparts. Numbers then 
 took courage ; and, while Boemund was put by Emi- 
 pher in possession of several towers, Godfrey, with 
 Robert Curthose, having mounted the ladders, caused 
 trumpets to be sounded, and spread over the city, with 
 a shout of " God wills it ! " 
 
 The Prince of Antioch and his subjects, roused from 
 their slumbers, started up in surprise at the shouts 
 which resounded through the city. Feeling that he 
 had been betrayed, Auxian endeavored to escape, but 
 fell before the weapons of his foes ; and few of his 
 subjects were more fortunate. Scarcely aware what 
 had happened, they rushed hither and thither in 
 amazement. No mercy was shown them ; and the 
 slaughter continued so long, that thousands fell victims. 
 
 When the morning of Friday, the 4th of July, 1098, 
 dawned, the citadel of Antioch was still in the hands 
 of the Saracens. But the city was in possession of the 
 crusaders. The streets were strewed with corpses, 
 blood ran down the gutters, and the red flag of Boe- 
 mund waved over the highest turret. 
 
THE GKEAT EATTLE. 87 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE GREAT BATTLE. 
 
 A FEW days after Boemund had taken possession of 
 Antioch, three hundred Saracens, mounted on Arab 
 steeds, spurred towards the city and came close to the 
 walls. The crusaders, who were still celebrating their 
 success with festivities, felt some anxiety at this cir- 
 cumstance ; and, ere long, they learned with alarm, 
 that the Sultans of Mossoul and Nice, with nearly half 
 a million of men, a hundred thousand horses, and 
 fifteen thousand camels, had encamped on the Orontes. 
 
 The pilgrims had reason to regard the vicinity of 
 such foes with dread. Much treasure had been found 
 in Antioch, but no store of provisions; and the pros- 
 pect of a siege was perplexing. Moreover, the Sultan, 
 by seizing the pass of St. Simeon, cut off all hope of 
 supplies from Europe ; and the crusaders, starving in 
 the midst of wealth, could not purchase the common- 
 est necessaries for their weight in gold. 
 
 It now became necessary to kill horses, and knights 
 witnessed, with silent agony, the slaughter of war 
 steeds that had carried them gallantly on the day of 
 Dogorgan. But this source was soon exhausted ; and 
 the crusaders found themselves in a wretched predica- 
 ment. Men of all ranks fared alike ; and the proudest 
 
88 THE CRUSADES AND THE CHUSADERS. 
 
 of European princes were reduced to a plight that 
 would have been ludicrous, had not the circumstances 
 been too serious for mirth. Deaths and desertions 
 took place by hundreds ; and the despair grew so deep, 
 that many uttered sentiments savoring of blasphemy. 
 
 Amid famme and despair, Boemund's characteristic 
 courage sustained him. At first he addressed the cru- 
 saders in heroic language, and, finding that ineffectual, 
 he pointed out the absurdity of lying down to die like 
 dogs. " It is better," he said, " to lose your lives 
 wholesale on the point of the sword, than to retail 
 them out by famine." But eloquence and argument 
 alike failed to create zeal and energy ; and it became 
 apparent that nothing less than a miracle could restore 
 hope and courage. 
 
 One day, when affairs had reached a crisis, the 
 chiefs of the crusade assembled to deliberate ; and a 
 priest of Marseilles presented himself. " St. Andrew," 
 he said, " has appeared in a dream, and informed me, 
 that by digging in the church of St. Peter, we will find 
 the spear which pierced the side of our Redeemer, 
 and that this weapon, carried at the head of our army, 
 will insure us victory over our enemies." Believing, 
 or affecting to believe, the story, the pilgrim princes 
 repaired to the church, and, after much digging, had 
 the gratification of finding the object of their search. 
 
 No miracle could have been more beneficial in its 
 results. The chiefs, on beholding the spear, felt their 
 courage revive, and crusaders of all ranks, who had 
 anxiously awaited the issue of the search, vociferously 
 demanded to be led against the foe. The princes were 
 in no humor to oppose a wish so loudly expressed. 
 
THE GHEAT BATTLE. 89 
 
 Before sallying forth, however, they determined to 
 send to the Sultan of Mossoul, and selected Peter the 
 Hermit as most capable of figuring as ambassador. 
 Peter undertook the duty, and set out on his mission. 
 One sight of the mystical spear had kindled his zeal 
 to such a pitch, that no danger would have daunted 
 him. 
 
 In the midst of the Saracen camp, the Sultan of 
 Mossoul occupied a magnificent pavilion. It was formed 
 so as to resemble a fortified city, divided into streets 
 flanked with towers, furnished with every article that 
 could contribute to oriental luxury, and so constructed 
 as to accommodate two thousand people. In an apart- 
 ment of this structure, ornamented with gems and 
 gold, the Sultan, surrounded by Saracen chiefs, was 
 engaged with a game of chess, when Peter the Her- 
 mit, arrayed in his woollen mantle, was introduced. 
 
 " What is your errand ? " asked the old Moslem 
 warrior, turning from his game, stroking his beard, and 
 regarding the Hermit with contempt. 
 
 " I come in the name of the princes assembled in 
 Antioch," said Peter, returning the Sultan's glance 
 with stern pride ; " and I conjure you in the name of 
 God, to leave this principaHty. Go in peace, and I 
 promise that you will not be molested. But if you 
 refuse to go in peace, let a battle convince you of the 
 justice of our cause." 
 
 " Return to those who sent you," said the Sultan, 
 in a paroxysm of rage, " and tell them that it is for the 
 conquered to receive conditions, not to dictate them. 
 Bid thy captains hasten, and, this very day, implore 
 my clemency. To-morrow they will find that their 
 8* 
 
90 THE CKUSADES AXD THE CRITSADERS. 
 
 God, who could not save himself, will not save them 
 from the fate prepared for them," 
 
 " Listen ! " said Peter, utterly undismayed by the 
 applause bestowed on the Sultan's speech by the Sara- 
 cen chiefs around. 
 
 " Drive this vagabond away," exclaimed the Sultan, 
 laying his hand on his sword ; " these miserable mendi- 
 cants unite blindness with insolence." 
 
 By this time the crusaders were more eager than 
 ever for battle ; and wiien Peter carried the Sultan's 
 answer to Antioch, the chiefs proclaimed that, next 
 day, they would march against the foe. Some pro- 
 visions having been accidentally obtained, every man 
 had the benefit of a meal ; and all having heard mass 
 in the evening, lay down to await the break of day. 
 Raymond of Thoulouse, who was suffering from a 
 wound, agreed to remain and keep watch on the cita- 
 del. Every other chief prepared to take part m the 
 encounter. 
 
 When the morning of the 1st of July, the anniver- 
 sary of the battle of Dogorgan, dawned, a slight shower 
 came opportunely to refresh the atmosphere ; and the 
 gates of Antioch having been thrown open, the crusad- 
 ers issued forth in order of battle. The Count of 
 Vermandois bore the church's banner ; the Bishop of 
 Puy commanded the centre of the army, and fulfilled 
 at once the functions of a skilful war-chief and apos- 
 tohc legate ; Godfrey of Bouillon led the right wing, 
 mounted on the war-steed of Raymond of Thoulouse, 
 and attended by his brother Eustace and his kinsman 
 Baldwin du Bourg ; while the left was under the 
 auspices of Curthose and the Count of Flanders. In 
 
THE GREAT BATTLE. 91 
 
 the rear was a body of reserve, among whom were the 
 An£i;lo-Norman warriors, led bv the Earl of Albemarle ; 
 and there Boemund assumed his post, with an eye on 
 every part of the battle. Others were about to fight 
 for life and victory ; but Boemund was going to fight 
 not only for life and victory, but for the principality of 
 Antioch, and the great scheme which he hoped posses- 
 sion of Antioch would enable him to realise. 
 
 Marching westward to a semicircular plain, formed 
 by the mountains bordering the Orontes, and covered 
 with dry grass and bushes, the crusaders prepared for 
 a decisive action. Never, perhaps, did an army 
 reduced to such misery feel so confident of victory. 
 Most of the soldiers were in rags ; many were suffer- 
 ing from famine ; some were so weak, that they walked 
 with difficulty ; and others, in the absence of horses, 
 rode on donkeys and camels. But enthusiasm made 
 up for every defect ; and they marched with the con- 
 viction that heaven had decreed a victory. Neither 
 clarion nor trumpet cinnounced their approach to the 
 Saracens ; but priests, walking in the van, bore aloft 
 the spear found in St. Peter's church, and sang, in 
 procession, the martial psalm, " Let God arise : let 
 His enemies be scattered." 
 
 The Sultan of Mossoul sat in his magnificent tent, 
 when his soldiers who had been posted nearest Antioch 
 fell back upon the camp, and announced the enemy's 
 approach. At first the Sultan could hardly believe 
 the report ; and on being assured of its correctness, he 
 said, " Doubtless they come to implore clemency." 
 But ere long he became convinced of his error, and, 
 arousing himself from his Arabian repose, put on his 
 
92 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 arrruDr, issued from his tent, ordered his trumpets to 
 sound, and marshalled his troops for the conflict. 
 
 Both armies having formed in order for battle. Cru- 
 sader and Saracen were soon face to face, and . an 
 awful pause of a few minutes gave the warriors of 
 Christendom a sight of the overwhelmmg numbers 
 they had to encounter. But nothing could damp their 
 enthusiasm. They restrained their zeal, however, till 
 the Saracens, after discharging a flight of arrows, 
 began the battle by a fierce onset ; and then, givmg 
 way to an irresistible impulse, knight, squire, and 
 groom charged impetuously forward, and, with a cry 
 of " God wills it ! " which resounded along the banks 
 of the Orontes, swept before them both wings of the 
 Sultan's army. 
 
 When the day opened so inauspiciously for the 
 Saracens, the Sultan of Mossoul, who watched the 
 conflict from a hill, must have been dismayed. But 
 the aspect of the field suddenly changed. The Sultan 
 of Nice, at the head of his cavalry, having made a 
 circuit of the mountains, and returned by the river, 
 attacked the crusaders in the rear, and menaced the 
 reserve with destruction. In vain did Boemund exert 
 his energy^ and his eloquence ; in vain did Frank and 
 Norman, Godfrey and Tancred, come to his aid. The 
 rush of Arab cavalry, armed with clubs, bore down all 
 opposition ; and the Sultan of Nice fought like a lion, 
 to avenge his defeats and retrieve his disasters. No 
 eflbrts of valor availed to turn the tide of fight ; and 
 the steindard of the church wrenched from the Count 
 of Vermandois, was held aloft as a trophy. But 
 Aubrey De Vere, cutting his way to the sacred 
 banner, brought it off* dyed with infidel blood. 
 
THE GREAT BATTLE. 93 
 
 ^ While the Christians struggled against fearful odds, 
 and valorous exploits were performed on both sides, 
 the Saracens set fire to the bushes and dry grass. 
 Enveloped in clouds of smoke and flame, the crusad- 
 ers fell into confusion, and expressed their consterna- 
 tion in accents of despair. 
 
 » Where," they asked, " is now the heavenly succor 
 that was promised us .? " 
 
 " Behold these horsemen in white," cried the Bishop 
 of Puy, pointing to a mountain ; " heaven declares 
 for you. The blessed martyrs — George, Demetrius, 
 and Theodore — come to aid you, and to assure you 
 
 of victory." 
 
 " God wills it ! " cried the crusuders, perhaps with- 
 out pausing to inquire critically into the truth of the 
 prelate's statement.^* 
 
 . A rumor that celestial warriors were at hand spread 
 from rank to rank ; and the crusaders inspired with a 
 notion that the saints were domg battle on their behalf, 
 renewed the conflict with fiery enthusiasm. Every 
 crusader fought as if suddenly gifted with preter- 
 natural power ; and the Saracens disordered by the 
 shock, gave way in dread. The Sultan of Nice and 
 other leaders rallied their broken forces on an ac- 
 clivity, and, sounding clarions and trumpets, endeav- 
 ored to renew the contest; but the attempt was 
 abortive. After a faint resistance, the Saracens gave 
 way in terror, and, pursued over plain and mountain, 
 fell by thousands before the weapons of their foes. 
 
 * " Some," says Fuller, " saw St. George in the air, with an 
 army of white horses fighting for them; but these did no doubt 
 look through the spectacles of fancy." 
 
94 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 The crusaders mounted the horses of the slain, 
 and it was not till nightfall that they drew their reins 
 and wiped their swords. Even then some continued 
 the chase through the gardens and villages on the 
 Orontes. Aubrey de Vere urged on the pursuit 
 so keenly, that hours after sunset he and his men 
 found themselves miles from Antioch, and in a locality 
 with which they were unacquainted. The predica- 
 ment caused some dismay ; but suddenly a star of 
 excessive brightness seemed to light on De Yere's 
 shield, and the phenomenon imparted comfort and hope 
 to his followers. An idea that they were under heaven's 
 especial protection instantly occurred to them ; and 
 they cried with one voice — " God wills our safety ! " 
 De Vere and his men found their way to the camp ; 
 and Aubrey, in memory of this adventure, assumed a 
 star with streams as his badge. The star was after- 
 wards carried by the De Veres when Earls of Oxford ; 
 and on Barnet field it caused the memorable blunder 
 that ruined the army, which, under Richard Neville, 
 Earl of Warwick, was struggling against the estab- 
 lishment of despotism in England. 
 
 Meanwhile, the citadel of Antioch surrendered to 
 Raymond of Thoulouse ; and the result of " The Great 
 Battle " caused joy and rejoicing throughout the city. 
 Wants, wounds, and woes were all forgotten. The 
 victory was so complete, as to decide for a time the 
 war between Christian and IMoslem ; and pilgrims, 
 armed and unarmed, indulged in a hope, unfelt for 
 months, of soon kneeling at the Holy Sepulchre. No 
 serious efforts to oppose their progress were likely to 
 be made. The Saracens, in fact had little faith in 
 
THE GREAT BATTLE. 95 
 
 their cause ; and those who had occupied the citadel, 
 on surrendering, expressed a very general sentiment, 
 when they exclaimed -— '' We now know that the God 
 of the Christians must be the true God." 
 
1)6 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SIEGE OF THE HOLY CITY. 
 
 A FEW days after the defeat of the Sultan of Mos- 
 soul, the pilgrim warriors assembled in a body, and im- 
 plored the chiefs of the crusade to lead them towards 
 Jerusalem. The princes and barons, however, were in 
 no humor for the expedition. The idea of capturing 
 a city and founding a sovereignty had caught the 
 imagination of each ; and, instead of encouraging the 
 pilgrims to proceed towards the Holy Sepulchre, they 
 used arguments to damp enthusiasm. " The summer 
 is at its height," said they, " and we have no horses. 
 We must wait till the season is cooler, and till we have 
 replaced our war-steeds." 
 
 The crusaders accordingly remained at Antioch ; 
 and their abode in that fair city proved unfavorable 
 to their enterprise. Besides being worried by disputes 
 between Boemund and Raymond of Thoulouse, they 
 were attacked by an epidemic, to which fifty thousand 
 fell victims, among whom was the brave and pious 
 Bishop of Puy. 
 
 Even when summer had passed, and the army had 
 diminished to fifty thousand men, the chiefs occupied 
 themselves with petty enterprises, and wholly neg- 
 lected the gretit object of their expedition. Besides, 
 
SIEGE OF THE HOLY CITY. 97 
 
 some of them, like the Count of Blois and the Count 
 of Vcrmandois, returned to Europe. At length the 
 soldiers declared, in disgust, that they would elect 
 new leaders ; and, alarmed at this threat, Raymond of 
 Thoulouse, in company with Curthose and Tancred, 
 took his way towards Jerusalem. Godfrey of Bouillon, 
 with the Count of Flanders, speedily followed ; and 
 after consuming months in petty hostilities with Sar- 
 acens, and in disputes about the sacred spear, between 
 Curthose's chaplain — Arnold de Rohes — and the 
 priest of Marseilles, the crusaders, on the morning of 
 the 29th of May, 1099, ascended the heights of Em- 
 maus, and at dawn came in sight of the Holy City. 
 
 *' Jerusalem ! " cried those who first descried the 
 towers and walls. 
 
 " Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! " shouted all the pilgrims 
 as they uncovered their heads and rushed forward in 
 ecstacy. 
 
 Lines of walls, groups of massive towers, and a few 
 olive trees rising from the sterile plain, were all that 
 met the thousands of arrested eyes. But the sight 
 was enough. A thrilling and sublime emotion. per- 
 vaded the army of crusaders, as they gazed on the city 
 they had so earnestly longed to behold ; and a voice 
 seemed to sound in the ear of each, saying, " Put off 
 thy shoes from off thy feet ; for the place whereon 
 tiiou standest is holy." The horsemen sprung from 
 their saddles. Some prostrated themselves and kissed 
 the earth ; others walked forward barefoot, and all, 
 shedding penitential tears, renewed the vow they had 
 made before leaving Europe. 
 
 While the crusaders, animated by Christian zeal, 
 9 
 
1 
 
 98 THE CRirSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 drew near to Jerusalem, a body of Saracens issued 
 from the city to watch their movements and impede 
 their march. But Tancred, who had ah'eady planted 
 the Christian banner over Bethlehem, where the Re- 
 deemer of mankind was born, advanced at the head of 
 his horsemen, and chased them to the gates. The 
 pilgrim army then advanced ; and the chiefs, pre- 
 paring to commence the siege, posted their men to the 
 north of the city, " being scarcely assaultable on any 
 other side, by reason of steep and broken rocks." 
 Godfrey, with his brother Eustace of Bouillon, and 
 his kinsman Baldwin du Bourg, set up his standard in 
 the centre. On one hand of Godfrey encamped . 
 Raymond of Thoulouse ; and, on the other, Robert 
 Curthose, the Count of Flanders, and Edgar Atheling, 
 who, after seating his nephew on the Scottish throne, 
 had joined the crusaders at Loadicea, with the flower 
 of that noble race which had for six centuries given 
 kincrs and nobles to the British isles. 
 
 While the crusaders were glowing with religious 
 fervor inspired by a sight of the Holy City, a hermit, 
 who. had long lived on Mount Olivet, left his cell and 
 appeared in the camp. Nothing more than his pres- 
 ence was wanting to fire their zeal. He recommended 
 them to make an immediate assault and to trust for 
 victory to the aid of Heaven. Chiefs and soldiers 
 yielded to the anchorite's eloquence, and declared for 
 taking the Holy City by storm. 
 
 There was more valor than discretion in all this. 
 The crusaders, in fact, had no machines of war and 
 scarcely a scaling-ladder. Nevertheless, their enthu- 
 siasm was such that nobody objected to the enter- 
 
SIEGE OF THE HOLY CITY. 99 
 
 prise ; and, at a given signal, they advanced. While 
 some, under cover of shields, assailed the walls with 
 hammers and pikes, others, ranged at a distance, an- 
 noved the defenders of the city with slings and bows. 
 
 But the Emir of Jerusalem, whose garrison num- 
 bered forty thousand men was in no yielding mood. 
 Encourafjing; his men, he ur2;ed them to do their 
 utmost, and to prove themselves worthy of their 
 prophet. Macliines, placed on the ramparts, dis- 
 charged every species of missile ; and blocks of stone, 
 beams of wood, burning torches, boiling pitch, and 
 Greek fire, wrought fearful havoc. Still the crusaders 
 persevered, and the outer wall fell before their im- 
 petuous efforts. The inner wall, however, presented 
 an impassible barrier. An escalade was indeed at- 
 tempted ; but the crusaders, finding that scarcely one 
 of the ladders was of sufficient lengrth to reach the 
 ramparts, abandoned the assault ; and, returning to 
 their tents, prepared to prosecute the siege after a 
 more regular fashion. 
 
 Unfortunately, the crusaders were in no position 
 to exercise patience. Before their arrival at Jeru- 
 salem, the Saracens had scoured the neighborhood, 
 carried everything in the shape of provender to the 
 city, and cut off the supply of water by choking up 
 wells and poisoning cisterns. At the same time, the 
 Kedron was dry ; the fountain of Shiloe, only flowing 
 at intervals, could not suffice for fifty thousand people ; 
 and most of the water had to be carried, in skins, 
 from fountains or rivulets many miles off. Encamped 
 on arid plains, and under a glowing sun, everybody 
 experienced more or less misery ; and as days passed 
 
]00 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 over, men, women, and children, gave way to de- 
 spair. " There is only one remedy for this state of 
 things," said the pilgrim princes — "Jerusalem must 
 be taken." 
 
 Luckily ere matters reached a crisis, the crusaders 
 received intelligence which revived their courage. 
 At Joppa, an ancient seaport, forty miles from Jeru- 
 salem, some Genoese ships, with provisions and war- 
 like stores, and engineers on board, had appeared. 
 Joy pervaded the camp ; and a troop of cavalry was 
 despatched to act as convoy to the men and ammuni- 
 tion. On reaching Joppa, the crusaders found that 
 the Genoese fleet had been destroyed by Saracens. 
 But the mariners and engineers having saved some 
 provisions and tools, were conducted in safety to Jeru- 
 salem. 
 
 Nothing but wood was now wanting for the con- 
 struction of engines of war. At first some difficulty 
 was apprehended. A Syrian, however, presented him- 
 self to Curthose and the Count of Flanders, and con- 
 ducted them to a mountain, where trees grew, some 
 thirty miles from Jerusalem. The distance proved no 
 obstacle. The forest soon resounded with axes ; and 
 the trees, when felled, were drawn to the camp by 
 oxen shod with iron. Meanwhile the machines were 
 rapidly constructed ; and, ere long, the pilgrim princes 
 found themselves in a position to prosecute the siege 
 with some prospect of success. 
 
 Before renewing their efforts, however, the cru- 
 saders, advised by the Hermit of Mount Olivet, re- 
 solved on a grand religious procession. Headed by 
 the clergy, clad in white, bearing images, and singing 
 
SIEGE OF THE HOLY CITY. 101 
 
 psalms, the warriors of the cross walked around Jeru- 
 salem, with trumpets sounding and banners displayed. 
 On the summit of Mount Olivet, they halted in view 
 of the city they had come to rescue ; and priests, in 
 solemn accents, lauded their zeal and fired their en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 " You see Christ's heritage trodden by the feet of 
 infidels," said Arnold de Rohes, pointing toward the 
 city ; " but it shall soon be the reward of your 
 labors. There are the Holy Places in which God 
 will bless all your victories, and pardon all your 
 sins." 
 
 " Yes," exclaimed Peter the Hermit, " a few hours 
 — and towers, the last bulwark of Christ's foes, shall 
 be the asylum of Christians ; and mosques, which 
 stand upon Christian ruins, shall be temples for the 
 true God." 
 
 On the morning of Thursday, the 14th of July, the 
 crusaders roused themselves to action ; and no sooner 
 did day break, than the sound of trumpets summoned 
 them to arms. All the engines constructed by the 
 Genoese were immediately at work ; and the Saracens 
 perceived with astonishment, and not without fear, 
 the preparations made for their destruction. They 
 had no time, however, to indulge in pensive reflec- 
 tions. Huge towers wheeled forward, brought the 
 crusaders face to face with their foes ; and Christian 
 fought hand to hand with Moslem. Godfrey par- 
 ticularly signalized his prowess ; all the chiefs were 
 foremost in the assault ; the soldiers fought coura- 
 geously and well ; and even " women played the men 
 and fought most valiantly in armor." 
 9* 
 
102 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 The Emir of Jerusalem was now somewhat daunt- 
 ed. But the idea of drooping was out of the question ; 
 and the Saracens had girded themselves up for a des- 
 perate defence. Every effort was made to drive back 
 the besiegers. Gigantic Saracens, on the ramparts, 
 encountered the crusaders in the wooden towers ; and 
 boilmg oil, Greek fire, stones and beams, were merci- 
 lessly poured upon those who assailed the walls. The 
 crusaders soon ibund their situation disheartening. 
 The most strenuous endeavors to achieve success 
 failed, and after an exhausting contest of twelve 
 hours, they were fain to beat a retreat amid the 
 shouts and laughter of their infidel foes. 
 
 " These Christians," cried the Saracens jeeringly 
 from the ramparts, " worship a God who cannot aid 
 them." 
 
 " It seems," said Curthose to the Count of Flanders, 
 as they retired to their camp, " that God does not yet 
 deem us -worthy of entering his Holy City, and adoring 
 at the tomb of his Son." 
 
 The elation of the Saracens, and the depression of 
 the crusaders, were ephemeral. Both, however, dread- 
 ing a surprise, passed Thursday night in anxiety and 
 doubt. The Saracens feared an assault : the crusaders 
 feared a sally. But the night sped away without a 
 collision, and when Friday morning came, Moslem and 
 Christian prepared for a decisive encounter. 
 
 The crusaders by this time had a new motive for 
 exertion. They had intercepted a pigeon in its flight 
 towards the city ; and found under its wing a letter, 
 the contents of which caused alarm. Succor in fact, 
 was promised without fail to the besieged ; and under 
 
SIEGE OF THE HOLY CITY. 103 
 
 such circumstances, delay was not to be thought of by 
 the besiegers. While, therefore, the clergy walked in 
 procession to Mount Olivet, the soldiers repaired to the 
 walls, and resumed the struggle with a zeal and deter- 
 mination still greater than had been displayed on the 
 previous day. 
 
 The onset was impetuous, and the shock terrible ; 
 for the resistance was as obstinate as the assault 
 was enthusiastic. The besiegers launched stones and 
 beams against the ramparts ; the besieged retaliated 
 with equal fierceness ; and the carnage on both sides 
 was fearful. Godfrey of Bouillon exposed himself to 
 every danger, but seemed to bear a charmed hfe ; for 
 though a mark for a hundred missiles, he remained 
 erect urging on friends and striking do\vn foes. 
 
 It happened that the engines constructed by the 
 Genoese proved peculiarly mahgnant to the Saracens ; 
 and alarmed at the havoc wrought, the besieged 
 " cased the outside of their walls with bags of chaff, 
 straw, and such pliable matter, which conquered the 
 engines of the Christians by yielding into them." 
 But observing that one huge catapulta continued to 
 make alarming ravages, the Saracens conducted two of 
 their " wise women " to the wall with the object of 
 charming aside beams and stones. Neither word nor 
 spell, however, produced the slightest effect. The 
 catapulta was no respecter of persons ; and the unfor- 
 tunate witches perishing miserably, furnished the Sar- 
 acens with fresh evidence of its destructive powers. 
 
 But noon passed, afternoon was speeding away, 
 and evening was drawing near, and still the crusaders 
 made little progress ; and at length the Greek fire, 
 
104 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 setting their machines in a blaze, reduced them to 
 despondency ; while the Saracens, pointing to the 
 heaps of besiegers slain at the foot of the ramparts, 
 uttered loud and taunting cries. At the moment, how- 
 ever, when the crusaders, fatigued with the weight of 
 their armor, covered with dust and oppressed with 
 heat, leant on their swords and gave way to despair, 
 a horseman waving a buckler, appeared on Mount 
 Olivet. 
 
 " Behold," cried Godfrey, " St. George has come 
 again to our aid, and makes a signal for us to enter 
 the Holy City." 
 
 " God wills it ! " cried the crusaders, as they re- 
 turned with one accord, to the assault. 
 
 And now before the walls of Jerusalem was re- 
 kindled that fieiy zeal, Avhich had swept Mossoul's 
 Sultan and his soldiery from the plains of Antioch. 
 Not even warriors of the highest patriotism and 
 chivalry — not the victors of Cressy or Agincourt, 
 could have Ions; resisted men who fought with a belief 
 that the saints were doins; battle in their behalf 
 Every eye glanced with religious fervor, and every 
 arm struck with supernatural prowess. Pious frenzy 
 rendered the armed pilgrims irresistible. Amid clouds 
 of flame, and smok&, and dust, Godfrey, preceded by 
 Reimbault Cretan, who appears first to have footed 
 the walls, entered the city ; and Eustace of Bouillon, 
 with a host of warriors, followed with shouts of 
 victory. Curthose and the Count of Flanders, aware 
 of the success of their comrades, redoubled every 
 effort, and scaled the walls sword in hand. Raymond 
 of Thoulouse, opposed to the Emir of Jerusalem in 
 
SIEGE OF THE HOLY CITY. 105 
 
 person, met with a sturdy resistance ; but, disdaining 
 all danger, the aged Count leaped from his wooden 
 tower to the ramparts — Saracens bearing back at the 
 i sound of his war-cry, and the Emir flying before the 
 sweep of his sword. 
 
 Jerusalem now resounded with loud cries of ven- 
 geance. The conquerors, under a delusion that they 
 were rendering God service, slaughtered without 
 mercy the enemies of their religion. Thousands 
 upon thousands of the vanquished fell ; and lor days 
 the blood of Saracens, old and young, flowed like 
 water."* 
 
 While swords were clashino; and blood was flowino;, 
 Godfrey of Bouillon, leaving the scene of carnage, 
 laying down his sword, uncovering his head, and 
 baring his feet, walked in a posture of humility to the 
 church of the Resurrection, and prostrated himself on 
 the tomb of Christ. On hearing of the pious chief's 
 act of devotion, the crusaders hastened to follow his 
 example : and, preceded by the clergy, walked in 
 solemn procession, singing penitential psalms and 
 songs of thanksgiving. 
 
 Ere this ceremony was over, the Christians in 
 Jerusalem emerged from places of concealment, and 
 advanced to meet their deliverers. The spectacle 
 touched every heart, and brought tears to every eye. 
 But from among princes and peers they singled out 
 
 * " If you wish to know what we did to the enemies we 
 found in the city, learn that in the portico of Solomon and in 
 the Temple, our horses walked up to the knees in the impure 
 blood of Saracens."— Z.c//cr of ike Pihjrim Princes to the 
 Pope. 
 
106 THE CEirSADES AND THE CRUSADEES. 
 
 the figure of the Httle man, clad in the woollen mantle, 
 who five j^ears before had walked wildly about the 
 Holy City, busying his brain with projects for their 
 rehef. It was Peter the Hermit whom they regarded 
 as their liberator ; and, crowding around him, they 
 expressed boundless astonishment that one man should 
 have been able to rouse so many nations, and to work 
 so mighty a deliverance. 
 
BOOK SECOND. 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GODmEY AXD HIS SUCCESSORS. 
 
 Ox the 23d of July, 1099, Jerusalem witnessed an 
 impressive ceremony. On that day, the crusaders, 
 who, a week earlier, had entered the Holy City sword 
 in hand, assembled for the purpose of electing one of 
 the pilgrim princes as king. Owing to the paucity of 
 candidates for regal honors, the duty does not appear 
 to have been very perplexing. It is true, that the 
 names of Robert Curthose, Robert of Flanders, Ray- 
 mond of Thoulouse, and Godfrey of Bouillon, were 
 bruited about. But Curthose and the Flemish Count 
 intimated their intention of returning forthwith to 
 Europe ; and the Count of Thoulouse having, by his 
 haughty and impracticable temper, rendered himself 
 unpopular, Godfrey was generally recognized as the 
 most likely man to dignify the office. 
 
 Nevertheless, difficulties appear to have arisen ; 
 and the crusaders, to terminate disputes, appointed 
 ten of the most sober and discreet pilgrims to decide 
 
 [107] 
 
108 TUE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 on the rival claims. After fasting and praying, these 
 personages proceeded to the work of election, and 
 closely inquired into the character of the candidates. 
 Even servants were examined as to the habits of 
 their masters ! and those of Godfrey gave such evi- 
 dence as to his religious devotion as was deemed con- 
 clusive. 
 
 " What faults have you observed in the Duke of 
 Lorraine ? " asked the council. 
 
 " The only fault we find with our master," an- 
 swered the witnesses, " is, that when matins are over, 
 he will stay so long in chiirch to learn the name of 
 every image and picture, that dinner is often spoiled 
 by his long tarrying." 
 
 " Ah," said the council, " as this man's worst vice 
 appears to us a great virtue, Jerusalem could not 
 have a better sovereign." 
 
 The nomination of Godfrey of Bouillon was ac- 
 cordmgly decided on ; and when heralds proclaimed 
 his name, the liveliest joy pervaded the city. The 
 successful candidate expressed his sense of the dis- 
 tinction conferred on him ; but, with pious modesty, 
 he declined the symbols of regal power. " I cannot 
 consent," he said, " to wear a crown of gold, where 
 the Saviour of mankind wore a crown of thorns." 
 Godfrey contented himself with the title of " First 
 Baron and Defender of the Holy Sepulchre ; " but he 
 was invested with sovereign authority, and was, in 
 reality, as much a king as any man could have been 
 under tlie circumstances. 
 
 Immediately after the election of Godfrey, the 
 pilgrim princes attended him in triumph to the church 
 
GODFREY AXD HIS SUCCESSORS. 109 
 
 of the Holy Sepulchre ; and the pious warrior there 
 took an oath to rule according to the laws of honor 
 and justice. Scarcely, however, was the ceremony 
 over, when startling intelligence reached Jerusalem. 
 It appeared, in fact, that a mighty army had arrived 
 at Ascalon, bent on giving the crusaders battle ; and 
 that the Moslem host was under the command of the 
 Emir Afdhal, one of the most renowned of Moslem 
 warriors. 
 
 The news spread terror throughout Jerusalem. 
 Indeed, it was known that the Emir had sworn, in 
 presence of the Caliph, to annihilate the crusaders, 
 and it was feared that he might have the power to 
 execute his oath. Godfrey, however, was undaunted. 
 Without delay he summoned all Christians capable of 
 bearing arms to march with him from Jerusalem ; and 
 requested Arnold de Rohes, recently elected as Pa- 
 triarch, to accompany the army with the wood of the 
 true cross. At first, Curthose and Raymond of Thou- 
 louse, declaring that their vow was accomplished, 
 exhibited indifference, and expressed their opinion 
 that no army was approaching. But both, on being 
 assured of the danger, summoned their men, girded on 
 their mail, mounted their chargers, and marched with 
 Godfrey to meet the foe. 
 
 While women and sick men remained in Jerusalem, 
 under the auspices of Peter the Hermit and the clergy, 
 who offered up prayers day and night, for the success 
 of the Christian arms, Godfrey, having at the head of 
 the crusaders marched across a sandy country, halted, 
 on the evening of the 11th of August, by the margin 
 of the Sorec, a little torrent flowing through a plain 
 10 
 
110 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 between the cities of Joppa and Ascalon. While 
 encamped there, at evening, the crusaders suddenly 
 perceived at some distance what appeared to them an 
 armed multitude, and two hundred horsemen spurred 
 out to reconnoitre. On returning they reported that 
 what looked like an army was, in reality, a huge drove 
 of cattle and camels, and the soldiers of the cross 
 intimated their desire to seize so valuable a booty. 
 Godfrey, however, restrained them. " I see nothing 
 in this," said he, " but a stratagem of the enemy to 
 throw us into disorder. I beg, therefore, that no man 
 will leave his ranks." 
 
 Events soon vindicated the wisdom of Godfrey's 
 admonition. As evening advanced, news reached the 
 camp that the Saracens were then within three 
 leagues, and awaiting a favorable opportunity to at- 
 tack. The crusading chief's then formed their soldiers 
 into nine divisions, and having kept them under arms 
 all night, prepared, at daybreak, for a decisive en- 
 counter. The Patriarch, after carrying the cross 
 through the ranks, and blessing the whole army, 
 gave the signal for marching. The crusaders, fully 
 armed, fell on their knees, imploring Heaven's aid in 
 the battle, and then, rising with fresh ardor, advanced 
 in order. As they did so the droves of camels and 
 oxen, seen on the previous evening, fell into their rear 
 and followed their movements. 
 
 Meanwhile the Emir Afdhal set the Saracens in 
 order of battle on the verge of the plain of Ascalon. 
 To the west of the Saracens, and situated on the- 
 coast, was the city, over which the Moslem banners 
 waved ; and to the east and west were the sea and 
 
GODrREY AXD HIS SUCCESSORS. Ill 
 
 mountains which protected their rear. Afdhal's army, 
 which was infinitely more numerous than that of the 
 crusaders, was arranged, hke theirs, in two lines, and 
 was most formidable in appearance. The Emir occu- 
 pied a position in the centre ; and did all that a brave 
 man could to animate his troops to do their duty. 
 
 Everything now seemed to promise Afdhal victory, 
 but a sudden terror seized the Saracens at the sight of 
 the Christian army. In fact, the droves of cattle fol- 
 lowing the crusaders, in the midst of the confusion 
 and clouds of dust, appeared like so many squadrons 
 of horse. The Saracens, completely deceived, be- 
 lieved that multitudes of Christians had arrived from 
 Europe, and that the crusaders were more numerous 
 than they. It was in vain that the Emir endeavored 
 to dispel the delusion and restore the courage of his 
 troops. They were quite crestfallen. 
 
 While the Saracens were in dismay and doubt, 
 Robert Curthose, at the head of the European cavalry, 
 broke their ranks, and penetrating to their centre, 
 overthrew all who opposed, captured the Moslem 
 standard, and put Afdhal himself in no small jeo- 
 pardy ; and the European infantry, following in the 
 track of Curthose, and casting away javelin and bow, 
 wielded their swords with terrible effect. On all 
 sides the Saracens were thrown into disorder, in 
 vain did a band of Ethiopians, who first placed one 
 knee on the ground to launch javelins, and then 
 sprung up with long flails, armed with balls of iron, 
 attempt to turn the fortune of the day. Yielding 
 before the lances of Godfrey and his knights, the 
 Ethiopians dispersed ; and the Saracens, flying in 
 
112 THE CRUSADES AND THE CTitJSADERS. 
 
 masses, were so hotly pursued, that many perislied in 
 the sea, and thousands were crushed to death on the 
 drawbridge, wliile attempting to find an asylum in 
 Ascalon. Afdhal, after leaving his sword on the field, 
 narrowly escaped to the city ; and, viewing the de- 
 struction of his army from the walls he shed tears 
 of anger and cursed Mahomet for deserting faithful 
 disciples. 
 
 Afdhal embarked for Egypt, not believing himself 
 to be safe in Ascalon. Indeed, the crusaders might, 
 with little difficulty, have made themselves masters of 
 that city, but for an unfortunate quarrel between 
 Godfrey and Raymond of Thoulouse, which was nearly 
 producing fatal consequences. As it was, the cru- 
 saders, loaded with booty and followed by the droves 
 of cattle, marched in triumph to Jerusalem. 
 
 After the battle of Ascalon, most of the pilgrim 
 princes prepared to depart from the Holy City. Ray- 
 mond of Thoulouse, who had sworn never to return 
 to the west, repaired to Constantinople, and received 
 from the Emperor a grant of the city of Laodicea. 
 Eustace of Bouillon, brother of Godfrey, and Robert, 
 Count of Flanders, repaired to Europe, and taking 
 possession of their hereditary estates, passed their 
 lives in peace and prosperity. Curthose was less 
 fortunate. He, indeed, reached Normandy and took 
 possession of his dukedom ; but some years later, his 
 territory was invaded by his younger brother, Henry, 
 King of England ; and Curthose, vanquished and 
 taken at Tenchebray, was conveyed to Cardiff Castle, 
 and kept as a state prisoner till 1148, when, at an 
 advanced age, he terminated a life of misery and woe. 
 
GODFREY AND HIS SUCCESSORS. 113 
 
 Like the pilgrim princes, Peter the Hermit con- 
 sidered his work accomplished when the Holy Se- 
 pulchre was rescued. While on his homeward voyage, 
 in company with a nobleman, Peter found himself in 
 danger of shipwreck, and vowed if saved to build an 
 abbey in honor of the Holy Sepulchre. Escaping 
 the peril, he founded a monastery on the banks of the 
 Maes, and lived there for many years in humble 
 penitence.* 
 
 After the departure of his comrades-in-arms, God- 
 frey was left with a few hundred knights to defend 
 the Holy City and the kingdom, which so much blood 
 and valor had been expended to gain. But the 
 wisdom and heroism of the man rendered him almost 
 equal to the task ; and he had little doubt of receiving 
 important aid from Europe. Indeed, those who had. 
 left the army of crusaders, and returned home without 
 taking part in the siege of Jerusalem, were accused of 
 cowardice ; and both the Count of Blois and the 
 Count of Vermandois, who had deserted the pilgrim 
 army at Antioch, found themselves in such bad odor, 
 that they resolved on a new expedition. But of the 
 multitude of crusaders who left Europe under their 
 guidance, not more than a handful ever reach Jeru- 
 salem ; and the Count of Vermandois, attacked and 
 defeated, fled to Tarsus, where he died of his wounds. 
 
 Godfrey did not survive to learn the fate of these 
 pilgrims. He lived long enough, however, to do much 
 
 * " Several families," says Michaud, " have pretended to be 
 descended from Peter the Hermit. The most rational and best 
 supported claim is that of the family of Souliers, which still 
 exists in the Limousin.'- — JVote to History of the Crusades. 
 10* 
 
114 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 good — to extend the frontiers of his kingdom — to 
 divide the conquered lands among tlie companions of 
 his victories and to promulgate the code of legisla- 
 tion known as the " Assizes of Jerusalem." 
 
 It happened that Tancred, having been sent into 
 Galilee, was successful in taking Tiberias and other 
 cities. Placed in possession of the country he had 
 conquered, Tancred attacked the territories of the 
 Sultan of Damascus, and the Sultan not unnaturally 
 retaliated. 
 
 When informed of Tancred's danger, Godfrey 
 marched to his assistance ; and he had succeeded in 
 defeating the Saracens, and set out on his return to 
 Jerusalem, when he was met by the Emir of Ceserea. 
 The Emir presented an offering of the fruit of the 
 country, and Godfrey, by way of courtesy, accepted a 
 cedar apple. He had scarcely eaten this, however, 
 when he suddenly became sick ; and his knights in 
 alarm conveyed him to Joppa. At Joppa Godfrey 
 grew worse and worse ; and on the 18th of July, 1100, 
 after committing the kingdom of Jerusalem to the 
 companions of his victories, he breathed his last. 
 Having been carried to the Holy City, and borne up 
 the ascent of Calvary, the remains of Godfrey were 
 laid near the Sepulchre which he had rescued from 
 desecration ; and his death was mourned by the Chris- 
 tians whom he had freed from oppression. 
 
 Immediately after Godfrey was laid at rest on 
 Mount Calvary, the Patriarch and the Barons of Jeru- 
 salem engaged in disputes as to the choice of a prince 
 to occupy the throne, which the death of Godfrey had 
 rendered vacant. The Patriarch, claiming the crown 
 
GODFREY AND HIS SUCCESSORS. 115 
 
 as his owTi, sent messengers to Boemund of Antioch 
 to come and defend the cause of the church. The 
 Barons, denying the Patriarch's right, despatched depu- 
 ties to Baldwin of Edessa, asking him to take posses- 
 sion of his brother's throne. The messengers sent 
 to Antioch returned with intelligence, that Boemund 
 had been made prisoner while on an expedition against 
 the Turks. Tlie deputies despatched to Edessa, 
 brought back the assurance that Baldwm would ere 
 long appear at Jerusalem to take possession of the 
 crown. 
 
 The prize was not particularly tempting ; for 
 Baldwin was master of a rich and mamificent ter- 
 ritory. But his ambition was fired with the prospect 
 of figuring as a king ; and, making over Edessa to 
 his kinsman, Baldwin du Bourg, he set out for Jeru- 
 salem at the head of fourteen hundred men. On 
 reaching the Holy City, the brother of Godfrey was 
 welcomed with enthusiasm by the inhabitants ; and 
 the Patriarch, though he at first held aloof, gradually 
 came to reason, and at length consented to perform 
 the ceremony of coronation. 
 
 Baldwin was well qualified to extend the limits of 
 the Christian kin2;dom. No sooner was he recoo-nized 
 as sovereign of Jerusalem, than he signalized his 
 capacity as a warrior by expeditions against the Sara- 
 cens, and with such success as astonished his adver- 
 saries. City after chy yielded 1o his arms ; and as 
 monuments of his genius as a conqueror, he could soon 
 point to Ceserea and Sidon, TripoU and Acre, all 
 destined to be more or less important in the struggles 
 for the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
116 THE CHUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Baldwin was not blessed with heirs ; and when he 
 died, his. kinsman, Baldwin du Bourg, happening to 
 visit Jerusalem at the time, was elected king and 
 placed on the vacant throne. Baldwin, resigning the 
 principality of Antioch to Joceline de Courtenay, re- 
 ceived the crown of Godfrey, carried on war with the 
 Saracens, and succeeded in winning the favor and 
 maintaining the interests of his subjects. Most of the 
 pilgrim princes who had rescued the Holy Sepulchre, 
 and won for themselves principalities, had disappeared. 
 Raymond of Thoulouse, after wandering over the 
 East, had fallen while besieging Tripoli, which was 
 afterwards bestowed on his descendants. Boemund, 
 after attempting to realize his youthful aspirations and 
 making war on the Empire of Constantinople, returned 
 to Tarentum, and, in that little state, died of despon- 
 dency and despair. Tancred, while governing Antioch 
 during the minority of Boemund's son, Avas killed when 
 engaged in war with the Saracens. Baldwin du Bourg, 
 therefore was respected in no small degree, as about 
 the last of the companions of Godfrey. 
 
 While Baldwin occupied the throne, Fulke, Count 
 of Anjou, with a notion of consoling himself for the 
 loss of a wife to whom he had been devotedly attached, 
 resolved on a pilgrimage to Palestine. Leaving his 
 county to his son Geoffrey, the ancestor of the Planta- 
 genets, Fulke appeared at Jerusalem, and won general 
 admiration by the qualities he displayed. Baldwin, 
 pleased with Fulke, offered the illustrious pilgrim the 
 hand of his eldest daughter ; and Fulke, accepting 
 the proposal with joy, espoused Millicent, the heiress 
 of Jerusalem, 
 
GODFREY AND HIS SUCCESSORS. 117 
 
 Soon after the marriage of his daughter, Baldwin 
 expired ; and Fulke, as husband of Milhcent, was 
 crowned King of Jerusalem. But one day, while 
 hunting on the plains of Acre, he was killed by a 
 fall from his horse ; and his son Baldwin succeeded to 
 the throne. 
 
 It was now that the Christian states in Asia gave 
 evident symptoms of that decline, which, in spite of 
 all efforts to avert their fate, gradually brought them 
 to their melancholy catastrophe. Baldwin the Thiid 
 was a boy of thirteen when his father died : and he 
 began to reign under the auspices of his mother. Bald- 
 win was a youth of high courage, and Millicent a woman 
 of masculine spirit. But the kingdom of Godfrey 
 was in no condition to be defended by a woman and 
 a boy; and, ere long, the conquest by a Moslem 
 chief, of one of the most important principalities won 
 by the pilgrim princes, made the Christians of the 
 East turn imploringly for aid to the warriors of the 
 West. 
 
118 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PALL OF EDESSA. 
 
 Whex Baldwin du Boiirg surrendered the sover- 
 eignty of Edessa to ascend the throne of Jerusalem, 
 one of the barons to whom he owed his elevation was 
 Joceline de Courtenay. 
 
 The circumstance was calculated to cause some 
 surprise : for Baldwin and Joceline were not supposed 
 to be on the most friendly terms. Indeed, Joceline, 
 after being in other days loaded with favors by Bald- 
 win, had manifested so little gratitude, that he was 
 expelled by his patron from the Euphrates, and com- 
 pelled to take refuge at Jerusalem. But when Bald- 
 win became a candidate for the regal dignity, all quar- 
 rels appeared to be forgotten : and when Baldwin 
 placed the crown of Jerusalem on his head, Joceline 
 was gifted with the principality of Edessa. 
 
 For many years Joceline de Courtenay maintained 
 feudal state at Edessa, and constant war with the in- 
 fidels on the banks of the Euphrates. Even time did 
 not tame his warlike energy : and, in old age, he con- 
 tinued terrible to the enemies of his faith. One day, 
 however, while besieging a fortress near Aleppo, the 
 old warrior was crushed beneath the ruins, and drag- 
 
THE FALL OF EDESSA. 119 
 
 ged out in so bruised a condition, that no hope was 
 entertained of his recovery. Conveyed to Edessa, 
 and placed on a couch, he there calmly awaited the 
 destroyer, whom he had often defied in the ranks of 
 battle. 
 
 While Joceline was passing his last hours wearily at 
 Edessa, he received inteUigence that the Saracens were 
 besieging one of his strongholds, and sent for the heir 
 of his name and his dominions. 
 
 " My son," said the aged warrior, " go instantly and 
 attack the foe." 
 
 " I fear," said young Josceline, " that we have not 
 men enough to encounter the enemy." 
 
 hidignant that, under such circumstances, a son of 
 his should talk of fear, and determined to show a 
 great example, the dying man caused himself to be 
 placed on a litter, and carried at the head of his 
 soldiers. On the way he was informed that the 
 Saracens had retired from the siege, and smiled 
 grimly, as if gratified at the terror associated with his 
 name. Next moment he ordered the htter to stop ; 
 and he expired amid his soldiers, while his eyes turned 
 towards heaven, as if rendering thanks for the flight 
 of his enemies. 
 
 The defence of Edessa now devolved upon the son 
 of the departed hero ; but young Joceline was by no 
 means equal to the duty. From boyhood he had been 
 addicted to dissipation ; and no sooner did the grave 
 close over his father, than he took up his abode on the 
 Euphrates, and indulged his inclinations without stint. 
 In a delicious retreat on the banks of the river, he 
 pursued a thorough system of debauchery, and neg- 
 
120 THE CRUSADES AN^D THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 lected every measure essential for the security of the 
 principality. 
 
 I\Ieanwhile a Moslem warrior, named Sanguin, who 
 had obtained the principality of BIossoul, with Aleppo 
 and other Syrian cities, cast his eyes longingly on 
 Edessa, and only awaited a favorable opportunity 
 of taking the city. The prize was tempting to an 
 ambitious soldier ; and the walls had, from neglect, 
 become so frail, that no formidable opposition was ap- 
 prehended. 
 
 Joceline was still occupied with his debaucheries, 
 when one day startled with mtelligence that Sanguin 
 had appeared before the city with a formidable army, 
 with his nerves in disorder and his ideas m con- 
 fusion, the youthful prince scarcely knew on which 
 side to turn. In extreme perplexity, he sent to the 
 Queen of Jerusalem and the Prince of Antioch, ex- 
 plainmg his danger, and imploring aid. But no one 
 was in a position to attend to the application ; and the 
 Christians of the East soon learned, that, after pres- 
 sing the siege for a month, the Saracens had entered 
 Edessa as conquerors, and put the inhabitants to the 
 sword. 
 
 Soon after having captured Edessa, Sanguin, whose 
 pride success had elevated to the highest pitch, 
 perished by the hands of slaves whom he had op- 
 pressed ; and Joceline de Courtenay, rousing himself 
 from slothful indulgence, buckled on his armor to 
 regain his inheritance. Fortune seemed to smile on 
 Joceline's efforts. Availing himself of the confusion 
 consequent on Sanguin's assassination, he led his men 
 to Edessa in the darkness of night, and succeeded in 
 
THE FALL OF EDESSA. 121 
 
 re-taklng the city. But unhappily he was less for- 
 tunate in regard to the citadel ; and when Noureddin, 
 the son of Sanguin, unexpectedly arrived before the 
 walls, the Christians found themselves in a desperate 
 situation between the garrison and the besiegers. 
 
 Joceline and his friends now perceived that their 
 plight was the reverse of enviable. There appeared, 
 indeed, no hope of safety but in flight, and they re- 
 solved to fly. At midnight, accordingly, the gates 
 were thrown open ; and the Christians, issuing forth 
 in silence, endeavored to escape. But few were 
 fortunate enough to accomplish their object. A sig- 
 nal made by the garrison roused the besiegers to 
 arms ; and the soldiers of Noureddin, rushing to the 
 gates, intercepted the fugitives, and cut them down 
 without mercy. Some thousands of warriors, closing 
 their ranks, forced a passage through the Saracen 
 host ; but, pursued towards the Euphrates, they fell in 
 heaps. Only a handful reached the abode of friends 
 to tell that the Christians of Edessa were slaughtered, 
 and that citadel and city remained in the possession of 
 the foe. 
 
 The conquerors of Edessa used their victory with- 
 out mercy, and without forbearance. Thirty thousand 
 Christians are said to have perished by the swords of 
 the Moslems ; many thousands more were carried 
 into slavery ; and even the walls, the towers, and the 
 churches were razed to the ground. 
 
 Joceline de Courtenay, after the loss of his pruici- 
 pality, fell into the hands of the Saracens ; and, having 
 been carried captive to Aleppo, died there ui misery, 
 in prison, and in chains. 
 11 
 
122 THE CRUSADES A2JD THE CRUSADEES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PREACHING OF ST. BERNARD. 
 
 In the year 1137, when England was entering on 
 that dynastic war, between Stephen and the Empress 
 Maud, which terminated in the accession of the Plan- 
 tagenets to the throne, Louis the Sixth, after having 
 governed France for thirty years, with credit to him- 
 self £ind advantage to his kingdom, departed this life 
 at Paris. When prostrated on his uneasy couch, the 
 dying king gave his heir that kind of advice, which 
 comes so solemnly from the lips of a man whose soul 
 is going to judgment. " Pemember," said he, " that 
 royalty is a public trust, for the exercise of which a 
 rigorous account will be exacted by Him who has the 
 sole disposal of crowns." 
 
 Louis the Young, to whom this admonition was ad- 
 dressed, ascended the French throne when scarcely 
 more than eighteen, and espoused Eleanor, daughter 
 of the Duke of Aquitaine. The King, who had been 
 educated with great care, gave promise of rivalling 
 the policy and prowess of his father ; and the young 
 Queen, besides being endowed by fortune with a mag- 
 nificent duchy, had been gifted by nature with rare 
 beauty and intellect. Everything prognosticated a 
 prosperous future. 
 
THE PREACHING OF ST. BERNAKD. 123 
 
 Scarcely, however, had Louis taken the reins of 
 government, than the prospect was clouded by the in- 
 subordhiation of the Count of Champagne and the 
 pretensions of the Pope. Louis, not daunted by the 
 league which they formed, mounted his war-horse and 
 set out to maintain his authority. But the expedition 
 terminated in a tragical event, which seemed to 
 change the King's nature. While besieging Vitey, 
 he cruelly set fire to a church, in which the inhab- 
 itants had taken refuge : and having burned the edi- 
 fice, with thirteen hundred human beings within its 
 walls, he experienced such remorse, that for some 
 time afterwards, he had hardly courage sufiicient to 
 look upon the face of day. 
 
 The tragical scene was ever present to the young 
 King's memory ; and while still brooding painfully over 
 the crime, news of the fall of Edessa reached France. 
 The idea of pacifying his conscience by a new cru- 
 sade immediately occurred ; and an assembly of ba- 
 rons and bishops was summoned to consider the project. 
 This assembly submitted the propriety of such an 
 enterprise to the Pope ; and the Pope, after expressing 
 approval, confided to St. Bernard the preaching of a 
 new crusade. 
 
 Bernard, who was then Abbot of Clairvaux, and at 
 the height of his fame, entered upon his mission with 
 zeal. Having, in the spring of 1146, convoked an 
 assembly at Vezalay, he presented himself in the garb 
 of £in anchorite, and, on a hill outside the town, ad- 
 dressed an immense concourse, among whom figured 
 the King and Queen of France, surrounded by barons 
 and prelates. Never was an orator more successful. 
 
124 THE CKUSADES AND THE CEUSADEES. 
 
 Indeed, Bernard produced an impression hardly less 
 marvellous than Peter the Hermit had done half a 
 century earlier; and, as he concluded, his audience 
 raised the old cry of " God wills it ! " 
 
 While the hill-side was ringing with enthusiastic 
 shouts, Louis, throwing himself on his knees, received 
 the cross ; and Eleanor immediately followed her 
 husband's example. Shouts of " The cross ! " " The 
 cross ! " then rose on all hands ; and peers and peas- 
 ants, bishops and burghers, rushing forward, cast them- 
 selves at Bernard's feet. Such was the demand, that 
 the crosses provided for the occasion were quite in- 
 sufficient. But Bernard, tearing up his vestments, got 
 over the difficulty with a readiness that Boemund of 
 Tarentum might have envied : and the sacred emblem 
 soon appeared on every shoulder. 
 
 Elate with the success of his oratory, Bernard 
 travelled through France preaching the crusade ; and 
 having in every city and province roused the enthusiam 
 of the populace, he repaired to Germany. 
 
 At that time, the crown of the empire of the West 
 rested on the brow of Conrad the Third, but not quite 
 so easily as he could have wished. In fact, the Ger- 
 man Caesar had a formidable rival in the Duke of 
 Bavaria, and felt the reverse of secure. When, there- 
 fore, Bernard reached Spires, and asked the Emperor 
 to arm for the defence of the Holy Sepulchre, Conrad, 
 who was holding a Diet, evinced no ardor for the en- 
 terprise, 
 
 " Consider," he said, " the troubles in which the 
 empire would be involved." 
 
 " The Holy See," said Bernard, " has placed you 
 
THE PEEACHING OF ST. BERNARD. 125 
 
 on the imperial throne, and knows how to support you 
 there. If you defend God's heritage, the Church will 
 take care of yours." 
 
 But still Conrad hesitated ; and the preacher's 
 eloquence was exerted hi vain. At length, one day 
 when Bernard was saying mass before the Emperor 
 and the princes and lords assembled at Spires, he 
 paused in the midst of the service to expatiate on the 
 guilt of those who refused to fight against Christ's 
 enemies ; and produced such an effect while picturing 
 the day of judgment, that Conrad's hesitation van- 
 ished. 
 
 " I know what 1 owe to Christ," he said, approaching 
 with tears in his eyes to receive the cross, " and I 
 swear to go where his service calls me." 
 
 " This is a miracle ! " exclaimed the peers and 
 princes present, as they followed their sovereign's ex- 
 ample, and vowed to attend his steps. 
 
 Having gained over Conrad, the eloquent saint 
 pursued his triumphs, and soon fired Germany with 
 zeal. When he returned to France and reported his 
 success, preparations began in both countries ; enthu- 
 siasm was general. Men of all ranks assumed the 
 cross ; and even women vowed to arm themselves 
 with sword and lance, and took an oath to fight for the 
 Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 It was arranged that Louis and Conrad should 
 depart in the spring of 1147, and that the French 
 and German armies should unite at Constantinople. 
 When the time approached, all rushed eastward with 
 the cry of " God wills it ! " and eveiy road was cov- 
 ered with pilgrims on tlicir way to the camps. Ber- 
 11* 
 
126 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 nard must almost have felt some dismay at the effect 
 of his eloquence. " Villages aiid castles are deserted," 
 he wrote to the Pope, " and there are none left but 
 widows and orphans, whose husbands and parents are 
 still hving." 
 
MUCH BKUIT AND LITTLE FliUIT. 127 
 
 CIIAPTEH IV. 
 
 MUCH BRUIT AXD LITTLE FHUIT. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1147, Europe was in com- 
 motion. Everywhere in Germany and France, men 
 were seen with the cross on their shoulders. Shep- 
 herds flung down their crooks, husbandmen abandoned 
 their teams, traders quitted their booths, barons left 
 their castles, and bishops deserted their bishoprics, to 
 arm for the defence of the Holy Sepulchre. From 
 England, exhausted by dynastic war, and Italy, agi- 
 tated by ecclesiastical strife, bands of warriors issued 
 to swell the armies of Conrad and Louis. Blany ladies 
 armed themselves for this crusade, and prepared to 
 signalise their prowess under the leadership of a female 
 warrior whose dress excited much admiration, and 
 whose gilded boots procured her the name of " Golden- 
 legs." 
 
 At Ratisbon, about Easter, the Emperor of Ger- 
 many assembled his warriors. Accompanied by a 
 host of nobles, among whom were his brother Otho, 
 Bishop of Frisigen ; his nephew, Frederick Barbarossa, 
 Duke of Suabia ; the Marquis of Montferrat, and the 
 Duke of Bohemia, Conrad commenced his march east- 
 ward at the head of a hundred thousand men, and sent 
 messengers to announce to the Emperor of the East 
 
12S THE CRITSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 the intention of the crusaders to cross the Greek terri- 
 tories. 
 
 At this period, Emanuel Comnenus reigned at Con- 
 stantinople. Emanuel was grandson of Alexis, whose 
 cunning had wrought the first crusaders so much 
 annoyance, and quite equal in duplicity to his prede- 
 cessor. On receiving Conrad's message, he returned 
 an answer highly complimentary. But while professing 
 great friendship for the new crusaders, he made all 
 their movements known to the Saracens, and so 
 managed matters that their march was frequently 
 interrupted. 
 
 The elements appeared not less hostile to Conrad's 
 army than the Greeks. While the Germans encamped 
 to keep the Feast of Assumption, in a valley on the 
 river Melas, a storm suddenly rose, and swelled so 
 violently that horses, baggage, and tents were carried 
 away. The crusaders, amazed and terrified, gathered 
 themselves up ; and, deploring their mishaps, pursued 
 the way to Constantinople. 
 
 The Emperor of the East was not by any means 
 overjoyed at seeing a rival Ccesar before his capital. 
 Emanuel Comnenus showed, like his grandsire, some 
 doubts of the crusaders' good faith ; and would no 
 doubt have manifested his antipathy more strongly, if 
 Conrad's army had been less formidable. As it was, 
 the German Emperor did not meet with any temptation 
 to prolong his visit. Instead, therefore, of awaiting the 
 arrival of the French at Constantinople, Conrad made 
 haste to cross the Bosphorus. 
 
 No sooner was Conrad on Asiatic soil, than the per- 
 fidy of the Greeks became manifest. Every city was 
 
MUCH BRUIT AND LITTLE FRUIT. 129 
 
 fortified — every gate closed. Even provisions, for 
 which the crusaders had prepared to pay, were 
 obtained with difficulty ; and Greek traders, while 
 buying and sclhng, proved as dishonest as their Em- 
 peror. Before being supplied with meal, the Germans 
 had to place money in a basket lowered from the 
 ramparts; and the meal, after being obtained, was 
 generally found to be adulterated with lime. More- 
 over, insult was added to injury : for, however grudg- 
 ingly the Greeks furnished provisions, they were by no 
 means sparing of ridicule. 
 
 But this was not the worst. The Greek guides, 
 recommended to Conrad by Emanuel, proved treach- 
 erous in the extreme ; and the Germans' line of march 
 was so well known to the Saracens, that ambuscades 
 awaited them in every defile, and stragglers were cut 
 off at every turn. At length, when the crusaders 
 reached the river Meander, the Moslems in great force 
 awaited them on the opposite bank. 
 
 The Emperor and his men had grown so weary of 
 marching side by side with treacherous friends, that 
 they were not, perhaps, sorry to have courageous foes 
 face to face. The river, however, had not the appear- 
 ance of being fordable ; and the crusaders had a very 
 slender prospect of coming to close conflict with their 
 foes. Conrad, however, was not to be baffled. After 
 exhorting them to do their duty, he gave the signal for 
 dashing onward ; and the crusaders, urged to heroism, 
 plunged boldly into the river. The consequence is 
 said to have been somewhat startling to the foe. The 
 stream, suddenly stopped by the multitude of men in 
 bucklers, corslets, and steel brassets, seemed to stand 
 
130 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 still ; and the Saracens, astonished at seeing their 
 enemies pass as if on dry land, concluded that they 
 were aided by supernatural powers. 
 
 The crusaders, without delay, availed themselves of 
 the effect produced ; and the Saracens were so amazed, 
 that they had scarcely courage to make a struggle. 
 The victory of the Germans was soon complete ; and 
 the vanquished were killed in such numbers, that their 
 bones long afterwards formed mounds along both 
 banks of the river. 
 
 After tliis triumph, which perhaps inspired the Ger- 
 mans with an idea of invincibility, Conrad led them 
 towards Iconium. But at this point his enemies were 
 prepared for a desperate struggle. The Sultan of 
 Iconium had assembled a mighty army to oppose the 
 crusaders' passage ; and the Greek guides soon led the 
 Emperor's soldiers into the Sultan's snare. 
 
 While Conrad and his men, near Laodicea, were 
 toiling, under a burning sun, through narrow passes, 
 turbans and spear-heads became visible on the moun- 
 tains ; and gradually a Moslem host appeared in view. 
 The crusaders, pent up in defiles and encumbered with 
 heavy armor, were in no condition to encounter such 
 foes with success ; and the Saracens, making attacks 
 with the velocity of hawks coming down on their prey, 
 allowed them no rest. The crusaders suffered to such 
 an intolerable degree, that corpses strewed their line of 
 march ; and Conrad, finding that his army had 
 gradually melted away, prepared to retreat. Escap- 
 ing, more by good luck than good guidance, from the 
 Saracens' pursuit, the Germans, reduced to a tenth of 
 their original number, contrived to find their way to 
 Constantinople. 
 
jrUCH BRUIT AND LITTLE FRUIT. 131 
 
 Meanwhile, the King of France was in motion. 
 About the Feast of Pentecost, Louis proceeded to the 
 Abbey of St. Denis to take from the aUar the national 
 standard of France, which, from a staff of gold and a 
 banner with edges shaped like flames, derived the 
 name of " Oriflamme." Having received the ori- 
 flamme, and the abbot's permission to depart from the 
 kingdom, Louis, accompanied by Queen Eleanor, with 
 her ladies and troubadours, directed his course towards 
 Metz, which had been appointed as a rendezvous ; and, 
 gathering into one great army at that place the forces 
 which had come from all parts of France, he marched 
 towards Constantinople. 
 
 On reaching Constantinople, about the beginning of 
 October, Louis met with a reception infinitely more 
 flattering than had been given to Conrad. Emanuel 
 Avas all politeness, and expressed the utmost friendship 
 for the French warriors. At first they were deceived ; 
 but, ere long, intelligence that he was in regular 
 alliance with the Saracens, roused their indignation. A 
 council being held, many of the crusaders evinced 
 their desire to seize Constantinople ; but the more 
 timid argued for moderation, and carried the day. 
 Emanuel, however, feeling uneasy at their presence, 
 spread reports that the Germans had gained great vic- 
 tories in the East, and the French, impatient to share 
 the glory and the spoil, hastened across the Bosphorus. 
 
 Scarcely, however, had Louis and his comrades 
 entered Bithynia. when news of Conrad's defeat 
 reached them. The French, nevertheless, pursued 
 their expedition with ardor, and ere long indulged in a 
 dangerous feeling of security. The result was most 
 
132 THE CRUSADES AND THE CEUSADEBS. 
 
 unfortunate. On leavins; Laodicea and entering the 
 mountain passes, they found themselves exposed to 
 precisely the same dangers which had destroyed Con- 
 rad's army ; and one day, while they were entering a 
 valley, and everything seemed so secure that every- 
 body was in confusion, the Saracens suddenly appeared 
 on the heights. 
 
 The crusaders were completely taken by surprise. 
 The vanguard, under protection of which were the 
 Queen and her ladies, was fortunately in a position to 
 escape. But the main body, with which Louis 
 marched, was encompassed with danger. , Above, were 
 Saracens with " fierce faces threatening war ;" be- 
 neath, steep precipices and yawning gulphs. The 
 conflict was commenced by the Saracens. Rushing 
 from the heights, with sound of clarion and drum and 
 with fearful yells, they came down upon the pilgrim 
 army like a whirlwind. Having no room either to 
 advance or retreat, the crusaders found their plight 
 intolerable ; and many, when pushed over the preci- 
 pice, in a desperate effort to escape their fate dragged 
 others into the abyss. Nothing could have surpassed 
 the horrors of the scene, as masses of rock came 
 crashing from the mountains on one side, and men and 
 horses were hurled over the rocks on the other. 
 
 While all around was panic and despair, Louis, 
 rallying some of his bravest knights, attempted to 
 charge up the hill, and, after thirty nobles had fallen 
 by his side, succeeded in reaching a mass of rock 
 which projected itself midway. Perched on this ledge, 
 with his back against a tree, the King had to withstand 
 the attack of several Saracens. His fate seemed 
 

MUCH BRUIT AND LITTLE FRUIT. 133 
 
 sealed. But luckily, the assailants, unaware of his 
 rank, and eager to participate in the spoil, left him as 
 of no consequence ; and Louis, escaping as if by 
 miracle, mounted a stray horse, avoided countless 
 perils, met at nightfall with some of his soldiers, and 
 under their guidance rejoined his van. 
 
 This disaster was succeeded by others hardly less 
 intolerable. As winter approached, the weather be- 
 came so cold and rainy, that the prospects of the army 
 were gloomy in the extreme. All the horrors of the 
 first crusade had to be endured ; and at length, when 
 the crusaders, sick at heart, arrived at Attalia, they 
 were famished and in rags. 
 
 Attalia was a city inhabited by Greeks, and governed 
 by the Emperor of the East. Of course the reception 
 of the crusaders was the reverse of cordial ; and Louis, 
 encamping outside the walls, asked his nobles to decide 
 what was to be done. 
 
 While the crusaders were discussing various plans, 
 the Governor of Attalia sent to offer Louis vessels to 
 convey him to a place of safety ; and Louis, accepting 
 the offer, embarked with the queen, his lords, and 
 what remained of his cavalry, and sailed for Antioch. 
 The rest of the army, left to their fate, were in a most 
 unenviable position. The Greeks declined to receive 
 them into Attalia ; and they were in no condition to 
 resist the Saracens. Some, rendered desperate, em- 
 braced the Mahometan religion ; the others, exhausted 
 by hunger and fatigue, died by the swords of the 
 Saracens. 
 
 It was the 19th of March, 1148, when Louis and 
 Eleanor sailed for Antioch, which was then under the 
 12 
 
134 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 government of Raymond of Poictiers, Eleanor's uncle, 
 a princely adventurer, who had made a pilgrimage to 
 the Holy Laud, and espoused the grand-daughter of 
 Boemund of Tarentum. The King and Queen of 
 France were warmly welcomed by Raymond, and the 
 crusaders soon forgot, in a gay and brilliant court, the 
 hardships they had endured, and the comrades they 
 had abandoned. The city at that time boasted of the 
 presence of many high dames celebrated for their 
 beauty. Eleanor, however, eclipsed them all ; and 
 she appears to have evinced so strong a desire for 
 admiration, and carried her flirtation so far beyond the 
 bounds of propriety, that Louis became jealous, and 
 bore her off to Jerusalem. 
 
 On reaching the Holy City, whither Conrad had 
 already repaired in the guise of a pilgrim, Louis was 
 welcomed with enthusiasm. Princes, prelates, and 
 people sallied forth from the gates to meet him ; and 
 his arrival was hailed with loud shouts of " Blessed is 
 he that cometh in the name of the Lord." 
 
 Baldwin the Third was naturally anxious to make 
 the most of the presence of a King and an Emperor ; 
 and, anxious with their assistance to undertake some 
 great enterprise, the young Sovereign convoked an 
 assembly at Acre to deliberate on the affairs of his 
 kingdom. Louis and Conrad repaired thither ; and the 
 assembly resolved on besieging Damascus. Accord- 
 ingly, in June, 1149, a Christian army, commanded by 
 the Emperor of Germany and the Kings of P'rance 
 and Jerusalem, and preceded by the Patriarch bearing 
 the cross, marched to Damascus, and took possession 
 of the gardens and orchards outside the city. 
 
MTJCH BKTJIT AND LITTLE FRUIT. 135 
 
 The siege was forthwith commenced, and the cru- 
 saders entertained high hopes of success. At first, 
 indeed, they carried all before them, and displayed a 
 degree of valor which would have done honor to the 
 earlier pilgrim princes ; but no sooner did triumph 
 seem almost certain, than they began to dispute as to 
 the person on whom the besieged city was to be 
 bestowed when won, and discord soon pervaded the 
 camp. The King and the Emperor proposed to give 
 Damascus to Thierry, Count of Flanders ; while the 
 Syrian barons deemed that the prize should fall to one 
 of their number. 
 
 The discord in the camp of the besiegers was not 
 unknown to the commander of the besieged. This 
 man, Ayoub, the founder of a famous dynastj^, took 
 advantage of the discord in the enemy's camp ; and 
 addressed threats and promises to the Syrian barons 
 with so much effect, that the crusaders, under their 
 influence, hesitated, changed their point of attack, and 
 ultimately abandoned their enterprise in despair. 
 
 After tliis unfortunate expedition, the idea of besieg- 
 ing Ascalon was suggested to the crusaders ; but 
 neither Louis nor Conrad gave encouragement to the 
 project. Both were, in fact, anxious to leave the East; 
 and the King of France, embarking at Acre, reached 
 his capital in the autumn, with a mere fragment of his 
 brilliant army. From that time, Louis appeared more 
 like a monk than a monarch ; and Eleanor, indignant 
 at the weakness he displayed, had her marriage dis- 
 solved on the plea of relationship, and separating her- 
 self from the husband of her youth, carried with her as 
 her dowry the magnificent province of Aquitaine. 
 
136 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADEKS. 
 
 Louis was not sorry to get rid of Eleanor. He 
 affected to suspect that, at Antioch, she had shown a 
 criminal regard for a young Turk, named Saladin ; and 
 had creduHty enough to beUeve that a woman who lay 
 under such a suspicion would, even though heiress 
 of Aquitaine, be scorned by any Christian prince. 
 Scarcely, however, had Eleanor, after leaving Paris, 
 arrived at Blois, when the Count of that province 
 attempted to wed her by force ; but, favored by for- 
 tune, she escaped do\vn the Seine. At Tours, the 
 Count of Anjou, with matrimonial intent, lay in wait to 
 intercept her ; but, warned in time, the divorced Queen 
 avoided the ambush. At Poictiers, however, she 
 found a wooer to her lildng. At that place, Henry 
 Plantagenet presented himself, and he, being accom- 
 plished and handsome, was treated with favor. It is 
 true that Henry was Eleanor's junior by a few years ; 
 but she, overlooking the objection of age, submitted a 
 second time to the conjugal yoke, and at once bestowed 
 her hand and the duchy of Aquitaine on the ambitious 
 heir to the English crown. 
 
 Such was the expedition known as " The Second 
 Crusade," preached by St. Bernard, and led by Conrad 
 and Louis. " The French proverb," says Fuller, 
 " was verified of this voyage — ' Much bruit and little 
 fruit.' " 
 
THE nOSPITALLEHS AND THE TEMPLARS. 137 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE HOSPITALLERS AND THE TEMPLARS. 
 
 At the time when Conrad and Louis visited Jeru- 
 salem, the defence of the Holy Sepulchre did not 
 devolve wholly upon King Baldwin and the Christian 
 barons of the East. Ever and anon, before the eyes 
 of pilgrims, men with bronzed visages, athletic forms, 
 muscular limbs, wearing long mantles over their chain 
 mail, and mounted on choice steeds, swept along with 
 the air of warriors, who desired nothing so much as 
 foes to conquer. These were the Knights of the Tem- 
 ple, and the Knights of the Hospital of St. John, who 
 assumed a haughty superiority toward their compeers, 
 and boasted that their orders formed the bulwark of 
 the Kingdom of Jerusalem. 
 
 The Templars and the Knights of St. John had not 
 originally aspired to be what they now appeared. Not- 
 withstanding the high pretensions and defiant bearing 
 of the " military monks,'' both orders had sprung from 
 obscurity. Before becoming warriors, they had been 
 simple almsmen ; and they whose wealth and power 
 rendered them objects of awe, had originally rejoiced 
 in their poverty and humility. 
 
 It appears that, long ere the crusades began, some 
 Italian merchants founded an hospital, dedicated to St. 
 12* 
 
138 THE CRUSADES A^'D THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 John of Jerusalem, the brethren of which consecrated 
 their Uves to the service of pilgrims and the poor. As 
 time passed on, however, the hospital increased in 
 wealth, erected stately buildings, and sent forth, under 
 the auspices of a grand-master, champions to contend 
 with Pagan and Turk. The Knights of St. John wore 
 over their mail a black mantle, on which appeared five 
 crosses, in memory of the five wounds of Christ, and 
 a red belt with a white cross. Moreover, they took the 
 oath of poverty and chastity, and vowed to succor and 
 sustain all pilgrims to the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 Some years after the institution of the Hospitallers 
 of St. John, a rival order sprang into existence. Sev- 
 eral persons assembled near the spot where Solomon's 
 Temple was believed to have stood, and, dedicating 
 themselves by a solemn oath to the defence of pilgrims 
 coming to Jerusalem, formed the order of the Temple 
 of Zion. Like the Hospitallers, the Templars vowed 
 themselves to chastity and poverty ; and, indeed, 
 paraded their penury by taking for their seal two 
 knights riding on one horse, and offering their swords 
 and belts as the only ransom they could afford to pay 
 when taken by the Saracens. They wore, over their 
 armor, a long white mantle, on the shoulder of which 
 was a red cross, and they assumed a banner, half black 
 and half white, to intimate that while fair and candid 
 to Christians, they were black and terrible to unbe- 
 lievers. 
 
 The two great monastic orders, which thus sprung 
 up in the Holy Land, were not open to all comers. 
 Their constitution, indeed, appears to have been most 
 aristocratic ; and high qualifications were required. It 
 
THE HOSPITALLERS AND THE TEMPLARS. 139 
 
 was necessary, to become a knight of either order, that 
 the aspirant should have reached the age of eighteen ; 
 that his birth should be legitimate ; that his blood 
 should be gentle ; that he should be of a vigorous 
 frame and of a noble presence. These rules did not, 
 of course apply to the priests, or servants of the order, 
 but doubtless, in the case of the knights, they were 
 strictly enforced. 
 
 But there was little danger of any lack of candidates. 
 In an age when the union of the military spirit with 
 the religious spirit was so strong, the life led by the 
 Templars and Hospitallers could hardly fail to recom- 
 mend itself to youthful patricians who inherited nothing 
 but the courage and piety of their fathers. In fact, 
 they could hardly have imagined any career more in 
 accordance with their ideas than that now presented. 
 Accordingly, no sooner did the renown of the Templars 
 and Knights of St. John spread itself over Europe, 
 than almost every illustrious family sent a cadet to 
 swell their ranks. Such men, picked from the flower 
 of Europe's nobility, naturally fought with courage 
 and died with dignity ; and they rendered themselves 
 terrible to foes on every field where Christian and 
 Moslem met in the shock of war. In close conflict 
 they were the most formidable of champions. At the 
 cry of battle, they armed " with faith within and steel 
 without," and professed their pride to conquer and 
 their happiness to die for the Christian cause. 
 
 For many years after their institution, the conduct 
 of the Templars and Knights of St. John was worthy 
 of all praise. But, as time passed over, they yielded 
 to the baneful influence of overgrown wealth. Every 
 
140 THE CRUSADES AND THE CHUSADERS. 
 
 victory gave them new possessions in Asia ; and 
 admirers in every nation in Europe granted them 
 lands. Ere long the military monks became potent as 
 sovereign princes ; and their banners waved over 
 countless cities, villages, and provinces. Gradually 
 they gave less attention to the defence of the Holy 
 Sepulchre, than to augmenting the wealth and glory of 
 their orders, and exchanged their original humility and 
 poverty for displays of the arrogance and ostentation 
 destined to involve them in ruin. 
 
ArPAIES OF THE EAST. 141 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AFFAIRS OF THE EAST. 
 
 Soon after the King of France and the Emperor of 
 Germany sailed from Acre, Baldwin the Third, having 
 meantime taken the city of Ascalon, died from the 
 effects of poison administered by a Syrian physician, 
 and left the kingdom of Jerusalem to his brother, Al- 
 meric, in a condition the reverse of satisfactory. 
 
 Exposed to an eastern climate, and yielding to 
 oriental effeminacy, the Christians of the East had 
 rapidly degenerated. Within the Holy City, they had 
 abandoned themselves to vicious indulgence. 
 
 This was not all. The warriors of the cross set at 
 defiance the doctrines of chivalry as well as Christian- 
 ity, and held themselves free from keeping faith with 
 infidels. Forgetting that the best evidence to give of 
 the superiority of a religion consists in the respect 
 shone by its professors for virtue and truth, they not 
 only indulged in gross vice, but broke faith without 
 scruple. 
 
 The Christians would have fallen an easy prey to 
 their foes, if, strangely enough, the Saracens had not 
 been in almost as wretched a state as their adversaries. 
 For centuries the Caliph of Cairo and the Caliph of 
 Bagdad, one representing the Fatunites, the other the 
 
142 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Abassides, were implacable enemies. Each claimed to 
 be the vicar of Maliomet, and denounced his rival as 
 the enemy of God. In the mosques of Cairo, the 
 name of the Caliph of Bagdad was daily cursed ; and 
 in the mosques of Bagdad that of the Caliph of Cairo 
 was exposed to a similar mdignity. It is true, that both 
 Caliphs remained for ever shut up from the public, 
 and possessed no real power ; but, as the chiefs of 
 Islamism, their names were still of high account, and 
 used without scruple by ambitious emirs to promote 
 their own interests and advance their own fortunes. 
 
 It happened that in 1165, while Elhadack, Caliph of 
 Cairo, was passing his life in a seralgio, pursuing sinful 
 pleasures and indulging in voluptuous legarthy, two 
 Saracen chiefs, Dargan and Sanor, contended for the 
 viceroyalty of his empire. When this strife was at 
 its height, Sanor entreated aid from Noureddin, who 
 having, in other days, wrested Edessa from the ill-fated 
 Joceline de Courtenay, had since advanced himself to 
 the dignity of Sultan of Damascus ; and Noureddin, 
 with a keen eye to his own mterest, despatched to 
 Sanor's aid a powerful arm}-, under the command of 
 Syracon, a captain of experience and valor. 
 
 Undismayed by the arrival of so renowned a war- 
 rior, Dargan mustered an army, and boldly marched 
 to meet the troops of Noureddin. The result was 
 more fortunate for him than might have been ex- 
 pected. In a battle fought, he came off the victor, 
 and seemed to have fortune on his side. But soon 
 after his victory, Dargan was slain by treachery, and 
 Sanor, proliting by his rival's death, immediately be- 
 came sultan. 
 
AFFAIRS OF THE EAST. 143 
 
 So far all went smoothly. But Sanor now became 
 alarmed at the attitude assumed by the army whose 
 aid he had invoked. In fact, Syracon, instead of re- 
 turning to Damascus, seized Belbeis, on the Nile, for- 
 tified that city, and awaited the arrival of troops to 
 undertake the conquest of Egypt. 
 
 Sanor was naturally indignant at the perfidy of 
 his auxiliary. Finding himself outwitted, he looked 
 around for new aUies, and bethought him of those 
 Christian warriors whose feats of valor had aston- 
 ished the East, and whose mighty arms and barbed 
 steeds, charging in close ranks, had ever borne down 
 opposition. Accordingly, he hastened to send imploring 
 messages to the King of Jerusalem ; and Almeric, 
 appearing with an army in Egypt, after a tough strug- 
 gle, rendered Sanor victorious over his enemies. 
 
 But Syracon was not the man to yield easily to 
 adversity. He knew that the Caliph of Bagdad con- 
 tended with the Caliph of Cairo for the heirship of 
 the Prophet and the sovereignty over all Moslems, and 
 resolved to turn their rivalry to account. No sooner, 
 therefore, was he defeated, than he repaired to Damas- 
 cus, and induced Noureddin to assure the Caliph of 
 Bagdad that, if properly supported, he would make 
 all Egypt subject to the authority of the Abassides. 
 The Caliph gladly gave his sanction to the project ; 
 and Syracon, at the head of a mighty host of' warriors, 
 descended upon Egypt. 
 
 On hearing of the projected invasion, Sanor was 
 astounded. Recovering from his surprise, however, 
 he sent to the King of Jerusalem, imploring him to 
 front the new peril, and offering a pension of forty 
 
144 THE CRrSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 thousand ducats. Almeric was not unwilling to un- 
 dertake the task on such terms. Not liking, however, 
 to depend on the promises of one who was merely 
 viceroy, he insisted on treating with the Caliph ; and 
 Sanor, finding that the Christian King's resolution on 
 this point was not to be shaken, consented that am- 
 bassadors should be sent to confer with the vicar of 
 Mahomet. 
 
 For this important mission, Hugh, Earl of Ceserea, 
 and a knight of the Temple, were selected ; and, ac- 
 companied by Sanor, they repaired to Cairo. On 
 reaching that city, they dismounted from their steeds, 
 and were conducted to the palace within whose pre- 
 cincts no Christian had ever before set foot, guided 
 through dark passages guarded by Ethiopians, and 
 thence into courts so richly and beautifully ornamented, 
 that they could not refrain from expressing admiration. 
 " The farther v/e went," said they, " the greater was 
 the splendor and state." 
 
 At length, the ambassadors reached the chamber 
 where, behind a traverse wrought with pearls, the 
 Caliph was seated in all his dignity. On entering this 
 sanctuary, Sanor gave intimation of his presence, and 
 thrice prostrated himself on the ground. The curtain 
 was then drawn, and the Caliph discovered sitting, 
 with serene majesty, on a throne of gold, surrounded 
 by the officers of his court, who appeared both grieved 
 and surprised to see Christians standing in that place 
 and presence. 
 
 The Earl and the Templar regarded the spectacle 
 presented to them with mingled astonishment and awe ; 
 but Sanor was quite at home, and humbly kissed the 
 
AFFAIRS OF THE EAST. 145 
 
 Caliph's foot. Kneeling before the golden throne, he 
 explained why the ambassadors were there, expatiated 
 on the danger to which the empire was exposed, ex- 
 pfauDed the treaty into which he had entered with King 
 Almeric, and begged the Caliph to ratify the conditions 
 by giving his hand. The Caliph, however, hesitated 
 about descending so much from his dignity, and, after 
 expressing some objections, offered his glove. But the 
 ambassadors shook their heads : and Hush of Ceserea 
 spoke. " Sir," said the Earl, " truth makes no holes 
 to hide itself. Princes, if they would covenant must 
 deal fairly and openly. Give me, therefore, your 
 hand : for I will make no bargain with your glove." 
 Yielding to necessity, the Caliph consented to the 
 humiliation of allowing the ambassadors to touch his 
 hand ; and they were soon after dismissed with rich 
 gifts. 
 
 By this time the King of Jerusalem had approached 
 Cairo with his armv ; and, matters bavins: been satis- 
 factorily arranged, he worsted Syracon in a battle 
 fought in the isle of Maalle. The victory, however, 
 did not prove quite decisive, and the struggle was 
 maintained with varvins: success for many months, 
 Ultimatelv, Svracon, havinor obtained an hcwaoarable ca- 
 pitiilation, led his army from Egypt. Almeric also took 
 his departure, and conducted his warriors, laden with 
 gold, back to Jerusalem. 
 
 Almeric had so far succeeded in the pursuit of 
 glory and gold. Unfortimately for his welfare, the 
 Christian Kins was not content with the laurels and 
 the ducats he had. Having seen Egypt suSiciently 
 to be aware of the wealth of the ccuntry, ana / . 
 13 
 
146 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 weakness of its government, he panted for possession, 
 and sent ambassadors to Emanuel, Emperor of Con- 
 stantinople, whose daughter he had espoused, entreat- 
 ing assistance in a great scheme of conquest. Emanuel 
 approved of Almeric's views, and promised to aid him 
 with a powerful fleet. 
 
 Encouraged in his project, Almeric, in 1168, de- 
 termined to defy his treaty with the Caliph, and 
 undertake the invasion of Egypt. The idea was not 
 received with universal favor. Many of the wisest 
 Christian warriors opposed the enterprise, and the 
 Grand Master of the Temple loudly protested against 
 a breach of faith. But Almeric, who was strongly 
 supported by the Knights of St. Jolm, held steadily 
 to his purpose ; and, placing himself at the head of 
 his army, reached the banks of the Nile, besieged and . 
 took Belbeis, and after pillaging the city, consigned it 
 to the flames. 
 
 But while the King of Jerusalem had been pre- 
 paring for the conquest of Egypt, the same project 
 had occupied the thoughts of the Sultan of Damascus. 
 Syracon, in fact, had impressed his master with the 
 conviction that the Fatimites were on the verge of 
 ruin, and the Egyptians ripe for new governors. 
 Noureddin listened with gratification to the sug- 
 gestions of his general, who was already occupied 
 with schemes for possessing himself of Eg}^pt, when 
 the Cahph, alarmed at Almeric's invasion, implored 
 assistance to repel the enemies of the Prophet. The 
 Sultan of Damascus received the Caliph's message 
 with joy ; and at his bidding, Syracon, at the head of 
 a numerous army, crossed the desert, and appeared on 
 the banks of the Nile. 
 
ArFAIKS OF THE EAST. 147 
 
 Almeric was wholly unprepared for the presence of 
 such a foe. In Sanor, the king of Jerusalem had met 
 his match at the game of deceit. By sending to im- 
 plore pity, and offering two millions of golden crowns, 
 Sanor had thrown the invader off his guard. Wliile 
 waiting for the promised treasure, and vainly expect- 
 ing the Greek fleet, Almeric gave the Eg}-ptians an 
 opportunity of fortifying their cities and preparing 
 to bid him defiance ; and he only awoke to the con- 
 sciousness of having been deluded, when he learned 
 that Syracon was approaching at the head of a formid- 
 able force. 
 
 On comprehending his position, Almeric roused 
 himself to action, and eager to repair his error, 
 hastened to offer Syracon battle. But the Moslem 
 warrior having no inclination to gratify the wish of 
 the Christian King, declined the honor of an engage- 
 ment till he had formed a junction with the Eg\-ptians. 
 Almeric, unprepared to cope with the united armies, 
 was fain to retreat ; and, having been pursued to the 
 verge of the desert, he returned to Jerusalem. 
 
 Nevertheless, Almeric could not divest himself of 
 an ambition to figure as conqueror of Eg}'pt. The 
 aspiration having become part of himself, he repaired 
 to Constantinople to beg the Emperor's assistance in 
 reaUzing the grand project. Emanuel welcomed his 
 son-in-law with imperial magnificence, and was lavish 
 of promises. But nothing was ever done in the way 
 of performance ; and Almeric returned to the Holy 
 City to mourn his blighted hopes. The project was 
 still haunting Almeric's brain, when he died, leaving 
 his subjects in distress to defend a menaced kingdom, 
 and a son in boyhood to inherit a tottering throne. 
 
118 THE CRUSADES AND THE CEUSADEES. 
 
 Meamvhile Syracon had entered Cairo in triumph, 
 hoisted Noureddin's banner on the towers and ram- 
 parts, and been welcomed by the Cahph as a deUvcrer. 
 Nourcddin finding himself master of Egypt, Syria, 
 and the richest provinces of the East, was preparing 
 to crown his successes with the annihilation of the 
 Christians, and the capture of the Holy City. The 
 Sultan of Damascus caused prayers to be offered for 
 the success of the expedition, and even constructed, 
 whh his own hands, a pulpit to be placed in one of 
 the chief mosques of Jerusalem. Death, however, 
 surprised Noureddin in the midst of his preparations, 
 and for a brief period averted the perils that threatened 
 the Christian stated. 
 
SALADIN THE GREAT. 149 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 SALADIN THE GREAT. 
 
 When" Noureddin expired, the vast empire of which 
 he had been master, was in no small danger of dis- 
 memberment. The only son of the departed Sultan 
 wa* a child incapable of defendmg his hereditary- 
 dominions ; the emirs, each eager to turn the crisis 
 to his own advantage, began to quarrel about a division 
 of power ; and a relapse to chaos appeared inevitable. 
 Terrified at the prospect of discord, disorder, and 
 civil war, the Moslem nations recognized with joy the 
 claims of a warrior, who possessed courage and intel- 
 lect to deal with the circumstances, and to pursue 
 those projects on which the heart of Noureddin had 
 been set. 
 
 Saladin was descended from the races inhabitinjr the 
 mountains beyond the Tigris, and was the son of that 
 Ayoub, who defended Damascus against the Christian 
 army led by the Emperor of Germany and the Kings 
 of France and Jerusalem. But though brought up 
 under the eye of his father, and taught from his cradle 
 to appreciate achievements of valor and genius, Sala- 
 din, in youth, devoted so little attention to war or 
 politics, and gave so much time to pleasure and dis- 
 sipation, that no one regarded him as capable of attain- 
 
150 THE CliUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 ing to greatness. It would indeed have been difficult 
 to imagine the son of Ayoub destined to mflict a mortal 
 blow on the Christian kingdom in the East, and to 
 maintain the Moslem power against the bravest empe- 
 rors and kings of Christendom. 
 
 The first warlike expedition in which Saladin figured, 
 was one of those undertaken by Syracon to the banks 
 of the Nile. The young warrior did not return to 
 Damascus without having proved his courage ; but 
 the hardships of a camp hfe were understood to be 
 little to his liking. When ordered by Noureddin to go 
 back to Egypt, he did not obey without hesitation and 
 murmurs. " I go," said he, yielding to necessity ; 
 " but with the despair of a man led to execution." 
 
 Fortune, however, seemed resolved on making Sa- 
 ladin great in spite of himself. The death of Syracon 
 rendered the post of vizier vacant ; and the Caliph, 
 imagining Saladin incapable of usurpation, nominated 
 him to the post. No sooner did this happen than a 
 marvellous change came over his life. Hitherto he 
 had been a young warrior given to indolence and dis- 
 sipation. Now he appeared in a new character. 
 Neglecting no means of increasing his influence, he 
 won the esteem of the imans by his austerity, and 
 the favor of the soldiers by his munificence. Ere 
 long, he ventured upon an important step. By killing 
 the Cahphof Cairo with his horse-mace he extinguished 
 the Fatimites and made the Caliph of Bagdad head of 
 all Moslems. For this service, Saladin was congratu- 
 lated by the chief of the Abassides and presented with 
 a vest of honor. 
 
 Saladin now had his name mentioned in the public 
 
SALADIN THE GllEAT. 151 
 
 prayers ; and daily extended his power in the East. 
 Ilis position, however, was not quite secure. Indeed, 
 Noureddin became jealous of the young Viceroy ; and 
 Saladin would probably have fallen a victim. But at 
 that crisis Noureddin died ; and Saladin, setting aside 
 the Sultan's heir, ascended the throne of Egypt and 
 prepared for war with the kingdom of Jerusalem. 
 
 The kingdom thus menaced by the armies of Sala- 
 din, was in no condition to resist. Decay was visible 
 on every side ; discord reigned on all hands ; discipline 
 was almost at an end ; law was openly set at defiance ; 
 and authority could not make itself felt. Every 
 count or baron, secure in his strong castle on the 
 summit of a mountain or in the cavern of a rock, held 
 the royal power in contempt. The merchants of Ven- 
 ice and Genoa, who frequented the maritime cities, 
 were at daggers-drawn. The Imights of the Temple 
 and the Hospital were at deadly feud ; and both orders 
 were at variance with the ecclesiastics, whom they 
 frequently chased into the church of the Holy Sepul- 
 chre. Religion had lost influence over the lives of 
 men ; and the clergy neither strove to restore concord 
 nor to set an example of virtue. 
 
 But it was in the capital of the Christian kingdom 
 that matters had reached the w^orst stage. In the Holy 
 City decorum was utterly disregarded ; and the lives 
 of some of the clergy were more scandalous than 
 those of their neighbors. Cliiefs and churchmen were 
 equally abandoned; and dames and damsels of all 
 rauks kept them in countenance. " Sin," says Fuller, 
 " reigned in every corner, and there was scarce one 
 honest woman in the whole of Jerusalem." Neither 
 
152 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 royal rank, nor ecclesiastical dignity, restrained their 
 possessors from the prevailing immorality. The widow 
 of the third Baldwin indulged in a criminal intrigue 
 with Andronicus, who afterwards, on the throne of 
 Constantinople, became notorious for his cruelties ; 
 and Heraclius, the Patriarch, was on such terms with 
 Pascha de Rivera, wife of a vintner, that, at church 
 and market, she wore ornaments purchased with the 
 alms of the faithful, and enjoyed, far and wide, the 
 title of " the Patriarchess." 
 
 It is true, that in the midst of profligacy and irre- 
 ligion, the warriors of the cross preserved that courage, 
 which had so often rendered them formidable to foes. 
 But they were at variance with each other, incapable 
 alike of commanding or obeying, and disinclined to 
 brave hardships or bear fatigues. Baldwin the Fourth, 
 son of Almeric, was a youth of feeble health, totally 
 incapable of dealing with the difficulties with which 
 his throne was encompassed ; and a fierce dispute 
 about the regency divided the kingdom of Jerusalem 
 against itself At length, Raymond, Count of TripoH, 
 became master of the situation, and undertook an 
 expedition to Egypt. The enterprise proved unsuc- 
 cessful, and would have ended in utter disaster. 
 Luckily, however, for the Christians, Saladin was 
 then in perplexity, and consented to a truce. So 
 far they escaped the consequences of their impru- 
 dence, and had reason to congratulate themselves on 
 their good fortune. But, untaught by experience, the 
 Christians had the indiscretion to violate the truce ; 
 and Saladin, assembling an army, advanced upon 
 Palestine, and ravaged the country. 
 
SALADIN THE GREAT. 153 
 
 The fate of the kingdom of Jerusalem now appeared 
 to be sealed ; Baldwin, apprehending the worst, shut 
 himself up in Ascalon, and Saladin, already anticipating 
 victory, was distributing the cities among his emirs, 
 when despair gave to the endangered Christians a 
 dauntless degree of courage. Avaihng himself of 
 the prevalent enthusiasm, Baldwin led his army from 
 the city, and attacked the Moslem warriors with such 
 impetuosity, that resistance was impossible. In vain 
 did Saladin fight valiantly in the midst of his Mame- 
 lukes ; the whole Moslem army was swept away, and 
 the Sultan had the utmost difficulty in escaping across 
 the desert. 
 
 Baldwm and his barons were now elate with success ; 
 but their joy was of brief duration. Saladin disdained 
 the idea of acknowledging himself vanquished. Ere 
 long, he again made his appearance at the head of a 
 new army, and rendered cautious by experience, 
 carried on the war to such advantage, that Baldwin 
 was fain to solicit a truce. Saladin, imagining, per- 
 haps, that he had taught his foes a lesson, consented ; 
 and peace was restored. But in the kingdom of Jeru- 
 salem, such was the absence of order, that no man 
 could answer for the truce being maintained ; and, as 
 events proved, one man by breaking it, could involve 
 the Christian states in fearful calamities. 
 
 It appears that among the warriors who followed 
 the banner of Louis of France to the East, was a 
 young man, with a comely face and a handsome person, 
 known as Reginald de Chatillon. Romantic, adven- 
 turous, and with no particular temptation to return 
 to Europe, Reginald remained in Asia, and taking 
 
154 THE CBUSADES AND THE CEUSADERS. 
 
 service with Raymond of Poictiers, Prince of Antioch, 
 became celebrated for his chivahic bravery. Mean- 
 while, Raymond of Poictiers died in a batttle with the 
 Saracens ; and his widow, Constance, was eagerly 
 pressed to bestow her hand on some prince or noble, 
 worthy of being associated with her in the govern- 
 ment during her son's minority. But the grand- 
 daughter of Boemund of Tarentum, who naturally 
 had a will of her own, passed over the claims of a 
 host of princely suitors to unite her fate with that of 
 Reginald. 
 
 Elevated by the love of a woman to the throne of 
 Antioch, Reginald adopted the policy of the princes 
 whose heiress she was, declared war against the 
 Sultan of Damascus and the Empire of Constantinople, 
 and proved himself formidable alike to Greek and 
 Saracen. Taken prisoner, however, he was carried 
 to Aleppo, and there lay in chains for years. On 
 recovering liberty, he found that Constance of Antioch 
 slept with her fathers, and that Boemund, her eldest 
 son, having come to years, occupied the throne. 
 
 Finding his principality gone, Reginald resolved on 
 restoring his fortunes by a second dash at matrimony, 
 and espoused the widow of the Lord of Carac. With 
 this lady he obtained some castles, situated between 
 Palestine and Arabia, and had begun to prey upon the 
 Moslem territories, when the Christians concluded the 
 truce with Saladin. 
 
 Reginald, disinclined to abandon a system which he 
 expected would prove profitable, paid no attention to 
 the truce. While continuing his depredations, he hap- 
 pened to capture a caravan, with which was the 
 
SALADIN THE GEEAT. 155 
 
 mother of Saladin, on her way from Egypt to Damas- 
 cus. The consequences were most unfortunate. Sa- 
 ladin, after complaming to Baldwin, and finding that 
 the Kins; could afford him no redress, seized fifteen 
 hundred pilgrims on the Egyptian coast, and announced 
 his intention of renewing hostilities. 
 
 At this eventful period, Baldwin was succeeded by 
 the son of his sister Sybil. But the young King, who 
 was a mere infant, soon died so suddenly that he was 
 thought to have had foul play, and Guy de Lusignan, 
 Count of Joppa, and husband of Sybil, ascended the 
 throne, to which liis wife was heiress. But the talents 
 of the Count of Joppa, who was of the great family 
 of Lusignan, in Poictou, were not considered of the 
 highest order ; and his elevation did not give general 
 satisfaction. Even Geoffrey de Lusignan, the brother 
 of Guy, whom the chroniclers describe as " a man of 
 the most approved valor," heard of the proceeding 
 with surprise. " What ! " exclaimed Geoffrey, " Guy 
 King of Jerusalem! Why, the men who think him 
 worthy to be obeyed, did they but know me, would 
 deem me worthy to be worshipped. They would make 
 a god of me." 
 
 Nevertheless Guy assumed the functions of royalty, 
 and determined to encounter the army of Saladin. 
 Preparations were accordingly made ; and, after some 
 skirmishino;, the Kins; and the Sultan met in the neiarh- 
 borhood of Tiberias, which Saladin had carried by 
 assault. The Saracens were infinitely superior in 
 number ; but the Christian warriors were animated by 
 a degree of fiery valor, which rendered them formida- 
 ble antagonists, and at the break of a July day, the 
 
156 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 battle commenced. The Christians, headed by their 
 King, displayed great bravery ; and, inspired by the 
 sight of the true cross, which was borne by the Bishop 
 of Acre, they performed prodigies of valor. 
 
 Night parted the combatants ; but next day the 
 struggle was renewed, and the Christians again fought 
 with signal valor. Saladin, however, set fire to the 
 grass that covered the plain, and the warriors of the 
 cross, surrounded and scorched by the flames, fell into 
 disorder. Nevertheless they fought furiously, and, 
 with lance in rest, charged through clouds of smoke. 
 But their onset proved vain ; the true cross was taken ; 
 and the knights uttering cries of horror, rushed with 
 desperation on the weapons of their foes. The battle 
 became a rout. Raymond of Tripoh, who had done 
 his duty valiantly, with the Prince of Antioch, and a 
 small number of warriors, cut a way through the 
 Saracens and galloped from the field. But for the 
 others there was no escape. King Guy, Geoffrey de 
 Lusignan, Reginald de Chatillon, the Grand Master of 
 the Temple, and the most renowned knights in Pales- 
 tine, were made prisoners, and conducted to the tent 
 of the victor. Guy was treated with kindness, but 
 Reginald de Chatillon was immediately stabbed ; and 
 the Templars and Hospitallers were next day publicly 
 executed. 
 
 Saladin now proceeded on his victorious career. 
 Acre, after a siege of two days, yielded to his sum- 
 mons ; and Ceserea, Jaifa, and Arsuf, with many other 
 cities, shared Acre's fate. Ascalon alone offered a 
 brave resistance ; and the inhabitants positively re- 
 fused to yield, come what might, unless Saladin would 
 
SALADTN THE GREAT. 157 
 
 consent to set Guy de Lusignan at liberty. The 
 Sultan, not without admiration of their loyalty, con- 
 sented to liberate the captive King ere the close of 
 the year. But there was every probability, that, ere 
 the year expired, Guy would be a king without a 
 kingdom and without a capital ; for as the autumn of 
 1187 advanced, Saladin, having taken Gaza, led his 
 victorious army over the heights of Emmaus, and dis- 
 played his standards before the gates of Jerusalem. 
 
 Within the walls of Jerusalem, a hundred, thousand 
 human beings, most of them fugitives from the con- 
 quered provinces, were congregated. But the Holy 
 City was almost without defenders. The inhabitants 
 were in despair ; and an eclipse of the sun, which sud- 
 denly produced utter darkness, appeared in their eyes 
 a fearful presage. Nevertheless they prepared for 
 defence ; and under the command of Baleau d' Ibelin, 
 an aged warrior, repaired their fortifications, and even 
 ventured on a sortie. But, repulsed, they returned 
 within the walls, carrying with them dismay and con- 
 sternation. 
 
 One hope yet remained. The Sultan might not be 
 indisposed to show clemency to those who were de- 
 fenceless ; and the discovery of a plot for surrendering, 
 tended much to increase the desire to capitulate. 
 Under these circumstances, Baleau d'lbelin, accom- 
 panied by the principal citizens, proceeded to the 
 Sultan's tent, and proposed to surrender on certain 
 conditions. Saladin, however, was inexorable. "How," 
 said he, " can you ask me to grant conditions to a city 
 which is already taken." 
 
 These words restored to the Christians the energy of 
 14 
 
158 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CKtTSADEES. 
 
 enthusiasm. " If," said Baleau, " you can give us no 
 hope of mercy, you will taste the fruits of our despair. 
 Jerusalem contains five thousand Moslem captives who 
 shall all perish. We will slay our wives and children 
 to prevent them becoming your slaves ; and when we 
 have reduced the Holy City to a heap of ruins, we 
 will march out, armed with fire and sword, and no 
 Christian will ascend to paradise without having con- 
 signed ten Moslems to hell." 
 
 The speech of the old warrior had its effect on the 
 Sultan, and the citizens were requested to come back 
 on the following day. Saladin then intimated his 
 readiness to accept their terms, and agreed to a capitu- 
 lation. All the warriors in Jerusalem were allowed 
 to withdraw to Tripoli or Tyre. The inhabitants were 
 granted their lives, and allowed to purchase their lib- 
 erty. Those who could not, remained in slavery ; 
 and it appears that this was the fate of sixteen thou- 
 sand. 
 
 When the day on which the Christians were to leave 
 Jerusalem arrived, all the gates of the city, save that 
 of St. David, were shut ; and the Sultan, seated on a 
 throne, saw them pass before him. The Patriarch, 
 accompanied by the clergy, bearing the treasures of 
 the church, headed the procession. Next appeared 
 the Queen, attended by knights and warriors ; and 
 following her a multitude of men and women, carrying 
 their children and supporting their aged relatives, and 
 all uttcrinn; cries of distress. Saladin touched with 
 the spectacle, addressed words of consolation to the 
 Queen, and promised to soften the lot of such of her 
 subjects as were left behind. 
 
SALADIX THE GREAT. 159 
 
 This ceremony over, the Sultan formally entered 
 Jerusalem as a conqueror, preceded by his banners 
 and surrounded by his imans. All the churches were 
 by his orders converted into mosques ; and in the 
 vestibule of Omar's mosque, which he caused to be 
 sprinkled with rose-water brought from Damascus, he 
 placed the pulpit that Noureddin had constructed. 
 The cross was removed with ignomy ; the holy places 
 resounded with praises of the founder of the Moslem 
 faith, and from the summit of the minarets the muez- 
 zin, after sunset, proclaimed, " There is but one God, 
 and Mahomet is Ms prophet." 
 
160 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADEKS. 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 THE CONEEKENCE OF GISORS. 
 
 The news of Saladin the Great having taken Jeru- 
 salem, filled Europe with surprise and consternation. 
 The Pope, on receiving inteUigence of the calamity, 
 died of grief ; priests journeyed from place to place, 
 describing the plight of the Holy Sepulchre, trampled 
 under the hoofs of horses ; and Christians of the 
 West forgot their own troubles to bewail the woes of 
 the Christians of the East. 
 
 It had for some time been evident that the kingdom 
 of Jerusalem could not be saved without aid from the 
 warriors of Europe ; and William, Archbishop of Tyre, 
 author of a history of the Holy War, left the East to 
 preach a crusade. After rousing the Italians, and per- 
 suading Frederick Barbarossa, the great Emperor of 
 Germany, to take the cross, William of Tyre pressed 
 onward to try his powers of persuasion on the sover- 
 eio;ns of England and France. 
 
 Henry Plantagenet and Philip Augustus were then 
 at war. Nevertheless, a conference was appointed to 
 take place on a plain near Gisors, and thither the King 
 of England, then in his fifty-sixth year, and the King 
 of France, not yet thirty, came to meet the Arch- 
 bishop, with companies of knights, barons, and princes. 
 
THE CONFEKENCE OF GISORS. 161 
 
 all eager to hear tidings from the East, and none of 
 them disinclined to encounter the infidel. 
 
 After reaching the ground, and presenting himself 
 to the assembly, the Archbishop read the warriors an 
 account of the fall of Jerusalem ; he then delivered 
 an eloquent address, reproaching them for not having 
 gone to save Christ's heritage, and exhorting them to 
 hasten to its rescue. His eloquence proved most 
 effective. Henry and Philip, embracing in presence 
 of the assembled warriors, agreed to suspend their 
 quarrels to combat the enemies of Christ ; and from 
 all present arose shouts of " The cross ! " " The 
 cross ! " 
 
 The cry thus raised around an elm-tree on the plain 
 of Gisors, where a church was soon after built to com- 
 memorate the scene, was carried from city to city, and 
 from province to province. The old spirit, in fact, 
 revived — mothers urged their sons, and wives urged 
 their husbands, to devote themselves to the Holy War ; 
 and persons suspected of a wish to hang back, received 
 a distaff and wool, as a significant hint that whoever 
 dechned would forfeit his title to be recognized as a 
 man. At the same time, in order to defray the cost 
 of the enterprise, a council of prelates and princes 
 condemned all who did not take the cross to contribute 
 a tithe of their revenues ; and this tax, from the alarm 
 associated with the name of the great Sultan, soon 
 came to be described as " the Saladin tenth." 
 
 William of Tyre could now indulge in some hope 
 
 for Jerusalem. The three most potent of the European 
 
 sovereigns — those of Germany, England, and Frimcc 
 
 — had pledged themselves to fight lor the Holy Sep- 
 14* 
 
162 THE CKUSADES AND THE CKUSADEKS. 
 
 ulchre, and all their subjects were astir with excite- 
 ment and bustle. The expedition, indeed, met with 
 some checks. Ere preparations were well begun, 
 war broke out again in Europe ; and ere they were 
 completed, Henry, worn out with war and weary with 
 thought, breathed his last at Chinon, and was succeed- 
 ed by his eldest surviving son, Richard Cceur de Lion. 
 The crusade, however, cannot be said to have suffered 
 by the substitution of the son for the father. What 
 was lost in wisdom was gained in vigor. Coeur de Lion 
 had been among the first to take the cross at Gisors, 
 and of all those who placed the sacred badge on their 
 shoulder, he was the most enthusiastic and eager. Pal- 
 estine, in fact, had become Richard's one idea ; and 
 English armorers were Ibrging for him a ponderous 
 battle-axe, and working twenty pounds of steel into 
 the head of the weapon, that he might therewith break 
 the bones of Saracens. 
 
FREDERICK BAREAROSSA. 1G3 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FREDERICK BARBAROSSA. 
 
 While, in England and France, warriors were 
 girding on their armor for the crusade, Frederick, Em- 
 peror of Germany, the hero of forty figlits in Europe, 
 took the cross, and prepared to strike a blow in Asia 
 for the Holy Sepulchre. 
 
 Frederick Barbarossa was nephew of the Emperor 
 Conrad, who had enacted so conspicuous a part in the 
 crusade preached by St. Bernard. At that time, in 
 the vigor of youth, and unmoved by the tears of his 
 father, the Duke of Suabia, who earnestly implored 
 him to remain at home, Frederick had accompanied 
 his imperial uncle, and signalized his prowess in the 
 skirmishes with which the unfortunate enterprise 
 commenced. After the death of Conrad, in 1152, he 
 ascended the throne and entered upon his career. 
 
 At the beginning of his reign, Frederick was en- 
 compassed with difficulty ; and the Pope was by no 
 means in humor to smoothe the Emperor's way. In 
 fact, Adrian the Fourth, originally known as Nicholas 
 Breakspeare, an English mendicant, refused to perform 
 the ceremony of coronation without imposing a con- 
 dition hard to bear. " You must," said the Pope, 
 " prove yourself a faithful son of the church by hold- 
 
1G4 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADEKS. 
 
 ing my stirrup while I mount my mule." Frederick 
 reluctantly consented ; and the Pope and his mule met 
 publicly in the great square ' of Yiterbo, a town sur- 
 rounded by walls built by the last of the Lombard Ivings. 
 All was going smoothly ; but the Emperor purposely 
 mistook the stirrup. " I have yet," he remarked with 
 a sneer; "I have yet to learn the business of a 
 groom." 
 
 Havino; settled the affairs of Germany, Frederick 
 Barbarossa applied his energies to the reduction of 
 Italy. The task was most difficult, and appeared 
 endless. The JMilanese, in particular, proved most 
 refractory ; and, supported by the Pope, they main- 
 tained so long and arduous a struggle, as to keep the 
 Emperor perpetually in his harness.^'- 
 
 Forty years had passed since Frederick accom- 
 panied Conrad to the East ; and the great Emperor 
 had reached the age of threescore and ten, and become 
 famous as the most illustrious personage in Europe. 
 A man of ordinary height, with broad shoulders, and 
 a manly form, a red beard, hair partly gray, prominent 
 eyelids, short and wide cheeks, an expression indica- 
 ting remarkable firmness of mind — speaking German, 
 thoufjh not io;norant of other languages — such was 
 Frederick Barbarossa, when, " at seventy years of age, 
 
 * " Kaiser Frledrich," says Mr, Carlyle, " had immense dif- 
 ficulties with his Popes, with his Milanese, and the like ;• be- 
 sieged !Milan six times over, among other anarchies ; had, 
 indeed, a heavily-laden, hard time of it, his task being great 
 and the greatest. He made Gebhardus, the anarchic governor 
 of Milan, lie chained under his table, like a dog, for three days." 
 History of Frledrich the Second. 
 
FREDERICK 13ARBAR0SSA. 165 
 
 liaving one foot in the grave," he set out once more to 
 combat th5 infidel. 
 
 After sending a declaration of war to Saladin, and 
 receiving from the Sultan a haughty defiance, Fred- 
 erick set up his standard at Mayencc ; and, having 
 been joined by Leopold, Duke of Austria, and other 
 princes of the empire, he marched with his second son, 
 the Duke of Suabia, towards Constantinople, where 
 Isaac Angelus then reigned. At first, the Emperor of 
 the East ordered the governors of his states to harass 
 the crusading army ; but finding, after some skir- 
 mishes, that Frederick could not be thus treated with 
 impunity, Isaac came to reason, and sent ambassadors 
 with an offer of ships and provisions. Nevertheless, 
 he formed an alliance with Saladin ; and, in various 
 ways, made the rival Caesar feel the effects of his 
 perfidy. 
 
 Europe left behind, and the Hellespont crossed, 
 Frederick Barbarossa arrived among the Turks, and 
 found a ^ew foe in the Sultan of Iconium. Having 
 been as lavish of his promises as the Greek Emperor, 
 the Sultan proved not less perfidious. No sooner had 
 the crusaders reached the Meander, than they began 
 to comprehend their situation. The banks of the river, 
 the tops of the mountains, and the surrounding thick- 
 ets, were defended by the Sultan's soldiers ; and when 
 the German warriors attempted to pass, they were 
 assailed on all sides by arrows and javelins. 
 
 The crusaders were about to ford the Meander, 
 when they learned that the Duke of Suabia, who led 
 the van, was missing, and supposed him to be dead. 
 But the Emperor's piety and courage were proof even 
 
166 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 against such tidings of calamity. " Woe is mc ! " he 
 exclaimed, " my son is slain ; but Christ lives-. On, 
 my men ! " Encouraged by the words of their aged 
 chief, soldiers' and men charged through the stream, 
 bearing down all opposition, and slaughtering the 
 Turks in such numbers, that their corpses covered the 
 passage they had been ordered to defend. 
 
 This victory achieved, Frederick Barbarossa and 
 his soldiers proceeded on their way. But they were, 
 ere long, involved in serious difficulty and distress. 
 Not- only were they exposed to cold, hunger, and 
 famine, but to constant attacks by the Sultan's troops, 
 who harassed them night and day. At length, to avert 
 still worse evils, Frederick determined to besiege Icon- 
 ium ; and directed his march towards that city. 
 
 It was about the feast of Pentecost when the Empe- 
 ror of Germany, after having overcome thousands of 
 dangers, arrived before Iconium, within the walls of 
 which the Sultan had shut himself. At first, matters 
 were somewhat alarming. Scarcely, indeed, had the 
 crusaders encamped, when a fearful storm burst upon 
 their camp ; and when next morning dawned, the 
 Turks, led by the Sultan's son, came forth in such 
 numbers, that defeat appeared inevitable. The Em- 
 peror, however, was undaunted. " I thank God," he 
 exclaimed, raising his hands in the sight of all, " that 
 the battle so long delayed by the flight of our foes, is 
 now about to be fou2;ht." 
 
 The courage of Frederick was not lost upon his 
 troops. Inspired by the sight of his countenance, so 
 calm in the midst of danger, they shouted their battle- 
 cry, and came hand to hand with the foe. Nothing 
 
FKEDERICK BARBAKOSSA. 167\ 
 
 could resist the onset, and ere the combat had long 
 continued, heaps of Turks lay slain around. The city 
 yielded without delay ; and the Germans entered, 
 with swords in their hands and vengeance at their 
 hearts, the capital in which they had been promised 
 provisions and peace. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Sultan of Iconium ascended a lofty 
 tower, and thence viewed the country around and the 
 hostile armies. Seeing that fortune was against him, 
 and that his host was vanquished, the Sultan sent 
 messengers to the Emperor throwing all the blame of 
 hostilities on his son, and promising to do whatever 
 was required. A treaty was accordingly negotiated, 
 and hostages given by the Sultan for its fulfilment. 
 
 The capture of Iconium changed, for the better, the 
 situation of the crusaders ; and, as the fame of their 
 exploits spread through the East, the Armenians sent 
 to solicit the Emperor's alliance. The progress of the 
 German army was then rapid and victorious ; and 
 their discipline excited such admiration, and was re- 
 ported in such terms to Saladin, that he began to 
 quake at their approach. Everything, in fact, so far 
 as the Germans were concerned, looked promising, 
 and they had already begun to indulge in visions of 
 victory, when one day they reached the Selcf, a little 
 river, which rises in the mountains of Isauria, and 
 washes the walls of Sclucia. 
 
 On that day, however, a melancholy event swept all 
 visions of conquest away. It was ordered that the 
 great Emperor should never reach the opposite bank 
 alive. No danger, indeed, appeared to impend. While 
 the sampler horses and baggage were passing over, 
 
1G8 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Frederick halted near a rock, on which was inscribed 
 the words, " Here the greatest of men shall perish." 
 Becoming impatient, and wishing to accelerate the 
 march, the Emperor dashed into the stream at the 
 nearest point, with the idea of getting before the sump- 
 ter horses, and pursuing his march at the head of his 
 army. The stream, however, proved too much for 
 the aged warrior ; and, carried down by its force, he 
 struck his head against a tree, and falling from his 
 horse, was immersed in the water. A cry of horror 
 instantly rose, and hundreds of men rushed to the 
 rescue. But when dragged out, Frederick was quite 
 benumbed, and he almost instantly expired. His death 
 filled the crusading army with dismay ; and while some 
 of the German warriors continued their expedition 
 towards Antioch, under the Duke of Suabia, others, 
 discouraged and despairing, deserted their standard, 
 and returned home. 
 
 • The news of the death of the great Emperor, on 
 reaching Germany, caused the utmost grief; and 
 many of his subjects refused to beheve that he was 
 no more. Even now, German tradition asserts that 
 Frederick is not dead, but sleepmg in a rocky cavern 
 in the hills near Salzburg, ready to appear once more 
 on earth when things come to the worst. It is added, 
 that a peasant once stumbling among the rocks, en- 
 tered the cavern, and saw the Emperor seated at, and 
 leaning his elbow on a marble table, through which his 
 beard had grown in such a way as to stream on the 
 floor. He was half awake ; and looking up, he in- 
 quired what time it was; and, on receiving an answer, 
 said — " Not time yet ; but will be soon." 
 
FKEDERICK BAKBAROSSA. 
 
 169 
 
 Well nigh seven centuries ago, however, the funeral 
 rites of. Frederick Barbarossa were performed on the 
 banks of the Selef. The body, after being adorned 
 with royal magnificence, was conveyed to Antioch, 
 and there the flesh, having been boiled from the bones, 
 was laid in the Church of the Apostolic See, while the 
 bones were sent by sea 'to Tyre, that they might 
 thence be conveyed to Jerusalem. It was ordained, 
 however, that Frederick should not find a resting-place 
 in the Holy City he had vowed to rescue ; for, at 
 Tyre, the good Archbishop buried the remains of the 
 great Emperor with becoming solemnity, and pro- 
 nounced a funeral oration worthy of the obsequies of 
 a monarch of whom Christendom had been proud. 
 
 15 
 
170 THE CEUSADES AND THE CKUSADEHS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE TOYAGE OF CCEIJR DE LION. 
 
 Whex Henry, King of England, died of grief and 
 weariness at the palace of the Plantagenets, on the 
 banks of the Loire, Richard CcEur de Lion had reached 
 the age of thirty-two, and won high renown among 
 the warriors of his generation. His appearance was 
 such as to give the idea of a man frank in friendship 
 and formidable in war. His form was bulky and 
 strong; his limbs long, but finely proportioned; and 
 he had a fair face, set off with bright blue eyes and 
 auburn hair, which he wore in curls. Array such a 
 personage in a tunic of rose-colored satin, girded at 
 the waist, with a mantle of striped silver tissue bro- 
 caded with half moons ; hang at his belt a sword of 
 Damascus steel, with a golden hilt, in a silver-scaled 
 sheath ; place on his head a scarlet bonnet, brocaded 
 with gold ; mount him on a Spanish steed, magnifi- 
 cently harnessed ; and you will have some idea of 
 Coeur de Lion, as he appeared to those contemporaries 
 in whose company he went to do battle with the 
 mfidel. 
 
 Richard was a native of England, having first seen 
 
THE TOYAGE OF CGEUH DE LION. 171 
 
 the light at Beaumont, near Oxford. During his 
 father's Hfe he had been the most refractory of sons, 
 and taken a prominent part in those parricidal wars, 
 which brought down our first Plantagenet King with 
 sorrow to the grave. However, when the corpse of 
 Henry was on its Avay from Chinon to its resting- 
 place, Richard, touched with remorse, met the proces- 
 sion, and with signs of contrition accompanied the 
 funeral to the abbey of Foutrevault, and made some 
 slight atonement Tor breaches of filial duty by praying 
 at the side of his father's corpse. 
 
 A few months after Henry had departed this life, 
 Richard was welcomed in England, and invested with 
 the symbols of sovereignty at Westminster. The 
 coronation was rendered memorable by a fearful mas- 
 sacre of the Jews, which began in London and 
 extended all over England.^*' Richard issued a pro- 
 clamation taking the Jews under his protection ; but 
 he was in no frame of mind to exert himself much in 
 their behalf. Ever since the conference of Gisors, he 
 had been occupied with visions of battles in Palestine ; 
 
 * "On the very clay of the coronation," says Richard of 
 Devizes, " about that solemn hour in which the Son was immo- 
 lated to the Father, a sacrifice of the Jews to their father the 
 devil was commenced in the city of London ; and so long was 
 the duration of this famous mystery, that the holocaust could 
 scarcely be accomplished on the ensuing day. The other cities 
 and towns of the kingdom emulated the faith of the Londoners, 
 and with a like devotion despatched their bloodsuckers with 
 blood to hell, everywhere throughout the realm : only Winches- 
 ter alone, the people being prudent and circumspect, and the 
 city always acting mildly, spared its vermin. — Chronicles of 
 the Crusades, 
 
172 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 and no sooner was the Confessor's crown placed on 
 his head, than he bent his whole thoughts towards 
 the East. Not content with the money exacted by 
 his father as " the Saladin tenth," he turned his 
 presence-chamber into a mart, and disposed of towns, 
 castles, and demesne-lands to the highest bidder. 
 Some of his ministers remonstrated, but in vain. " If 
 I could find a proper purchaser," he said, " I would 
 sell London itself." Having disposed of the earldom 
 of Northumberland to Hugh Pudsey, Bishop of Dur- 
 ham, he jocosely boasted that " he had made a young 
 earl out of an old bishop." 
 
 While occupied with the task of raising money for 
 the crusade, Richard was reminded by a messenger 
 from Philip that their departure was^ fixed for Eas^r, 
 1190.__The King of England engaged upon oath to be 
 ready at the time named ; and, having nominated the 
 Bishop of Durham as regent, repaired to Normandy, 
 and held a great council at Rouen. The departure of 
 the two Kings was then postponed to midsummer, 
 when their magnificent armies mustered on the plains 
 of Vezelay, and moved in company to Lyons. There 
 they parted — Philip to betake himself to Genoa, 
 where he hoped to hire transports ; Richard to march 
 down the Rhone to_J\Iarseilles, where he expected to 
 meet the English fleet. 
 
 Between the time of his meeting with William of 
 Tyre at Gisors and his death in the palace of Chinon, 
 Henry had built ships for his voyage to the East. 
 Richard was thus enabled, besides other vessels of 
 war, to launch fifty galleys of three banks of oars, 
 and he moreover selected transports from the ship- 
 
THE VOYAGE OF CCEUR DE LION. 173 
 
 ping in all his ports. The English King found him- 
 self, unlike other sovereigns, quite independent of 
 Venice or Genoa, and had, in fact, at his com- 
 mand the most formidable fleet that Europe had ever 
 seen. 
 
 It was from Dartmouth that the English ships sailed, 
 with a magnificent display of banners and painted 
 shields. Their voyage, however, was not fortunate. 
 While crossing the Bay of Biscay, the ships were 
 scattered in all directions ; and many of them suffered 
 so fearfully from the tempest and the waves, that their 
 ultimate safety was ascribed to the interference of St. 
 Edmund and Thomas a Becket. 
 
 Richard, on reaching Marseilles, learned with dis- 
 appointment that the English fleet had not arrived. 
 After waiting some days, his patience gave way ; and 
 having hired galleys to convey him to Genoa, he went 
 on board, leaving the bulk of his army to embark for 
 Sicily. Havincp sailed into the river Arno, and visited 
 Pisa, he proceeded to the mouth of the Tiber, and 
 was there met by a Cardinal, who welcomed him to 
 the papal territories. The interview between Cceur 
 de Lion and the Cardinal was not altogether satisfac- 
 tory. The Cardinal, unfortunately, asked payment of 
 some dues ; and the King, in a rage, abused him, with- 
 out regard to his spiritual character. Declining to visit 
 Rome, Richard repaired to Naples, and rode up a 
 lovely pass of the Appenines to Salerno. 
 
 AVhen Coeur de Lion entered Calabria, and was 
 
 passing through a village, unattended save by a single 
 
 knight, he was informed that one of the inhabitants 
 
 possessed a very fine hawk. The King, wanting some 
 
 15* 
 
174 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 exciting sport, and understanding that the owner was 
 merely a peasant, who had no right to keep such a 
 bird, entered the man's tenement and seized it. The 
 Calabrian rustic, not rehshing the loss of his hawk, 
 ran after the King, with the cry of *•' Stop thief!" 
 The neighbors came to the spot with stones and sticks, 
 and one of them with a sword made a thrust at Rich- 
 ard, who still kept the bird on his wrist. Enraged, 
 Coeur de Lion struck the peasant with the back of his 
 sword ; and the blade breaking, he was in a helpless 
 predicament, and forced to fly for his life to a priory. 
 Reaching the coast, he pitched his tent near the cav- 
 ern of Scylla ; and next day, the fleet having ap- 
 peared, with sounds of trumpets and clang of horns, 
 he entered the port of Messina, where the French 
 King had already arrived. 
 
 Philip Augustus now proposed to proceed to the 
 East ; but, the winds proving contrary, the crusaders 
 determined upon w^intering of Sicily. William the 
 Good, the last of the Norman rulers in Sicily, had 
 recently died, under the impression that his aunt, the 
 Princess Constance, would succeed, and that Queen 
 Joan, his widow, who was Richard's sister, would 
 enjoy a magnificent dower. But so strong was the 
 prejudice against the government of women, that Tan- 
 cred, an illegitimate scion of the royal house of Sicily, 
 had not only seized the throne of Constance, but 
 withheld Joan's dower, and placed the royal widow 
 in durance. Richard, indignant at his sister being so 
 treated, demanded that she should be restored to 
 liberty, and that she should be paid her dower. 
 Tancred, complying with one demand, sent Joan to 
 
THE VOYAGE OF CCEUR DE LION. 175 
 
 Messina ; but hesitated about the dower. Richard, 
 not to be trifled with, crossed the strahs, placed his 
 sister iii the Castle of Baynard, and returning to 
 Messina, expelled the monks from a monastery, and 
 converted it into a store-house. Next day, when his 
 soldiers were strolling through the town, they were set 
 upon by the inhabitants, who killed them without 
 mercy, and closed the gates of the town. The cru- 
 saders, enraged at this outrage, were about to scale 
 the walls ; but Richard, riding among them, com- 
 pelled them to fall back ; and going to the French 
 camp, he there had an interview with the magistrates, 
 and obtained promises of redress. 
 
 But, ere this, mischief had appeared in another 
 form. The English crusaders had begun to quarrel 
 w^ith those from France ; and Philip, with the chief 
 men of Messina, repaired to the English King's tent 
 to complain and remonstrate. Richard was promis- 
 ing redress, when the conference was interrupted in 
 a way which made his blood boil. In fact, while 
 the Kings were in council, a band of Sicilians, gather- 
 ing on the hills over the English camp, threatened 
 an assault, and wounded a knight of Normandy, 
 whom chance threw m their way. The sight kindled 
 Richard's ire, and, rushing out, w^ith vows of ven- 
 geance, he led his soldiers up the hillside, repulsed 
 the SiciUans, chased them to their gates, and taking 
 the city by storm, planted the flag of England on 
 the highest tower. The French, however, lent no 
 assistance ; and Philip, who seemed rather inclined to 
 take part with the Sicilians, expressed such indignation, 
 that Richard was under the necessity of lowering his 
 
176 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 standard and committing the city to the Templars and 
 Knifrhts of St. John. 
 
 Tancred now began to comprehend the man with 
 whom he had to deal. Warned by the past, the 
 SiciUan King came to terms, paid a large part of 
 Joan's demand, and plighted the hand of his infant 
 daughter to Richard's nephew, Arthur, Duke of Brit- 
 tany. But the winter, though enlivened by a mag- 
 nificent banquet, which Richard gave at Christmas, 
 wore slowly away ; and disputes soon broke out be- 
 tween the Kincps. 
 
 When a boy, Richard had been contracted in mar- 
 riage to Alice, Philip's sister, and the Princess with 
 her dowry, had been placed in Henry's custody. 
 Engaged in war, Richard paid little attention to his 
 betrothed ; and it was not till incited by his mother, 
 that he demanded her hand. Henry, however, ex- 
 hibited no inclination to grant his son's request ; and 
 Richard, while taking part in a tournament at Pampe- 
 luna, became enamored of Berengaria, daughter of 
 the Kino; of Navarre. On ascending; the English 
 throne, he deputed his mother to demand Berengaria 
 in marriage ; and the mission having been crowned 
 with success, Berengaria arrived at Messina, and was 
 placed under the protection of Queen Joan. Philip, 
 on seeing this, charged Richard, with breach of a 
 matrimonial treaty ; and Richard, putting aside all 
 delicacy, informed Philip, that Alice had wrecked her 
 maiden reputation by a scandalous intrigue. High 
 words, of course, passed between the comrades-in- 
 arms ; but at length, when spring arrived, Philip, 
 finding that the case would not bear discussion, com- 
 
THE VOYAGE OF CCEUIl DE LION. 177 
 
 pounded the dispute for a sum of money, and leaving 
 the Enghsh King to celebrate his marriage, set sail for 
 Acre. 
 
 After the departure of Philip, Richard became too 
 enthusiastic to delay his enterprise for his wedding ; 
 and embarking in one galley, while Berengaria, under 
 the auspices of Queen Joan, embarked in another, he 
 sailed for the Holy Land. The voyage was inter- 
 rupted by a tempest which scattered the fleet, and 
 Richard reached Rhodes without his bride, whose 
 galley had taken refuge at Cyprus. Richard, learn- 
 ing that two of his ships had been maltreated at 
 Cyprus, sailed thither with his fleet ; and no sooner 
 did he recognize the galley in which Berengaria and 
 Queen Joan were, than he concluded they had been 
 injured, and vowed vengeance on the islanders. 
 
 Cyprus was inhabited by Greeks, and governed 
 by a prince of imperial lineage, who styled himself 
 " Isaac, Emperor of Cyprus." With an idea of re- 
 sisting the crusaders, this potentate ranged his troops 
 along the shore, and placed some galleys at the mouth 
 of the harbor. But his bravado had not the in- 
 tended effect. Hardly, indeed, had Richard become 
 aware that he was defied, when he siezed his ponder- 
 ous battle-axe, leaped into a boat, and chasing the 
 Emperor to Nicosia, took possession of Limisso. Next 
 morning, however, Isaac sent to sue for peace ; and 
 Richard expressing his readiness to negotiate, met 
 the Emperor outside the city. A reconciliation then 
 took place ; and Isaac engaged to pay Richard a large 
 sum in gold, to follow the English to Palestine with a 
 
178 THE CKUSADES AND THE CEUSADERS. 
 
 well-appointed force, and to give his youthful daughter 
 as a hostage for his good faith. 
 
 Matters had scarcely been thus arranged, when 
 Isaac escaped, and again attempted resistance. But 
 Richard was not to be baffled. After cutting off 
 the wily Greek's flight by sea, the English King 
 marched upon the capital, and took Isaac's daughter 
 prisoner. This last circumstance was too much for 
 the Emperor of Cyprus. He left his stronghold, 
 threw himself at the King's feet, and offered his 
 own life for his child's freedom. Richard, while de- 
 taining the Princess, ordered her father to be put 
 in chains. The crestfallen Cypriot entreated that he 
 might not be disgraced by bonds of iron, and Richard, 
 laughing, ordered chains of silver to be forged for the 
 imperial captive. 
 
 No pity appears to have been felt for Isaac, when 
 thus deprived of his crown and liberty. Indeed, 
 Geoffrey de Yinsauf, an Anglo-Norman monk, who 
 accompanied the crusaders, and wrote, in their camp, 
 a history of the expedition, treats the Emperor as the 
 worst of human beings. " He was the most wicked 
 of men," says Yinsauf, " surpassing Judas in trea- 
 chery, and wantonly persecuting all who professed the 
 Christian relio;ion. He was said to be a friend of 
 Saladin, and it was reported that they had drunk 
 each other's blood, as a sim and testimony of mutual 
 treaty, as if, by the mingling of blood outwardly, they 
 might become kinsmen in reality." 
 
 Having reduced Cyprus, Richard resolved on being 
 crowned king of the island, and remaining to solemnize 
 
THE VOYAGE OF CCEUB. DE LIOX. 179 
 
 his marriage. A grand feast was accordingly pro- 
 claimed ; and wlien Bcrengaria had, in the month of 
 May, become Queen of England, the English crusa- 
 ders embarked in their vessels, hoisted their sails, and 
 steered for Acre. 
 
i80 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE SIEGE OF ACRE. 
 
 Among the cities of the East, Acre, situated on a 
 promontory at the foot of Mount Carmel, and washed 
 by the waters of the Mediterranean, was one of the 
 most important in the eyes of the crusaders. Sur- 
 rounded on the land side with deep ditches, fortified 
 with high walls and strong towers, that dominated 
 over promontory and plain, and frequented by marmers 
 and merchants from all parts of Europe and Asia, the 
 capture and recovery of the place might well engage 
 the attention of warriors. Accordingly Saladin, after 
 his victory at Tiberias, hastened to make himself master 
 of Acre ; and Guy de Lusignan, on regaining liberty, 
 devoted his whole energies to the task of wresting it 
 from Saladin's grasp. 
 
 The siege of Acre commenced in the autumn of 
 1189. Guy de Lusignan at first had not more than 
 nine thousand men under his banner ; and Saladin 
 treated the Christian King's operations with some 
 degree of contempt. Ere long, however, the Oriental 
 warrior became alarmed. In fact, there were rumors 
 of aid from Europe ; and the Sultan, roused to exer- 
 tion, assembled a numerous army, approached Acre, 
 occupied all the high ground in the neighborhood, and 
 
THE SIEGE OF ACRE. 181 
 
 placed Guy, who had come as a besieger, in the predi- 
 cament of being besieged. Nevertheless, the Cliristians 
 of the East mamtained their position, and soon found 
 themselves reinforced by crusaders from Denmark, 
 from Friesland, and from almost every country in 
 Europe, among whom was Baldwin, Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, who had preceded the English King, with 
 five hundred men, under a banner on which was 
 inscribed the name of Thomas a Becket. 
 
 The rapid influx of crusaders, and the daily arrival 
 of ships from Europe, inspired the Moslems with dis- 
 may ; and many of Saladin's emirs counselled a retreat. 
 The Sultan, however, contrived to preserve his equa- 
 nimity, and endeavored to dispel their fears. " This," 
 said he, " is a trick. These Christians take away their 
 ships by night and bring them back again at dawn of 
 day, as if they were newly arrived, for the purpose of 
 making a display of strength." Saladin, however, was 
 not ignorant of the actual state of affairs, and was, in 
 reality, torn with anxiety, while exhibiting " a calm 
 and fearless countenance." 
 
 Such was the situation of the armies that covere"d 
 the plain of Acre, when the crusaders resolved on 
 givmg Saladin battle. Leaving the brave Geoffrey de 
 Lusignan to protect their camp, they advanced to the 
 attack, and their onslaught was so fierce, that Saladin's 
 army gave way. The Sultan was in the utmost peril ; 
 but, supported by the Mamelukes, he stood his ground, 
 and, rallymg his men, renewed the combat. The for- 
 tune of the day soon changed ; and Saladin's horsemen 
 charging impetuously, first destroyed the Frankish 
 cavalry, and then dispersed the Knights of the Temple. 
 10 
 
182 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADEKS. 
 
 In vain did Geoffrey de Lusignan come to the rescue, 
 and use all his efforts to rally the fugitives. The 
 struggle proved hopeless; the slaughter was terrible, 
 and the total destruction of the Christians would have 
 been inevitable, had not Geoffrey stayed the rush with 
 sufficient success to save the camp. As it was, the 
 crusaders suffered severely, and they owed their 
 safety, not to their own exertions, but to the disorder 
 of their foes. 
 
 Saladin did not attempt to follow up the advantage 
 he had won. In truth, the great Sultan was in no 
 position to do so. Provisions were scarce; winter was 
 approaching ; and prudence compelled him to retire to 
 the mountains. But no sooner did spring return, than 
 he hastened to the encounter; and, with drums beating 
 and banners frying, his mighty army descended to the 
 plain. The Christians were somewhat dismayed at 
 sight of such foes ; and well nigh in despair, when 
 three wooden towers, constructed by them durhig win- 
 ter, were assailed by Greek fire and consumed, as if 
 struck by lightning. Moreover, an Egyptian fleet that 
 entered the port added to their danger; and Saladin's 
 attacks were so incessant, that no repose could be got, 
 night or day. Conflict after conflict took place ; and 
 on each occasion the crusaders had the worst. 
 
 About this stage of the operations, the Duke of 
 Suabia, who had halted for a time at Antioch, arrived 
 at Acre. But the crusaders, who had heard of the 
 magnificent army led from Germany by Frederick 
 Barbarossa, were mortified when only live thousand 
 men appeared. The Duke, however, was ambitious of 
 signalising his arrival by some memorable exploit, and 
 
THE SIEGE OF ACRE. 183 
 
 insisted on immediately attacking the foe. The Chris- 
 tian leaders agreed, all the more readily, perhaps, that 
 Saladin was known to be a prey to sickness. But the 
 Sultan, albeit too unwell to mount on horseback, caused 
 himself to be carried to the battle, and enacted the part 
 of general with so much skill, that the crusaders, after 
 fighting for a whole day, returned to their camp baffled 
 and dispirited. 
 
 Nor was this the worst. New misfortunes befel the 
 crusaders. Famine and disease attacked the camp ; 
 and death carried off many of the principal warriors. 
 At the same time, the circumstance of Sybil, wife of 
 Guy de Lusignan, with her two children, going the 
 way of all flesh, caused fresh discord ; for Guy was 
 utterly disinclined to part with the crown which he had 
 worn as her husband ; and Conrad of Montferrat, 
 having by a scandalous intrigue married Sybil's 
 younger sister, Isabel, who was the heiress, proved 
 himself a formidable rival. During winter, the army 
 was divided into two parties, ever on the eve of con- 
 flict ; and the condition of the crusaders was in every 
 respect deplorable, when the spring of 1191 came; 
 and, with spring, Philip Augustus and the warriors of 
 France. 
 
 Never was king more welcome than Philip. His 
 presence revived the hopes of the besiegers, and 
 nerved them for new encounters. After pitching their 
 tents within bowshot of the enemy's lines, the French 
 hastened to the attack. But the efforts made by Philip 
 being promptly met, were unsuccessful ; and the 
 courage of the crusaders again drooped. Besides, the 
 French monarch's arrival furnished Saladin with a fair 
 
184 THE CEUSADES AND THE CEITSADERS. 
 
 excuse for rousing all Moslems to arms ; and warriors 
 from two continents flocked to his standard. 
 
 While the tents of martial tribes, gathered from 
 Asia and Africa, covered hills, and valleys, and plains, 
 and while the soldiers of the cross were thinkinor 
 anxiously of what a day might bring forth, the appear- 
 ance of the English fleet, on the 8th of June, diffused 
 general joy. A clangor of trumpets and musical 
 mstruments hailed the coming of Cceur de Lion ; and 
 the French King, hastening lo the shore, received his 
 royal rival with the utmost courtesy, and, with chival- 
 rous gallantrj'-, lifted Berengaria from the boat to the 
 beach. The day was kept as a jubilee ; wine was 
 drunk from costly cups; the deeds of the ancients 
 were recited ; popular ballads were sung ; harps, pipes, 
 and timbrels sounded on every side ; and when night, 
 which was passed in dancing, set in, wax torches and 
 flaming lights sparkled in such profusion, that the 
 Turks fancied the valley was on fire. 
 
 The presence of the English might well, indeed, 
 revive the fainting courage of the Christians in the 
 East. No fear could be entertained of that feudal army 
 being found wanting on the day of trial. Cceur de 
 Lion was considered as quite a host in himself; and the 
 men whom he led were proud of the prowess, and 
 inspired by the spirit of their King. Moreover, he 
 was accompanied by Anglo-Norm.an nobles, who, as 
 war chiefs, had no rivals in Europe. William Ferrars, 
 Earl of Derby ; Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk; Robert 
 Fitz-Parnel, Earl of Leceister ; Hubert Walter, Bishop 
 of Salisbury ; Ralph Glanville, Justiciary of England ; 
 Hugh de Gourney, grandson of Girard, who fought in 
 
THE SIEGE OF ACHE. 185 
 
 Palestine with Robert Curthose ; Richard, Earl of 
 Clare, head of that family which took so conspicuous a 
 part in the conquest of Ireland ; and Hugh Neville, 
 heir-male of that Norman whose name figures in Dug- 
 dale as the Conqueror's admiral — were the captains 
 who now encamped around the royal standard of 
 England under the walls of Acre. 
 
 But the grandeur of the English crusaders tended 
 to inspire hatred in the breasts of their rivals, and, in a 
 few days, discord appeared. Any feelings of friend- 
 ship that ever existed between Richard and Philip had 
 evaporated at Messina; and, within a week after their 
 re-union, disputes about the disposal of the crown of 
 Jerusalem revived the old feud. Richard and the 
 English, supported by the Pisans and the Knights of 
 St. John, advocated the claim of Guy de Lusignan ; 
 Philip, allying himself whh the Germans, the Genoese, 
 and the Knights of the Temple, took part with Conrad 
 of Montferrat. The two parties, ever ready to come 
 to blows, were in no temper to unhe their arms 
 against the infidels. They were still contending, when 
 CoBur de Lion was prostrated \vith sickness. 
 
 While Richard lay in his tent, Philip resolved to 
 take Acre without English aid ; and, having erected 
 machines of war, gave orders for an assault. The 
 attempt, though boldly made, entirely failed ; and sub- 
 sequent efforts were not more successful. In one of 
 these, Alberic Clements, a man renowned for valor, 
 won immortal fame. Seemg the French toiling to no 
 purpose, he exclaimed — " This day I will enter into 
 the city of Acre, or perish, if it please God ," and 
 boldly mounted a ladder. As he reached the top of 
 16* 
 
186 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 the wall, the Turks surrounded him on all sides ; and 
 the French, who were on the point of following, were 
 so overwhelmed by the pressure of numbers on the 
 ladder, that many were bruised to death, and others 
 were dragged away fearfully injured. Alone and 
 overpowered, Alberic struggled till he was pierced 
 with countless wounds, and died, as he had wished, a 
 martyr in his Redeemer's cause. The French were 
 much discouraged by their loss, and gave themselves 
 up to lamentation and mourning. 
 
 While Philip Augustus was vainly endeavoring to 
 reduce Acre without English aid. King Richard was 
 stretched on a couch of languishing. But, however 
 weak might be the flesh of Coeur de Lion, his spirit 
 was willing. Hoping to have the glory of accomplish- 
 ing that in which his rival had failed, he ordered his 
 soldiers to prepare for an assault, and caused himself 
 to be carried to the walls, that he might, by his pres- 
 ence, animate them to deeds of heroism. Accordingly, 
 everything was arranged ; and the English advanced 
 to the attack, the King appearing among them on a 
 silken bed, with an arbalist, from which he discharged 
 arrows and darts at the besieged. Encouraged by 
 inspiriting words and promises of reward, the English 
 wrought deeds of valor ; and Richard, with his sling, 
 slew many of the foe, among others a man who boast- 
 fully displayed himself on the ramparts, wearing the 
 armor of Alberic Clements. But the height of the 
 walls and the valor of the Turks baffled all efforts to 
 take the city; and the English were fain, as the French 
 had been, to abandon the assault in despair. 
 
 Repeated failures convinced the Kings of England 
 
THE SIEGE OF ACRE. 187 
 
 and France of the impolicy of their conduct, and, 
 harmony having been restored, they, in compact, 
 besieged the city with great ardor. But the Turks 
 were in an unyielding mood. Obstinately resisting 
 every attack, and throwing Greek fire, they kept the 
 besiegers at bay. Many fierce and sanguinary con- 
 flicts took place between Saladin and the crusaders, 
 but neither side, for a time, gained any decided advan- 
 tage. 
 
 Nevertheless, the crusaders persevered with their 
 enterprise. Every day new means were tried to 
 reduce the city ; and the besieged, sufiering from 
 famine and fatigue, proposed to capitulate. But Philip 
 vowed to slaughter every Moslem, unless all the cities 
 taken from the Christians were restored; and the 
 emirs, indignant at the demand, declared that they 
 would rather die beneath the ruins of Acre than con- 
 sent to such terms. " We will defend the city," said 
 they with decision, " as the lion defends his blood- 
 stained lair." 
 
 Events did not justify the boast of the emirs. For 
 some days, indeed, they continued to resist with 
 obstinacy. But at length, giving way to despair, they 
 sent pigeons with intimation of their position to Saladin, 
 and resolved on leaving the city by night, with the 
 hope of escaping to the Sultan's camp. Their project, 
 however, became known to the crusaders, who kept so 
 strict a watch, that egress was impossible. Under 
 these circumstances, the emirs consented to yield 
 Acre, and to leave thousands as captives, on condition 
 that the soldiers composing the garrison, leaving behind 
 their arms and property, were allowed to depart with- 
 
188 THE CRUSADES ATn'D THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 out molestation. The two Kings agreed to the terms ; 
 the Turks marched out, and the crusaders entering, 
 planted the Christian standard on the ramparts ; and 
 Hugh de Gourney divided the spoil between the two 
 armies in such a way as to prevent disputes. 
 
 On this occasion, Richard displayed a degree of im- 
 prudence destined to cost him dear. After entering 
 Acre, he not only offended the King of France by 
 taldng possession of the palace, but insulted the Duke 
 of Austria by ordering that prince's banner to be 
 pulled down from the walls, thrown into the ditch, and 
 replaced by the standard of England. Little notice 
 appears to have been taken of these matters at the 
 time. Philip Augustus quietly became the guest of the 
 Templars, and Leopold of Austria digested the insult 
 as he best could. But both "bit their gloves" and 
 treasured up the wrong. 
 
 It soon became evident, that Richard and Philip 
 could not act amicably together ; and the French 
 King, under pretext of suffering from the climate, inti- 
 mated his intention of returning to Europe. Richard 
 offered no opposition, but exacted an oath that his ter- 
 ritories should not be attacked in his absence. Having 
 taken the oath, Philip left his army under the Duke of 
 Burgundy's command, and departed, not without signi- 
 ficant hints from the assembled crusaders that he was 
 regarded as a deserter. 
 
BATTLE OF ASSUK. 169 
 
 CHA PTER XII. 
 
 BATTLE OF ASSUR. 
 
 When Philip Augustus had sailed for Europe, and 
 the crusaders had repaired the battered works of Acre, 
 King Richard, issuing from the gate pitched his tent 
 outside the walls, and gave orders that the whole army 
 should leave the captured city, and prepare to march 
 to Jerusalem. The behest of the English King was 
 not very readily obeyed. Acre, in fact, was full of 
 choice wine and captivating women ; and the soldiers 
 of the cross were in no haste to leave quarters where 
 such luxuries abounded. 
 
 CoDur de Lion, however, was resolute in his pur- 
 pose ; and the crusaders, gradually tearing themselves 
 from their pleasures, quitted the city , " but," says the 
 chronicler, " slowly and peevishly, as if they did it 
 against their will." Leaving the two Queens — Joan 
 and Berengaria — with the Emperor Isaac's little 
 daughter, at Acre, and giving orders that no women, 
 save washerwomen, should accompany the army, 
 Richard commenced his march along the coast, having 
 the sea on his right, and on his left heights from which 
 the Saracens >vatched his movements and awaited a 
 favorable opportunity to attack. The army, however, 
 
190 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 marched in formidable order : the Templars leading the 
 van 5 the King of England, with his standard towering 
 conspicuously, in the centre ; and the Knights of St. 
 John bringing up the rear. Every evening, when the 
 crusaders halted under the shade of palm-trees, the 
 heralds of the several camps three times cried aloud ; — 
 " Save the Holy Sepulchre ! " and every soldier bent 
 his knee, and said " Amen ! " 
 
 In the meantime, Saladin was not inattentive to 
 the movements of his foes. Day by day the great 
 Sultan infested the crusaders' line of march, and, at 
 the head of an army infinitely superior in numbers, 
 caused them the utmost annoyance. Sometimes their 
 van was attacked; at other times, the rear was 
 harassed ; and every soldier who strayed, was carried 
 off as if by magic. The crusaders, however, pur- 
 suing their march, succeeded in keeping the enemy 
 at bay ; and in the many skirmishes which took place, 
 deeds of valor were wrought on both sides. 
 
 While advancing towards the city of Assur, and 
 entering a narrow plam, on the left of which rose the 
 steep mountains of Naplouse, the crusaders were ex- 
 posed to the most severe attacks. On one occasion, 
 the Saracens descending from the heights upon the 
 pack horses, carried off much baggage, and, charging 
 in the midst of the confusion which their attack had 
 created, scattered all who opposed. The crusaders, 
 however, exhibited high courage, and offered a 
 desperate resistance. One man, named Everard, a 
 follower of the Bishop of Salisbury, particularly dis- 
 tinguished himself. Happening in the fray to have 
 his right hand cut off by a Saracen, Everard, without 
 
BATTLE OF ASSUR. 191 
 
 even changing countenance, clutched the sword with 
 his left, and defended himself courageously against a 
 host of assailants. 
 
 While Everard was thus occupied, Eichard be- 
 ing made aware of the attack, came galloping to the 
 rescue. Shouting out " St. George ! St. George ! " the 
 King cut down all who crossed his path ; and the 
 Saracens, amazed at such prowess, bore back, and 
 escaped to their mountams. But their absence was 
 merely temporary. Scarcely had Richard restored 
 order, when his van and rear were again assailed. 
 Every opportunity was seized on by the Sultan and 
 his soldiers. At length a battle became inevitable. 
 
 It was Saturday, 7th September, 1191, and Sala- 
 din, with his main army, and his camels and drome- 
 daries and baggage, had got in advance of the 
 crusaders, and determined, if possible, to arrest their 
 progress. With this object, the Sultan selected his 
 post on the verge of a forest of oaks, which extended 
 along the declivities of the mountains of Naplouse, 
 and hard by a torrent, which crosses the plains of 
 Assur and flows into the sea near the ramparts of the 
 city. Part of the Moslem army covered the heights ; 
 while the main body awaited the foe on the margin of 
 the river. 
 
 At the early dawn of a Syrian morning, on the 
 eve of the Virgin's nativity, the crusaders armed for 
 the conflict. Richard, aware of having to encounter 
 a superior force, marshalled the Christian host with 
 great care, and in five divisions. The first was formed 
 by the Knights of the Temple, who led the van ; the 
 second comprised the men of Anjou and Brittany, 
 
192 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 marching in good order ; the third was formed of the 
 warriors of Poictiers, under Guy de Lusignan ; the 
 fourth was composed of the warriors of England and 
 Normandy, led by such barons as the Earl of 
 Leicester, Hugh Neville, and Hugh de Gourney, and 
 surrounding their national standard ; * and the fifth 
 consisted of the Knights of St. Jolin, who " kept to- 
 gether so closely, that an apple, if thrown, would not 
 have fallen to the ground without touching a man or 
 a horse." 
 
 The crusaders, thus arrayed, were moving onwards, 
 and the Count of Champagne, the Duke of Burgundy, 
 and the King of England, who was mounted on a 
 magnificent bay steed he had brought from Cyprus, 
 rode up and down narrowly watching the movements 
 of the foe, when a body of Moslem warriors, on steeds 
 of wondrous fleetness, charged suddenly down at 
 full speed, and, mingling their voices in one fearful 
 yell, commenced the attack by discharging arrows 
 and darts. It was clear that Saladin intended to 
 offer battle ; and soon the appearance of white turbans 
 and long pikes, visible through clouds of dust, an- 
 
 * "It was formed of a long beam, like the mast of a ship,'* 
 says Vinsauf, " made of most solid ceiled work, on four wheels, 
 put together with joints bound with iron ; and, to all appeai-ance, 
 no sword or axe could cut, or fire injure it. A chosen body of 
 soldiers were generally appointed to guard it, especially in a 
 combat on the plains, lest by any hostile attack it should be 
 broken or thrown down. It is very properly drawn on wheels : 
 for it is advanced when the enemy yields, and drawn back if 
 they press on .... It was surrounded by the Normans and Fng- 
 lish." — Chronicles of the Crusades, 
 
BATTLE OF ASSUR. 193 
 
 nounccd to the crusaders the presence of the Sultan's 
 mighty army. Ere long the Saracens advanced, 
 divided into troops and companies, and preceded by 
 clarions, trumpets, drums, and every species of mu- 
 sical instrument, likely to nerve the hand and fire the 
 blood. 
 
 The crusaders soon saw that they were surrounded 
 on all sides ; and the Knights of St. John found 
 themselves so hard pressed, that they could scarcely 
 refrain from charging upon the foe. Being entreated, 
 however, to keep in a close body, they marched on 
 for a while without retaliating. At length their plight 
 became intolerable ; and angry gestures indicated that 
 the patience of the military monks was rapidly giving 
 way. 
 
 " Oh, good St. George ! " exclaimed one of the 
 Knights, " are we thus to be put to confusion without 
 striking a blow on the impious race ? " 
 
 " No," said the Grand Master, " it must not be so ; " 
 and he spurred towards the English King. 
 
 " My Lord King," said the Grand Master, ap- 
 proaching Richard, " we are violently pressed by the 
 enemy, and in danger of eternal infamy if we return, 
 not their blows. We are losing our horses, one after 
 another, and why should we bear with them any 
 further > " 
 
 " Good Master," said the King, " it is your duty to 
 sustain their attack ; " and the Grand Master had 
 scarcely rejoined his knights, when the enemy assailed 
 them more fiercely than before. 
 
 " Why do we not charge them at full gallop ? " said 
 one of the knit^hts. 
 17 
 
194 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 *' Yes," cried a hundred voices ; " unless we de- 
 fend ourselves by charging, we shall incur everlasting 
 scandal, and so much the greater the longer we 
 delay." 
 
 As this conversation was taking place, the mar- 
 shal and another knight, wheeling round, rode lance 
 in rest upon the Saracens ; and the Knights of St. 
 John, turning their horses' heads, prepared to charge. 
 Almost as they did so, Saladin passed through the 
 Moslem ranks, and roused the courage of his soldiers, 
 who shouted — " God is powerful ! " 
 
 Matters having reached this stage, the battle was 
 begun by Sir James d'Avennes, who, at the head of 
 European cavalry, penetrated twice into the Saracenic 
 ranks. At the third charge, his leg was severed by the 
 stroke of a Turkish sabre, and surrounded by countless 
 foes, he expired sword in hand. Falling in the midst 
 of Saracens, of whom he is said to have killed no 
 fewer than fifteen, the gallant knight called loudly on 
 King Richard to avenge his death. 
 
 Scarcely had Sir James d'Avennes breathed his 
 last, when Coeur de Lion advanced with the main 
 army of crusaders, and the shock was terrific. Break- 
 ing into the Moslem ranks, with his ponderous battle- 
 axe in his hand, Coeur de Lion swept the Saracens 
 before him, dispersing them right and left, and chasing 
 them across the torrent. But meanwhile the crusaders, 
 assailed on all hands by the crowd of foes, who poured 
 down from the heights, were giving way ; and the 
 King was under the necessity of retracing his steps to 
 come to their aid, 
 
 A conflict of the most sanguinary character then 
 
BATTLE OF ASSt^R. 195 
 
 took place ; Christian and Moslem figliting hand to 
 liand and steel to steel. Cries of rage and despair 
 mingled with the clash of sword and shield. In tho 
 midst of the battle, Richard, brandishing his axe and 
 shouting " St. George ! " figured prominently : and 
 woe to the unfortunate wig-ht who crossed the Kind's 
 path. Wherever the contest was keenest, and the 
 carnage most sanguinary, the Cyprian steed and the 
 stalwart rider appeared. The very sight was terrible 
 to foes. The bravest of Moslems watched with ap- 
 prehension the Cyprian steed's furious rush ; the 
 bravest of Moslems recoiled in terror before the swing 
 of Coeur de Lion's battle-axe. In vain, if we are to 
 credit historians, Saladin threw himself into the battle, 
 and crossed weapons with the mighty Plantagenet. 
 Saracen after Saracen reeled to the ground : and it 
 became impossible for them, notwithstanding their num- 
 bers, to withstand the onslaught of thousands of 
 knights, headed by such a hero-king. Broken and 
 beaten on all sides, the Moslem warriors abandoned the 
 field, and retreated to the forest of oaks. 
 
 The result of the battle, being such as he had not 
 anticipated, mortified Saladin ; and, calling together 
 the emirs, he addressed them in anger. 
 
 " Are these," asked the Sultan, " the deeds of my 
 brave troops, once so boastful, and whom I have so 
 loaded with gifts } It is a disgrace to our nation, thus 
 to become as nothing in comparison with their glorious 
 ancestors." 
 
 " Most sacred Sultan," answered one of the emirs, 
 "this charge is unjust, for we fought with all our 
 strength against the Franks, and did our best to 
 
19G THE CRUSADES AND THE CEUSADERS. 
 
 destroy them. But it was of no avail ; for they are 
 cased in impenetrable armor, which no weapon can 
 pierce. And further, there is among them one su- 
 perior to any man we have ever seen. They call him 
 Melech Ric ; and he seems a king born to command 
 the whole earth. He always charges before the rest, 
 slaying our men ; no man can resist him or escape out 
 of his hands. What more could we have done against 
 a foe so fornjidable .'' " 
 
AFTER ASSUE. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AFTER ASSUR. 
 
 After his great victory on the Assur, Richard led 
 the pilgrim army towards Joppa. On reaching that 
 ancient city, the crusaders found that it was so dilapi- 
 dated, as to be incapable of affording shelter. How- 
 ever, they encamped in olive gardens outside the 
 walls, and refreshed themselves with the figs, grapes, 
 pomegranates, and citrons, with which the country 
 abounded. 
 
 It would seem that the crusaders ought, at this 
 time, to have pushed on to Jerusalem. Everything, 
 however, combined to retard their progress towards 
 the Holy City. Ere long, tidings reached the camp 
 that Saladin was destroying Ascalon ; but the intel- 
 ligence appeared so improbable, that Richard could 
 not credit the report. He, therefore, despatched 
 Geoffrey de Lusignan to ascertain the truth ; and, 
 on the news being confirmed, he deliberated with the 
 Duke of Burgundy and the French lords, whether 
 they should proceed to Jerusalem, or endeavor to save 
 Ascalon. 
 
 " It seems to me," said the Kmg, " that any differ- 
 ence of opinion may be not only useless, but danger- 
 17* 
 
198 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 ous. The Turks M'ho are dismantling Ascalon, dare 
 not meet us in the field. I think we should save 
 the city, as a protection to the pilgrims who pass that 
 way." 
 
 " Our opinion is quite opposite," said the French 
 lords ; " and we recommend that Joppa should rather 
 be restored, as furnishing a shorter and easier route 
 for pilgrims going to the Holy Sepulchre." 
 
 The opinion of the Duke of Burgundy and his 
 friends, finding favor with the majority, was adopted ; 
 and the crusaders having determined to remain at 
 Joppa, began to rebuild the towers and clear out the 
 moat. The work, however, was not to the liking of 
 all ; and many, longing for scenes of revelry and 
 dissipation, returned to gratify their tastes in the 
 taverns and bamiios at Acre. Anxious to recall the 
 soldiers of the cross to their duties, Richard sent 
 Guy de Lusignan. But the influence of Guy was not 
 sufhcient to rouse them from their sinful pursuits ; 
 and the King of England, in order to accomplish his 
 object, was under the necessity of sailing to Acre. 
 He was successful in bringing the deserters back to 
 Joppa, and conducted thither Queen Berengaria, Queen 
 Joan, and other ladies, who shared the adventurous 
 enterprise. 
 
 At Joppa, the crusaders appeared to forget the 
 object with which they had gone to the East ; and 
 months passed over without any effort being made 
 to realize their aspirations. Richard did not exhibit 
 the very best example. Besides giving way, in some 
 degree, to the fascinations of a brilliant court, the 
 King of England yielded to his reckless humor, and 
 
AFTER ASSUR. 199 
 
 " wooed danger as a bride." The consequences were 
 not, in all cases, particularly agreeable. 
 
 One day when the Sultan's soldiers were scouring 
 the country in all directions, Richard mounted his 
 bay Cyprian steed, and, attended by a band of knights, 
 rode forth with a view of enjoying the sport of hawk- 
 ing and of fighting any enemy who came in his way. 
 Fatigued with his exertions, Richard lay down to 
 rest, and fell fast asleep. While in this posture, 
 the royal crusader and his attendants were suddenly 
 awakened by the approach of foes ; and he had 
 scarcely time to spring upon liis steed, when the 
 Turks were upon him. Seeing himself surrounded, 
 Richard drew his sword, and laid about him to such 
 purpose that his assailants fled. On reaching a spot 
 where another band lay in ambush, the Turks rallied 
 and renewed the attack. The king fought desper- 
 ately ; but the odds were so overwhelming that his 
 capture seemed inevitable. At a critical moment, 
 however, William de Prattelles, one of his Imights, 
 shouted out : " I am the King : spare my life ; " and 
 the Turks, completely deceived, took him prisoner, 
 while Richard spurred away to Joppa. 
 
 Soon after this escape, Coeur de Lion's chivalry 
 involved him in a danger almost equal in degree. 
 A company of the Templars, having fallen into an 
 ambuscade, the King of England sent the Earl of 
 Leicester to their aid, promising to follow as soon 
 as he could brace on his armor. Before there was 
 time for the process, news came that the Templars 
 were on the point of being overpowered by the enemy, 
 and that the English Earl was likely to share their 
 
200 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 fate. " St. George," exclaimed Richard, " I should 
 be unworthy of the name of king, if I abandoned 
 those T have promised to succor ; " and, without 
 waiting for any one, he leaped on his war-horse. 
 Galloping to the spot, Richard spurred into the con- 
 flict, and exerted his strength with such effect, that 
 he rescued the Earl of Leicester, and nearly all 
 the Templars who had not fallen previously to his 
 arrival. 
 
 An antagonist very different from Saracens soon 
 after crossed Richard's path. While the royal hero 
 was riding homeward, he was suddenly exposed to 
 serious danger from a wild boar, which planted itself 
 in his way and opposed his progress. The King 
 shouted ; but the animal, instead of moving, stood, 
 with foaming mouth, bristling hair, and erect ears, 
 collecting all its strength and fury to attack. Even 
 when Coeur de Lion rode round about, the boar, turn- 
 ing in a circle, kept its place and presenting a most 
 ferocious aspect. Richard was, of course, without a 
 hunting spear ; but, using his lance instead, he suc- 
 ceeded in piercing his grisly antagonist. The boar 
 undauntedly met the charge, turned on one side in 
 such a way as to break the weapon, and, rendered 
 furious by a wound, charged the crusader with extra- 
 ordinary ferocity. Richard, however, putting spurs 
 to his steed, cleared the boar at a leap ; and the 
 boar, after tearing away part of the horse's trappings, 
 made a desperate movement to close. But the King, 
 availing himself of his steed's agility, and brandishing 
 his blade, dealt the boar a stern blow in passing, and, 
 wheeling round, terminated the contest by cutting the 
 animal's sinews. 
 
AFTER ASSUR. 201 
 
 It was not without uneasiness that the crusaders 
 leanied the dangers to which their chief was con- 
 tinually exposing himself; and when the year drew 
 to its close, the propriety of proceeding to Jerusalem 
 forced itself on their attention. Accordingly, in Janu- 
 ary, 1192, the warlike pilgrims renewed their march ; 
 but, the season being rainy, the roads were found almost 
 impassable ; and, after suffering every kind of misery, 
 they retreated to Ascalon, the Eastern cavalry hover- 
 ing in their rear. 
 
 On the 20th of January, the crusaders reached 
 Ascalon. But the city was not in such a state as 
 to afford comfort. In fact, the fortifications were 
 entirely dismantled ; and the gates were so choked 
 up with heaps of stones and rubbish, that, at first, to 
 enter was found impossible. 
 
 After encamping, however, and making the best 
 of circumstances, Richard resolved on repairing the 
 ramparts. Not only did the Kmg waste time by work- 
 ing like a private soldier, but he gave mortal offence 
 by insisting on others following his example. 
 
 " We came to Asia," said many of the knightly 
 crusaders, " not to rebuild Ascalon, but to reconquer 
 Jerusalem." 
 
 " I am neither a carpenter nor a mason," said Leo- 
 pold Duke of Austria, when pressed to leave his tent 
 and take part in the operations. 
 
 Richard did not notice the expressions of indig- 
 nation which came from less important personages. 
 But when the Austrian demurred, he made use of his 
 foot to indicate, in the most significant manner, 
 the contempt he felt for Leopold, and abused the 
 
202 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 haughty Duke without reference to his rearing or his 
 rank. 
 
 Before the restoration of Ascalon was completed, 
 the zeal of the crusaders began to cool. Everything, 
 in fact, was going wrong ; and every man was at 
 variance with his neighbor. At Acre, the partisans 
 of Guy de Lusignan and Conrad of Montferrat fought 
 hand to hand in the streets ; and Saladin, aware of 
 the feuds of his adversaries, prepared to strike a 
 decisive blow. 
 
 While such was the state of affairs, the Prior of 
 Hereford reached Richard with a message which 
 threw the crusaders into commotion. It appeared 
 that the King's government had not been satisfac- 
 torily carried on during his absence. In fact, the 
 Bishop of Ely, whom Richard had left as Chancellor, 
 had been banished from the realm, and Jolin of Anjou, 
 the King's brother, was projecting a usurpation. " If 
 your Majesty does not return home with all haste," 
 said the Prior, " you will not be able to recover your 
 kingdom without a war." 
 
 Richard was much perplexed ; and he, at once, 
 recognized the expediency of treating with Saladin. 
 Negotiations were accordingly opened ; and the chiefs 
 rivalled each other in courtesy. Richard is even 
 said to have offered the hand of Queen Joan to the 
 Suhan's brother Malekadel ; and seeing that the 
 Sicilian Dido had mourned her dead lord for three 
 5^ears, she might not have interposed any serious 
 objections to uniting her fate with a gallant Saracen. 
 But the church was utterly hostile to the scheme ; and 
 she ultimately became the wife of the Count of 
 
AFTER ASSUE. 203 
 
 Thoulousc. Richard, however, declared to Saladin 
 that all he wanted was possession of Jerusalem. 
 But Saladin replied that the Blessed City was as dear 
 to Saracens as to Christians ; and negotiations having 
 come to nought, the belligerents continued their strug- 
 gle. 
 
 Meanwhile, the army of pilgrims having been 
 asked to decide whether Guy de Lusignan or Conrad 
 of Monteferrat should be King of Jerusalem, decided 
 in favor of the latter. But Conrad had scarcely time 
 to congratulate himself on his good fortune, when he 
 was murdered by two of the assassins of the old 
 Man of the Mountains. Henry, Count of Cham- 
 pagne, marrying Isabel, Conrad's widow, then be- 
 came King of Jerusalem ; while Richard, to console 
 Guy de Lusignan, bestowed upon him the crown of 
 Cyprus. 
 
 Richard, having failed in his pacific project, an- 
 nounced his intention of remaining for another year 
 in the Holy Land ; and in the month of June, after 
 several enterprises which spread alarm among the 
 Saracens, he marched towards Jerusalem. The sol- 
 diers were delighted at the prospect of entering the 
 Holy City; and Saladin, in alarm, shut himself up 
 within the walls, and made his emirs swear rather to 
 bury themselves beneath the ruins than yield to the 
 Christians. But the chief crusaders did not partake 
 of the enthusiasm of their army ; and the Sultan's 
 alarm was unnecessary. Richard, indeed, hoped that 
 Saladin would give them battle, and that a victory 
 would clear their way. But the Sultan did not gratify 
 the wishes of his martial foe ; and while the cru- 
 
204 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 saders were encamped in the vale of Hebron, Elchard 
 received news whicli made him more than ever 
 anxious to leave the East. Besides, the pilgrim 
 princes again fell out among themselves. Burgundy 
 satirized Richard mercilessly in some verses, which 
 were publicly sung ; Coeur de Lion avenged himself 
 by a similar effusion ; and, after much controversy, 
 they abandoned their enterprise. It was not without 
 pain that Richard gave the order to retreat ; and, 
 after having done so, his affliction was such that he 
 declared himself unworthy even to look upon the Holy 
 City. 
 
 " Sire," said one of Richard's knights, entering the 
 royal tent, " only come hither, and I will show you 
 Jerusalem ! 
 
 " Oh, Lord God ! " exclaimed the King, with 
 tears in his eyes, and hands lifted towards heaven, 
 " I pray thee that I may never see thy Holy City, 
 since I cannot deliver it from the hands of thine 
 enemies ! " 
 
 After this scene, Richard fell back on Ascalon, and 
 liaving fortified that city, repaired to Acre. Ere 
 this the French and Germans rapidly deserted his 
 standard ; and Saladin, descending from the moun- 
 tains, took Joppa. On hearing that the city had 
 yielded to the Sultan, but the citadel was still in 
 possession of the crusaders, Richard, who was at 
 Acre, declared he would go to their rescue. " As 
 God lives," he exclaimed, " I will be with them, 
 and give them all the aid in my power." Landing 
 at Joppa, he immediately fell upon the Turks, sword 
 in hand, and expelled them in confusion. A few 
 
AFTER ASSTJR. 205 
 
 days after, at the head of his scanty ranks, he en- 
 countered an army of seven thousand on a plain out- 
 side the city. Though infinitely inferior in number, 
 Richard made a noble struggle, unhorsed every cham- 
 pion who crossed his path, killed the leader of the 
 Moslems, spread consternation among his foes, and 
 excited the admiration of his friends. Night put an 
 end to the conflict, but Richard's victory was secure ; 
 and his marvellous feats of heroism filled the East 
 with his fame.*' 
 
 When winter came, though the navigation of the 
 Mediterranean was deemed the reverse of safe, 
 Richard was eager to return to England. But the 
 English King had no idea of stealing away as 
 Philip Augustus had done. " The sea is stormy," he 
 wrote to Salad in, " yet if you are inclined to make 
 peace, I will brave all its tempests and proceed to 
 Europe; if you desire war, I will run all risks and 
 besiege Jerusalem." Saladin consulted his emirs, and 
 they recommended him to obey the maxims of the 
 Koran, which orders that peace should be granted to 
 enemies when they ask it. 
 
 * *' This Richard, King of England," says Joinville, "per- 
 formed such deeds of prowess when he was in the Holy Land, 
 that the Saracens, on seeing their horses frightened at a shadow 
 or a bush, cried out to them, ' What ! dost think King Richard 
 is there ! ' This they were accustomed to say from the many 
 and many times he had conquered and vanquished them. In 
 like manner, when the children of the Turks and Saracens 
 cried, their mothers said to them, ' Hush ! husli ! or I will 
 bring King Richard of England to you ! ' and from the fright 
 these words caused, they were instantly quiet." — Chronicles 
 of the Crusades. 
 18 
 
206 THE CIlirSA.DES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Richard, on learning that the Sultan was inclined 
 to treat, proposed a personal interview. But Saladin 
 declined this on account of his ignorance of Richard's 
 language. Ambassadors were therefore appointed to 
 conclude a treaty ; and everything -was satisfactorily 
 arranged. Ascalon was to be demolished ; Jerusalem 
 was to be open to pilgrims ; and the sea-coast from Tyre 
 to Joppa was to be held by the Christians of the East. 
 The Kino- and the Sultan contended who should dis- 
 play most courtesy, and did not even require oaths to 
 the terms, but contented themselves with their royal 
 words, and touching the hands of each other's ambas- 
 sadors. All the princes of Syria, whether Turk or 
 Frank, were then invited to sign the treaty ; Christians 
 and Moslems celebrated the conclusion of peace with 
 tournaments and festivals ; and most of the crusaders, 
 having visited the Holy City and the Holy Places, 
 embarked for Europe. 
 
 After concluding peace with Coeur de Lion, Saladin 
 returned to Damascus, where he enjoyed his glory for 
 one year. At the end of that time, he lay down to 
 die. " Go," said he to one of his emirs, " carry my 
 shroud through the streets, and cry with a loud voice 
 — ' Behold all that Saladin, who overcame all the 
 East, bears away of his conquests 1 ' " The emir did 
 as he was commanded ; and the soul of the great 
 Sultan parted from its tenement of clay. 
 
 Saladin did not deign to express any wish as to 
 the succession ; and, soon after he died, the empire 
 began to fall to pieces. At first, indeed, his eldest 
 son appeared likely to retain something of his father's 
 power. Unfortunately for the young Sultan, he ad- 
 
AFTER ASSUE. 207 
 
 dieted himself to dissipation, and so scandalized Mos- 
 lems by indulging in wine, that serious discontent was 
 felt. Malekadel, Saladin's brother, profited by these 
 discontents to dethrone Saladin's son ; and the dis- 
 possessed Sultan, driven from Damascus, applied to the 
 Caliph of Bagdad. But Mahomet's successor, being 
 virtually powerless, could only offer consolatory words 
 to the injured grandson of Ayoub. " Rely upon it," 
 said the Caliph, after listening with exemplary patience 
 to the story of the exiled Sultan, "your enemies, for 
 what they have done, will have to give an account to 
 God." 
 
208 THE CEUSADES AND THE CEUSADEKS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 kichaed's eetukn. 
 
 It was the autumn of 1192, when Coeur dc Lion, 
 having seen Queens Berengaria and Joan sail from 
 Acre, prepared to follow them to Europe without 
 delay. Before embarking, however, Richard remem- 
 bered William de Pratelles, who had saved him from 
 captivity, and ransomed the brave knight. At the 
 same time, he ordered heralds to make proclamation 
 " that all who had claims on him should come forward, 
 and that all his debts should be paid fully, and more 
 than fully, to avoid occasion afterwards of detraction 
 or complaint." 
 
 After having thus sacrificed to honor, Richard went 
 on board ; and the royal fleet weighed anchor amid 
 the tears and lamentations of the Syrian Christians. 
 " Oh, Jerusalem, bereft now of every succor," they 
 exclaimed, " how hast thou lost thy defender ! Who 
 will protect thee, should the truce be broken, now that 
 King Richard is departed." 
 
 The great crusader appears to have been pro- 
 foundly affected when he sailed from Acre. Though 
 time had removed many an illusion, his heart still 
 clung to the Syrian soil ; and at dawn next morning 
 he stretched out his hands, as he strained his eyes to 
 
Richard's return. 209 
 
 gaze, for a last time, at the shore — " Hohest of 
 lands," he exclaimed, " I commend thee to God's 
 keeping, and I pray that he may grant me health to 
 come and rescue thee from the infidel." 
 
 The ship in which the two Queens had embarked 
 reached Sicily in safety ; but Richard's voyage was 
 less prosperous. A storm arising, his fleet was scat- 
 tered, and his vessel wrecked on the coast of Istria. 
 Trusting to find his way through Germany, Richard 
 assumed a disguise, and calling himself " Hugh the 
 Merchant," he journeyed, in company with a faithful 
 page and a priest named Baldwin de Bethune, across 
 the mountains to Goritz. 
 
 When Richard reached Goritz, he endeavored to 
 assure his safety by sending his page to the governor 
 for a passport. The value of a ring, with which he 
 accompanied the request, excited suspicion ; and the 
 governor could not conceal his surprise. " This," said 
 he, " is not the ring of a merchant : it is that of the 
 King of England." The page on his return related 
 the conversation that had passed, and Richard, in 
 alarm, for which there was too much cause, departed 
 for Friesach. Here a Norman knight recosfnized the 
 King in spite of his disguise, intimated that danger 
 was at hand, and presented him with a fleet steed on 
 which to escape. Mounting, and attended only by 
 the page, who understood the German language, 
 Richard travelled without entering a house, till, 
 hungry and way-worn, he halted at the inn of a little 
 village near Vienna, and despatched the page to pur- 
 chase provisions. 
 
 Fortune again proved unfavorable. The dress of 
 18* 
 
210 THE CRUSADES AND THE CBUSADER9. 
 
 the boy excited suspicions ; and, being seized nr\<^ 
 threatened, he confessed that he had left his master 
 asleep in a rustic hostelry. A party of Austrian 
 soldiers, conducted by the Duke, immediately went in 
 search ; and, entering the inn, they found the royal 
 crusader in the kitchen, busily employed in roasting 
 fowls for dinner. Seeing how matters stood, Richard 
 sprang up, drew his sword, and offered a desperate 
 resistance ; but when Leopold appeared, he agreed to 
 surrender, and gave up his weapon. 
 
 After being captured, Richard was incarcerated in 
 an Austrian castle ; and the business was managed so 
 secretly, that his very existence became a matter of 
 doubt to his subjects. Ere long, however, Blondel de 
 Nesle, whose minstrelsy Cogur de Lion had patronized, 
 undertook to discover him, and traversed Germany 
 with that object. For a time the enterprise seemed 
 hopeless. One day, however, Blondel, coming to a 
 castle in Tenebreuse, learned with interest that it 
 contained a solitary prisoner, who, when he was tired 
 of composing verses and found the hours hang heavy 
 on his hands, was not above indulging in a carouse 
 with his guards. 
 
 Blondel could not learn the name of the captive ; 
 but, from the description, he was convinced that his 
 search had not been in vain. Seating himself under 
 the prison window, he commenced a song which 
 Richard and he had in other days composed together. 
 No sooner had Blondel finished the first couplet, than, 
 to his joy, a well known voice from the window, in 
 significant accents, sung the second. Blondel, no 
 longer doubting that Richard was the solitary captive, 
 
EICnARD's RETURN. 211 
 
 hastened to give Queen Eleanor information as to the 
 prison which contained her Hon-hearted son. 
 
 On becoming aware of the discovery that Blondel 
 had made, the Duke of Austria trembled. Terrified 
 at the thought of having such a captive, and eager to 
 divest himself of responsibility, Leopold surrendered 
 Richard to Henry of Germany. The Emperor felt 
 rejoiced to get the King of England into his power ; 
 and at Easter, 1193, Cceur de Lion was removed to 
 a castle in the Tyrol, and soon after brought before a 
 Diet of Worms, charged with every imaginable crime. 
 Being an orator, as well as a poet, however, Richard 
 defended himself so eloquently, that princes and pre- 
 lates, with tears in their eyes, besought the Emperor 
 to act with less rigor and more justice. 
 
 Meanwhile Queen Eleanor implored the Pope to 
 obtain her son's release ; and the Vicar of Christ, in- 
 dignant that the foremost champion of the cross should 
 be in a dungeon and in chains, promptly interposed. 
 Nevertheless, the captivity of Richard lasted another 
 year ; and he did not regain his liberty till after 
 stipulating to pay an enormous ransom. At length, 
 in the spring of 1194, Richard found himself free ; 
 and, passing through the Low Countries, he sailed for 
 England and landed at Sandwich. 
 
 On being restored to his kingdom, Richard immedi- 
 ately prepared to punish Philip Augustus for the inju- 
 ries he had sustained at the hands of that monarch. 
 War broke out in consequence, and occupied Coeur 
 de Lion for four years. At the end of that time, the 
 struggle having become more bitter than ever, the two 
 Kings encountered near Gisors. A sanguinary battle 
 
212 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. 
 
 was fought, Richard performed prodigies of valor, and 
 Philip fled in such haste across the Epte that he nar- 
 rowly escaped a watery grave. A truce having been 
 then agreed to, Richard marched into Aquitaine, where 
 his foes were, in ballads, expressing their joy that the 
 arrow was forging which would be fatal to CoBur de 
 Lion. 
 
 Many threatened men live long ; and so perhaps 
 might Richard but for his imperious humor. Hap- 
 pening to hear^ after his arrival at Aquitaine, that a 
 peasant, while ploughing, had turned up a valuable 
 treasure, in the shape of a golden ornament repre- 
 senting a Roman Emperor at table, and that it had 
 been seized by the Viscount of the district, Richard 
 immediately claimed his share as sovereign of the 
 country. The Viscount, however, declared he had 
 received nothing but a pot of coins ; and Richard, 
 in anger, besieged his castle. Reduced, ere long, to 
 extremity, the garrison were on the point of surren- 
 dering, when unluckily, while the King was riding 
 round to survey the fortress, an arrow from the cross- 
 bow of a youth, named Adam de Gordon, pierced his 
 shoulder. The wound, being unskilfully treated, mor- 
 tified ; and the King, after enduring agony for davs, 
 during which the castle yielded, learned that his end 
 was at hand. 
 
 On hearing that his wound was mortal, Richard 
 desired to see the youth who had shot the arrow, and 
 Gordon was brousfht to his couch. 
 
 " Did you discharge the shaft with intent to kill ? " 
 asked the King. 
 
 " Yes, tyrant," answered the youth, " and it was 
 
kichard's return. 213 
 
 to avenge my father and brother, who both fell by 
 your hand, and to rid the world of one who has done 
 so much mischief! " 
 
 " Well," said Richard, " I forgive you." 
 Soon after this scene, Richard expu'ed. According 
 to his own request, his heart was carried to the cathe- 
 dral of Rouen, and the body was laid, with royal 
 honors, at his great father's feet, in the Abbey of 
 Foutrevault. 
 
214 THE CKUSADES AND IKE CRUSADEKS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SACK OF THE HOLY CITY. 
 
 When Richard Cceur de Lion sailed from Acre, 
 and the Syrian Christians were left to their own re- 
 sources, the condition of the kingdom of Jerusalem 
 became daily worse. 
 
 The Pope, it is true, ever and anon endeavored to 
 rouse Europe to succor the Holy Sepulchre ; and, in 
 1202, a multitude of crusaders, under Baldwin Count 
 of Flanders, directed their steps eastward. But, in- 
 fluenced by Dandolo, the old blind doge of Venice, 
 these warriors turned aside to seize the maritime towns 
 of Istria ; and finally, after twice attacking Constanti- 
 nople, they deposed the heir of Alexis Comnenus, and 
 installed the Count of Flanders as Emperor of the 
 East. 
 
 ]\lean while the Syrian Christians were by a tragical 
 accident deprived of the King under whose auspices 
 they had been left by Cceur de Lion. One day, while 
 standing at a window of his palace and watching the 
 movements of troops, Henry of Champagne fell to the 
 ground and was killed on the spot. The widow of the 
 unfortunate man gave her hand to Almeric de Lusig- 
 nan, who had succeeded Guy as King of Cyprus. But 
 both Almeric and his spouse soon went the way of all 
 
SA.CK OF THE HOLY CITY. 215 
 
 flcsli ; and the Christians of the East sent to the court 
 of France to offer the crown of Jerusalem, and the 
 hand of a daughter whom Isabel had made Conrad of 
 Montferrat the father, to any warrior who would 
 undertake to defend them against the Saracens. 
 
 When the ambassadors reached the court of Paris, 
 in search of a knight who would espouse the heiress 
 of Jerusalem and save what yet remained of the king- 
 dom, John de Brienne, an aristocratic adventurer, joy- 
 fully placed himself at their service ; and, attended by 
 three hundred French gentlemen, he forthwith set out 
 for the East. On reaching Acre, he celebrated his 
 marriage with the daughter of Conrad ; and prepared 
 to defend her territories. Finding, however, that he 
 could hardly answer for the security of Acre, he sent 
 messengers to the Pope imploring aid. At that time, 
 however, the Pope was too earnestly occupied with his 
 war against the Albigenses to care about the Moslems ; 
 and the warriors, whom a spirit of adventure might 
 otherwise have tempted to the East, found full employ- 
 ment in Languedoc and Provence. 
 
 At length, in 1215, a council was held to consider 
 the affairs of the East ; and the warriors of Europe 
 were urged to precipitate themselves once more on 
 Asia. Multitudes took the cross ; and marched east- 
 ward under the King of Hungary and the Duke of 
 Austria. Indeed they appeared so numerous on land- 
 ing at Acre, that the Saracens heard of their coming 
 with serious alarm. 
 
 At the head of the host of armed pilgrims, John do 
 Brienne marched from Acre, and attacked Mount 
 Tabor, which Saladin had fortified in such a way as 
 
216 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 to be a perpetual menace. When on the point of 
 victory, however, the crusaders were seized with panic 
 and made a precipitate retreat. Soon after the King 
 of Hungary returned to Europe ; but John de Brienne, 
 reinforced by new arrivals, undertook an expedition to 
 the banks of the Nile, and sat down before Damietta. 
 
 Damietta, destined to become so famous in connec- 
 tion with the crusades, stood on the northern bank of 
 the second mouth of the Nile, about a mile from the 
 sea, and was strongly fortified. Nevertheless, after a 
 siege of nineteen months, the crusaders were success- 
 ful in taking the city, and, elate with success, marched 
 to Cairo. In alarm, the Sultan prepared to treat ; and 
 not only offered to yield Jerusalem to the Christians, 
 but to allow them to remain in possession of Damietta. 
 The papal legate, however, said " No," and the Mos- 
 lem ambassadors carried his answer to the Sultan. 
 
 Ere long, the crusaders, after havmg been a month 
 at Cairo, were startled by the overflowing of the 
 Nile, and soon found themselves in a ludicrously 
 dismal plight. It appeared, in fact, that the Saracens, 
 opening their sluices, had filled the canals ; and the 
 Christian camp, deluged by water, was in such danger 
 of being submerged, that the legate had to undergo 
 the humiliation of applying to the Sultan for forbear- 
 ance. Ambassadors going to the Moslem camp, in 
 the name of humanity craved peace, offered to sur- 
 render Damietta, and only asked to be allowed to 
 return to Acre. After dehberating, the Moslem chiefs 
 agreed ; and the armed pilgrims sadly and sorrowfully 
 marched back to Syria. 
 
 Intelligence of the catastrophe at Cairo reached 
 
SACK OF THE HOLY CITY. 217 
 
 Rome ; and the Pope upbraided Frederick the Second, 
 Emperor of Germany, for having been the idle spec- 
 tator of a struggle, in which he had solemnly prom- 
 ised to take part. In order to give the Emperor a 
 motive for proceeding to the Holy Land, the Pope 
 •♦proposed that he should wed Yolande, daughter of 
 John de Brienne, and the marriage was celebrated at 
 Rome, the father of the bride taking part in the cere- 
 mony. John de Brienne was, at first, quite delighted 
 at the idea of having so great a potentate for a son-in- 
 law ; but ere long, he was mortified to hear the Ger- 
 man CsDsar proclaimed King of Jerusalem, and to find 
 himself set aside as of no consequence. 
 
 While such was the position of the Christian king- 
 dom, the Sultan of Cairo sent ambassadors to the 
 Emperor of Germany, with an invitation to come to 
 the East. Frederick, on his part, returned a most 
 courteous answer, and soon after embarked with six 
 hundred knights. The Pope, who meanwhile had 
 quarrelled with Frederick, denounced him as a captain 
 of pirates, and prayed heaven to confound his sacri- 
 legious enterprise. Nevertheless, the Emperor pur- 
 sued his voyage, and reaching the Syrian coast in 
 safety, sailed triumphantly into the port of Acre. 
 
 Scarcely had the Sultan of Cairo been informed of 
 the Emperor's arrival, when he led an army into 
 Palestine ; and Frederick, marching out of Acre, 
 directed his course towards the mountains of Nap- 
 louse. But matters gradually reached such a stage, 
 that tiie Emperor and the Sultan recognized the neces- 
 sity of immediately concluding a peace. A truce for 
 ten years was agreed upon. Jerusalem was, with 
 19 
 
218 THE CRTTSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. : 
 
 Nazareth and other places, given up to the Christians ; 
 the Moslems stipulating for the free exercise of their 
 religion and for retaining the mosque of Omar. 
 
 Both by Christians and Saracens, the treaty was 
 deemed disgraceful. Frederick, however, hastened to 
 make his public entry into the city which he had 
 recovered. Accompanied by his barons, he, in the 
 spring of 1229, repaired to the Church of the Holy 
 Sepulchre, placed the crown of Jerusalem on his 
 head, and proclaimed himself King. The scene was 
 remarkable. The monks, pretending to be scandalized, 
 had deserted the sacred edifice, and no religious cere- 
 mony gave impressiveness to Frederick's coronation. 
 But when the Emperor crowned himself, lances and 
 swords appeared around the altar ; and, when he was 
 proclaimed king, enthusiastic acclamations from mailed 
 warriors indicated their resolution to support him to the 
 last. 
 
 After his coronation at Jerusalem, Frederick re- 
 turned to Germany ; the Holy City lay almost at the 
 mercy of the Saracens ; and Europe became indif- 
 ferent to its fate. The feud of Pope and Emperor 
 monopolised attention ; while sympathy for the un- 
 happy plight of the Latin Empire of Constantinople, 
 which was not destined to endure, allured thither 
 many warriors who would otherwise have drawn 
 their swords for the Sepulchre. 
 
 It is true that expeditions to the East were preached 
 by popes and undertaken by princes ; but the results 
 were not satisfactory. In 1239, Theobald, King of 
 Navarre, conducted a band of warriors to Acre, and 
 fought a battle with the Saracens at Gaza, where his 
 
SACK OE THE HOLY CITY. 219 
 
 followers perished almost to a man. In 1240, Rich- 
 ard, Earl of Cornwall, brother of our third Henry, 
 appeared in Syria ; but he found the discord among 
 the Christians so discouraging, that he was fain to con- 
 clude a treaty with the Sultan and return to Europe. 
 
 Meanwhile Jerusalem, without fortifications, was 
 perpetually exposed to danger. The peasants of the 
 mountains of Naplouse kept the Christian inhabitants 
 in continual dread of attack ; and the great bell of 
 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre frequently gave 
 warning of the approach of foes, eager for carnage 
 and plunder. Beset with perils, encompassed with 
 difficulties, and well nigh hopeless of further aid 
 from Europe, the Christians of the East, about the 
 middle of the thirteenth century, found themselves in 
 sight of ruin, and on the verge of despair. 
 
 Such was their situation when, ui 1238, Melikul- 
 Adil, the seventh Sultan of Saladin's line, succeeded ; 
 but he had scarcely reigned two years, when liis 
 subjects were thoroughly disgusted with his gross de- 
 bauchery. He soon lost popularity ; and the Egyp- 
 tians, exasperated, called his brother, Melikul-Salih, to 
 the throne. Scarcely was the latter crowned, when a 
 Moslem prince seized Damascus, formed an alliance 
 with the Christians, and the Sultan, unable to maintain 
 himself without aid, looked around for allies. 
 
 It happened that the Tartars had just seized Karis- 
 mia, and the Karismians, a wild race, finding themselves 
 without a country, applied to the Sultan. Melikul- 
 Salih, considering how valuable the weapons of the 
 expatiated warriors might be, proposed that they 
 should march against the Christians. 
 
220 THE CKUSADES AXD THE CEUSADEKS. 
 
 On receiving the Sultan's offer, the Karismians 
 rejoicing in the prospect of plunder, assembled to the 
 number of twenty thousand ; and bringing their women 
 and cliildren in their train, marched towards Jerusalem. 
 Having ravaged Tripoli and Galilee, on their way, they 
 ere long approached the devoted city. No feeling of 
 mercy was at their hearts. Indeed, the Karismians 
 neither gave nor asked quarter. Before going into 
 conflict, they were in the habit of receiving a brief 
 order from their leader. It was — " You will conquer 
 or die." 
 
 Jerusalem was in no condition to defy such assail- 
 ants. Some attempts were being made to restore the 
 fortifications ; but the walls were still too weak to stand 
 a siege ; and the warriors in the Holy City were too 
 few in number to resist with any prospect of success. 
 When the smoke of burning villages announced 
 the approach of the foe, most of the inhabitants of 
 Jerusalem resolved to be gone. No time was lost. 
 Placing themselves under the guidance of the Templars 
 and Hospitallers, seven thousand persons abandoned 
 the city. They had just left the city by one side, when 
 the foe entered it by the other. 
 
 The Karismians were somewhat disappointed to find 
 Jerusalem almost deserted. Becoming aware, however, 
 of the state of matters, they determined on a strata- 
 gem for luring back the fugitives. Without delay, 
 they raised the banner of the cross on every tower ; 
 and set a-ringing all the bells of the Holy City. The 
 trick had the desired effect. No sooner did the Chris- 
 tians, who were slowly and sadly making their way 
 towards Jaffa, hear of the Christian standard floating 
 
SACK OF THE HOLY CITY. 221 
 
 over the walls of Jerusalem, than, persuadmg them- 
 selves that the Karismians had either marched in another 
 direction or miraculously suffered a defeat, they has- 
 tened to retrace their steps. 
 
 On entering the Holy City, the Christians dis- 
 covered, when too late, how they had been deluded. 
 Every one of them was mercilessly slaughtered ; and 
 blood flowed in streams down the hilly streets. No 
 respect was shown to age, sex, or place. Nuns, 
 children, and old people, who had fled for refuge to 
 the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, were slaughtered 
 at the foot of the altar. Tombs were opened. The 
 bodies of heroes were burned ; the relics of saints and 
 martyrs were scattered to the wind ; and night closed 
 over such a scene of carnage and desolation, as in all 
 her fortunes, Jerusalam had never before witnessed. 
 
 19* 
 
BOOK THIRD. 
 THE EXPEDITION OF ST. LOUIS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE SAINT-KING. 
 
 About the year 1215, when the Pope was im- 
 pressing on Christendom the necessity of arming to 
 save the Holy Sepulchre, Poissy witnessed the birth of 
 a prince, destined to associate his name indissolubly 
 with the crusades. At that place, on the Festival of 
 St. Mark, Blanche of Castillo, wife of Louis the 
 Eighth, King of France, became a mother ; and the 
 heir then born to the house of Capet, ascended the 
 French throne on his father's death, with the title of 
 Louis the Ninth. 
 
 Louis, when thus left fatherless, had hardly at- 
 tained his eleventh year ; and he was in no condition 
 to maintain himself against the great feudatories of 
 the French crown. But Providence had blessed the 
 young King with a mother who, whatever her fail- 
 ings, had a high spirit and a strong will; and Queen 
 Blanche not only maintained the rights of the French 
 
THE SAINT-KING. 223 
 
 monarchy, but brought up her son with the most con- 
 siderate care. She placed him under the charge of 
 excellent masters, caused him to be attended by re- 
 ligious men, who, on Sundays and fast-days, preached 
 to him the word of God ; and manifested an ardent 
 ambition that he should live a holy and virtuous \ik. 
 " I would rather," she was often heard to say, " see 
 my son in the grave than that he should commit a 
 mortal sin." 
 
 Educated under the auspices of such a mother, 
 Louis, as years passed over, became celebrated 
 among contemporary princes for his sanctity. He 
 ever lived as if conscious that the eye of his Maker 
 was upon him, and passed most of his time in devo- 
 tional exercises. Every morning he heard prayers 
 chanted, and a mass of requiem and the service 
 of the day sung ; every afternoon, he was in the 
 habit of reclining on his couch, and, with one of 
 his chaplains, repeating prayers for the dead ; and 
 every evening he made a point of hearing com- 
 plines. 
 
 At the time when Louis was attending, with con- 
 scientious regularity, to his religious duties, the Saint- 
 king was not negligent of those that devolved upon 
 him as a sovereign. One day, when he was at the 
 castle of Hieres, a Cordelier friar approached. " Sire," 
 said he, " I have read in the Bible, and other good 
 books, of unbelieving princes ; yet I never found a 
 kingdom of believers or unbelievers ruined but from 
 the want of justice being duly administered. Now 
 let the King, who I perceive is going to France, be 
 careful to administer justice, that our Lord may 
 
224 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 suffer him to enjoy his kingdom, and that it may 
 remain in peace and tranquility all the days of liis 
 life." 
 
 The words of the Cordelier sunk deep into the 
 King's heart ; and, from that date, it appears that 
 Louis devoted much attention to the administra- 
 tion of justice. Sometimes in summer time, after 
 saying mass, he would repair to the gardens of his 
 palace, and seating himself on a carpet, listen to those 
 who wished to appeal to him ; and, at other times, 
 he would betake himself to the wood of Vincennes, 
 and, reclining under the shadow of an oak, devote 
 himself to the decision of causes with exemplary 
 diligence. All who had complaints to make might 
 come on such occasions ; and no ceremony was per- 
 mitted that could keep the poor from the justice-seat 
 of the King. 
 
 While showing his devotion to his God and his 
 neighbor, Louis entertained no insuperable aversion 
 to bucklmg on the mail of a warrior ; and when he 
 mounted liis steed and laid his lance in rest, his foes 
 found him " no carpet Ivnight." It happened that, in 
 1242, the Counts De la Marche and De Foix, growing 
 malecontent, formed a confederacy against the throne ; 
 and invited Henry, King of England, to regain the 
 provinces taken by Philip Augustus from Henry's 
 father. King John. The confederacy seemed most 
 formidable ; and the English monarch, allured by the 
 prospect of recovering Normandy cmd Anjou, crossed 
 the sea, with an army, and prepared for hostihties. 
 But Louis was not to be daunted. Girdinsr on his 
 mail, he placed himself at the head of an army, and 
 
THE SAINT-KING. 225 
 
 appeared to offer his allied adversaries battle on the 
 banks of the Charcnte, near the bridge of Taille- 
 bourg. 
 
 The courage of Louis produced a striking effect on 
 his adversaries. The confederates found they had 
 mistaken their man ; and Henry, accusing the Count 
 De la Marche of having deceived him, fled, without 
 drawing rein, to the village of Saintonge. Louis, 
 however, pursued ; and, the EngUsh turning to bay, a 
 fierce conflict took place. But the armies were quite 
 unequal. Though the barons of England fought with 
 desperate valor, they were soon worsted ; and, to save 
 his hfe, Henry, hotly pursued by Louis, was under 
 the necessity of flying to Bordeaux. From tliis 
 period, it was perfectly understood that the Saint- 
 king could hold his own ; and neither French counts 
 nor foreign pruices relished the idea of provoking liis 
 vengeance. 
 
 When Louis had reached the age of nineteen. 
 Queen Blanche became anxious to find a bride worthy 
 of sharing the French throne ; and, for reasons of 
 state, cast her eyes wistfully towards the family of 
 Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence. Raymond, 
 who was a cadet of the royal family of Arragon, had 
 early won fame as the most accomplished man in 
 Europe, and married Beatrice, daughter of the 
 Count of Savoy, a princess with " thought, feel- 
 ing, taste, harmonious to his own." Five daughters, 
 
 « 
 
 all destined to be queens, had sprung from this 
 union ; and Margaret of Provence, the eldest of these, 
 was just six years younger than Louis. Blanche 
 found little difliculty in securing the hand of Ray- 
 
226 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 moiid's daughter for her son ; and, without delay, the 
 Provencal Princess appeared in Paris as Queen of 
 France. 
 
 But ladies are capricious : and royal ladies are in 
 this respect like their neighbors. No sooner was 
 Margaret of Provence brought to her new home, than 
 Blanche of Castille became apprehensive that the 
 young wife might terminate the mfluence she had 
 hitherto exercised over the Saint-king. The Queen- 
 dowager, however, had no idea of allowing her power 
 to be unperilled. On one pretext or another, she 
 resolved to keep the royal pair separate , and nothing 
 could exceed the tyranny which, with this view, she 
 exercised over their movements. AVhen the two 
 Queens made royal progresses with the King through 
 his dominions, Blanche always took care that Louis 
 and Margaret should lodge in different houses; and 
 even in cases of sickness the mother-in-law did not 
 relent. On one occasion, when the, court was at 
 Pointoise, and IVIargaret lay in danger of death, Louis 
 stole to her chamber. While he w^as there, Blanche 
 entered, bent her brow, shook her head, and, taking 
 the intruder by the shoulder, turned him out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Go along, sir," said she sternly, pushing him 
 away from the door ; " you can do no good here." 
 
 " Alas, madam," said Margaret, her heart sicken- 
 ing as she spoke, " will you not allow me to see 
 my lord either when I am living or when I am dy- 
 
 ing 
 
 ? " 
 
 Such was the intolerable domestic tyranny under 
 wliich the Saint-king and liis fair spouse were Uving, 
 
THE SAr>'T-KING. 227 
 
 when circumstances fired one with the idea of under- 
 taking a crusade, and gave the other a fair excuse for 
 escaping from the termagant mother-in-law of whom 
 she had been the victim. 
 
228 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FRANCE IN MOTION. 
 
 When, in 1244, the sack of Jerusalem by the 
 Karismians took place, most of the princes of Chris- 
 tendom were too much occupied with their own affairs 
 to concern themselves particularly about the Holy 
 Sepulchre. The Emperor of Germany was struggling 
 with the Pope ; the King of England was battling 
 with his barons ; the King of Castillo was contend- 
 ing v/ith the Moors ; the King of Denmark was at 
 war with his own brother ; the King of Sweden was 
 at feud with the house of Tolekunger ; and the 
 King of Poland was exerting all his strength to 
 resist the inroads of Tartar hordes. France alone 
 was at peace and in a condition to send forth warriors 
 to the East ; and it was from France, that an answer 
 was vouchsafed to the cry of distress that reached 
 Europe from Asia. 
 
 It happened that, when news of the sack of Jeru- 
 salem reached Paris, Louis the Ninth was suffering 
 from illness. Gradually becoming worse, the King 
 ere long reached such a state of prostration, that his 
 recovery was despaired of : and his attendants were 
 at times in doubt whether he was dead or alive. As 
 if by a miracle, however, he was snatched from 
 
FRANCE IN MOTION. 229 
 
 the gates of death; and the first use he made of 
 his facuhies, was to order a cross to be attached to 
 his vestments. On seeing her son wearing the 
 cross, Queen Blanche was terrified — "struck as 
 fearfully," says the chronicler, " as if she had seen 
 him dead." The truth was, that, in gratitude for his 
 unexpected recovery, the Saint-king had vowed to 
 undertake an expedition for the recovery of" the Sep- 
 ulchre. 
 
 The resolution of the King was the reverse of 
 agreeable either to his family or his subjects, and 
 earnest attempts were made to divert him from 
 his purpose. But, during his illness, his imagina- 
 tion had been affected in the highest degree ; and 
 his enthusiasm was much too ardent to be restrained. 
 Steadfastly clinging to the idea, which haunted him 
 while under the influence of fever, he formally took 
 the cross, and sent intelligence to the East, that 
 he was assembling an army, with which to cross the 
 sea. 
 
 While the King of France was thus expressing 
 his resolution to undertake a crusade, a Cardinal, 
 as papal legate, arrived to publish a decree of 
 the celebrated Council of Lyons, respecting the 
 Holy Land. After the crusade had been preached 
 in the churches of the kingdom, Louis summoned 
 a parliament at Paris ; and the Cardinal havmg 
 first addressed the assembled peers and prelates, 
 the King reminded them of the expeditions of Louis 
 the Seventh and Philip Augustus, and appealed to 
 them, as Christians and gentlemen, to talce part in 
 the expedition. 
 
 20 
 
230 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADEES. 
 
 As the King finished his speech, his brothers, 
 Robert, Count of Artois, Alphonse, Count of Poictiers, 
 and Charles, Count of Anjou, stepped forward and 
 took the cross ; and Queen Margaret, the Countess 
 of Artois, and the Countess of Poictiers, followed the 
 example of their husbands. At the same time, the 
 Duke of Burgundy, the Count of Brittany, the Count 
 de Soissons, the Count de la Marche, Sir Peter 
 de Montfort, the Lord of Courtenay, and many- 
 other French magnates, swore to accompany their 
 King. 
 
 Matters having reached this stage, preparations 
 commenced ; and Louis set himself to provide the 
 means of going to the East. It appears that, to 
 defray the cost of his expedition, the King applied 
 to the Pope ; and the Pope granted him a tenth of 
 the clergy's revenues for three years. This tax was 
 somewhat rigorously levied ; and one poor priest, 
 who only enjoyed twenty shillings of annual income, 
 had to pay two yearly. Complaints from the clergy 
 were heard on all hands ; and laymen remarked, with 
 a chuckle, that the estates of the clergy were shorn as 
 bare as their crowns. 
 
 Notwithstanding the zeal displayed by Louis, pre- 
 parations went on slowly ; and three years passed ere 
 he was in a position to leave France. Before depart- 
 ing, he convoked a second parliament ; and, having 
 made the peers and prelates swear loyalty to his 
 family, in the event of his not returning, he repaired 
 to St. Denis, and, from the hands of the legate, re- 
 ceived the pilgrim's staff and scrip, and the oriflamme 
 of France. 
 
FKA^'CE IN MOTION. 231 
 
 This ceremony over, Louis left Paris, to proceed to 
 Aigrus-Mortes, which ho had appointed as the place 
 of embarkation. At Lyons, the Pope appeared to 
 give the King his blessing ; and Louis made an effort 
 to reconcile the Pope and the Emperor. The Pope, 
 however, refused to listen to the King's mediation ; 
 and Louis gave way to a false scruple, which proved 
 the cause of severe calamities. 
 
 The truth was, that the safety of the French army 
 much depended on the route selected ; and the safest 
 way to the Holy Land was understood to be through 
 Sicily. Unluckily, however, Sicily was subject to the 
 Empire ; and the Emperor was under excommunica- 
 tion by the Pope ; and Louis feared to set his foot in 
 a land under ban. He therefore resolved upon a great 
 sacrifice; and, instead of passing through Sicily to 
 Syria, announced his intention of proceeding by way 
 of Cyprus, into Egypt. 
 
 At Aigrus-]Mortes, Louis had caused a harbor 
 to be constructed ; and there his fleet awaited him. 
 Having embarked about the end of August, 1248, 
 with his Queen, and the Counts of Artois and 
 Anjou, Louis set sail for Cyprus, and after a voyage 
 of four weeks, landed at Limisso, from which, sLxty 
 years earlier, Richard, King of England, had, battle- 
 axe in hand, chased the Emperor Isaac. 
 
 Louis, however, had no occasion to emulate the 
 prowess of Cceur de Lion ; for a Christian king, 
 surrounded by Christian barons, now reigned over 
 Cyprus ; and the reception of the saintly crusader 
 was all that could have been wished. After being 
 welcomed at Limisso by Henry de Lusignan, sove- 
 
232 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 reign of the island, he proceeded to Nicosia, and, 
 having entered that capital amid the cheers of the 
 clergy, nobles, and people, he awaited the arrival of 
 his friends and followers. 
 
THE EAKLS OF SALISCUiiY AND DUNBAK. 233 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE EARLS OF SALISBUHY AND DUNBAE. 
 
 While King Louis was making preparations in 
 France for his expedition to the Holy Land, England 
 did not remain altogether indifferent to what was 
 passing on the Continent. Many of the Anglo- 
 Norman knights exhibited a desire to take port in an 
 adventure, from which so much glory was anticipated ; 
 and, if the King had encouraged the movement, a 
 noble host would have left our shores. But Henry the 
 Third, short-sighted as usual, kept the barons at home 
 to fight against the crown ; and not only warned his 
 subjects not to take the cross, but forbade the preach- 
 ms, of a crusade in his kingdom. 
 
 The English barons had never been disposed to 
 regard their sovereign's word as law ; and, though the 
 King's prohibition prevented any general movement, 
 several took the cross, and declared their determina- 
 tion of going to fight the infidels. Of these, the most 
 renowned was a great earl, nearly but illegitimately 
 connected ^\'ith the royal house. 
 
 Among the barons of England, at the opening of 
 the thirteenth century, few were more conspicuous 
 than the eldest of the two sons whom " fair Rosa- 
 mond " bore to the first of our Plantagenet kings. 
 20* 
 
234 THE CJRUSADES AND THE CE-USADERS. 
 
 Gifted by his sire with the earldom of SaHsbury, and 
 united in marriage to Hela Deveraux, an heiress of 
 that Norman race whose chiefs in after-acres foucht at 
 Bosworth and Edgehill, this stalwart warrior flourished 
 till the year 1226, and dying left a son, the heir of his 
 name, his earldom, and his valor. 
 
 William, second Earl of Salisbury, surnamed " Long- 
 sword," soon became even more famous than his sire, 
 and proved his courage in a remarkable manner, on 
 that day when the warriors of England fought against 
 fearful odds at the village of Saintonge. At the time 
 when Richard, Earl of Cornwall, went to Palestine, 
 Longsword appears to have taken the cross ; and no 
 sooner did he learn that King Louis had resolved on 
 an " armed pilgi'image," than he again assumed the 
 sacred badge, along with Robert de Vere and Geoffrey 
 Lucy. 
 
 Henrv was not the man to submit tamelv to this 
 contempt for his authority. Immediately resolving on 
 strong measures, he seized Salisbury's earldom and 
 castles ; and the earl found himself at his wits' end 
 for money. But Longsword was not to be baffled. 
 AVithout hesitation he repaired to Rome ; and, craving 
 an interview with the Pope, frankly explained the 
 dilemma in which he found himself. 
 
 " My Lord," said the Earl, on being admitted to the 
 presence of his Holiness, " you see that I have taken 
 the cross, and am ready to join the French King in his 
 pilgrimage, and to fight for God. I bear a great name, 
 and one well known, namely, William Longsword. 
 But my property is small : for the King, my kinsman 
 and lioge lord, has taken from me my title of carl and 
 
THE EARLS OF SALISBURY AND DUNBAR. ^35 
 
 all my substance. This, however, he did judicially — 
 not m his anger or any violence of self-will ; therefore 
 I do not blame him. I am obliged to fly to your 
 paternal bosom in this necessity ; and if the Earl of 
 Cornwall has been able to obtain, without taking the 
 cross, the privilege of levying a tax upon those who 
 have laid it down, I have thought that I might obtain a 
 similar favor — I, who have no resource but the charity 
 of the faithful." 
 
 The Pope Hstened with attention to the EarPs 
 speech. In fact, the grandeur of Longsword's aspect 
 could not fail to make an impression ; and his elo- 
 quence was such as to justify the boast that Norman 
 gentlemen were orators from their cradles. After 
 musing for a moment, the Pope smiled and informed 
 the eloquent warrior that his petition was granted. 
 
 Salisbury, having succeeded so far, returned to Eng- 
 land, and made all arrangements. Before leaving the 
 country, he proceeded to the abbey of Lacock to take 
 leave of his mother, who was the abbess of that rehg- 
 ious house. The abbess then gave the Earl her bless- 
 ing , and Longsword bade adieu to his mother, whom 
 he was not destined to see again. 
 
 At length, early in the spring of 1249, Salisbury set 
 forward on his expedition, and sailed from England. 
 The mandate of Henry had prevented any general 
 movement among the great barons ; and the Bigods 
 and Bohuns remained to worry him at Westminster, 
 and to fight against him at Lewes. Nevertheless, 
 Longsword was nobly attended when he embarked to 
 join the Saint-kmg of France. Robert de Vere carried 
 the EarPs bannei* ; and with liim went two hundred 
 
236 THE CEUSADES AND THE CKUSADEES. 
 
 English knights of noble name and dauntless courage, 
 sworn to bring that banner back with glory, or dye it 
 with their heart's blood. 
 
 But if Louis had not the company of many Anglo- 
 Norman barons, whose military genius made them 
 such formidable war-chiefs, he could boast of being 
 attended by the most illustrious patrician who sprang 
 from the Anglo-Saxon race. While Salisbury and his 
 friends were leaving the English shores, there might 
 have been seen sailing out of the beautiful bay of 
 Belhaven some ships of war with a lion-argent painted 
 on the sails. This was the fleet of Patrick, Earl of 
 Dunbar, a venerable warrior, whose spear had often 
 drunk deep of Celtic gore, while exerting himself, like 
 all the chiefs of his line, to establish law and spread 
 civihzation north of the Tweed. 
 
 At the time when King Louis announced his intention 
 of going to the East, Earl Patrick had long passed the 
 age of threescore. But though his hair was white and 
 his limbs stiff, the Earl's head was still as clear, his 
 heart as valiant, and his spirit as adventurous, as in 
 the days of his youth. Chroniclers tell that he was 
 anxious, ere being laid among his ancestors in the con- 
 vent of Eccles, to make his peace with God for some 
 roughness of which he had been guilty towards the 
 monks of Tynemouth. Perhaps, also, he wished to 
 associate his renowned name with the recovery of the 
 Holy Sepulchre. No sooner, at all events, did he hear 
 of a new crusade, than he determined to participate in 
 its perils and glories. 
 
 Earl Patrick had not to contend with such difficulties 
 as beset the path of William Longsword. His sub- 
 
THE EARLS OF SALISBURY AND DUNBAR. 237 
 
 stance was immense, and his independence was equal 
 to his substance. " I am lord of mine own," was the 
 language of his grandson ; " as free to reign in this 
 land of mine as ever was prince or king." Nobody was 
 likely to interfere with the Earl's movements : so the 
 heir of Cospatrick sold his stud on the Leader Haughs 
 to defray his expenses ; took a last farewell of Euphe- 
 mia Stewart, his aged countess ; received the pilgi'im's 
 staff and scrip from the abbot of Melrose ; embarked 
 with his knights and kinsmen, and fared forth to couch, 
 against the enemies of Christianity, that spear that had 
 so often been dyed red in the blood of the enemies of 
 civilization. 
 
238 THE CKUSADES AND THE CHUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE KING AND THE CHUONICLER. 
 
 Among the barons whom Louis the Ninth sum- 
 moned to Paris, to renew their homage to him and 
 swear loyalty to his cliildren, was the Sieur de Join- 
 ville, destined to be laiown as chronicler of the crusade. 
 
 Joinville was chief of a noble family in Champagne, 
 and appears, at this time, to have been approaching 
 the age of thirty. Some years earlier, he had suc- 
 ceeded his father as Seneschal of Champagne, and 
 espoused a daughter of the Count de Grand Pre. He 
 seems, however, to have been a widower when Louis 
 assumed the cross, and in no degree disinclined to take 
 part in an expedition to the East. Accordingly, when 
 the crusade was proclaimed throughout France, he 
 assumed the cross and prepared to accompany Louis 
 to Palestine. He did not, however, comply with the 
 King's request to renew his fealty. " He summoned 
 me also," says Joinville ; but I who was not his subject, 
 would not take the oath. Besides, it was not my in- 
 tention to remain behind." 
 
 After making his preparations, and indulging in a 
 week of feasting with his friends and kinsmen, Joinville 
 prepared to be gone. Ere setting out, he sent for the 
 abbot of Chcminon ; and having received from that 
 
THE KINO AND THE CHRONICLER. 239 
 
 holy man the scarf and staff, he made pilgrimages to 
 several places in the vicinity, barefoot, and in his shirt. 
 His vow did not admit of any return to his own castle ; 
 but the temptation would seem to have been strong. 
 " As I was journeying from Bliecourt to St. Urban," 
 he says, " I was obliged to pass near the castle of 
 Joinvillc. I dared never turn my eyes in that way, 
 for fear of feeling too great regret, and lest my cour- 
 age should fail on leaving my two fine children, and 
 my fair castle of Joinville, which I loved in my heart." 
 
 Having joined company with two of his kinsmen, 
 the Seneschal departed from Champagne ; and the 
 three brothers-in-arms, with their knights and atten- 
 dants, embarked on the Soane for Lyons ; while their 
 war-steeds and cavalry travelled along the banks of 
 the river. On reaching Lyons, they proceeded in the 
 same way by the Rhone to Aries le Blanc, and m 
 August, 1248, reached Marseilles. 
 
 On arriving at Marseilles, Joinville and his friends 
 hired a ship ; and embarked at that port with their men 
 and horses. All their courage was necessary to ena- 
 ble them to encounter the dangers of the sea ; but the 
 priests having chanted psalms in God's praise, and the 
 crusaders sung the " Veni Creator," they committed 
 themselves to Providence. The skipper then\)rdered 
 the mariners to set the sails ; and a breeze carrying 
 them from the shores of France, the knights observed, 
 with mysterious awe, that no other objects but the sea 
 and the sky were visible. 
 
 After suffering much from sea-sickness, Joinville 
 landed at Cyprus, and found that King Louis had 
 reached that island. The Seneschal's difficulties im- 
 
240 THE CHUSADES AND THE CEUSADERS. 
 
 mediately commenced. " On my arrival at Cyprus," 
 he says, " I had but twelve score livres in gold and 
 silver, after paying the freight of the ship, so that many 
 of my knights told me they would leave me, if I did 
 not better provide myself with money. I was some- 
 what cast down in courage on hearing this, but had 
 ever my confidence in God ; and, when the good King 
 St. Louis heard of my distress, he sent for me, and 
 retained me in his service, allowing me, like a kind 
 lord, eight hundred livres Tournois. I instantly re- 
 turned thanks to God." 
 
 No sooner w^as Joinville presented to Louis, than 
 an intimacy sprung up between them ; and the Senes- 
 chal of Champagne became one of the men whom the 
 King of France delighted to honor. Joinville, it is 
 true, had about him little of the courtier, and was not 
 quite so saintly in theory or practice as Louis could 
 have wished. He had, however, the merit of being 
 thoroughly honest, and of resisting every temptation 
 to affect a degree of piety which he did not feel. 
 
 "Seneschal," said Louis one day at Cyprus, "I 
 marvel that you do not mix water with your wine." 
 
 " Sire," said Joinville, "■ physicians have told me that 
 as I have a large head and a cold stomach, the water 
 might prove injurious." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Louis, " believe me, they have 
 deceived you. Be advised ; for if you do not begin 
 to drink water till you are in the decline of life, you 
 will increase any disorders you may then have ; 
 and if you take pure wine in your old age, you 
 will frequently be intoxicated ; and verily it is a 
 beastly thing for an honorable man to make himself 
 drunk." 
 
THE KING AND THE CHRONICLER. 241 
 
 " Whether would you be a leper, Seneschal, or 
 have committed, or be about to commit, a deadly 
 sin ? " asked the King on another occasion, when two 
 friars were present. 
 
 " Rather than be a leper. Sire," exclaimed Joinville, 
 " I would have committed thirty deadly sins." 
 
 " How could you make such an answer to my 
 question ? " asked Louis, upbraidingly, when the friars 
 were gone. 
 
 " Sire," I'ephed Joinville, " were I to answer again, 
 I should repeat the same thing." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Louis, " you deceive yourself on the 
 subject, for you know there can be no leprosy so 
 filthy as deadly sin, and the soul that is guilty of such 
 is like the devil in hell." 
 
 " And pray. Seneschal," demanded Louis after a 
 pause, " do you wash the feet of the poor on Holy 
 Thursdays ? " 
 
 " Oh, Sire, no ! " cried Joinville ; " and never will 
 I wash the feet of such fellows." 
 
 " This is in truth, very ill said," remarked Louis, 
 shaking his head. " For you should never hold in 
 disdain what God did for our instruction. I therefore 
 beg that you will, first out* of love to Him, and then 
 from regard to me, accustom yourself to do so." 
 
 With such conversations the winter passed over at 
 Cyprus, Joinville quaffing his wine without water, and 
 Louis expatiating on the perils of such indulgence. 
 At length, March arrived ; and the King embarked 
 with the Queen and their household. Joinville, with 
 the other crusaders, prepared to tempt the seas once 
 more, but not without a vague kind of terror. " I 
 21 
 
242 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 must say," he remarks, " that he is a great fool who 
 puts himself in such danger, having wronged any one, 
 or having any mortal sin on his conscience ; for, when 
 he goes to sleep in the evening, he knows not if, in 
 the morning, he may not find himself under the 
 sea." 
 
THE CAPTUllE OF DAMIETTA. 243 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CAPTURE OF DAMIETTA. 
 
 Ox the Saturday before Pentecost, eighteen hundred 
 vessels, comprising the fleet of St, Louis, most of 
 whose friends had ere this met him at Cyprus, issued 
 gallantly from the port of Limisso, and sailed towards 
 Egypt. " It was a pleasant sight to see," says Join- 
 villc ; " for it seemed as if the whole sea, as far as the 
 sight could reach, was .covered with cloth, from the 
 great quantity of sails that were spread to the wmd." 
 
 The voyage of the crusaders did not, however, 
 prove prosperous. At first, indeed, all was promising. 
 But suddenly the wind changed, and blew violently 
 from the coast of Egypt. In vain the Genoese mari- 
 ners exerted their skill. The fleet was completely dis- 
 persed ; and when Louis, putting back, reached Limisso, 
 he discovered, with mortification, that scarcely one 
 third of the ships remained in his company. 
 
 The king, who supposed the companions of his 
 voyage had been drowned, was grieved beyond 
 measure. But consolation was luckily at hand. For- 
 tunately, while Louis was bewailing the fate of his 
 friends, the Earl of Salisbury and the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy arrived ; and Longsword, accustomed, ere he 
 " had put on his helmet," to the narrow seas, felt none 
 
244 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 of that vasiue dread of " the blue above and the blue 
 below," which made the French knights invoke the 
 saints in Paradise when they embarked. The English 
 Earl, in fact, was just he man for the crisis. He 
 could tell how his own father, in returning from the 
 Holy Land, had narrowly escaped shipwreck, and 
 point out that, in all probability, the missing vessels 
 were quite safe on the Syrian coast. Of course, his 
 hardihood only made him enemies ; and the French 
 knights, who had been sinking under sea-sickness, 
 trembling for their lives, and wishing themselves back 
 in their own castles, cursed the brave Earl as the 
 worst of " Enghsh tails." 
 
 Louis, however, became more composed ; and, the 
 morning of Monday being fine, he resolved to pursue 
 his voyage. The wind proving favorable, the fleet 
 made for the Egyptian coast, and at sunrise, on Thurs- 
 day morning, the watch on deck shouted out " Land ! " 
 Some doubt appears to have been entertained ; but this 
 feeling was speedily dissipated by a pilot, who ascended 
 to the round top of the vessel that led the van. " Gen- 
 tlemen," he cried, "we are before Damietta ; so we 
 have nothing to do but recommend ourselves to God." 
 
 A cry of joy burst from a hundred lips ; the words 
 flew from deck to deck ; and much excitement pre- 
 vailed throughout the fleet. Immediately the leaders 
 of the crusade hastened on board the King's vessel. 
 " Gentlemen," said Louis, as he received them leaning 
 on his sword, " let us be thankful that we are, at length, 
 face to face with the enemies of Christ." 
 
 So far, indeed, as appearances went, the crusaders 
 had reason to believe that they were on the eve of a 
 
THE CAPTURE OF DAMIETTA. 215 
 
 desperate struggle. The mouth of the Nile was defended 
 by a fleet and by formidable engines of war ; an innu- 
 merable army of horsemen and footmen covered the 
 shore, as if bent on contesting every inch of ground. 
 At the head of this mighty force, armed in burnished 
 gold, appeared the Emir Fakreddin, whose very name 
 was terrible to Christians ; and from the midst of the 
 host, trumpets and drums sounded a stern defiance to 
 the approaching foe. 
 
 No impression was produced by this display on the 
 hearts of the crusaders. Undaunted by the evidence 
 of great preparations, they steadily pursued their course ; 
 ship after ship moving calmly forward, and anchoring 
 within a mile of the shore. Four galleys from the 
 mouth of the Nile, advanced to reconnoitre the fleet ; 
 but three of them having been sunk, the fourth carried 
 back intelligence that the crusaders were foes to be 
 dreaded. 
 
 It was now necessary to form some plan of action ; 
 and a council of war was held on board the King's ship. 
 The general wish was to await the arrival of the crusa- 
 ders from whom they had been separated by the tem- 
 pest; but the drums and horns of the Saracens had 
 chafed the Saint-king's pride, and he would not hear of 
 delay. " We have not come here," he said, " to listen 
 to the insults of enemies. Besides, we have no port in 
 which to shelter from the wind. A second tempest may 
 disperse what remains of our fleet. To-day, God oflers 
 us a victory ; another day, he may punish us for having 
 neglected to conquer." Nobody cared to debate the 
 point with their King ; and it was resolved that the cru- 
 saders should next morning disembark and give the 
 
 21* 
 
246 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Saracens battle. Meanwhile, strict watch was main- 
 tained ; and some swift vessels were despatched towards 
 the mouth of the Nile, to observe the motions of the 
 enemy. 
 
 When Friday morning dawned, the Saracens still oc- 
 cupied the entire shore, presenting a front as formidable 
 as on the previous day. Nevertheless, the crusaders 
 prepared to land ; and getting into their barks, formed 
 into two lines and made for the shore. Nor did Louis, 
 at that hour, appear in any respect unworthy of the 
 regal race of which he was the chief. Preceded by the 
 oriflamme, attended by his brothers, by his chosen 
 knights, and by the papal legate, the King, in complete 
 armor, with his helmet on his brow, his shield on his 
 neck, and his lance in his hand, figured conspicuously on 
 the right of his soldiers. Each of the barons and knights 
 stood erect in his boat, with his horse by his side, his 
 lance in his hand, and his eyes directed to the shore. 
 Cross bowmen were placed in front and on the wings of 
 the army, to annoy and gall the eager foe. 
 
 For a time, the barks moved onward without oppo- 
 sition, and the crusaders drew near to the Egyptian 
 strand. But no sooner were they within bow -shot of 
 the shore, than a shower of arrows and javelins threw 
 them into some slight disorder. Instantly, however, 
 the crossbowmen retaliated on the foe, with a damaging 
 flight of shafts ; and the rowers redoubled their efforts 
 to reach the shore. But by this time, the enthusiasm 
 of the crusaders became intense ; and the Sieur de 
 Joinville, closely followed by Baldwin de Rheims, 
 reached the shore. Seeing this, losing patience, and 
 hardly waiting till the oriflamme was landed, Louis 
 
THE CAPTURE OF DAMIETTA. 247 
 
 sprang from his boat, and leaping into the sea, which 
 came up to his shoulders, struggled ashore, with a shout 
 of" Montjoie, St. Denis!" 
 
 No sooner had the Christian King set foot on dry- 
 land, than he kneeled down and returned thanks to God, 
 for having preserved him from the perils of the sea. 
 On observing the Saracens, Louis appears to have be- 
 come so excited, as to propose making an attack upon 
 them forthwith. But the French knights interfered, 
 and persuaded the King to wait patiently till the re- 
 mainder of his army had landed. 
 
 It was well indeed for Louis, that he allowed himself 
 to be prevailed on, for, at that moment, the Saracen 
 cavalry came down on the crusaders, with an impetu- 
 osity which convinced the French that their foes were 
 somewhat formidable. But the valor of the Moslems 
 met with a signal check. Hastily ordering the French 
 to close their ranks, and cover themselves with then* 
 shields, Joinville and Baldwin of Rheims contrived to 
 present so impenetrable a front, that the Saracens re- 
 tired baffled. 
 
 But scarcely had this charge been repelled, when the 
 Saracens made ready for a second attack ; and King 
 Louis, forming his army into order, prepared for re- 
 sistance. A confused conflict now took place, and con- 
 tinued till several emirs had fallen. Fakreddin then 
 withdrew his men ; and, abandoning his camp, retreated 
 to Damietta. 
 
 The King of France, after witnessing the retreat of 
 the foe, ordered his pavilion, which was of bright red, 
 to be set up, and caused the cler^v to sins: the Te 
 Dcum. The French warriors then pitched their tents 
 
248 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 around the King, and passed the night in rejoicing over 
 their victory. 
 
 It soon appeared, that the crusaders were not aware 
 of the full advantages they had gained. Before day- 
 break, however, columns of flame, rising from Dami- 
 etta, intimated that something remarkable was occurring ; 
 and, when morning dawned, Louis despatched one of 
 his knights to ascertain the cause. On reaching Da- 
 mietta, the knight perceived that the gates were open ; 
 and entering, he found the streets deserted and the 
 houses abandoned. Returning at a gallop to the camp, 
 he announced to the crusaders that Damietta might be 
 won without a blow. 
 
 The King of France could hardly credit the report 
 brought by his knight, but he gave orders for marching ; 
 and the army, moving slowly forward, without opposi- 
 tion took possession of Damietta. Having formed into 
 procession, the King, the Cardinal, and a crowd of 
 clergy, walked to the gi-and mosque, now converted into 
 a Christian church, and sang psalms of praise. 
 
 This ceremony over, the crusaders established them- 
 selves in Damietta. The Queen, the Countess of Ar- 
 tois, and the other ladies, who, from their ships, had 
 with breathless anxiety watched the landing of the 
 French warriors, were conducted on shore, and lodged 
 in the palaces of the city ; five hundred knights were 
 charged with the duty of guarding the ramparts and 
 towers ; the army encamped on the plain, outside the 
 walls ; and Louis only awaited the arrival of the crusa- 
 ders, whom the tempest had driven on the Syrian coast, 
 and of his brother, the Count of Poictiers, with ihe 
 arriere ban of France, to undertake the great enter- 
 prise of conquering Egypt. 
 
DISCOED AND DISOHDER. 249 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DISCOED AND DISORDER. 
 
 No sooner was King Louis established at Damietta, 
 than he found himself in the midst of difficulties and 
 discord. 
 
 After entering the city, the Saint-king resolved that 
 no division of the spoil should be made ; but that the 
 provisions should be kept in magazines under the royal 
 officers, and distributed gradually for the support of the 
 army. This arrangement, being contrary to ancient 
 custom, caused much discontent ; and John de Valery, 
 a baron of fame and influence, remonstrated warmly 
 with the King. " Never, please God," he exclaimed, 
 " will I consent to alter good customs, and such as our 
 ancestors have followed in the Holy Land. Whenever 
 any city or other considerable booty was taken from the 
 enemy, the King never received more than one third of 
 the riches or goods ; while the pilgrims received two 
 thirds." Louis, however, who wished to avoid the in- 
 conveniences that had resulted from the system of which 
 John de Valery was the eulogist, remained firm ; and 
 the French barons found some difficulty in digesting 
 their discontent. 
 
 Disputes of a more serious kind ere long took place. 
 
250 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 At that time, there existed no great love between the 
 French and English nobles ; and the warriors of the 
 continent were m the habit of treating the warriors of 
 the island with undisguised contempt. In fact, the 
 French had some reason to assume airs of superiority ; 
 for, during fifty years, they had been victorious in al- 
 most every struggle. On that point there could be no 
 dispute. Philip Augustus had expelled King John from 
 the continent ; and Louis had chased King Henry from 
 the bridge of Taillebourg to the gates of Bordeaux. 
 Moreover, while France enjoyed some measure of ec- 
 clesiastical freedom, the Pope treated England as a 
 conquered country, and talked contemptuously of the 
 Kins as his vassal. Such beins the case, the French 
 were constantly vaporing about their prowess ; and the 
 wretched joke about Englishmen being born with tails, 
 as a punishment for the murder of Thomas a Becket, 
 was brought forward in season and out of season. 
 
 It must be stated that the English, to their credit, 
 bore the taunts of their continental rivals with a degree 
 of patience which has not always characterized their 
 nation. Even in their humiliation, however, the island 
 warriors could not have relished the disparaging remarks 
 of which they were the objects. It is true that for- 
 bearance would have cost them little, could they have 
 foreseen at how early a date the tables were to be 
 turned. A great change, in fact, was at hand ; and the 
 Plantagenet prince had already seen the light, who was 
 to make popes, and princes, and peoples bow with awe 
 before the name of Enmand. 
 
 For some time, during the stay of the crusaders at 
 Damictta, the English prudently refrained from resent- 
 
DISCORD AND DISORDER. 251 
 
 ing the insults of their allies. But, at the same time, 
 they do not ap[)car to have complied very readily with 
 the regulations for the government of the camp ; and 
 the Earl of Salisbury, in some way, provoked the ma- 
 lignity of the Count of Artois. This, of course, led to 
 such quarrels as none of the crusaders had skill suffi- 
 cient to prevent. The Earl of Dunbar, indeed, with 
 his sagacity and experience, might have acted success- 
 fully as mediator ; but it would seem, that the old Scoto- 
 Saxon warrior was among those who perished early in 
 the expedition.* 
 
 While the Couot of Artois and the Earl of Salisbury 
 were on unfriendly terms, Longsword, growing weary 
 of inactivity, and eager for change of scene, donned his 
 chain mail, put on his surcoat, mounted his Flemish 
 charger, and, at the head of his knights, dashed out of 
 Damietta in quest of adventure. The novelty of every- 
 thing around naturally raised the spirits of the English 
 crusaders ; and, panting for action, but not meeting 
 with any enemy to oppose their progress, they laid siege 
 to a castle before which they accidentally arrived. Af- 
 ter a bold effort, Salisbury seized the place, and finding 
 it occupied by " the wives of some noble Saracens," 
 gave the alarmed ladies to understand that they were 
 
 * '* Earl Patrick also died, who was hold to be the most pow- 
 erful among the nobles of Scotland. This noble died bearing 
 the symbol of the cross, while on a pilgrimage in company with 
 the French King; and he is believed to have assumed the cross 
 that he might become reconciled to God and St. Oswin ; for he 
 had harassed and unjustly injured the church of Tynemouth, 
 a convent devoted to St. Alban, and the especial domicile of 
 the blessed king and martyr Oswin." — Matthew Paris^s 
 Chronicle. 
 
252 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 captives of his sword and spear, and brought them off 
 to Damietta. 
 
 But the adventures of the EngUsh Earl were not 
 ended. While conducting the Oriental beauties in tri- 
 upmh, Longsword fell in with a caravan on hs way to 
 Alexandria. Of course, no scruple about spoiling the 
 infidel ever touched Longsword's conscience ; so, put- 
 ting the escort to the rout, he took possession of the 
 caravan ; and, congratulating himself on having obtained 
 so noble a prize, continued his march to the crusaders' 
 camp. 
 
 When Salisbury, on his strong charger, came riding 
 at the head of his knights to Damietta, with Saracen la- 
 dies, and wagons drawn by oxen and buffaloes, and 
 camels, mules, and asses laden with gold and silver, and 
 silks and paintings, much envy was excited. Perhaps 
 the English did not bear their good fortune quite 
 meekly. In any case, the French gradually became 
 exasperated ; and, after some high words had passed, 
 they carried off part of Longsword's booty by force. 
 
 On learning what had occurred, and deeming that he 
 had been both insulted and injured, Salisbury hastened 
 to the royal pavilion. Louis was then holding a coun- 
 cil ; and the English Earl entering, presented himself to 
 the most Christian King. 
 
 " Sir King," said Longsword, bluntly, " I took the 
 cross, and came from a distant country to aid you in 
 the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. I and my coun- 
 trymen have fought as faithfully for God's cause as any 
 man in your army. Nevertheless, we have been ex- 
 posed to intolerable insults and injuries. I come here 
 to lay before you my complaint against your brother, 
 
DISCORD AND DISORDER. 253 
 
 the Count of Artois, who is the head and chief offender ; 
 and I promise, that if I am in the wrong, I will give 
 every satisfaction for my fault." 
 
 " William Longsword," said Louis, gravely, " the 
 Lord, who is ignorant of nothing, is aware of the inju- 
 ries you have sustained. But what can I do ? You 
 know how serious an affair it would be for me to offend 
 any of my nobles in the position in which I now am." 
 
 "What do you mean, my Lord King!" asked the 
 Count of Artois, who at that moment entered abruptly, 
 flushed and excited. " Do you defend this English- 
 man and oppose your own Frenchmen ?" 
 
 " Now, Longsword," said Louis, turning his face to 
 the English Earl, " you hear how easily a quarrel 
 might originate ; and God forbid that it should occur in 
 this army. It is necessary, at such a crisis, to endure 
 such things, and even worse things than these, with 
 equanimity." 
 
 " Then, Sir," exclaimed Longsword, giving way to 
 indignation, " call yourself no longer King, since you 
 have no longer the power to administer justice or to 
 punish offenders." 
 
 " Frenchmen ! what madness excites vou ? Why do 
 you persecute this man .?" asked Louis reproachfully. 
 
 " I do it," cried the Count of Ar'.ois, " because I be- 
 lieve the French army would be well purged of these 
 tailed English ! " 
 
 But the Count's words were echoed by none of the 
 King's councillors. All men of judgment and expe- 
 rience shook their heads, and intimated, in a manner 
 not to be mistaken, their disapproval of what he had 
 said. 
 
 22 
 
254 THE CfiUSADES AND THE CEUSADEES. 
 
 " This is a serious matter," they observed, not even 
 deigning to answer the fool according to liis folly. " It 
 is a sad presage of future events ; and well will it be if 
 the heavy anger of the Most High is not provoked by 
 such offence." 
 
 The quarrel between the Earl of Salisbury and the 
 Count of Artois, was not the only unfortunate circum- 
 stance connected with the stay of the French at Dami- 
 etta. In fact, the utmost disorder prevailed in the camp- 
 Quarrels and brawls occurred daily and hourly. The 
 crusaders, left to inactivity, appeared to forget the sol- 
 emn oaths they had taken, and spent their time in not 
 and debauchery. A spirit of gambling and wantonness 
 took possession of the army encamped under the stand- 
 ard of Christ. The rattle of the dice-box was constantly 
 heard throughout the camp. Men with the cross of 
 Christ on their shoulder, had the name of the devil per- 
 petually on their tongues ; and women, lost to womanly 
 feeling, plied the most iniquitous of all trades in the 
 immediate vicinity of the Saint-kuig's pavilion. 
 
THE Eillll TAKKEJDDIN. 255 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 THE EMIR FAKKEDDIX. 
 
 The flight of the Emir Fakreddin from Damietta, 
 and the occupation of that city by the crusaders, threw 
 the empire of the Sultan into convulsions. 
 
 At the time when the crusaders landed at Da- 
 mietta, Melikul-Salih had the misfortune to be under 
 the influence of a malady, which physicians pro- 
 nounced incurable ; and he was, of course, precluded 
 from any active part in the steps taken to defend his 
 dominions. When, however, pigeons conveyed to 
 Cairo intelligence of the French King's success and 
 Fakreddin's flight, the Sultan roused himself to 
 energy. Breaking into a violent rage, he instantly 
 sentenced about fifty of the principal fugitives to be 
 executed, and would listen to none of the excuses 
 made for their flight. " You deserve death for having 
 quitted Damietta without my orders," was his answer 
 to every attempt they made to justify themselves. One 
 man who had been condemned to die with a son whom 
 he dearly loved, entreated that, at least, he should bo 
 allowed to sufler first. But the Sultan was inexorable : 
 and the father had to endure the misery of seeing his 
 son executed before his eyes. 
 
 While Melikul-Salih was in this sanguinary mood, 
 
256 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Fakreddin was summoned to his presence, and re- 
 ceived with ominous anger. 
 
 " What resistance have you inade, and what battles 
 have you fought ? " asked the Suhan in a rage. 
 
 " I have both made resistance and fought battles," 
 answered Fakreddin calmly. 
 
 " These French," said the Sultan, " must indeed be 
 something very terrible, since men like you could not 
 support their presence for one day." 
 
 While this conversation was going on, the emirs 
 present trembling for Fakreddin's safety, intimated by 
 a gesture their readiness to save him by killing the 
 Sultan. But Fakreddin shook his head, " The Sul- 
 tan," he whispered, " cannot live many days ; and, 
 if he gives trouble, we can at any time get rid of 
 him." 
 
 Without driving matters to cxtremitv, Mellkul-Salih 
 caused himself to be removed to JNIansourah ; and, 
 on reaching that city, expended his last strength in 
 rallying the troops and strengthening the fortifica- 
 tions. At the same time, he sent soldiers to attack 
 the crusaders in their camp, and promised a golden 
 bezant for the head of every Christian brought to his 
 dying couch. The Arab cavalry of the desert, and 
 some Karismian horsemen, saved from the ruin of the 
 army that sacked Jerusalem, were employed on this 
 service ; and exerted so much ingenuity in their ap- 
 proaches, that sentinel after sentinel disappeared from 
 liis post, and knight after knight was killed while 
 asleep in his tent. 
 
 At length Malikul-Salih breathed his last at Man- 
 sourah ; and as Touran-Chah, son of the departed 
 
THE EMIR FAKREDDIN. 257 
 
 Sultan, was then in Mesopotamia, the emirs became 
 apprehensive of the most serious troubles. But the 
 favorite Sultana, a woman of great ability, suggested 
 the policy of concealing her husband's death till his 
 successor should arrive j and this counsel being acted 
 on, prevented any serious consequences. Orders were 
 still issued in the Sultan's name ; prayers for his 
 recovery were offered up in the churches ; and Mame- 
 lukes occupied their usual post at the palace gates, as 
 if guarding his hfe. 
 
 But notwithstanding such precautions, suspicions 
 were aroused, and the truth ere long began to ooze 
 out. This was of itself sufficient to create conster- 
 nation ; and soon another circumstance added to the 
 panic. Rumors, carried to Mansourah, that the French, 
 having left Damietta, were marching up the banks of 
 the Nile, caused every check to grow pale •, and, on 
 being conveyed to Cairo, excited such terror and dis- 
 may as had seldom before been exhibited in the capital 
 of Egypt. 
 
 At this crisis, Fakreddln showed a courage worthy 
 of the fame he had won by his military exploits, and 
 called upon the Saracens to sacrifice their lives and 
 fortunes for the sake of their rehgion and their 
 country. " In the name of God, and Mahomet, his 
 prophet," said the Emir, " hasten, great and small, for 
 the cause of God has need of your arms and your 
 wealth ; " and his proclamation was read daily at the 
 hour of prayer in the grand mosque at Cairo. But the 
 people of the capital only answered with sighs and 
 groans. A few of the more courageous, indeed, left 
 •for Mansourah to fight ; but the majority only thought 
 22* 
 
258 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRTTSADEES. 
 
 of flying farther from enemies against whom they 
 despaired of defending themselves. 
 
 But Fakreddin was not dismayed. Marching out 
 of Mansourah, he encamped at Djedile, on the shore 
 of the canal of Achmoum, with the Nile on his left 
 and the city in his rear. Here the Emir awaited the 
 foe. " Be brave : we will yet avenge the glory of 
 Islamism," he said, addressing his troops ; " and on 
 Sebastian's day I will dine in the red tent of the 
 French King." 
 
THE MAKCII TO MANSOUKAH. 259 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MARCH TO MANSOURAH. 
 
 While Melikul-Salih, Sultan of Egypt, was exert- 
 ing his last energy to save the empire of the Ayoubites 
 from the Franks, arrival after arrival swelled the 
 army that lay encamped around the oriflammo on the 
 plains of Damietta. Thither, recovered from their 
 fright, gathered the crusaders whose ships the storm 
 had driven on the Syrian coast ; thither came the 
 Count of Poictiers, with the arriere ban of the French 
 army ; and thither, under their grand masters, to take 
 part in the holy enterprise, hurried the Templars and 
 Hospitallers, whose discipline and knowledge of East- 
 ern warfare rendered their presence of the utmost 
 importance. With such allies, and an army of sixty 
 thousand men, twenty thousand of whom were cavalry, 
 the Saint-king might well flatter himself with the hope 
 of accomplishing something great. 
 
 When affairs reached this stage, Louis resolved on 
 leaving Damietta ; and a council of princes and peers 
 was held to deliberate on the measures most likely to 
 complete the conquest of Egypt. The more prudent 
 recommended the King to attack Alexandria; but 
 several, who were young and fiery, insisted on pro- 
 
2G0 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 ceedinjT to Cairo. Foremost among those eager to 
 march to the Egyptian capital, was the Count of 
 Artois. " If," said he, " you wish to kill a serpent, 
 you ought to hcgin by crushing its head." 
 
 After a warm discussion, Louis declared in favor of 
 the bolder project ; and orders were given for march- 
 ing to Cairo. Leaving Queen Margaret, with the 
 Countesses of Artois and Poictiers, at Damietta, under 
 the protection of a strong garrison, the crusaders 
 moved, iji feudal array, along the banks of the Nile ; 
 while a fleet, with provisions and engines of war ascen- 
 ded the river. 
 
 For a time the armed pilgrims marched on without 
 any foe worthy of their steel appearing. Five hundred 
 horsemen, however, hung about, and caused some sur- 
 prise by stating that they had come to aid the crusaders 
 in their progress. Seeing that they seemed pacific, 
 and that their number was too small to inspire dread, 
 the King commanded his soldiers not to molest them. 
 But it soon appeared that they were not bent on so 
 amicable a mission as they pretended. No sooner, 
 indeed, was a favorable opportunity presented, than 
 they fell on the Templars, and one knight of the order, 
 struck with a battle-axe, ere he was aware of his 
 danger, fell dead from his horse. 
 
 " Down with the Pagan dogs ! " cried twenty voices, 
 as the body of the knight rolled at the feet of the mar- 
 shal of the order. 
 
 " Yes, companions," shouted the marshal, " at- 
 tack them in the name of God ^ for I cannot suffer 
 thus." 
 
 As the marshal spoke, the Templars put their 
 
THE MARCH TO MANSOUR^H. 2G1 
 
 horses in motion, and charged the Saracens. At the 
 same time a cry to arms rung through the crusaders' 
 ranks ; and hundreds, spurring forward, surrounded 
 the Moslem warriors on all sides. No chance of 
 escape remained for them ; and such as did not fall 
 by the weapons of their foes, perished in the waters of 
 the Nile. 
 
 After this adventure, the crusaders continued 
 their march, and soon approached the town of Man- 
 sourah. At this point, however, their progress was 
 interrupted by two obstacles. One was the canal 
 known as the Achmoum, with a deep bed and 
 steep banks; the other was the Saracen army, 
 which, under Fakreddin, appeared encamped on 
 the opposite bank. 
 
 " Sire," said a knight to the King, " I have learned 
 that the Emir boasts of his intention to dine in your 
 tent on Sebastian's day." 
 
 " Does he ? " said Louis on hearing this. " How- 
 ever, 1 will take good care to prevent him." 
 
 The obstacle presented by the canal of Achmoum 
 appeared insuperable, for the time being, to the cru- 
 saders. Indeed, they were so impressed with the 
 depth of its bed and the steepness of its banks, that 
 they neglected to ascertain whether there was no 
 ford bv which it could be crossed. Instead of looking 
 for a ford, they commenced the construction of a 
 causeway ; and this led to serious consequences. The 
 Saracens, in fact, at once perceived their advantage ; 
 and while many men, protected by machines and 
 wooden castles, were occupied with the work, the 
 Saracens exercised their utmost ingenuity to retard 
 
262 THE CRUSADES AND THE CEUSADEES, 
 
 their progress. It soon appeared that Fakreddin, 
 though he had retreated from Damietta, was by 
 no means inchned to acknowledge the superiority of 
 the Franks without a struggle. Every day brought 
 fresh annoyances, and every night new troubles. 
 After the Saracens had once ventured to attack the 
 camp, and found the Franks not quite invincible, their 
 audacity became greater ; and in the conflicts that took 
 place day by day, the crusaders had not always the 
 advantage. 
 
 Notwithstanding their gallant bravery, the French 
 knights found that they were encountering no con- 
 temptible foes. Every day the Saracens showed a 
 fiercer determination to prevent the completion of 
 the causeway ; and they exerted themselves to the 
 utmost of their power, to produce consternation 
 among the crusaders by discharging Greek fire. The 
 horrors endured during one night have been de- 
 scribed by Joinville. On that occasion the Saracens 
 brought a terrible engine, and placed it opposite 
 the machines guarded by the lordly chronicler and 
 a knight named Sir Walter Curel. The engine 
 vomited forth huge bodies of flame, which drew after 
 it a tail, that looked in the darkness, like a fiery ser- 
 pent. Nothing could have exceeded the surprise 
 and horror of the crusaders at this mode of attack. 
 Every man gave way to bewilderment, and called 
 on his neighbors for aid ; but in the midst of the 
 consternation around him. Sir Walter Curel retained 
 his presence of mind. " Gentlemen," cried the brave 
 knight, " we appear to be lost ; for if they set fire 
 to our chas-chateils, we shall be burned ; and, 
 
THE MARCH TO MANSOUEAH. 263 
 
 if we quit our posts, we are dishonored. God 
 alone can save us from this peril. Wherefore I 
 advise every one, whenever this fire is thrown, to 
 cast himself on his knees and call upon the name of 
 the Lord." 
 
 The advice of Sir Walter appeared much too good 
 to be neglected ; and his wisdom was generally ac- 
 knowledged. Seven times during the night, the 
 engine sent forth its shower of fire ; and, each time, 
 the crusaders threw themselves on their knees, the 
 King setting the example of prostrating himself on the 
 ground, and cryhig aloud, " Good Lord, preserve me 
 and my people ! " 
 
 Hours passed over, without the Greek fire doing 
 serious mischief; but, at length, one of the bodies 
 of flame fell beside the chas-chateil guarded by Lord 
 de Courtenay, struck a bank in front of his position, 
 and ran along the ground towards his men. This 
 circumstance created a fearful panic. " Help, my 
 lord, we are burnt," cried one of Courtenay's 
 knights, rushing towards Joinville ; " there is a 
 long train of fire running straight for our castle." 
 Joinville instantly hastened to render assistance ; 
 and the fire was extinguished. But this operation 
 was not performed without danger ; for, from the 
 opposite bank, arrows and darts coming in showers, 
 rattled against steel cap and chain mail. 
 
 While such scenes were enacted, Fakreddin was 
 not idle. From the first, he had lost no oppor- 
 tunity of ascertaining the position and prospects of 
 the crusaders. As intelligence on such subjects could 
 only be obtained from captives, the Emir offered a 
 
2G4 THE CRUSADES AND THE CUUSADERS. 
 
 handsome reward for every Frank brought to his 
 tent j and this led a Saracen soldier to perform an 
 exploit so extraordinary as to have been carefully 
 recorded by Arabian chroniclers, who omitted far 
 more important events. 
 
 It appears that the Saracen soldier determined 
 to take a Christian prisoner to the Emir's tent, 
 and fell upon a most whimsical plan for accom- 
 plishing his purpose. Having scooped out a melon, 
 and thrust his head into the cavity, he threw himself 
 into the stream, and swam down in such a way 
 that the melon seemed to float on the water. The 
 trick proved successful ; for one of the crusaders, 
 yielding to temptation and eager to gratify his 
 appetite, rushed into the canal and grasped at the 
 melon. Scarcely, however, had the Frank stretched 
 out his hand, when he found himself seized by the 
 Saracen, and dragged forcibly away to the Emir's 
 tent. 
 
 Meanwhile, the crusaders had been more than a 
 month engaged in the attempt to construct a cause- 
 way, and were quite as far from accomplishing their 
 object as during the first week. Suddenly they be- 
 came aware that the passage of the Achmoum might 
 be effected by means much simpler. One day a 
 Bedouin presented himself to the Constable of France, 
 and engaged, for five hundred golden bezants, to point 
 out a ford by which the crusaders might safely reach 
 the opposite bank. The Constable immediately made 
 inquiries, and, having ascertained that the Bedouin was 
 not deceiving him, paid the sum demanded. One 
 night, in the month of February, the crusaders, having 
 
THE MARCH TO MANSOUHAIT. 2G5 
 
 left the Duke of Burgundy to guard their camp, 
 marched along the bank of the canal, and awaited the 
 break of day to plunge through the water, and advance 
 on Mansourah. 
 
 23 
 
2G6 THE cnusADES and the chusadeks. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 BIBAHS BENDOCDAE. 
 
 At the time when the march of the French army 
 towards Mansourah startled the inhabitants of that city 
 out of their propriety, and caused dismay within the 
 walls of Cairo, there was one Moslem warrior who did 
 not share in the general alarm. Far from shrinking 
 from the peril, this individual recognized with satisfac- 
 tion the danger and disorder, from the bosom of which 
 a daring leader might raise himself to power by re- 
 kindling courage and restoring disciphne. He was 
 chief of the Mamelukes, known as Bibars Bendocdar, 
 and destined to associate his name with great crimes 
 and memorable exploits. 
 
 At that time, it was the custom of the East, when 
 two kings went to war, to sell the subjects of the van- 
 quished prince as slaves. Bought by merchants, these 
 slaves were conveyed by sea to Egypt ; and their 
 children purchased by the Sultan, were trained from 
 boyhood in his service. Whenever their beards began 
 to grow, they were taught to wield the sword and to 
 draw the bow ; and in due time enrolled in that fa- 
 mous military body which Saladin had instituted. 
 
 Bibars Bendocdar had originally been brought to 
 Egypt as a slave, and admitted into the Mameluke 
 
BIBAES BENDOCDAR. 267 
 
 force. His ambition being intense, and his talent 
 quite equal to his ambition, he rose rapidly. Indeed, 
 he was one of those men who deem themselves born 
 to rule, and who, even when slaves, dream of the day 
 that is to dawn on them as tyrants. He was quite de- 
 termined to find a way to power ; and, as to the means, 
 lie was in no respect scrupulous. 
 
 Ere lonn;, Bibars Bendocdar found that circumstan- 
 ces favored his aspirations. No position was more 
 likely to lead from obscurity to fame, than that which 
 he occupied. The Mamelukes were always in favor 
 with the Sultan ; they wore his emblazonments of pure 
 gold, only adding bars of vermilion, with birds or roses, 
 or griffins, for difierence ; they watched over his safety 
 during peace, and, in time of war, they acted as his 
 body-guard. No subjects had such favorable opportu- 
 nities of cultivating his favor. 
 
 It happened that on one occasion, when Meliliul-Salih 
 was besieging a town, and his army fled before the foe, 
 the Baharite slaves maintained their position, and al- 
 lowed him time to escape. Elevated to the Egyptian 
 throne, Melikul Salih, remembering this valuable ser- 
 vice, gave them his whole confidence, formed them 
 into a troop known as the Mamelukes-Baharites, loaded 
 them with giits, and raised them to the highest digni- 
 ties. At the time when Louis landed at Damietta, this 
 force was composed of eight hundred men ; and of 
 these none stood higher in the Sultan's favor than 
 Bibars Bendocdar. 
 
 But it was not merely the confidence of the Sultan 
 (hat Bibars Bendocdar enjoyed. Having occupied 
 himself with military afiairs, he had learned the arts 
 
268 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 by which warriors of adventurous spirit elevate them- 
 selves to supremacy. Besides, he had other qualities, 
 that rendered him a dangerous foe — sagacity, penetra- 
 tion, cruelty, incredible activity, skill in war, courage 
 in conflict, devotion to the cause for which he had so 
 often fought. 
 
 For the rest, Bibars Bendocdar professed great faith 
 in Mahomet's religion, and had great faith, also, in his 
 own genius and destiny. Perhaps, now and then, his 
 imagination, with prophetic instinct, conjured up the 
 vision of a tall warrior with light hair mounted on a 
 gray steed and crossing his path like a shadow. But 
 if so, he would also feel that the danger was distant. 
 The gray steed had not yet been foaled ; and the tall 
 rider was still a boy of twelve, playing at ball with his 
 little brother in the court-yard at Westminster, or 
 spurring his pony in mimic tilt, against the wooden 
 likeness of a Saracen on the green sward at Eltham. 
 
THE BATTLE OP MANSOUJiAH. 209 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF MANSOUHAH. 
 
 At daybreak, on the morning of Tuesday, the 8th 
 of February, 1249, the crusaders, assembled on the 
 bank of the Achmoum, awaited a signal from the 
 King of France, to attempt a passage. It was at 
 this moment, so important to Louis, to France, and to 
 the Christians in the East, that the Saint-king's brother 
 was guilty of a piece of presumption, that was destined 
 to lead to the ruin of the Christian army. 
 
 At all times, it would seem, the Count of Artois 
 was an unreasonable being ; and, on this occEision, 
 nothing could satisfy the regal warrior, but the privi- 
 lege of being first to cross. Aware of the danger of 
 indiscretion at such a moment, Louis attempted to re- 
 strain his brother's impetuosity ; but the Count, prom- 
 ising patiently to await the main army, placed himself 
 at the head of the van, which was composed of Tem- 
 plars, Hospitallers, and English crusaders ; and dashing 
 through the canal, dispersed some hundred horsemen, 
 who appeared to oppose his progress, pursued them, 
 in spite of remonstrances from the Grand Masters of 
 the Temple and the Hospital, towards Djedile, and, 
 entering the camp, created a panic among the Saracen 
 warriors. 
 
 23* 
 
270 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 When the camp of Djedile was thus mvaded, 
 Fakrcddin was in his bath, and having his beard 
 colored. Surprised while in this situation with the 
 tumult, and with intelligence that the Franks were 
 upon him, the Emir rushed out scantily clad, and 
 sprang on horseback to rally his men. Inspired by 
 his example, the Saracens made a brief attempt at 
 resistance. Finding their efforts vain, however, they 
 left their chief to his fate, and rushed in a body to- 
 wards Mansourah. Disdaining to fly or yield, fighting 
 bravely, and covered with wounds, Fakreddin fell in 
 the midst of his foes ; and the Saracens, regarding him 
 as a martyr for Islamism, said that the Franks had sent 
 him to the banks of the celestial river, and that his end 
 was glorious. 
 
 The crusaders, under the King, had not succeeded 
 in crossing the canal of Achmoum, when the Count 
 of Artois, the two Grand Masters, and the Earl of 
 Salisbury, stood victors in the camp of Djedile. But, 
 elate with success, and forgetting that discretion is the 
 better part of valor, the Count proposed an immediate 
 attack on the town of Mansourah. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the French Prince, " let us set 
 upon the foe, while afTairs prosper in our hands, and 
 they are in dismay. Speed will now be of more 
 avail than strength ; and the fewer we are, the greater 
 will be our gain. Forward, then, and crush the Sara- 
 cens at a blow." 
 
 " Hurrah, upon them ! Upon them ! " shouted an 
 old deaf knight, who held the Count's rein. "For- 
 ward ! Forward ! " 
 
 " Noble Count," said the Master of the Templars, 
 
THE BATTLE OF MANSOTJEAH. 271 
 
 " we give all praise to your bravery ; but be advised. 
 Our men are weary ; our horses are wounded ; and 
 wc must not overvalue our victory, or suppose our 
 enemies are conquered, because they have lost a hand- 
 ful of soldiers. Let us, therefore, return to the King, 
 that we may be strengthened by his counsel and aid. 
 We are in a strange country ; and our best instructors 
 are behind. Let us stay for our lantern, and not go 
 forward in the dark." 
 
 " Ah ! sir Knight," exclaimed the Count, swelling 
 with anger and pride ; " you are at the old game. But 
 for the treachery of the Templars, and the sedition of 
 the Hospitallers, and others calling themselves religious 
 men, the Holy Land would long since have been 
 gained." 
 
 " Why, noble Count," said the Grand Master, 
 " should we take the habit of religion > Is it, think 
 you, to overthrow the church, and betray the cause 
 of Christ, that we abandon our homes and kindred, 
 and pass our days in a foreign land, amid perils and 
 fatigue > However, standard-bearer, unfurl the banner 
 of the Temple, and let us forward, in God's name, 
 to try all together the fortunes of battle and the chances 
 of death." 
 
 " My Lord," said the Earl of Salisbury, addressing 
 the Count of Artois, " I pray you to listen to the 
 wholesome counsel of the Grand Master. He has 
 long been in this country, and has learned, by expe- 
 rience, the cunning as well as the strength of our foes. 
 We being strangers are ignorant of our perils ; but we 
 know that as far as the East is from the West, so far 
 are we different from the Orientals." 
 
272 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 " What cowardice there Is in these Enghsh ! " ex- 
 claimed the Count, in a tone so loud as to be heard 
 by hundreds. " But their timid counsel suits not us. 
 Happy, indeed, should I deem our army, if purged 
 from these English tails." 
 
 *' Sir Robert de Vere, raise my standard," ex- 
 claimed Salisbury, mounting his Flemish charger, 
 and striving to be calm, though the Plantagenet blood 
 boiled in his veins ; " and you. Count of Artois, lead 
 on, and see if we are dismayed by the peril of death. 
 The touchstone must tell what is gold and what is 
 brass ; and, by good St. George I swear, as I put on 
 my helmet, that we ' English tails ' will this day be 
 where you will not dare come nigh the tails of our 
 horses." 
 
 The dispute having thus come to an end, the Count 
 of Artois and his comrades put on their head-pieces 
 and mounted their steeds ; and French, Templars, 
 Hospitallers, and English, dashed towards Mansou- 
 rah. Meeting at first with no opposition, they pene- 
 trated into the city ; while the mhabitants fled in 
 terror along the road to Cairo. But, at that moment, 
 the keen eye of Bibars Bendocdar perceived the im- 
 prudence of which the crusaders had been guilty ; and 
 rallying the flying Saracens, the Mameluke chief led 
 them down upon the conquerors of Fakreddin. Few 
 as the crusaders were, in comparison with the swarm- 
 ing foe, they fought gallantly and well ; fighting 
 as became knights and soldiers of the cross. But, 
 against the host under Bibars Bendocdar, their courage 
 proved in vain ; and now, seeing the folly of which he 
 had been the author, the Count of Artois thought of 
 retreat. 
 
THE BATTLE OF MANSOUEAH. 273 
 
 " Earl William," cried the French Prince, riding up 
 to Salisbury, " God fights asjainst us — we can no 
 longer resist. Let us consult our safety by flight, 
 and escape while our horses can carry us." 
 
 u pjy j " exclaimed the English Earl scornfully ; 
 " God forbid, Count, that my father's sou should fly 
 from the face of a Saracen." 
 
 By this time, the plight of the Christians was 
 desperate; but, though wounded and exhausted, 
 they maintained the struggle for hours. Nearly 
 fifteen hundred knights fell in the conflict ; nearly 
 three hundred of whom were of the order of the 
 Temple. 
 
 But no man bore himself more bravely than the 
 Earl of Salisbury. Resolved to sell his hfe at the 
 dearest rate, he faced the Saracens with desperate 
 valor, dealino; death all around him. At length his 
 horse's feet were cut ofl*; and the steed bore his rider 
 to the ground. Even then, Salisbury, raising himself 
 from the ground, fought with disdain and fell with 
 dignity.*' Robert de Vere, seeing the Earl fall, folded 
 the English standard round his body and lay down 
 exhausted to die by his leader's side. The Count of 
 
 * '* When the account of this misfortune reached the ears 
 of the Abbess and Countess Hehx," says MattheAV Paris, " she, 
 with a cheerful spirit, clasped hands, and on bended knees, 
 broke forth in praise of God, highly pleasing to Christ, in these 
 ■words : ' Lord Jesus Christ, I give thee thanks for having willed 
 it, that I, a sinner, should be the mother of a son whom you 
 have designed to honor with the crown of martyrdom. I hope, by 
 his intercession, I shall soon be advanced to the glories of the 
 heavenly kingdom." 
 
274 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Artois had disappeared ; but it is somewhat uncertain 
 whether he fell in the carnage or was drowned while 
 attempting to save himself by flight. The most 
 probable account, however, is, that finding the struggle 
 vain, he turned his horse's head, spurred off, with 
 a vague hope of regaining the main army, and sank 
 with his steed, never more to rise, while attempting to 
 swim one of the branches of the Nile. 
 
 Of the many hundred knights, who, at daybreak on 
 Shrove Tuesday, crossed the canal of Achmoum, two 
 only escaped the carnage at Mansourah. One was 
 the Master of the Temple, the other the Master of the 
 Hospital. Perceiving that all his knights were slain, 
 and that the day was lost, the Templar made for the 
 camp of the Christians. Finding himself left alone on 
 the field, and despairing of escape, the Hospitaller 
 yielded himself prisoner to the Saracens. It was ten 
 o'clock in the morning when the conflict commenced ; 
 it was three in the afternoon ere all was over. 
 
 Meanwhile, the main body of the French army 
 had, under the King's auspices, with great difficulty 
 crossed the canal of Achmoum. Ere the passage had 
 been effected, however, intelhgence reached the King 
 that the Count of Artois was hard pressed by the Sara- 
 cens. Without delay, the Count of Brittany and a 
 multitude of knights rushed to the rescue, fighting as 
 they went ; for the distance they had to travel was two 
 leagues, and the plain between the canal and Mansou- 
 rah was covered with Saracens. 
 
 At length, the sound of trumpets and clarions an- 
 nounced that the French had crossed the canal ; and 
 Louis, halting on an eminence, surveyed the scene. 
 
THE BATTLE OF MANSOXJUAH. 275 
 
 " I saw the King arrive," says Joinville, " with all his 
 attendants, and with a terrible noise of trumpets, 
 clarions, and horns. He halted on an eminence, with 
 his men-at-arms, for something he had to say ; and I 
 assure you, that I never saw so handsome a man under 
 arms. He was taller than any of his troops by the 
 shoulders ; and his helmet, which was gilded, was 
 handsomely placed on his head ; and he bore a German 
 sword in his hand." While the King was still hesita- 
 ting what to do, the Constable of France spurred for- 
 ward, and informed him of the peril in which the 
 Count of Artois was placed. 
 
 " Sire," said the Constable, " your noble brother is 
 surrounded at Mansourah. He holds out gallantly ; 
 but is much in need of aid." 
 
 " Constable," said Louis, " spur forward to his 
 rescue, and I will follow thee." 
 
 The King and his knights now galloped towards Man- 
 sourah ; but ere they reached the town the aspect of 
 affairs became much more threatening. In fact, Bibars 
 Bendocdar, having defeated the Count of Artois, came 
 with a mighty force to encounter Louis ; and ere the 
 crusaders comprehended what was occurring, they were 
 separated from each other, and found themselves face 
 to face with countless foes. A strange tumultuous 
 fight then took place ; and the plain shook with a 
 thousand combats. " Montjoie, St. Denis ! " the war- 
 cry of the French, was answered by the Saracens with 
 shouts of " Islam ! Islam ! " and all was carnage and 
 confusion from Mansourah to the Achriioum. 
 
 Notwithstanding the disadvantage at which they 
 were, the French warriors fought with gallant bravery, 
 
2-76 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CRUSADEUS. 
 
 and wrought many memorable exploits. Jolnville, with 
 six other knights, had the perilous duty of defending 
 a small bridge against a host of Saracens ; and main- 
 tained his post with characteristic courage. Observing 
 the Count of Soissons, who was his kinsman, approach, 
 the Seneschal hastened to secure his aid. 
 
 " Sir Count," he cried, " should this bridge be lost, 
 the King will at the same time have his enemies both 
 in front and rear. Wherefore, I beg you to remain 
 and guard it." 
 
 " Willingly, Seneschal," answered the Count, as he 
 placed himself on Joinville's right hand. 
 
 W^hile the defenders of the bridge were sittinor on 
 horseback, prepared to keep it against all comers, a 
 Saracen, galloping suddenly up, felled one of the 
 knights with a battle-axe, and crossed to his own 
 people, thinking Joinville would follow. But the 
 Seneschal perceived the stratagem, and would not 
 be decoyed from his post. After having been fearfully 
 annoyed, however, by a crowd of half-armed Saracens, 
 Joinville and his friends made a charire. The Sara- 
 cens fled from the place ; but turned when at a safe 
 distance, and shouted out a defiance. " Seneschal," 
 said the Count of Soissons gaily, as the knights re- 
 sumed their post, " let the rascal rabble bawl and bray 
 as they please, by the Cresse Dieu, you and I will live 
 to talk of this day's exploits in the chambers of our 
 ladies ! " 
 
 While the Count of Soissons indulo-ed his jrav humor 
 in the midst of peril and perplexity, a knight, mounted 
 on a short, but strong horse, came galloping towards 
 them from ]\Iansourah. His plight was unenviable; 
 
THE BATTLE OF MANSOURAII. 277 
 
 for his face was wounded ; blood was rushing from his 
 mouth ; and the reins of his bridle were cut, so that 
 he was under the necessity of supporting himself by 
 his horse's neck. The wounded knight was the Count 
 of Brittany ; and he was closely pursued by Saracens. 
 " Yet," remarks Joinville, " he does not seem to be 
 afraid of them ; for he frequently turns round and 
 gives them abusive words by way of mockery." 
 
 Meantime, all over the plain, the battle was going 
 on ; and the King, becoming alarmed, ordered that the 
 French should draw near the canal. The oriflamme 
 had already indicated the direction to be taken, when 
 messengers arrived from one side to announce that the 
 Count of Artois was in danger of perishing, and from 
 the other to say that the Count of Poictiers must suc- 
 cumb unless rescued ; and while the King, perplexed 
 by these messages, remained in thought, some of his 
 knights spurred off in one direction and some in 
 another, till the utmost confusion prevailed. 
 
 When matters reached this stage, Louis made every 
 effort to restore order, but in vain. His voice was 
 scarcely heard amid the din of battle. Anxious and 
 apprehensive, he endeavored to save his army ; and, 
 fearless of personal danger, he soon found himself in 
 the thick of the fight and environed by foes. He 
 seemed, indeed, to have sealed his fate ; and six 
 Saracens, rushing forward at once, attempted to seize 
 his bridle, and take him prisoner. At this point, how- 
 ever, Louis, who with all his saintly theories, was a 
 warrior of mettle, exerted all his strength, and beat off 
 his assailants with an energy that Godfrey or Richard 
 might have envied, till the French knights, observing 
 24 
 
378 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. ^ 
 
 their King's danger and animated by his courage, 
 spurred to the rescue, and robbed the Saracens of 
 their prey. 
 
 Night, at length, put an end to the conflict ; the 
 Grand Master of the Templars, with his vestments torn 
 to rags, his cuirass pierced, and his face wounded, 
 reached the army of crusaders, and described the 
 scene in which he had enacted a part. When, there- 
 fore, Bibars Bendocdar retired to Mansourah, and 
 Louis, retreating to Djedile, took possession of the Sa- 
 racens' camp and their engines of war, the Prior of the 
 hospital of Ronnay, wishing to break the news gently, 
 presented himself, and kissed the King's gauntleted 
 hand. 
 
 " Have you any tidings, Sire," asked the Prior, " of 
 your noble brother, the Count of Artois ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Louis, sorrowfully ; "I know 
 all." 
 
 " Sire," said the Prior, thinking to convey comfort, 
 " no King of France has ever reaped such honor as 
 you have done. You have crossed a dangerous river 
 to combat your enemies ; you have gained the day ; 
 you have put them to flight ; and now you conclude 
 the business by taking possession of the camp which 
 they occupied." 
 
 " God be praised for all the good He has granted 
 me," said Louis. 
 
 The voice of the saintly King faltered as he spoke ; 
 and tears, rolling down his cheeks, expressed more 
 touchingly than words could have done the melancholy 
 feelings at his heart. The Prior of Ronnay might, 
 indeed, talk cheeringly of Mansourah, and use fine 
 
THE BATTLE OF MANSOURAH. 279 
 
 words to make it seem a victory ; but Louis was in no 
 mood to be deluded by phrases. Reflecting on the 
 losses sustained that day by the soldiers of the cross, 
 he could not help feeling that such a victory was al- 
 most worse than a defeat ; and it was doubtless with 
 sadness and sorrow, that the royal warrior that night 
 laid his head upon a pillow and commended his soul to 
 God. 
 
280 THE CRUSADES AND THE CliUSADEKS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 DISASTERS AND CALAMITIES. 
 
 While the French were encamped at Djedile, and 
 their King was mourning the fate of his kinsman and 
 countrymen, the Saracens evinced the utmost satisfac- 
 tion with the resuhs of Shrove Tuesday, and pro- 
 ceeded to celebrate the battle of Mansourah as a 
 victory. 
 
 It appears that when, on the morning of that 
 eventful day, the van of the crusaders crossed the 
 Achmoum, and seized the camp of the Emir Fak- 
 reddin, news of the disaster was carried by a pigeon 
 to the Egyptian capital. Cairo was instantly in con- 
 sternation. The inhabitants beheved the days of 
 Islamism to be numbered, and were eager to es- 
 cape ; but they seemed to think the world was 
 coming to an end, and hardly knew where to go. 
 Many, however, prepared to depart to Upper Egypt ; 
 and the gates of the city were left open to admit 
 further intelligence without delay. All night sorrow 
 reigned in the city : but in the morning a second 
 pigeon brought tidings of the defeat of the Count of 
 Artois, and Cairo became the scene of joy. Every- 
 thing like fear vanished ; and everybody rejoiced that 
 
DISASTERS AND CALAMITIES. 281 
 
 the God of Mahomet had declared against the Chris- 
 tians. 
 
 Meanwhile Bibars Bendocdar lost no time in pur- 
 suing his triumph. On the night of Shrove Tuesday, 
 the Saracens made several attempts to recapture their 
 machines of war ; and the crusaders, though wounded 
 and fatigued, were repeatedly under the necessity of 
 rousing themselves to energy, and defending their 
 position at the point of the sword. Alarm after alarm 
 was given ; and, though the Christian warriors kept 
 the enemy at bay, they felt the peril to which they 
 were exposed ; passed hours in preparing for defence ; 
 and erected a bridge over the Achmoum, in order to 
 form a junction with the Duke of Burgundy's camp. 
 
 While the crusaders were thus employed, Bibars 
 Bendocdar did everything likely to inflame the ardor 
 of his soldiers. A cuirass, covered with fleur-de-Hs, 
 and declared to be that of the French King, was 
 publicly exhibited ; the heads of several knights were 
 carried about in triumph, as ghastly trophies of the 
 slaughter at Mansourah ; heralds loudly proclaimed 
 that the Christian army was a trunk without life ; Euid 
 the soldiers clamored to be led against the foe. 
 
 Bibars Bendocdar was in no mood to baflle a desire 
 so universally expressed ; and, on the first Friday in 
 Lent, he formed his men in battle order. But Louis 
 had been warned that an attack was meditated ; and 
 when the Mameluke chief marched into the plain, he 
 found his foes under arms, and prepared to resist with 
 the zeal of crusaders and the courage of gentlemen. 
 
 Bibars Bendocdar was not dismayed by the prospect 
 of a stern conflict. The formidable front presented 
 21* 
 
282 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 by the crusaders greatly increased the Mameluke's 
 importance in his soldiers' eyes, and brought him 
 nearer to the object of ambition on which he had set 
 his heart. Placing his cavalry in the van, ranging 
 his infantry behind, and his reserve in the rear, the 
 bold warrior extended his hnes till his host covered the 
 plain. 
 
 Having set his men in battle array, and ordered 
 the charge to be sounded, Bibars Bendocdar advanced 
 upon the foe ; and the Saracen infantry commenced 
 the conflict by attacking the French under the Count 
 of Anjou. This division, composed of cavalry, was 
 quickly overwhelmed with Greek fire. Surcoats and 
 caparisons were soon in a blaze ; and the horses, break- 
 ing from their riders, plunged and galloped hither and 
 thither. Availing themselves of the confusion, the 
 Saracen cavalry penetrated within the entrenchments, 
 and the Count was surrounded by countless foes. 
 
 When news of the Count's peril was carried to 
 Louis, the King exhibited a courage worthy of his 
 fame. Shouting his battle-cry, Louis immediately 
 spurred to the rescue ; and, undismayed by the arrows 
 or by the Greek fire that fell on the caparisons of his 
 horse, he charged, at the head of his knights, right 
 upon the foe, and rescued his brother from a perilous 
 predicament. 
 
 But while Louis thus saved the Count of Anjou 
 from destruction, the Count of Poictiers was exposed 
 to equal danger. At the opening of the battle, the 
 Count's division, composed of infantry, gave way be- 
 fore the charge of the Saracen horse ; and the Count 
 had the mortification of seeing his men scattered, and 
 
DISASTERS AND CALAMITIES. 283 
 
 finding himself seized as a prisoner. Luckily, how- 
 ever, for the Count, he was a favorite with the people ; 
 and no sooner did the workmen, and sutlers, and camp- 
 followers see him seized, than they rushed impetu- 
 ously forward and effected his rescue. 
 
 Meanwhile, the courage of Louis had wrought won- 
 ders. Inspired hy the example of the French King, 
 the warriors of the cross resisted with dauntless valor. 
 Fortune still denied Bibars Bendocdar a decisive 
 victory ; and against the crusaders the energy of the 
 Mameluke chief, and the enthusiasm of his followers, 
 were exerted in vain. Every minute the resistance 
 became more stubborn. At one point, the crusaders 
 from Cyprus and Syria valiantly resisted the foe ; at 
 another point, those of Champagne and Flanders bore 
 up against great odds ; at a third, the Templars, 
 though sadly reduced in number by Tuesday's car- 
 nage, and depressed by the death of their Grand 
 ]\Iaster, who had fallen early in the day with several 
 of his knights, exhibited the fine spectacle of a handful 
 of men baffling a host. 
 
 Finding that he was wasting his strength in a vain 
 attempt, Bibars Bendocdar drew off his men. But he 
 had his consolation in leaving the enemy in a condition 
 so perilous, that neither Louis nor his friends knew on 
 what side to turn. The crusaders, in fact, could no 
 longer cherish the idea of advancing to Cairo. A 
 retreat to Damietta was still more than their pride 
 could brook. In their despair, they determined to re- 
 main at Djedile. 
 
 The calamities of the crusaders now began in earnest. 
 After the two battles, they had neglected to bury the 
 
28^4 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEES. 
 
 slain ; and the bodies, cast into the Achmoum, and 
 raised to the surface of the water, soon caused a 
 pestilence in the camp. The abstinence during Lent 
 added to the horrors of the disease ; numbers perished 
 daily ; and, ere long, nothing was heard but prayers 
 for the dead and dying. 
 
 At length Louis was added to the list of sick ; and 
 while all around was death and despair, news suddenly 
 ceased to arrive from Damietta. This circumstance 
 caused the most gloomy forebodings ; but a vessel 
 belonging to the Count of Flanders at length reached 
 the camp, and brought tidings that the Saracens, in 
 order to add the evil of famine to that of pestilence, 
 had resolved to interrupt communication ; that, with 
 such a view, they had transported a number of galleys 
 overland, and formed an ambuscade ; that many 
 French vessels had been taken unawares ; and that the 
 Mussulman flag was displayed all along the Nile. 
 The consequence of this soon appeared in the shape 
 of famine : and the crusaders, deeming a truce their 
 sole chance, despatched Philip de Montfort as ambas- 
 sador. 
 
 While the crusaders were suffering, the Saracens, 
 aware of the power of such auxiliaries as pestilence 
 and famine, remained motionless in their camp. 
 Nevertheless, they expressed their readiness to treat 
 with Montfort, and nominated commissioners for that 
 purpose. Everythmg went smoothly, and the Sara- 
 cens appeared ready to agree to anything reason- 
 able. But when the question of hostages came to be 
 discussed, and the French offered the Counts of Anjou 
 and roictiers, the Saracens insisted on retaining the 
 
DISASTERS AND CALAMITIES. 285 
 
 King of France. This proposal terminated the nego- 
 tiations ; and the crusaders, crossing the Achmoum by 
 the bridge they had erected, appointed a day for 
 marching back to Damietta. 
 
 On the arrival of the appointed day, the sick, the 
 wounded, the women and the children were embarked 
 on the Nile ; and, at the same time, the papal legate, 
 with several French nobles, got on board a vessel. 
 The King was urged to follow their example ; but he 
 would not abandon his army. The soldiers, however, 
 endeavored to secure his safety, and ran along the 
 bank shouting to the boatmen not to go till the King 
 embarked. 
 
 " Wait for the King ! Wait for the King ! " was 
 their cry. 
 
 " No ! " said Louis, touched but resolute. " Go on. 
 I will share weal or woe with my soldiers. I am not 
 such a niggard of Hfe as not to spend it in such good 
 company and in so good a cause." 
 
 The boats now began to descend the Nile ; but they 
 were not destined to reach Damietta. Attacked by 
 the Saracens, every vessel, save that of the legate, 
 was destroyed, and those on board were sacrificed 
 without mercy. More than thirty thousand crusaders 
 lost their lives. A few men of rank, deemed likely to 
 pay ransom, were spared : and among these was the 
 Sieur de Joinville, whom the Saracens believed to be 
 the King's cousin. 
 
 While the boats went down the Nile, the Duke of 
 Burgundy broke up his camp ; and at nightfall the 
 crusaders commenced their march towards Damietta. 
 The King brought up the rear ; but he was in no con- 
 
286 THE CKUSADES AND THE CEUSADERS. 
 
 dition to occupy the post of honor. He wore neither 
 cuirass nor hehnct ; he had no weapon but his sword ; 
 and he had scarcely sufficient strength to support him- 
 self on his steed. Circumstances soon rendered his 
 position perilous. The French had neglected to break 
 down the bridge across the Achmoum ; and no sooner 
 did the King move towards Damietta, than the Sara- 
 cens, usmg it to cross the canal, covered the plain on 
 the Damietta side, and charged the crusaders at every 
 turn. The scene that ensued was fearful. Unable, in 
 the darkness, to see their foes, the crusaders were ex- 
 posed to countless disasters ; and at length, on reach- 
 ing the little to^\-n of Minieh, they drew up on a hill, 
 with the desperate determination of fighting to the 
 death. 
 
 Louis was now utterly exhausted. Weak as a child, 
 the saintly King was lifted from his horse and carried 
 into the town ; and all around was consternation and 
 despair, when Philip de Montfort came and proposed 
 to renew negotiations. 
 
 " Sire," said the Knight, " I have just seen the Emir, 
 with whom I treated for a suspension of hostilities : 
 and, if it is your good pleasure, I will see him again on 
 the subject." 
 
 " Go," said Louis, *' and promise to submit to the 
 conditions first required by the Sultan." 
 
 Montfort accordingly went ; and the Saracens, still 
 feeling some dread of their foes, agreed to treat. Mont- 
 fort had already given the Emir a ring from his finger, 
 and their hands had met, when a traitor rushed in and 
 interrupted the conference. 
 
 *' Seigneurs — noble knights of France," he ex- 
 
DISASTEES AND CALAMITIES. 287 
 
 claimed, " surrender yourselves all ! The King com- 
 mands you by me. Do not cause him to be killed." 
 
 " It is not customary to treat with vanquished foes," 
 said the Emir on hearing the message ; and he forth- 
 with terminated the negotiation. 
 
 All was now over ; and the crusaders, feeling that 
 such was the case, ceased to resist their fate. In truth, 
 the Saracens gave them no time to reflect or rally ; 
 for one of the Emirs, entering Minieh, seized the King, 
 his brothers, and his knights, placed chains on their 
 hands and feet, and conducted them m triumph to a 
 boat of war. No generoshy was shown towards the 
 vanquished. The oriflamme was paraded with scorn ; 
 crosses and images were trampled under foot ; and, 
 with trumpets sounding and kettle-drums clashing, the 
 captive crusaders were marched into Mansourah. 
 
 While the barons and knights of France were hud- 
 dled together into an enclosure, and daily decimated 
 by an executioner, the King was confined to the house 
 of a minister of the Sultan, and placed under guard of 
 a eunuch. After some days, Louis was offered Uberty 
 on condition of surrendering Damietta and the cities of 
 Palestine still possessed by Christians ; but he calmly 
 refused to treat on such terms, and listened with pas- 
 sive defiance to threats of perpetual imprisonment. 
 At length his jailors menaced him with violence, and 
 pointed significantly to a frightful instrument of tor- 
 ture Imown as the " Bernicles." " I am your cap- 
 tive," said Louis with serene dignity, " and you can 
 do with me as you please." 
 
288 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE QUEEN AT DAillETTA. 
 
 While Louis, in captivity and chains, was exhib- 
 iting the dignity of a gentleman and the resignation of 
 a Christian, Margaret of Provence was proving herself 
 not unworthy of such a husband. 
 
 At first, the rumors of the calamities of the crusa- 
 ders which reached Damietta were vague and uncertain ; 
 but ere long intelligence that the whole army had been 
 destroyed, produced general consternation. Some 
 degree of selfishness was, of course, displayed. The 
 Pisans and Genoese immediately bethought them of 
 securing their own safety ; the ladies of the crusaders 
 bewailed the fate of their lords and their own extreme 
 peril ; and the Queen, who was on the point of becom- 
 ing a mother, was afflicted to such a degree, that a 
 knight, who had seen more than eighty summers, but 
 whose heart still overflowed with chivalry, was under 
 the necessity of guarding her chamber by day and by 
 night. At one time, her imagination conjured up a 
 fearful scene, in which a body of Saracens appeared 
 butchering her husband ; at another, she believed 
 that the Saracens had entered her chamber, and were 
 about to kill her ; and scarcely had she sunk exhausted 
 and closed her eyes in sleep, when she was startled by 
 
THE QUEEX AT DAMIETTA. 289 
 
 some fearful dream, and sprang up in terror and 
 dismay. 
 
 " Help, help ! " shouted the afflicted Queen, " they 
 are upon us." 
 
 " Madam," said the aged Knight, " do not be 
 alarmed. I am with you. Dismiss your fears." 
 
 " Sir Knight," exclaimed the unhappy woman, 
 throwing herself on her knees, " promise that you will 
 grant me the favor I am about to ask." 
 
 " I give you my oath, madam," answered the old 
 warrior, " that T will comply with your wishes." 
 
 "Then, sir Knight," said the Queen, "I request, 
 by the faith you have pledged, that if the Saracens 
 should take the city, you will cut off my head rather 
 than allow me to fall into their hands." 
 
 " Madam," said the old Knight, " I have already 
 thouo-ht of doinn; so, in case the worst should befall." 
 
 Margaret after this scene was more composed ; and, 
 on the third day after receiving the sad intelligence, 
 she gave birth to her son John. Hardly, however, 
 had she wept over this " child of misery," when she 
 was informed that the Pisans and Genoese, in their 
 discontent, were about to abandon Damietta and return 
 to their homes. On receiving this alarming intelli- 
 gence, Margaret ordered the chief male-contents to be 
 brought to her chamber, and addressed them from her 
 couch. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Queen, raising her head, 
 
 " for the love of God, do not leave this city ; for you 
 
 know well if vou do, that vou will utterlv ruin the 
 
 King and his army. Be moved by my tears, and have 
 
 26 
 
290 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 compassion on the poor child whom you see lying by 
 my side." 
 
 " Madam," said the Pisans and Genoese, utterly un- 
 moved by the tears and supplications of the distressed 
 Queen, " we have no provisions left ; and we cannot 
 stay longer at the risk of dying of hunger." 
 
 " Fear not," said the Queen. " You shall not die 
 of hunger. I will cause all the provisions in the place 
 to be bought, and distributed henceforth in the name 
 of the King." 
 
 On receiving this assurance, the Pisans and Genoese 
 consented to remain ; and Margaret, at the cost of three 
 hundred and sixty thousand livres, provided for their 
 subsistence. But the men whom the Queen thus 
 retained as a garrison, Avere not likely to make any 
 formidable resistance in the event of a siege ; and 
 doubtless it was not without dismay that Margaret 
 heard of a Saracenic host's approach. 
 
 It appears that while Margaret was providing for the 
 defence of Damietta, with a spirit which almost entitles 
 her to a place in history beside such heroines as the 
 Countesses of Salisbury, Dunbar, and Derby, the Sara- 
 cens, finding that Louis would not consent to surrender 
 the city, conceived the idea of taking it by force. 
 *' Why do we hesitate?" they asked, ''when we can 
 obtain Damietta whether this petty prince is willing or 
 unwilling ? " 
 
 An attack on Damietta was soon decided on ; and 
 the Saracens, having mustered a numerous army, and 
 arrayed themselves in the armor of the crusaders, 
 marched towards the city. Displaying the banners of 
 the captive pilgrims, tlie Eastern warriors approached 
 
THE QUEEN AT DAMIETTA. 291 
 
 the walls, hoping to pass themselves as French, and 
 thus, by obtaining access without opposition, to secure 
 an easy victory. But on this point they found them- 
 selves mistaken. At first, indeed, the defenders of 
 Damietta were deceived ; but, on closer inspection, 
 they suspected a stratagem, and rushed to guard the 
 gates and approaches. 
 
 The Saracens, mortified with this reception, impe- 
 riously demanded admission, and told the French that 
 their King and all his knights had perished. But the 
 Christians in Damietta, shouting out a loud defiance, 
 guarded every approach with vigilance, and repulsed 
 every attempt with alacrity. *' Whatever may have 
 happened," said they, " we are prepared to stand a 
 siege ; and we will withstand all assaults of the Sara- 
 cans till the Avarriors we expect from the West come 
 to our relief." 
 
 Finding their fo3S so determined, and probably 
 unaware of the weakness of the garrison, the Saracens 
 beat a retreat, and returned to Mansourah, with tidings 
 that, in spite of all calamities, the crusaders were too 
 formidable to be despised. The Christians at Damietta 
 then breathed more freely. But the prospect before 
 Qieen Margaret and those who shared her peril was 
 not agreeable. They could no longer doubt that the 
 destruction of the French army had been accomplished, 
 since they had seen the armor and ensigns, and 
 painted devices, of the crusaders in possession of the 
 enemy ; and the hope of aid from Europe was indeed 
 slender. Besides, their strength was rapidly failing, 
 and even the Queen's high spirit could hardly have 
 animated them to renewed exertions. But, while the 
 
292 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 defenders of Damictta were looking to the future with 
 apprehension, events occurred which startled both Asia 
 and Europe, shook the empire of the Sultan to its 
 foundation, and opened the prison doors of the saintly 
 King and his faithful knights. 
 
TUE LAST OF THE AYOUBITES. 293 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE LAST OF THE AYOUBITES. 
 
 While the crusaders were still encamped on both 
 sides of the Achmoum, and Bibars Bendocdar was re- 
 joicing with his Mamelukes over their victory at Man- 
 sourah, Touran-Chah, son and heir of Melikul-Salih, 
 arrived to ascend the throne of Eg}'pt. Unfortunately 
 for his popularity, the new Sultan did not come alone. 
 With him from Mesopotamia, arrived bands of favor- 
 ites, who immediately displaced the ministers of his 
 father, and excited the jealousy of the Mamelukes. 
 Complaints and reproaches were soon heard. " You 
 have bestowed the spoils of the vanquished Franks," 
 said the Mameluke chiefs to the Sultan, " not on those 
 who have borne the burden of the war, but on men 
 whose sole merit consists of having come from the 
 banks of the Euphrates to the Nile.'" 
 
 The Sultan's favorites soon became aware of the 
 jealousy felt towards them. Indeed, the feeling was 
 too openly manifested to escape their observation ; 
 and they were guilty of no delay in retaliating. They 
 knew that the Sultan was already weary of the control 
 of the Mameluke chiefs, and hastened to avail them- 
 selves of his impatience. " You have, in these emirs, 
 enemies more dangerous than the Franks," said they. 
 20* 
 
294 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 '• These men aspire to your throne, and find this war 
 favorable to their designs. Therefore hasten to make 
 peace, that you may strengthen yourself against their 
 efforts." 
 
 Touran-Chah listened to the susjrestions of his 
 courtiers ; and, flattered by their speeches, he re- 
 solved upon showing the Mameluke chiefs how little 
 he regarded their opinions. Without condescending 
 to consult them, he sent some of his courtiers to 
 Louis, and empowered them to treat with the captive 
 King. 
 
 " How much money," asked the ambassador, " will 
 you give the Sultan for your ransom, besides restoring 
 Damictta." 
 
 " If," answered Louis, " the Sultan will be content- 
 ed with a reasonable ransom, I will write to the Queen 
 to pay it for myself and my army." 
 
 " But why," asked the ambassador, " do you want 
 to write to the Queen ? " 
 
 " Because," replied Louis, " she is my lady and 
 companion ; and it is but reasonable that she should 
 be asked for her consent." 
 
 " However," said the ambassador, " If the Queen 
 will pay a million of golden bezants, you will be 
 freed." 
 
 " As the King of France," said Louis with dignity, 
 '• I cannot be ransomed bv money : but Damietta shall 
 
 •' ml * 
 
 be given for my freedom, and a million of bezants for 
 that of my army." 
 
 After some negotiations, the terms were agreed to 
 on both sides ; and the French knights and barons 
 learned that the King had ransomed all his followers, 
 
THE LAST or THE AYOUBITES. 295 
 
 both rich and poor. Arrangements were then made 
 for restoring the crusaders to liberty ; and four galleys 
 were prepared to convey the chief captives to the 
 mouth of the Nile. On reaching Pharescour, the 
 King and his brothers were placed in a pavilion ; while 
 the knights, among whom were the Count of Brittany, 
 Philip de Montfort, and the Sieur de Joinville, re- 
 mained on board the galleys. After having been 
 more than a month in fetters, the crusaders were natu- 
 rally eager to be free ; but the prospect was now not 
 distant. It was the Thursday before the Feast of As- 
 cension ; and the Sultan had travelled by land from 
 Mansourah with the object of receivmg Damietta, and 
 performing the conditions of peace on Saturday. Such 
 was the state of affairs, when a tragical event, utterly 
 unexpected, exposed the crusaders to new dangers and 
 fresh trials. 
 
 The Sultan, it appears, had erected at Pharescour, 
 on the margin of the Nile, a handsome palace, which 
 the chroniclers of the period have fully described. The 
 fearful tragedy of which it was the scene might well 
 impress it on the memory of the crusaders. At the 
 entrance of this palace, which was constructed of 
 poles of wood covered with painted cloth, was a pa- 
 vilion, where the emirs left their swords when they had 
 audiences. Beyond this pavilion was a handsome 
 gateway leading to a great hall ; and adjoining it a 
 tower, by which they ascended to the Sultan's cham- 
 ber. In front of the palace was a spacious lawn, in 
 which stood a tower used by Touran-Chah for making 
 observations, and an alley leading to the river, on the 
 edge of which stood a summer-house, formed of trellis- 
 
236 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 work and covered with Indian linen, in which he was 
 in the habit of bathing. 
 
 Touran-Chali, on arriving at Pharescour, took up 
 his residence in this palace on the Nile. It was there 
 he received congratulations on his victory over the 
 Franks ; and there, in order to celebrate a triumph 
 so signal, he gave a great banquet. All the chief 
 Moslem warriors were present on the occasion ; and 
 everything went quietly and ceremoniously till the 
 feast was at an end. No sooner, however, did the 
 Sultan rise to ascend to his chamber, than his guests 
 rushed furiously towards him. Bibars Bendocdar, who 
 bore the Sultan's sword, inflicted a blow, which, being 
 })arried by the hand, cut up the arm between the 
 fingers. 
 
 " My Lords," said Touran-Chah, " I complain to 
 you against this man, who has endeavored to kill me ! " 
 
 " Better that you should be slain," they all replied, 
 " than live to murder us as you intend to do, when in 
 possession of Damietta." 
 
 The Sultan was amazed and terrified. He sprang 
 to liis feet, however, and, bounding between the mo- 
 tionless guards, fled to the tower leading to his cham- 
 ber. But the conspirators soon convinced him that his 
 hopes of escape were vain. 
 
 " Come down," they cried ; " you cannot escape 
 us." 
 
 " I will willingly come down," said the Sultan, " if 
 you will assure me of safety." 
 
 " We will force you to descend," the conspirators 
 shouted; and they prepared to assail the tower with 
 Greek fire. 
 
THE LAST OF THE AYOUBITES. 297 
 
 One hope still remained for the unfortunate Sultan. 
 That was to rush down to reach the Nile, to cast him- 
 self mto the water, and to seek refuge on board some 
 of the vessels which he saw anchored near the shore. 
 No sooner, therefore, did the Greek fire catch the cloth 
 and timber, than he descended to the lawn and rushed 
 from the blazing tower. "^'^ But, quick as thought, the 
 conspirators were upon him ; and Bibars Bendocdar 
 dealt a thrust, so stern, that his sword remained stick- 
 ing between the fugitive's ribs. Still resisting his fate, 
 The Sultan plunged into the Nile, but nine of the con- 
 spirators, following with naked swords, killed him close 
 to one of the galleys, from which the captive crusaders 
 witnessed tbe scene. 
 
 All this time, Louis shut up in a pavilion with 
 his brothers, remained utterly unaware of what was 
 occurring. Hearing a tumult, however, the King 
 supposed either that Damietta had been taken or that 
 the captive crusaders had been massacred. While he 
 was occupied with the gloomiest thoughts, one of the 
 Mamelukes suddenly entered the pavilion with blood 
 on his hands. 
 
 " King," cried the Mameluke, " what will you give 
 me, who have slain an enemy, who, had he lived, 
 would have put you to death ? " Speak," he contin- 
 ued, seeing that Louis did not answer. " Knowest 
 thou not that I am master of thy hfe ? Make me a 
 knight, or thou art a dead man." 
 
 " Make thyself a Christian," answered Louis, "and 
 I will make thee a knight." 
 
 ^ " The whole was hi a blaze," says Joinville; " auJ I prom- 
 ise you I never saw so fine or so suddeu a bonfire." 
 
298 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. 
 
 The ]\Iameluke, on hearing this withdrew. The 
 captive King, however, soon found that the danger 
 was not over. Scarcely had the candidate for knight- 
 hood disappeared, when a number of Saracens entered 
 the pavihon, and, drawing their sabres, threatened 
 Louis with instant destruction. But the Christian King 
 was proof against tlieir menaces ; and the Saracens, 
 impressed with the dignity of his demeanor in presence 
 of danger, passed suddenly from rage to wonder. 
 After offering him the throne of Egypt, they retired 
 in respectful silence. 
 
 Meanwhile, Saracens, armed with swords and battle- 
 axes, rushed on board the galleys, and threatened the 
 French knights with death. No hope of escape pre- 
 sented itself; and the Christian warriors, preparing for 
 instant execution, confessed themselves hurriedly to 
 the priests or to each other. The ]\Iamelukes, however, 
 were afraid to proceed to further bloodshed ; and the 
 crusaders, after passing a night of horrors, found that 
 there was still a possibility of being restored to their 
 countries and their homes.*^' 
 
 Ere this, the Mamelukes had completed their ven- 
 geance. After stabbing Touran-Chah with countless 
 
 *" We were confined in the hold of the galleys," says Join- 
 \ille, " and laid heads and heels together. AVe thought it had 
 been so oi'dered, because they were afraid of attacking us when 
 we were in a body, and that they would destroy us one at a time. 
 This danger lasted the Avhole night. I had my feet right on the 
 face of the Count of Brittany, whose feet in retumi, were beside 
 my fiice. On the morrow we were taken out of the hold; and 
 the emirs sent to inform us that we might renew ilie treaties Ave 
 had made with the iSultau." 
 
THE LAST OF THE ATOtTBITES. 299 
 
 wounds, and hacking the body with brutal ferocity, 
 they tossed the mangled remains on the banks of the 
 Nile. At first it appeared that even sepulture was to 
 be refused to the last Sultan of Saladin's line. But 
 the Caliph's envoy interfered. Having obtained per- 
 mission, the envoy proceeded to perform the obsequies 
 privately ; and, after lying exposed for two days, the 
 corpse of Touran-Chah was laid, without pomp, in an 
 obscure grave. 
 
300 THE CEUSADES AND THE CRUSADErvS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE saint-king's HETUKN. 
 
 The murderers of the last of the Ayoubites havmg, 
 after much hesitation, arrived at the decision of main- 
 taining the treaty concluded between Touran-Chah and 
 the King of France, added as conditions, that, before 
 being set at liberty, Louis should surrender Damietta, 
 and that before leaving the Nile, he should pay half of 
 the ransom. 
 
 After some discussion about the form of the oaths to 
 be taken on the occasion, for the observance of the 
 treaty, the Christians evacuated Damietta. On Friday, 
 Queen Margaret, and the Countesses of Anjou, Poic- 
 tiers, and Artois, were conveyed on board a Genoese 
 galley ; the keys of the city were delivered to the 
 emirs ; and next morning the ]\Ioslem standards waved 
 over turret and tower. 
 
 It soon appeared, however, that the crusaders were 
 not out of danger. Even at this stage, the propriety 
 of putting the French King and his barons to death, 
 was gravely discussed in an assembly of emirs ; and 
 only one of them advocated the maintenance of faith. 
 The voice of this personage would soon have been 
 drowned in the tumult ; but, fortunately for the crusa- 
 ders, he used one argument which appealed to the 
 
THE SATNT-KING's RETURN. 301 
 
 cupidity of his audience. " You may put these Franks 
 to death if you will," he said ; " but before doing so, 
 consider the consequence. Dead men pay no ransom." 
 
 This argument had so strong an effect on the emirs, 
 that they resolved to fulfil the treaty ; and the galleys 
 which contained Louis and the companions of his cap- 
 tivity, were ordered to Damietta. The gold covenan- 
 ted for having been paid, Louis, attended by the Count 
 of Anjou, by the Count de Soissons, and the Sieur do 
 Joinville, went on board a Genoese galley ; and every 
 difficulty having been surmounted, the fleet, bearing the 
 remains of the Christian army, sailed from the Nile. 
 After a voyage of a few days, the crusaders arrived 
 at Acre. 
 
 Sad, but unsubdued, Louis remained four years in 
 Syria, expecting aid from Europe to prosecute the 
 Holy War, But all his hopes, in this respect, proved 
 vain. His nobles deserted the oriflamme to return to 
 their homes ; his brother, whom he had sent to France 
 to bring fresh forces, showed no eagerness to return ; 
 and the Pope continued too busily at feud with the po- 
 tentates of Europe, to make any efforts on behalf of 
 the Christians of Asia. 
 
 Meanwhile the captivity of Louis caused profound 
 grief among his subjects. The news that he was a 
 prisoner in the hands of the Saracens, created the ut- 
 most excitement in his kingdom ; and the shepherds of 
 France, vowing to rescue him from the hands of his 
 enemies, engaged in that strange enterprise which 
 forms so melancholy a chapter in the history of the 
 crusades. 
 
 It appears that, among the pastoral population of 
 2G 
 
302 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. 
 
 France, there suddenly appeared a man bearing a 
 letter, to which he attached a mysterious importance. 
 " This," said he, " I have received from the mother of 
 God ; and it commands me to assemble all the Chris- 
 tian shepherds and herdsmen, and to march at their 
 head, to deUver our King. Follow me, then ; for the 
 battle is not to the strong, but reserved, on this occa- 
 sion, for the humble and the weak." 
 
 Fascinated by the eloquence and mystery of this 
 man, the shepherds and herdsmen flocked to his stand- 
 ard : and his army, swelled by crowds of outlaws and 
 exiles, assumed formidable proportions. Even Queen 
 Blanche, who was all anxiety for her son's release, 
 at first favored the enterprise of the shepherds ; but 
 the priests, aware, perhaps, that the leaders had ulterior 
 objects in view, set their faces against the movement, 
 and speedily brought it into disrepute. 
 
 Finding the church hostile to their projects, the 
 leaders of the shepherds endeavored to excite the 
 populace against the priests, and moreover avenged 
 themselves by the massacre of several ecclesiastics. 
 On hearing of this outrage. Queen Blanche changed 
 her tone ; and taking part against the shepherds, de- 
 termined on their suppression. One day, accordingly, 
 when an orator of their body was declaiming, with 
 armed men around for his protection, an executioner, 
 employed by the Queen, suddenly ghded behind the 
 author of the movement, and struck off his head. 
 
 Ere the shepherds could recover from the horror 
 caused by the decapitation of their leader, a body of 
 soldiers rode into the crowd, and put them to tlic 
 sword. Nor was this the worst ; for the peasantry, 
 
THE saint-king's keturn. 303 
 
 who, at first, had held the shepherds in high honor, 
 suddenly suspected imposture, and slaughtered them 
 without mercy. 
 
 A year or two passed over, and while Louis was 
 still in the Holy Land, he received intelligence of the 
 death of Queen Blanche. This caused the King pro- 
 found grief; and for two whole days he remained in 
 his chamber, without conversing with any one. On 
 the third, however, he sent for Joinville, and immedi- 
 ately entered on the subject. 
 
 " Ah, Seneschal ! " said the King, mournfully, " I 
 have lost my mother." 
 
 " Sire," rephed Joinville, " I am not surprised at it ; 
 fo!' you know death must come sometime. But I am 
 surprised that so great a prince should grieve so out- 
 rageously ; for you know. Sire, that the wise man 
 sayeth, whatever grief the valiant man suffers in his 
 mind, he ought not to show it on his countenance, for 
 he that does so, causes pain to his friends and pleasure 
 to his foes." 
 
 '^ Seneschal," said a lady addressing Joinville, as ho 
 was leaving Louis, " I entreat you to wait on the 
 Queen to comfort her ; for she is in marvellous great 
 griei. 
 
 " Madam," said Joinville, as, having yielded to the 
 request, he approached Margaret of Provence, who 
 was weeping bitterly, " I now know how true is the 
 old proverb, which tells us never to believe in the 
 tears of women ; for all the lamentations you are now 
 making, is for the woman whom of all others in the 
 world you loved least." 
 
 " It is not for her I weep, Seneschal," exclaimed the 
 
301 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 ft 
 
 Queen ; " but it is for my lord, who is in such melan- 
 choly, and for my daughter, who will now be left to 
 the care of men." 
 
 Soon after this scene, Louis announced his intention 
 of returning to France ; and, having embarked at Acre, 
 in the spring of 1254, he set sail for his own domin- 
 ions. In the autumn of that year, the Saint-king ar- 
 rived at Vincennes ; and after proceeding to St. Denis 
 and prostrating himself before the altar, made his entry 
 into Paris, bearing on his forehead traces of the sorrow 
 caused by multiphcd disasters. 
 
A SULTAXA AND THE MAMELUKES. 305 
 
 BOOK FOURTH. 
 THE LAST STRUGGLE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A SULTANA AND THE MAMELUKES. 
 
 In the year 1250, when the assassination of Toiiran- 
 Chah put an end to the Ayoubite dynasty, the Mame- 
 lukes were at a loss where to bestow the crown, that 
 had for a century been worn by the members of that 
 house, of which Saladin was the greatest. In their 
 perplexity, they bestowed the sovereignty on a woman, 
 named Chegger-Eddour, who, having originally been 
 brought to Cairo as merchandise, and purchased by 
 Melikul-Salih as a slave, had been elevated by her 
 beauty and talent to the position of favorite Sultana. 
 Accordingly, they proclaimed her " Queen of the Mus- 
 sulmans," and associated with her in the government 
 one of their own body, named Turcoman ; and she, 
 perhaps to prove how accommodating she was, made 
 matters pleasant, by becoming Turcoman's wife. 
 
 The affairs of the Sultana, however, were not des- 
 tined to go quite smoothly. The elevation of a woman 
 20* 
 
306 THE CJIUSADES AXD THE CKL'SADEES. 
 
 to the Egyptian throne, filled Moslems with amaze- 
 ment ; and the Caliph of Bagdad, who still preserved 
 a shadow of power, and was in the habit of sending 
 the Sultan of Egypt a rich robe by way of investiture, 
 aroused himself from voluptuous effeminacy, and asked, 
 with indignation, if a man capable of reigning could 
 not be found. 
 
 Alarmed at the discontent, Chegger-Eddour abdica- 
 ted in favor of Turcoman ; and Turcoman ere long 
 found that he had put on a thorny crown. No sooner 
 was he seated on the throne, than a conspiracy was 
 formed, and the Sultan was in danger of sharing his 
 predecessor's fate. Death, however, carried off his 
 principal adversary ; and the peril appeared to have 
 passed over. But, unluckily, Turcoman at this crisis 
 was indiscreet enough to aspire to the hand of an 
 eastern princess ; and his spouse giving way to anger, 
 swore to be avenged. 
 
 The vengeance of the Sultana did not sleep. Soon 
 after Turcoman had aroused her jealousy, one of his 
 chief emirs was summoned at midnight to the palace. 
 On hastening thither, the Emir presented himself in 
 the chamber of Chegger-Eddour, and found her seated 
 with one foot resting on the bleedmg body of her hus- 
 band. The Emir, astonished at the spectacle, uttered 
 a cry of horror ; but the Sultana calmly asked him to 
 be seated, and pointed to a place by her side. Terror- 
 struck, the Emir was turning away, when she stated 
 that she had commanded his presence in order to offer 
 him her hand and her empire. Overcome with fear, 
 the Einir fled from the palace. 
 
 When news crept through Cairo that the Sultan, 
 
A SULTANA AND THE MAMELUKES. 307 
 
 while in a bath, had been assassinated bv order of his 
 spouse, much indignation was manifested ; and the 
 mother of the murdered man prepared to avenge his 
 death. Her measures were soon taken. Chegger- 
 Eddour was put to death by slaves, and her corpse 
 cast into the ditch that surrounded the palace. 
 
 Amid the excitement caused by such startling scenes 
 of horror, news that the Tartars had taken Bagdad, 
 seized the Caliph, and immured him amid his treasures 
 to die of hunger, aroused the Mamelukes to energy ; 
 and they elected as Sultan an Emir whom they deemed 
 qualified by courage and talent, to front the peril that 
 menaced their empire. 
 
 The name of the new Sultan was Koutouz ; and, 
 being a Mameluke, confident and brave, he placed him- 
 self at the head of his army, encountered the Tartars 
 at Tiberas, and impressed them with so high an idea 
 of his power, that they retreated from Syria. Unfor- 
 tunately for Koutouz, he happened, while in the vicinity 
 of Acre, to renew a truce with the Christians ; and 
 this moderation was regarded by the Mamelukes with 
 so much dislike, that they conspired to effect his ruin. 
 
 One day, while the Sultan's victorious army lay at 
 Sallhie, and when Koutouz had ridden forth to divert 
 himself with hunting, a Mameluke, stained with blood, 
 spurred into the camp, presented himself to the officer 
 in command, and announced that the Sultan was no 
 more. 
 
 " Koutouz is slain," said he in a tone of calm confi- 
 dence. 
 
 " Koutouz slain 1 " exclaimed the officer ; " who 
 killed him \ " 
 
30^ THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 " It was I," answered the Mameluke coolly. 
 
 " In that case," said the other, " you had better 
 reign iii liis stead." 
 
 The Mameluke chief who had slain Koutouz was 
 Bibars Bendocdar, and he was guilty of no hesitation at 
 tliis crisis. Having been nominated by the Sultan's 
 lieutenant as successor to the man whom he had mur* 
 dered, the bold Mameluke was proclaimed by the army, 
 and enthroned at Cairo. 
 
 No sooner had Bibars Bendocdar made a vow to 
 complete the ruin of the Franks, than he rendered his 
 name terrible ; indeed, the Christians were speedily 
 reduced to humility. After having seen their country 
 repeatedly ravaged, without offering any resistance, 
 they sent to implore peace. Without deigning an 
 answer, Bibars seized Nazareth, and gave its church 
 to the flames ; ravaged the country between Nain and 
 Mount Tabor, besieged and took Ceserea, seized 
 Arsouf, took Jaffa, and sacked and burned Antioch. 
 Everywhere the Sultan exercised the utmost cruelty. 
 The mhabitants of the conquered cities were put to 
 the sword, or sold as slaves ; the Mamelukes reserving 
 as their portion the women, girls, and cliildren. " There 
 was not the slave of a slave," says the Arabian Chron- 
 icler, " that was not the master of a slave." Nothing 
 now remained to the Christians but Acre and Tripoli. 
 
 Full accounts of the Sultan's exploits reached Eu- 
 rope by means of the two Grand Masters and the 
 Archbishop of Tyre, who repaired to the West to 
 implore aid. The crusades, however, had hitherto 
 been attended with so little success, that few had any 
 inclination to take the cross ; and the Pope was too 
 
A SULTANA AND THE MAMELUKES. 309 
 
 intent on the destruction of the House of Suabia, to 
 ieel any overpowering interest in the fate of the East- 
 ern Christians. Nevertheless, their deplorable plight 
 moved compassion ; and the King of Arragon sent 
 ambassadors to Cairo to demand peace for his breth- 
 ren. But Bibars Bendocdar treated the messages of 
 the King of Arragon with scorn ; and, remembering 
 what the French had suffered at Damietta, ridiculed 
 the notion of any European prince coming to aid the 
 Christians of Syria. 
 
310 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CONQUEROR OF ETESHAiT. 
 
 At the time when Bibars Bendocdar was pursuing 
 his victorious career in Palestine, there was often seen 
 in England, riding about the country with dogs and 
 falcons, and enthusiastically engaged in field sports, 
 as if for him life had no other attraction, a prince, in 
 his twenty-eighth year, whose presence seldom failed 
 to command admiration. His complexion was fair ; 
 his hair light brown ; his expression frank ; his fea- 
 tures regular; his brow marked with thought ; and his 
 eye bright with genius. But what most struck the 
 beholder was his grand stature ; for he was taller by 
 the head and shoulders than ordinary men ; and his 
 hmbs, which were elegantly proportioned, had been 
 trained to the endurance of fatigue in forests, in tilt- 
 yards, and on battle-fields. He was Edward Plan- 
 tagenet, eldest son of the third Henry and Eleanor of 
 Provence ; and husband of a fair princess, afterwards 
 well-beloved by the English people as Eleanor of 
 Castille. 
 
 However absorbed Prince Edward might appear in 
 hunting and hawking, he had, in his day, been engaged 
 in business more serious than chasing the deer at Wind- 
 sor, or flying his falcons at Eltham. At an earlier 
 
THE CONQUEROR OF ETESHAM. 311 
 
 period, while his chief dehght was frequenting tourna- 
 ments and exhibiting his prowess in the hsts, lie had 
 been summoned from the Continent to aid in defending 
 the English throne against Simon de Montfort and the 
 Anglo-Norman nobles, and he had taken an energetic 
 part in that fierce struggle known as " The Barons' 
 War." 
 
 Montfort, second son of that Simon de Montfort who 
 figured so conspicuously in the war against the Albi- 
 genses, was, in right of his mother, Earl of Leicester ; 
 and, having been banished from France for disturbing 
 the government of Queen Blanche, he found refuge in 
 England, and won the hand of Henry's sister, the 
 widowed Countess of Pembroke. Scarcely, however, 
 had JNIontfort become the brother-in-law of Henry, 
 when disputes arose ; and, as years passed on, the 
 Earl became the King's mortal foe. 
 
 Henry the Third, a weak though well-meaning man, 
 had surrounded the English throne with so many of 
 his wife's continential kinsmen and his own, that a cry 
 was raised by the Anglo-Norman barons that the land 
 was devoured by aliens. Ere long, the clergy, the 
 citizens, and the populace manifested their sympathy 
 with the baronial prejudices, and the discontent became 
 deep and general. At length the King and the barons 
 appealed to the sword ; and, after the struggle had 
 been maintained for years by skirmishes and sieges, 
 they met on the 14th of May, 1264, to decide their 
 quarrel, at Lewes, in Sussex. 
 
 At Lewes, Edward, then in his twenty-fifth year, 
 commanded the King's cavalry, and, mounted on his 
 celebrated steed Gray Lyard, commenced the battle 
 
312 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 by charging so vehemently, that he dispersed Mont- 
 fort's van, to which he was opposed ; and, coming into 
 contact with the mihtia of London, chased the burgher- 
 soldiers from the field so fiercely, that they never 
 halted in their flight till they found safety at Croydon. 
 On returning to Lewes, however, the prince discovered 
 how great had been his imprudence. Montfort had 
 meanwhile won a complete victory ; King Henry, and 
 Richard Earl of Cornwall, who since his crusade had 
 been elected King of the Romans, were his prisoners. 
 
 Undaunted at this mortifying circumstance, Edward 
 challenged Montfort to another field. But Simon 
 treated the Prince's bravado with contempt. " If," 
 said he, " Sire Edward attempts more mischief, T will 
 cause the heads of the captives to be struck off, placed 
 on lances' points, and carried as ensigns for our army." 
 In great alarm, Edward and his cousin, Henry of Corn- 
 wall, surrendered to save their father ; and the Prince 
 was sent to the castle of Dover. 
 
 Montfort now called a Parliament to confirm his 
 power ; but that assembly, contrary to his expectation, 
 passed an order for the liberation of Edward. The 
 Prince was in consequence removed from Dover Cas- 
 tle ; but, in spite of Parliament, Montfort, who feared 
 Edward's genius, treated him as a prisoner. 
 
 It happened, however, that Montfort's sons gave 
 mortal offence to Gilbert de Clare, the young Earl of 
 Gloucester, who was their father's chief ally. Upon 
 this, Gloucester, who, as the most powerful of English 
 nobles, was jealous of Montfort's supremacy, resolved 
 on changing sides, and opened a correspondence with 
 Roger de Mprtimer, who had already been won over 
 
THE CONQUEROR OF EYESHAM. 313 
 
 to the royal cause by the entreaties of his wife. 
 Emboldened by Gloucester's communication, Mor- 
 timer sent Edward a swift steed, with a secret message 
 to make his escape at a given signal. 
 
 Meanwhile, Montfort, carrying the King and the 
 Prince in his train, had moved westward to punish 
 Gloucester for his change of sides, and kept his court 
 during Whitsun week within the walls of Hereford. 
 One day, while Montfort was in council with his 
 friends, he was informed that the Prince had es- 
 caped. " Escaped ! " exclaimed Montfort ; " then by 
 St. James's arm, he will find us work to do." 
 
 A great battle being now inevitable, the trumpet of 
 war roused England to arms, and fighting-men gathered 
 to the hostile standards. A campaign, which excited 
 breathless interest, was the consequence ; and the 
 Prince and his more experienced, but far less gifted 
 foe, exerted all their skill as war-chiefs. For a time 
 Montfort was confident of a crowning triumph ; but at 
 length every delusion vanished. 
 
 It was the morning of the 4th of August, 1265, and 
 Montfort lay in the abbey of Evesham, awaiting the 
 arrival of his son Simon, who had been raising a force 
 in Yorkshire, when informed that an army was ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 " My son, doubtless," said Montfort. 
 
 " Alas ! great Earl," was the answer, " it is not 
 your son who comes, but your foe." 
 
 " Then," exclaimed Montfort mournfully, " may the 
 Lord have mercy on our souls , for our bodies are 
 Prince Edward's." 
 
 No time now remained for farther discussion ; and 
 27 
 
314 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 Montfort, obliged to hazard a battle, drew up his army 
 in a large field near the town of Evesham, mid, placing 
 his men in a cn*cular form, prepared for a struggle. 
 The baronial army, composed for the most part of 
 nobles and their retainers, was certain to make a des- 
 perate resistance ; and the oligarch could not be alto- 
 gether without hope of adding a decisive triumph to 
 his many victories. 
 
 But whatever Montfort's anticipations, the day 
 opened inauspiciously for his party ; for the Earl had 
 placed his Welsh allies in front, and when Edward, 
 mounted on Gray Lyard, the good steed on which 
 he " ever charged forward," came upon them at the 
 head of his knights, the Celtic warriors fled as hastily 
 from Evesham as the Londoners had done from Lewes. 
 Still Montfort's array was most formidable ; and tlie 
 Earl, showing himself a grim champion on that, his 
 last field, several times repulsed Edward's fiery charge. 
 But there could exist little doubt how the day would 
 terminate. 
 
 After the conflict had lasted for hours, the sky was 
 suddenly overcast ; the lightning flashed ; and the 
 thunder rolled ; and Montfort's heart failed him. 
 However, he made a last desperate effort to baffle 
 fortune ; but his horse was killed under him, and 
 his eldest son slain by his side. 
 
 " Is there any quarter for us ? " he cried. 
 
 " What grace for such a traitor > " was the reply. 
 
 " Then," exclaimed Montfort, " May God have 
 mercy on our souls, " and with these words he fell, 
 sword in hand, amidst a host of foes. 
 
 Having won the battle of Evesham, Edward used 
 
THE CONQUEBOR OF EVESHA.M. 315 
 
 his victory with singular moderation, prevented any 
 blood from being shed on the scaffold, and exerted his 
 influence with so much effect to save the vanquished, 
 that many foes were converted into friends. Distur- 
 bances, nevertheless, broke out ; for Gilbert de Clare, 
 Earl of Gloucester, discontented with his share of the 
 victory, and the citizens of London, enraged at being 
 deprived of their charter, formed an alliance, and pro- 
 ceeded to fearful excesses. At Alnwick, also, John 
 de Vesci held out for the barons. 
 
 Edward, not dismayed by the menacing aspect of 
 affairs, boldly faced the insurrections in the south, 
 and succeeded in suppressing them, and bringing 
 Gloucester to submission. 
 
 After bringing the Red de Clare and the Londoners 
 to reason, Edward went northward to besiege the 
 castle of Alnwick. Reduced to the utmost perplexity, 
 John de Vesci yielded, and submitted to the mercy of 
 his conqueror. Edward talked to the vanquished 
 baron with that frank courtesy, which seldom failed to 
 win manly hearts ; and De Vesci became one of his 
 most favored knights. 
 
 It was when Edward had just accomplished the 
 pacification of England, that Ottobon, cardinal-deacon 
 of the title of St. Adrian, was sent to England as 
 papal legate, and appeared in London to preach a 
 crusade. 
 
316 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SAINT-KING IN OLD AGE. 
 
 At the time wiien Bibars Bendocdar was slaying 
 and ravafrinn; in Syria, and when Edward Plantagenet 
 was hunting and hawking in England, Louis, King of 
 France, summoned his barons to Paris. 
 
 The peers and prelates of France, thus invited to 
 meet the King, assembled, in March, 1267, in a hall 
 of the Louvre ; and Louis, then" in his fifty-fourth 
 year, having entered with a crown of thorns in his 
 hand, expatiated on the sufferings of the Christians of 
 Syria, expressed his resolution of going to their relief, 
 and exhorted all to take the cross. A cardinal, who 
 was present as papal legate, seconded the King's ex- 
 hortation ; and having exerted all his eloquence to 
 rouse the warriors of France, he presented the cross 
 to Louis and three of those princes of whom Margaret 
 of Provence had made the saintly monarch father. 
 At the same time, the cardinal received the oaths of a 
 number of knif^hts and nobles. 
 
 The calamities of the expedition to Damietta had 
 not been forgotten by the French nation ; and it ap- 
 pears that the determination expressed by Louis was 
 heard with surprise and grief by the assembled mag- 
 nates. In the Kmg's presence, respect for his sanctity 
 
THE SAINT-KING IN OLD AGE. 317 
 
 prevented men from raising objections ; but when his 
 back was turned, regrets and apprehensions were 
 freely expressed. 
 
 " Those who have advised the King to this cru- 
 sade," exclaimed one knight, " have been guilty of a 
 crime ! " 
 
 " This day," said a second, " will prove one of the 
 most fatal France ever witnessed." 
 
 " If we consent to take the cross," said a third, " we 
 are the King's ruin." 
 
 " And," remarked a fourth, " if we take the cross, 
 we lose God's grace ; for we do not tcike the cross for 
 tlie sake of Christ." 
 
 Joinville was among those present at Paris on the 
 occasion ; and he was strongly urged by the princes 
 to embark for the East a second time. But Joinville 
 remembered all the horrors endured twenty years 
 earlier, and firmly resisted. " When I was before 
 beyond the sea on the service of God," he said, " the 
 King's ofRcers so grievously oppressed my people, 
 that they were reduced to poverty. We have had 
 great difnculty in recovering ourselves ; and I see 
 clearly that were I to undertake another crusade, it 
 would be our ruin." 
 
 Notwithstanding the discontent created in France 
 by the new crusade, the King commenced prepara- 
 tions and fixed the time for his departure. Having 
 raised money to defray the expenses, he hired ships 
 from the republic of Genoa, and announced his inten- 
 tion of sailing from France in the summer of 1270. 
 
 About the time when Louis was making his prepa- 
 rations, his brother, Charles of Anjou, had been in- 
 
 27* 
 
318 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 vested by the Pope with the sovereignty of Sicily. 
 Pretending, as King of Sicily, to all the rights enjoyed 
 by the old Emperors of Germany, Charles claimed an 
 annual tribute from Tunis, on the western coast of 
 Africa. Not being in a position to compel payment 
 without aid, and catching at the idea of turning the 
 swords of the crusaders to account, he represented to 
 Louis that the surest way to conquer the Holy Land 
 was to begin with Tunis. 
 
 Louis readily entered into the scheme. In fact, the 
 King of Tunis had more than once sent ambassadors 
 to Paris, to declare that conversion to the Christian 
 faith was his dearest wish ; and Louis had frequently 
 stated, that he would consent to pass his life in cap- 
 tivity, if, by such a sacrifice, he could bring the Moor- 
 ish prince to a knowledge of the truth. 
 
 Meanwhile, the projected expedition of Louis created 
 much excitement throughout Europe, and the Kings of 
 Castillo, Arragon, Navarre, and Portugal, took the 
 cross. At the same time, the Earls of Brittany and 
 Flanders, the Counts of Eu, Champagne, Artois, La 
 Marche, and Soissons, with the Seigneurs de Mont- 
 morency, Nemours, and Brienne, swore to combat the 
 infidel. 
 
 Bibars Bendocdar must have paused in alarm, when 
 intelligence of the preparations making for his destruc- 
 tion reached his ears. It was not ordered, however, 
 that the bold Sultan should meet these European kings 
 and princes in the shock of war. Scarcely one of 
 them, indeed, had any wish to reach the land they had 
 vowed to save. But there was still hope for the Chris- 
 tians of the East. A few hundred Anglo-Norman war- 
 
THE SAINT-KING IN OLD AGE. 319 
 
 riors were stitching crosses of red silk on their mantles, 
 and preparing to charge the Saracens in the chain 
 armor in which they had fought at Lewes and at 
 Evesham. 
 
320 THE CRUSADES AND TKE CliUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PKINCE EDWARD AXD HIS KXIGHTS. 
 
 About the time when the conqueror of Evesham 
 had accomphshed the pacification of England, King 
 Louis sent messengers begging Edward to grant him 
 an interview on business of importance, and tlie Prince, 
 without delay, travelled to Paris to meet his royal 
 relative. 
 
 " Sire Edward," said King Louis, embracing the 
 English Prince as the latter presented liimself to the 
 royal Saint, " you know that I intend returning to the 
 Holy Land, and I have sent for you to express my 
 wish to have such a comrade in chastising the pagans." 
 
 " My Lord," said Edward frankly, " you know that 
 the substance of England has been entirely consumed 
 during the war between King £md Barons ; and my 
 means are too small to enter upon such an enterprise 
 m your company." 
 
 "But," said Louis, " I will lend you thirty thousand 
 marks of good money, or, in fact, I will give you that 
 sum, if you will meet my wishes." 
 
 " In that case," said Edward, "• I see no impediment 
 to my accompanying you." 
 
 After this interview with Louis, Edward returned 
 to England ; and Ottobon, the papal legate, in a coun- 
 
PRINCE EDWARD AND IIIS KNIGHTS. 321 
 
 cil held at Northampton, exhorted the faithful to save 
 what remained of the Christian kingdom in the East. 
 At the same time the cross was solemnly taken hy 
 Edward and his brother Edmund, Earl of Lancaster, 
 as also by Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, and 
 many other knights and nobles. 
 
 The Papal Legate having conferred the cross on a 
 hundred and twenty English knights, and the Francis- 
 can friars having persuaded many persons of inferior 
 rank to assume the sacred badge, Edward devoted 
 his whole attention to preparations for the voyage. 
 Louis agreed to furnish Edward with thirty thousand 
 marks ; and Edward mortgaged to Louis the customs 
 of Bordeaux for seven years. The royal Saint, in- 
 deed, appears to have driven a hard bargain, and to 
 have required ample security. Not only did he require 
 King Henry to sign the bond for repayment, but he 
 stipulated that in the event of its not being refunded, 
 he should be at liberty to seize all Edvvard''s goods 
 within the realm of France. The Warrior-prince, 
 of course, submitted, as poor men are in the habit of 
 doing under such circumstances, and no doubt rejoiced 
 to receive, on any terms, what must have appeared to 
 him an amount quite the reverse of insignificant. 
 
 At the same time, a sum of money reached Edward 
 from a quarter, whence it might least have been 
 expected. Between the Prince and the democracy 
 of London, no approaches to reconciliation had yet 
 been made. The quarrel, in truth, was somewhat 
 serious, and the injuries somewhat deep. The citizens 
 had attempted to drown the Prince's mother at London 
 Bridge ; and the Prince had on the downs at Lewes 
 
322 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 marked out their militia as the object of his fiercest 
 attack. Edward, however, was far too great a man to 
 bear mahce towards inferiors ; and he was far too 
 proud to deem a deluded democracy worthy of his 
 vengeance. Before leaving England, therefore, he 
 strongly recommended the King to restore the city's 
 charter ; and Henry, after some manifestations of 
 reluctance, listened to reason. The charter was ac- 
 cordingly restored ; and the citizens evinced their 
 gratitude to the Prince by contributing five hundred 
 marks towards the expense of the crusade. 
 
 This dispute having been settled. King Henry, on 
 the 4th of August, 1270, held a Parliament at Win- 
 chester, and with much solemnity, delivered to Edward 
 the cross which he himself had taken years before, and 
 which he had since worn. At the same time, the 
 barons present acknowledged Edward's son John as 
 heir to the crown, in the event of the Warrior-prince 
 falling in the East, and the King of the Romans was 
 appointed guardian of the royal boy. Everything 
 being thus arranged, the Prince prepared to set forth. 
 
 Years before this period, Edward had espoused 
 Eleanor of Castillo, sister of that wise Alphonso, who 
 occupies so conspicuous a place in the history of Span- 
 ish law and literature. This Princes^ was one of the 
 most admirable beings in Christendom, and as beautiful 
 as she was good. A woman of twenty-five, with long 
 i"ich tresses clustering over a brow that beamed with 
 intelligence, or falling in waves over shoulders fair and 
 faultless ; a swan-like neck ; an eye rendered thought- 
 ful by the clouds that had hung over her husband's 
 fortunes ; delicate features, through which shone 
 
PEINCE EDWARD AXD HIS KNIGHTS. 323 
 
 sweetness of temper, frequently lighted up with a 
 serene smile ; a form somewhat tall and singularly 
 graceful ; a manner grave, serious, and with something 
 of that solemnity, which centuries of intercourse with 
 the Moors had communicated with the inhabitants of 
 her native land ; such was Eleanor of Castille at tho 
 time when her husband was about to fare forth to fi^ht 
 beneath the cross in Palestine. 
 
 When Edward was preparing to depart, men of 
 experience strongly recommended Eleanor to remain 
 at home ; but the Princess took a different view of her 
 duty. 
 
 " Consider, they said, " what are the dangers of a 
 crusade, and recall the peril to which other ladies have 
 been exposed," 
 
 " Speak not to me of dangers ! " exclaimed Eleanor 
 with animation ; " nothing ought to part those whom 
 God has joined ; and the way to heaven is as near from 
 Syria as from England or my native Castillo." 
 
 Eleanor remained firm in her determination to cross 
 the Channel, and, on the 5th of August, Edward bade 
 King Henry adieu ; and the father and son parted, 
 never to meet again on earth. On leaving Winches- 
 ter, the intention of the Prince was to embark at Ports- 
 mouth, and pass through Spain, with a view of holding 
 an interview with his brother-in-law, Alphonso of 
 Castillo ; but, the winds proving contrary, and much 
 time being lost, he abandoned the idea, and turned 
 aside to embark at Dover. 
 
 It was the 20th of August, 1270, when Edward 
 left the shores of England ; nor was the heir of the 
 Plantagenets unworthily attended. Gloucester's proud 
 
324 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADERS. 
 
 Earl did not, indeed, appear ; but warriors as gallant 
 as ever sailed for Palestine arrayed themselves under 
 Edward's banner. Amons; them were Edward of* 
 Lancaster, and Henry of Cornwall, Roger de Clifford, 
 William de Valence, Thomas de Clare, John de Gour- 
 ney, Robert de Tip to ft, Walter de Molesworth, John 
 de Vesci (Edward's favorite knight), Robert de Burnel 
 (destined, in after years, to figure as his great minister), 
 and Robert de Brus, father of the Hero-king of Scots. 
 Nor was Scotland unrepresented among that martial 
 chivalry. From the north of the Tweed had come a 
 gallant band, conspicuous among whom were David, 
 Earl of Athol, and Adam, Earl of Carrick. What 
 wonder if these crusaders went forth with high hopes ! 
 Young, ardent, and enthusiastic, led by a captain who 
 had struck down a mighty oligarchy, and filled Europe 
 with the fame of his knightly exploits, they might well 
 cherish the hope of accomplishing something worthy 
 of being recorded by chroniclers and celebrated by 
 minstrels. 
 
 The mariners hauled up their anchors, and spread 
 their sails ; and the English crusaders left the white 
 cliffs of their native shore behind. It appears that 
 Edward hoped to make so quick a journey as to over- 
 take King Louis before that royal crusader embarked ; 
 but after meeting the Princess who had preceded him 
 to the continent, and travelling through France and 
 along the borders of Spain, our great Prince learned 
 that Louis had ah'eady sailed, and also, doubtless to 
 his surprise, that the Saint-king, instead of embarking 
 for Syria, as arranged, had intimated his intention of 
 proceeding to Tunis. Trusting still to join the King 
 
PRINCE EDWARD AND HIS KNIGHTS. 3*25 
 
 of France, ere anything great had been accom- 
 plished, Edward, though perhaps not much relishing 
 such a voyage, directed his course towards the Af- 
 rican coast. 
 
 28 
 
326 THE CEUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FRENCH AT TUNIS. 
 
 While Edward was in England preparing for the 
 crusade, and overcoming the obstacles that delayed his 
 departure, the Kings of the Continent began to move. 
 
 Alphonso of Castille had taken the cross ; but, 
 having claims on the crown of Germany, that mon- 
 arch declared his inability to proceed to the East. 
 Alphonso, however, furnished his neighbor, James, 
 King of Arragon, with a thousand knights and a 
 thousand maravedis in gold. At the same time, the 
 knights of St. James, and the cities of Barcelona and 
 Majorca, aided the King of Arragon with men, money, 
 and ships ; and James, with a formidable fleet, sailed 
 from Barcelona. The elements, however, proved ad- 
 verse to the King and his friends ; and a violent tem- 
 pest having dispersed the fleet, his own vessel was cast 
 on the coast of Languedoc. 
 
 Nothing daunted by this disastrous opening of the 
 expedition. King Louis continued his preparations ; and 
 having, early in March, 1270, received the symbols of 
 pilgrimage from the church of St, Denis, and walked 
 barefooted from the Louvre to Notre Dame to hear a 
 solemn mass, he took leave of Queen Margaret, whom 
 
IHE FRENCH AT TUNIS. 327 
 
 lie was not destined to see again, and repaired to 
 Aigues Mortes, where his army was to embark. 
 
 Few of the crusaders had come to the rendezvous, 
 and Louis was under the necessity of reminding them 
 of their vows. His example and exhortations proved 
 effectual ; and ere long his brother, the Count of Poic- 
 tiers, and many of the chief nobles of France, gathered 
 around his standard. Several of the cities likewise 
 sent forth bands of warriors to fight for the cross under 
 their saintly King ; and Louis found himself attended 
 by his sons, Philip, heir of France, and John, Count of 
 Nevers, and by his son-in-law the King of Navarre, 
 and surrounded by a gallant and chivalrous host. 
 
 Nor on this occasion, notwithstanding the absence 
 of Margaret of Provence, were bright eyes and fair 
 faces wanting to cheer and inspire the champions of 
 the cross ; for among those who placed themselves 
 under the protection of St. Louis, were his daughter, 
 the Queen of Navarre ; his daughter-in-law, the wife 
 of Philip ; liis sister-in-law, the Countess of Poictiers ; 
 and other ladies of high rank and noble name. 
 
 While chivalrous warriors were congregated, and 
 feudal banners displayed at Aigues Mortes, a strange 
 band of crusaders presented themselves. From the 
 bogs, the islets, and the marshes of Fricsland, five 
 hundred men, arrayed in leathern jerkins, in waistcoats 
 of horse-cloth, and in rusty coats of mail, came to take 
 part in the expedition. " At all times," said they, as 
 they ranged themselves under the oriflamme, " our 
 nation has been proud to obey the Kings of France." 
 
 Everything now looked promising. Crusaders from 
 Castille and other parts of the Spanish Peninsula 
 
328 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. 
 
 swelled the French army ; and Louis, without waiting 
 for Prince Edward, who, though too poor to be deem- 
 ed of much importance, would, in all probability, 
 being a man of unrivalled genius, have enabled the 
 aged monarch to avoid many of the evils that awaited 
 him, embarked at Aigues Mortes early in July, and in a 
 few days anchored off Cagliari. 
 
 It was the 20th of July, a whole month before Ed- 
 ward sailed from Dover, when the French King ap- 
 peared in sight of Carthage ; and no sooner did the 
 fleet become visible from the shore, than the mhabitants 
 fled to their mountains. Next morning, at dawn, the 
 crusaders began to land ; and when the whole army 
 had disembarked, opposite the ruins of Carthage, Louis 
 pitched his camp, formally took possession of the terri- 
 tory, seized a tower at the point of the cape, lodged 
 the women and the sick in a village hard by, and sent 
 soldiers to place the standard of France on the castle 
 of Carthage. Having tidven these steps, the King 
 ordered his men to pitch their tents, and awaited the 
 arrival of his brother, the King of Sicily. 
 
 While Louis was looking eagerly for the appearance 
 of the Sicilian fleet, and deluding himself with the 
 hope of converting the King of Tunis, that Moorish 
 prince sent a messenger to intimate his intention of 
 giving the crusaders battle, at the head of a hundred 
 thousand men ; and added, with a sneer, which dissi- 
 pated all the French monarch's hopes of making a 
 convert, that he should require baptism on the field 
 of fight. Louis received this insulting message with 
 patient composure. It was well, by-the-bye, for the 
 Ccy that our Edward had not then arrived. Had 
 
THE FUEis'CH AT TUNIS. 329 
 
 Longshaiiks been before Tunis that day, the i\Ioorish 
 prince might have found to his cost that all Christians 
 were not saints, and that all crusaders were not mis- 
 sionaries. 
 
 Edward and his knights, however, were still on the 
 sea, and Louis remained inactive. Perhaps he expect- 
 ed to be attacked. But the Bey did not ftilfil his threat ; 
 and the French were beginning to regard their enemies 
 with contempt, when they learned, not certainly with- 
 out emotions of awe, that Bibars Bendocdar, the ter- 
 rible Suitan of Egypt, was preparing to march to the 
 relief of Tunis. 
 
 While such was the position of affairs, and the cru- 
 saders, with the prospect of encountering so formidable 
 a foe, were looking somewhat wistfully for the sails of 
 the King of Sicily, the climate, the hot winds, and the 
 want of water, began to be severely felt ; and suddenly 
 the plague invaded the French camp. The conse- 
 quences were fearful ; for soon so many men of all 
 ranks yielded to the influence of that dire disease, that 
 it became impossible to bury the dead ; and the corpses, 
 thrown confusedly into the ditches of the camp, added 
 to the infection of the atmosphere. 
 
 At length, after thousands of the crusaders had 
 fallen victims to the climate, the Pope's Legate and 
 the Count de Nevers, the King's son, yielded to the 
 pestilence. Louis, who was also prostrate, heard of 
 their deaths with grief and tears ; and soon after be- 
 came so ill, that no hope could be entertained of his 
 recovery. Finding his end drawing nigh, Louis cm- 
 ployed some hours in giving advice to Philip the Bold, 
 his heir ; and then, abandoning himself wholly to the 
 
330 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 offices of religion, caused his attendants to lay hira, 
 covered with hair-cloth, upon a bed of ashes. On the 
 25th of August, he appeared slightly to revive, but it 
 was only for a brief period ; and, feeling his last mo- 
 ments approach, he opened his eyes, looked towards 
 heaven, and exclaimed — "I will enter into Thy 
 house ; I will worship in Thy holy tabernacle ; " and 
 with this pious ejaculation, the Saint-king gave up his 
 soul to God.-'' 
 
 On the day when Louis died, and while gloom over- 
 spread the camp, Charles of Anjou, brother of the 
 Saint-king, arrived at Tunis, and took the command of 
 the French army. Several conflicts with the Moors 
 ensued. But it soon appeared that on neither side was 
 there any strong desire to continue the war ; and when 
 the Bey of Tunis offered to treat, the French did not 
 decline to open negotiations. Terms were soon agreed 
 upon. The Moorish prince, in his anxiety to get rid 
 of the invaders, offered to allow Christian priests free 
 exercise of their religion in his capital ; to tolerate the 
 profession of Christianity by such of the Saracens as 
 might be converted ; to defray the whole expense of 
 the crusade ; and to pay yearly to Charles of Anjou the 
 sum of forty thousand crowns. On these terms the 
 crusaders consented to relinquish their enterprise ; and 
 
 * " On the brow of a green bill, overlooking the entire plain 
 of Carthage, is a high octagonal Avail ; and, in the centre of the 
 enclosure vrithin, arises the small Gothic chnpel, huilt, as is 
 ))elievecl, on the site of the tent where the sainted crusader died, 
 in the midst of his dying soldiers, and bearing an inscription 
 which informs us, that it was erected by Louis Philippe to the 
 laemoi'y of his pious ancestor," — BarilcVs Overland Route, 
 
THE FRENCH AT TUNIS. 331 
 
 Philip, the young King of France, having negotiated a 
 treaty, prepared to return to Europe. 
 
 The peace concluded between the King of Tunis 
 and Phihp of France, however agreeable to Charles of 
 Anjou, was not destined to give universal satisfaction. 
 Bibars Bendocdar expressed the utmost indignation at 
 the conduct of the Bey of Tunis. " Such a prince," 
 said the Sultan, " ought to be dethroned ; he is un- 
 worthy to reign over IMussulmans." At the same 
 time, many of the crusaders expressed their regret. 
 " What," they indignantly asked, " would Christendom 
 say on hearing that the crusaders had fled before their 
 vanquished foes, and robbed themselves of their own 
 victory ? " 
 
332 THE CRUSADES AND THE CKUSADEllS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EDWAED OX HIS VOYAGE. 
 
 While the French murmured at the mglorious close 
 of then- expedition to Africa, and while Bibars Bendoc- 
 dar raged at the news of the sacrifices made by his 
 JMoorish ally, the conqueror of Evesham and the Eng- 
 lish crusaders, who at Sardinia had heard of the death 
 of St. Louis, reached Tunis. 
 
 Edward's arrival, when proclaimed in the Christian 
 camp, spread joy among the crusaders. In their peril 
 and perplexity, the European knights were delighted 
 at the idea of having among them the most famous of 
 their order ; and through the great heart of the Prince, 
 as his blue eye scanned the noble army encamped be- 
 fore the Moorish capital, thrilled anticipations of for- 
 tresses taken and fields won. But scarcely had Edward 
 landed, and condoled with the Kings of Sicily and 
 France on the death of their saintly relative, and inti- 
 mated his readiness to lead them against the infidels 
 without delay, than his visions of victory were rudely 
 put to flight. 
 
 " The Bey of Tunis," said Charles of Anjou, " is 
 prepared to render satisfaction to all the crusaders for 
 the cost of their expedhion, and to pay the tribute so 
 long due to me as King of Sicily." 
 
EDWARD OX HIS YOYAGE. 333 
 
 " For what, my Lord do you take me ? " exclaimed 
 the Prince in amazement, and in a tone which convinced 
 the barons of France that the day was gone by for 
 talking of " Enghsh tails " or assuming airs of supe- 
 riority. " Deem you that I and my friends have left 
 England to exact tribute from Pagans and pirates ? 
 No, by Holy Edward ; but to make war against the 
 enemies of the cross, and to recover, if possible, the 
 city of Jerusalem ! " 
 
 " Nevertheless," was the answer of Charles of 
 Anjou, " the treaty has been negotiated. Wherefore, 
 let us return to Sicily ; and, when the winter is past, 
 we can sail to Acre." 
 
 Mortified was Edward on hearing of the peace that 
 had been concluded. He determined, however, not 
 to return to England without signalizing his prowess 
 against the foes of his religion ; and, holding aloof from 
 the councils of the crusaders, he refused to take any 
 part in concluding the peace, or any portion of the gold 
 which had bribed them to go home. Others were 
 less scrupulous, however ; and, after the Bey had sent 
 to the Christian camp thirty-two camels, heavily laden 
 with gold and silver, the warriors of the cross, on the 
 18th of November, embarked for Sicily. 
 
 The voyage of the crusaders proved most disastrous. 
 When about to enter the port of Trapani, their fleet 
 was assailed by a tempest, and the results were fright- 
 ful. Eighteen ships, with horses, armor, equipments, 
 and the gold received from the Bey of Tunis, were 
 submerged ; and four thousand warriors, whom the 
 plague had spared on the coast of Carthage, found a 
 watery grave off the coast of Sicily. 
 
334 THE CHUSADES AND THE CRUSADEES. 
 
 Having landed at Trapani after this misfortune, the 
 crusaders held several councils to determine what 
 course they were to pursue. Every leader deplored 
 the loss he had sustained during the tempest ; and 
 Charles of Anjou, with an eye to his own interest, 
 proposed that they should attempt the conquest of 
 Constantinople, which had been recently recovered by 
 the Greeks. But this project failed to enhst general 
 sympathy. King Philip expressed his intention of re- 
 turning forthwith to France ; and the Christian princes 
 and nobles agreed, for the present, to lay aside the cross. 
 In order not to deceive each other, however, they all 
 took a solemn oath to resume the crusade at a sub- 
 sequent period, and they even appointed the day on 
 which they were to embark for Acre. 
 
 The Enghsh knights now looked blank, and appeared 
 to consider a return to England inevitable. But Ed- 
 ward witnessed with indignation the cowardice and 
 hypocrisy of the kings and princes who figured in the 
 scene. " Though all my comrades in arms and my 
 countrymen should desert me," he said, striking his 
 breast, " yet I, with Fowin, my palfrey keeper, will 
 enter Acre. By Holy Edward," he exclaimed, liis eye 
 kindling and his form dilating as he spoke, " I will 
 keep my oath, though in so doing my soul should be 
 parted from my body." On hearing their Prince's 
 resolution to persevere, De Clare, De Vesci, De Brus, 
 and the other English knights, indicated their willing- 
 ness to share the peril and minister to the success of 
 his enterprise. 
 
 But though the crusaders from England expressed 
 their determuiation to rescue the endangered Christians 
 
EDWARD OX HIS TOTAGE. 335 
 
 of Syria, the heir of St. Louis exhibited no scruple in 
 abandoning those whom he had vowed to succor. In- 
 deed, Philip was now all anxiety to take possession of 
 his throne; and no sooner had the year 1271 opened, 
 than he set out for France. 
 
 Meantime, Edward of England remained for the 
 ^vinter in Sicily, passing his time in chivalrous exer- 
 cises, and not neglecting, perhaps, to reduce to military 
 discipline the Frieslanders, who had joined St. Louis at 
 Aigues Mortes, and who now recognized the Prince as 
 their leader. Undaunted by desertion and difficulties, 
 Edward clung with tenacity to his purpose, and, by 
 showing a high example, inspired his friends with 
 enthusiasm worthy of the occasion. 
 
336 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHA PTER VII. 
 
 RELIEF OF ACRE. 
 
 About the beginning of April, 1271, Bibars Ben- 
 docdar, Sultan of Egypt, at the head of a mighty 
 army, appeared before the walls of Acre, and sum- 
 moned the city to surrender. The inhabitants were 
 naturally in extreme alarm. It was true, that the 
 Sultan had several times threatened Acre without 
 proceeding to extremities ; but, on this occasion, there 
 remained little hope of such forbearance being exer- 
 cised. Indeed, Bibars Bcndocdar indicated, in a man- 
 ner not to be mistaken, his determination to remain at 
 the foot of Mount Carmel, till he had witnessed the 
 downfall of the famous stronghold of the Christians in 
 the East. 
 
 At that time Acre, now little more than a fortress 
 in the sea, was celebrated for wealth and splendor. 
 Having long been regarded by the crusaders as next 
 in importance to Jerusalem, the city had gradually 
 been enriched. Thither most of the Christians, driven 
 from other places in Palestine, fled for refuge ; and 
 thither they brought such wealth as could be moved 
 beyond reach of the spoiler's hands. Acre had thus 
 become the capital of the Christians in the East, and 
 by far the richest of the cities of Syria. 
 
KELIEF OF ACRE. 337 
 
 Nor were the fortifications of Acre such that any 
 foe could calculate on finding its wealth an easy prey. 
 During his abode in the East, St. Louis had labored to 
 repair and increase the means of resistance, and added 
 much to the strength of the place. On the land side, 
 the city was surrounded by a double wall, with battle- 
 mented towers, and by a deep and broad ditch, which 
 prevented access to its ramparts ; while, towards the 
 sea, it was defended by the castle of the Templars, by 
 the " King's Tower," and by a foi'tress at the entrance 
 of the harbor. Constructed of square stones, the 
 houses of Acre all rose to an equal height ; and most 
 of them were surmounted by a terrace. The interior 
 of the city was chiefly occupied by the abodes of 
 traders and artisans ; but, between two ramparts, that 
 bounded the city on the east, hard by the tower and 
 gate of St. Anthony, destined to be celebrated in story, 
 stood the castles and palaces of the King of Jerusa- 
 lem, the Prince of Antioch, the representatives of 
 France and Sicily, and other men of high estate. In- 
 side, the mansions were furnished with articles of 
 luxury, ornamented with rich pictures, and lighted 
 by windows of painted glass, that pleasantly modified 
 the sun's glare. 
 
 And strange and picturesque was the scene pre- 
 sented at Acre to a Valence or De Vesci, who, having 
 assumed the cross, and vowed to fight for the Holy 
 Sepulchre, landed at the white walls bathed by the 
 blue waters of the Mediterranean. Ships from Europe 
 and Asia crowded the commodious port. Rich mer- 
 chandise was stored in the warehouses. Bustle and 
 excitement prevailed on the Exchange, A motley 
 29 
 
338 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 assemblage of sea-faring men, monks and merchants, 
 pirates and pilgrims, warriors and women, appeared 
 in the streets ; and in the public places which were 
 screened by silken coverings from the heat of the sun, 
 Christian magnates, attended by splendid trains, and 
 wearing golden crowns and vestments glittering with 
 precious stones, walked frequently to show themselves 
 to the people. 
 
 But, unfortunately. Acre was divided against itself. 
 Every nation had its quarter, and each quarter was a 
 city of itself, varying in language, manners, and race 
 from its neighbors, and separated from them by rival- 
 ries and jealousies, that frequently produced riot and 
 bloodshed. Sometimes the magnates assembled to 
 devise measures for maintaining order ; but they gen- 
 erally, by disagreeing among themselves, rendered the 
 prospect of concord more distant than before. 
 
 Such being the state of affairs. Acre was in no 
 condition to resist a prolonged siege by a conqueror 
 so energetic as Bibars Bendocdar. The Mameluke 
 Sultan had long been aware of the fact, and hitherto 
 his ambition to enter Acre^ sword in hand, had been 
 repressed by the news of a host of crusaders being 
 on the wav to rescue their distressed brethren. The 
 death of Louis, however, and the return of the French 
 army to Europe, had freed the Oriental warrior from 
 this dread ; and he indulged in the anticipation of 
 crowning his victories. 
 
 This resolution formed, Bibars Bendocdar encamped 
 before Acre. With his army he brought arrows, and 
 darts, and fire-pots, and machines for battering walls 
 with stones, and leaden balls, and huge blocks of wood ; 
 
EELIEF OF ACRE. 339 
 
 and, having caused the Mameluke horsemen to ravage 
 tlie territories in the vicinity of the beleaguered city, 
 he commenced the siege. Slender now appeared the 
 prospect of the Mussulman soldiers having to cross 
 the desert without reddening their weapons with Chris- 
 tian blood. 
 
 The inhabitants of Acre were perplexed in the ex- 
 treme. The nearness of the peril would naturally 
 liave united them, but it appeared too late. From 
 their ramparts they saw turbaned foes desolating their 
 fertile plains, cutting up groves and gardens, and burn- 
 ing the villages and pleasure-houses that dotted the 
 hills ; while the Sultan was preparing to assail their 
 walls and effect their ruin. Filled with alarm, and 
 driven to despair, they consented to surrender in four 
 days, if not relieved before that time. Scarcely one 
 ray of hope found its way to their hearts. 
 
 But suddenly a marvellous change occurred. Ere 
 the four days had passed, a clangor of drums and 
 clarions resounded in Acre ; and through the city ran 
 a rumor that a fleet with warriors on board was ap- 
 proaching their harbor. Some rushed to the house- 
 tops, and others rushed to the port, to watch the result. 
 The little fleet sailed gallantly into the harbor ; men 
 in mail surrounding a lady with a calm, thoughtful 
 countenance, appeared upon one of the decks ; a war- 
 rior, simply arrayed, but taller by the head than ordi- 
 nary mortals, and with a form as magnificent as his 
 stature was tall, leaped ashore. It was the Conqueror 
 of Evesham. 
 
 Bibars Bendocdar must have heard the shout that 
 rose from the quay of Acre, and gradually swelled 
 
340 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 as it ran from street to street, and from house-top to 
 liouse-top. Perhaps one of those mysterious emotions 
 which warn men of approaching danger, touched the 
 heart of the crowned criminal. In any case, the Sul- 
 tan, ere long, learned that a fair-haired warrior was 
 resting his long limbs in the palace of Acre, and that 
 a gray charger was eating his provender from a marble 
 manger in a Syrian stall. 
 
EDWARD IX THE EAST. 311 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 EDWARD IX THE EAST. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1271, Edward, accompanied 
 by his fair spouse, and Theobald, arch-deacon of Pla- 
 centia, his old tuto*', left the shores of Sicily and sailed 
 for Acre. Small was the force with which the English 
 prince Went to rescue the imperilled Christians of 
 Syria. His brother, Edmund Crouchback, Earl of 
 Lancaster; his brother-in-law, John, Earl of Brittany; 
 his beloved friends, Robert de Brus, John de Vesci, 
 and Thomas De Clare, with three hundred English 
 knights, and the Frieslanders who had left Aigues 
 Mortes with St. Louis, formed the force with which 
 he went to encounter Bibars Bendocdar. 
 
 Before proceeding to Acre, Edward landed at 
 Cyprus, and having been received by the King and 
 nobles of that island with the honors due to his rank 
 and reputation, continued his voyage towards the 
 imperilled city. No sooner had the Prince landed 
 at Acre, than he climbed the walls, viewed Bendoc- 
 dar's army, and ascertained the extent of territory 
 which the Christians still called their own. The 
 scene which lay before the great Prince's eye, must 
 have suggested melancholy thoughts. He could not 
 delude himself with the idea of changing the fortune 
 
 o 
 
 0* 
 
342 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 of the East at the head of so slender a force as that 
 which he had brought to Acre ; but he must have 
 reflected, with a sigh, what a mighty part he might 
 have played in the " world's debate," had he come at 
 the head of such an army, as had over and over 
 again been ruined and lost for want of a leader of 
 capacity. As it was, he could only lament the plight 
 to which the empire of Godfrey had been reduced. 
 
 But small as was Edward's army, his arrival changed 
 the Sultan's plans. Every Mameluke warrior heard 
 with consternation that he was of the same regal 
 race as Richard Ca3ur de Lion, the fame of whose 
 prowess still lingered in the East ; and Bibars Bendoc- 
 dar no sooner became aware that Edward Plantagenet 
 was in Acre, than he evinced his alarm, gathered in his 
 warriors, and beat a retreat. 
 
 The arrival of Edward and the retreat of Bibars, 
 revived the hopes of the Eastern Christians; and 
 around the Prince gladly came the Templars and the 
 Knights of St. John. With their aid he planned an 
 expedition ; for the idea of remaining idle was not one 
 to be entertained. Within a month after his landing, 
 Edward left the Princess at Acre, placed himself at 
 the head of a little army, and advanced upon the 
 Mussulman territories. After having seen his force 
 increase to the number of seven thousand men, he 
 marched towards Nazareth. 
 
 A well-built town situated about six miles from 
 Mount Tabor, in a narrow valley, with flat-roofed 
 houses of two storys, and environs planted with fig- 
 trees, olive-trees, and vines : such is Nazareth, in the 
 nineteenth century. At the time of the crusades, this 
 
EDWARD IN THE EAST. 343 
 
 town was regarded with peculiar veneration, as the 
 place in which the Saviour of mankind had passed his 
 earher years ; and, within its hmits, the crusaders 
 erected, in honor of the Virgin, a church, which was 
 considered the most beautiful of all the structures 
 raised by the Christians in the East. Shortly before 
 Edward's arrival at Acre, Bibars Bendocdar having 
 taken Nazareth from the Christians, rendered the 
 occasion memorable by giving the church of St. Mary 
 to the flames ; and so bitter was the indignation felt by 
 the faithful at this act of destruction, that when Ed- 
 ward turned towards Nazareth, the crusaders thanked 
 God that the day of vengeance had arrived. 
 
 Edward, though squeamish about shedding the blood 
 of English peasants, had probably no scruples about 
 the slaughter of " Pagan dogs." Advancing upon 
 Nazareth, he resolved on taking the place by storm ; 
 and fearful was the carnage that ensued. With a 
 craving for revenge gnawing at their hearts, the 
 crusaders assaulted the town ; and entering, sword 
 in hand, cut down all who opposed. No quarter was 
 given. The ciy of " Remember the burning of St. 
 Mary's church," was sufficient to drown every appeal 
 for mercy ; and the crusaders only ceased from the 
 work of carnage to plant the Christian standard on the 
 walls. 
 
 After garrisoning Nazareth, Edward set out on his 
 return to Acre. Ere proceeding a few miles, however, 
 he received intelligence, that an army of Saracens was 
 coming in pursuit, with the hope of surprising him in 
 a narrow pass, and of retaking the town. Not a 
 moment was lost. The victorious crusaders imme- 
 
314 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADEIiS. 
 
 diatcly turning back, met tlieir foes face to face ; and 
 tlie Saracens, suddenly attacked, sustained such a de- 
 feat as convinced them of the prowess of the foe 
 whom they had to encounter. 
 
 But Bibars Bendocdar was not a man to despair ; 
 and the crusaders had scarcely time to rest from their 
 fatigues, when information reached Edward that the 
 Saracens were mustering at Kahow, about fifteen 
 miles from Acre, and preparing to come and offer 
 him battle. " Ha ! " exclaimed the English Prince, 
 with a spirit as high as he exhibited on a similar 
 occasion twenty-six years later, " they shall not need 
 to come to find me ; for I will forthwith go to seek 
 them ! " 
 
 Everything was quickly prepared for an expedition ; 
 and on the evening of Tuesday, the 23d of June, the 
 crusaders learned that, before daybreak, war- steeds 
 must be saddled and warriors mounted. Long ere 
 sunrise, Edward issued from Acre at the head of his 
 army, and directed his course towards the Saracenic 
 camp. A small force, indeed, his appeared, with which 
 to go on such an enterprise ; but stout were the hearts 
 and strong the hands of the Christian warriors, as they 
 moved onward, confident in the genius of their chief 
 and the grandeur of their cause. 
 
 Chroniclers have failed to hand down to us any 
 detailed account of Edward's operations in the East ; 
 and, considering the achievements which history has 
 had to record of that mighty Prince as the English 
 Justinian, it is not wonderful that his exploits as a 
 crusader should have been allowed to fall into the 
 background. Sufficient has, however, been chronicled 
 
EDWARD IN THE EAST. 345 
 
 to show how rapidly and widely his fame spread in 
 the East, and to give an idea of the last field, on which 
 the warriors of Christendom did battle for the recovery 
 of their Saviour's sepulchre. 
 
 It was the morning of Wednesday, the 24th of 
 June, 1271 ; and the force of Bibars Bendocdar was 
 drawn together at Kahow, where there was a castle. 
 The Saracenic warriors were bent upon a great effort 
 to crush their foes; and the Saracenic poets were 
 probably celebrating Edward's prospective defeat and 
 death. 
 
 While the Saracens were passing " the space of 
 dim hazy dawn which forms the twilight of a Syrian 
 morning," in dreams of victory, they became aware 
 of the approach of foes ; and, with banners displayed 
 and lances gleaming, the crusaders advanced to the 
 attack. Well did the turbaned soldiers of Bibars 
 Bendocdar know the approaching warriors. On that 
 point, at least, there could hardly have been a mistake. 
 The Templars were there with their white mantles 
 and red crosses ; and the Knights of St. John, in 
 their black robes, with five white crosses on each in 
 memory of the five wounds of Christ ; and strangely 
 mingling and contrasting with the crusaders from 
 Friesland in waistcoats of horsecloth and rusty jack- 
 ets, appeared the English chivalry, trained to arms in 
 the Barons' War, and eager to prove their piety and 
 their patriotism. William de Valence, and John de 
 Vesci ; John de Gourney, and Odo de Grandison ; 
 Roger de Clifford, and Thomas de Clare ; Robert de 
 Brus, John of Brittany, and Edmund Crouchback, Earl 
 of Lancaster, with silken surcoats over their chain 
 
3lG THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 mail, must have appeared no contemptible foes, as 
 they clustered around " Su'e Edward " on that mid- 
 summer morning, when he rode to Kahow and offered 
 battle to the enemies of his religion. Few, indeed, 
 they were; but Bibars Bendocdar was destined to 
 learn, that Christendom had never sent gallanter men 
 to fight for the cross, than were found in that little 
 band of Englishmen. 
 
 Nothing daunted, we will suppose the Saracens to 
 have sprung to arms ; and beat, their drums, and pre- 
 pared for resistance. But, however that may have 
 been, it soon appeared, that against the army led by 
 the Conqueror of Evesham, their valor was vain. 
 Templars and Knights of St. John dyed their lances 
 in infidel blood ; Edward's knights exhibited a cour- 
 age worthy of the flower of Anglo-Norman chivalry ; 
 and, dashing aside turban and buckler, the Frieslanders 
 rushed on without a thought of mercy, and, in the 
 name of their Redeemer, slew the unbelieving foe. 
 
 But in the conflict, Edward must have been by far 
 the most formidable champion of the cross. Indeed, 
 when the imagination is conducted by a train of his- 
 torical associations to the thirteenth century, it is not 
 easy, in that dauntless and too-adventurous soldier, to 
 recognize the calm English statesman, who rendered 
 his memory immortal by the laws which he instituted. 
 Mounted on his gray steed, now charging forward at 
 the head of his knights, dispersing the amazed foe — 
 now retreating to re-form his little band or to engage, 
 hand to hand, with some stalwart Saracen, this Eng- 
 lish Prince, already great as a warrior, and destined to 
 prove far greater as a legislator and administrator, by 
 
edwaud in the east. 347 
 
 lus marvellous prowess, appears to have produced on 
 the oriental imagination, an impression not less strong 
 than had, in other days, been made by Robert Cur- 
 those, with his paladin-like courage, or by Richard 
 CcEur de Lion with his mighty strength.-'* 
 
 At length the Saracens were smitten hip and 
 thigh ; and, a multitude of his soldiers having fallen, 
 the host of Bibars Bendocdar gave way. Their 
 mig;hty adversary appeared to be gifted with super- 
 natural strength ; and when Edward, on Gray Lyard, 
 charged upon the Sultan's ranks, Mahomet could not 
 have sustained their courage. Emir and Baharite 
 alike recoiled before the strong steed and the tall 
 rider ; and, leaving the camp to their victors, they 
 disappeared from the lost field. 
 
 While the Saracens were flying wherever they 
 deemed that safety could be found, the crusaders en- 
 tered the deserted camp, and had the gratification of 
 finding " much booty." This operation over, they 
 left the field to the eagles and vultures, that, with 
 unerring instinct, came down from the mountains to 
 prey upon the bodies of the slain ; and proceeded to 
 a stronghold, situated on the sea coast, and known as 
 
 * " In these skirmishes," says Fuller, *' he gave evident testi- 
 monies of his personal valor. Yea, in cold blood, he "would 
 boldly challenge any infidel to a duel. To speak truth, this his 
 conceived perfection was his greatest imperfection ; for the world 
 was abundantly satisfied in the point of his valor. Yet such 
 was his confidence of his strength, and eagerness of honor, that 
 having merited the esteem of a most stout man, he would still 
 supererogate ; yea, he would prefer to fight with any mean 
 person, if cried up by the volge for a tall man." 
 
318 THE CEUSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 the Castle of the Pilgrims. At this fortress, the re- 
 markable ruins of which are still to be seen, the crusa- 
 ders, during Wednesday night, found quarters ; and, 
 on Thursday morning, they returned in triumph to 
 Acre. 
 
 Having been received with much applause by the 
 Christians in Acre, and joined by the King and nobles 
 of Cyprus, Edward began to dream of accomphshing 
 something great, and prepared for a third expedition. 
 Arrangements having been made, his trumpets once 
 more sounded to horse ; and marching, in the month 
 of August, as far as the castle of St. George, the 
 Prince took possession of that stronghold. No foe, 
 however, appeared to oppose Edward's progress, and 
 nothing farther could be achieved. Indeed, when the 
 Syrian Christians discovered that the English Prince 
 had no money, and that he expected no reinforce- 
 ments, their ardor suddenly cooled ; and, finding the 
 impossibility of keeping an army together, he was fain 
 to return to Acre. 
 
 The position of Edward was now mortifying, but he 
 was not without a consolation. Fortunately, enough 
 had been done to gratify the pride of Englishmen, and 
 to teach foreigners to speak of English warriors with 
 respect. He knew well that when slowly but surely, 
 tidings reached London of Acre having been relieved, 
 Nazareth retaken, the castle of the Pilgrims and the 
 castle of St. George recovered, and the battle of Ka- 
 how won against fearful odds, royalists and supporters 
 of oligarchy would shake hands, and pledge each other 
 in a health to " Sire Edward," and breathe a prayer 
 that the brave Prince might soon be restored to the 
 land of which he was the pride and the hope. 
 
EDWARD IN THE EAST. 349 
 
 Edward might well be gratified with the result of 
 his achievements. With three hundred vahant men 
 from England, he had changed the aspect of affairs. 
 Bibars Bendocdar had retreated to Egypt, as had been 
 his wont after a campaign, but not, as on former occa- 
 sions, to recruit and return. In fact, the Sultan had 
 met his match, and discovered that no advantage was 
 to be gained in playing the game of carnage with the 
 man who laid Simon de Montfort low. 
 
 80 
 
350 THE CRUSADES AXD THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HEXRY OE CORNWALL. 
 
 Gne day, while Edward was at Acre and walkinn; in 
 the gallery of the palace, a messenger arrived from 
 Italy ; and, with a grave countenance, presented a 
 letter. On perusing this, the Prince started, shud- 
 dered, and appeared struck with surprise and horror. 
 The letter, which was written by the King of Sicily, 
 bore date the 13th of March, 1271 ; and its contents 
 were such as might well make Edward's heart beat 
 and his lip quiver. 
 
 At Viterbo, a papal city about twenty-five miles 
 from Rome, the cardinals, wearing their scarlet robes, 
 had, in the spring of 1271, assembled to choose a suc- 
 cessor to the Sixth Clement ; when thither, trusting to 
 influence the election, went Philip, the young King of 
 France, and his uncle, Charles of Anjou. At the 
 same time, in the company of his kinsmen, but proba- 
 bly not sympathising with their object, appeared Henry 
 of Cornwall, then in his thirty-sixth year, and in the 
 full vigor of manhood. 
 
 Henry, who was heir of Richard, King of the 
 Romans, and some years older than Prince Edward, 
 had fought in the Barons' War, yielded himself to 
 Montfort, after Lewes, and resided for some time, in 
 
HENRY OF COEXAVALL. 351 
 
 gentle captivity, at the castle of Kenil worth. By his 
 aunt, the Countess of Leicester, and two of her sons, 
 Guy and Simon de Montfort, the heir of Cornwall had 
 been treated with kindness. With young Guy, especi- 
 ally, he had been on terms of intimacy.^- The cousins 
 hunted together, hawked together, and indulged in the 
 recreations fashionable at the period ; and, as Henry 
 and his sire were prisoners at the time of Evesham, 
 they had no share m the overthrow of Montfort's 
 power. 
 
 But Edward's victory at Evesham opened up a new 
 scene ; and when Henry the Third was restored by 
 his son to the throne of his fathers, the King of the 
 Romans and his heir appeared as supporters of the 
 royal authority. Moreover, when an expedition to the 
 Holy Land was resolved on, the King of the Romans 
 undertook the guardianship of Edward's son ; and 
 Henry of Cornwall accompanied the Prince on the 
 crusade, from which so much was hoped. These very 
 natural circumstances, the Montforts appear to have 
 regarded with a jealous eye ; and a tragic catastrophe 
 was the consequence. 
 
 It happened that while Edward was passing the 
 winter of 1270 in Sicily, circumstances led him to 
 distrust the King of France, and to feel some sus- 
 picions as to the intentions of the Earl of Gloucester. 
 Such being the case, he deemed it prudent to send the 
 heir of Cornwall to Gascony, that Henry might watch 
 
 * " The only object of real jealousy to the Montforts," says 
 Mrs. Gr.en, " was Prince Edward. They knew his character 
 well; and his captivity appears to have been far more rigorous 
 tkan that of his royal relations." — Princesses of England. 
 
852 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 over the safety of that province, and, at the same 
 time, keep an eye on the affairs of England. Accom- 
 panying the Kings of France and Sicily to Viterbo, 
 and becoming interested in the deliberations of the 
 cardinals, Henry yielded to curiosity and lingered in 
 the city to witness the ceremony of an election. His 
 stay was to cost him dear. 
 
 During the week that Henry of Cornwall was loiter- 
 ing about Viterbo, Guy and Simon de Montfort, bent 
 on miscliief, appeared in the city. In England, where 
 these young noblemen had so recently domineered, 
 they had no chance of a home. After Evesham, 
 Edward obtained the King's pardon for the Countess 
 of Leicester, but declined to say one word for her 
 sons. The young Montforts, therefore, finding them- 
 selves banished men, and, brooding over misfortunes, 
 forgot the exact cause of quarrel, and believed them- 
 selves injured parties. Moreover, Simon had just 
 returned from a stolen visit to his father's tomb in 
 England, burning for vengeance. When men are in 
 this state of mind, it is marvellous what deeds they 
 can contemplate without horror. Understanding that 
 Henry was in the city, he resolved on an assassination, 
 and induced Guy to take part in the project. 
 
 Utterly unaware of the hostility felt towards him 
 by his cousins, Henry of Cornwall, on the morning of 
 the 13th of March, went to mass at the church of St. 
 Lawrence ; and, having for days been dogged from 
 place to place, he -was observed to enter the sacred 
 edifice. Immediately the church was surrounded by 
 the Montforts and their adherents ; and, while Guy 
 kept watch at the door to prevent his kinsman's escape, 
 
HENRY OF CORNWALL. 353 
 
 Simon, suppressing all scruples of conscience, entered 
 the building bent on murder. 
 
 When the heir of Cornwall was at his prayers be- 
 fore the high altar, he heard a well Imown voice ex- 
 claim, " Henry, traitor, thou shalt not escape ! " and 
 looking round he saw his cousin Simon, completely 
 armed and brandishing a sword. Utterly defenceless, 
 and alarmed, as he well might be, Henry clung to the 
 altar ; and two priests rushed between the assassin and 
 his intended victim. But Simon, who appears to have 
 inherited his sire's nature as his name, regardless of 
 everything but a craving for revenge, stabbed his kins- 
 man to the heart, and is said to have even slain the 
 priests, who attempted to stay his hand. Having per- 
 petrated this crime, the assassin called in his friends to 
 view the bleeding body of his kinsman ; and the Mont- 
 forts, after dragging the corpse to the door of the 
 church, and exhibiting it to the multitude, mounted 
 their horses and rode off to take refuge with the Count 
 of Aldobrandini, whose daughter Guy had espoused. 
 
 The assassination of Henry of Cornwall excited the 
 utmost horror at Viterbo ; and some attempts were 
 made to prevent the escape of the murderers. Neither 
 the King of France nor the King of Sicily, however, 
 exerted themselves very vigorously ; and grave sus- 
 picions were, not without cause, entertained that the 
 Montforts had been instruments of personages much 
 more important than themselves. 
 
 Henry's mortal remains were brought to England, 
 
 his heart was interred in a gold cup, near St. Edward's 
 
 shrine, at Westminster, and his body in the abbey 
 
 which liis father founded at Haylcs. Sorrowing over 
 
 30* 
 
3d4 the crusades and the crusaders. 
 
 the death of his heh', and refusing to be comforted, the 
 King of the Romans pined away ; and in the spring of 
 1272, he was laid by the side of his son. At V^iterbo, 
 the memory of Henry of Cornwall was long preserved 
 by a painting of his death on the walls of the church 
 of St. Lawrence. 
 
THE PBIKCE AND THE ASSASSIN. 355 
 
 CHAPTER X, 
 
 THE PRINCE AND THE ASSASSIN. 
 
 Acre having been relieved, Nazareth recaptured, 
 and Kakhovv won, Edward's fame spread over the 
 East ; and Albaga, King of the Tartars, sent ambassa- 
 dors with letters expressing his high admiration of the 
 English Prince, and offering to despatch Cenebar, a 
 great Tartar warrior, to aid the crusaders against 
 their Mameluke foe. Edward treated the proposal 
 with favor, and began to dream of mighty conquests 
 made by him at the head of an army composed of 
 Christians and Tartars ; but circumstances proved 
 altogether unfavorable to his grand designs, or to 
 farther operations. 
 
 In fact, selfishness and the chmate had done for 
 Bibars Bendocdar what the potent Sultan could not 
 have done for himself. Freed from pressing danger, 
 and discovering that Edward had no money, the Syrian 
 Christians became lukewarm in their alliance ; and, 
 parched by the Syrian sun, the crusaders from Europe 
 found themselves unfitted for exertion. All the Enfr. 
 lish suffered from the excessive heat ; many of them 
 fell victims to a too-free indulgence in the fruit of 
 the country ; and, ere long, the Prince was stretched 
 on a bed of sickness. While Edward lay prostrate in 
 
336 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 the palace of Acre, and lamented bitterly the murder 
 of Henry of Cornwall, and cursed the treachery that 
 had enabled the murderers of his kinsman to escape, 
 the knife of the assassin was stealthily approaching Ins 
 own brave and generous heart. 
 
 Among the Eastern magnates who obeyed the word 
 of Bibars Bendocdar, the Emir of Joppa was one of 
 the most conspicuous. This Emir, who exercised great 
 influence, expressed a high admiration of Edward's 
 valor, and, pretending a strong desire to be converted 
 to Christianity, opened communications with the Prince 
 through an assassin named Anazazim, and known as 
 " the Old Man of the IMountains." -^ As the Emir's 
 messages were strictly secret, the Prince's chamber 
 was cleared whenever his agent demanded an inter- 
 view ; and Anazazim came and went so frequently 
 with letters and messages, that at length everything 
 like suspicion was lulled to sleep. 
 
 On one occasion — it was the evening of Friday in 
 Whitsun week — Edward attired in a white vest, was 
 reclining on his couch, and resting his head against a 
 window in deep thought. The scene before him was 
 fair to behold. The sky appeared richly colored ; the 
 setting sun painted the landscape in gorgeous hues; 
 the breeze sighed among the palm-trees and lofty syca- 
 mores ; and the waters of the Mediterranean mur- 
 
 * " This man," says M. Paris, " had been educated in sub- 
 terranean places from boyhood, -where he had been taught to 
 make a sudden attack on any prince of the adversaries of his 
 sect, and had been given to understand, that even if he should 
 be slain in his attempt, he "would, for such an action, receive 
 new life among the joys of Paradise." 
 
THE PKINCE AND THE ASSASSIN. 357 
 
 mured on the Syrian shore. But the Prince's heart 
 and his fancy were in all probability far away. He 
 was thinking, perhaps with sadness, of the oaken 
 forests of England, through whose glades he had 
 hunted the stag, and of the fair fields over which he 
 had been in the habit of flying his white Norwegian 
 hawk. 
 
 While Edward mused, and the hour of vespers 
 approached, Anazazim appeared at the palace and 
 demanded an audience. The Prince's attendants forth- 
 with left the chamber ; and " the Old Man of the 
 Mountains," after making his usual salaam at the door, 
 entered, and kneeling in profound submission, presented 
 a letter. While Edward was occupied with the peru- 
 sal, Anazazim, pretending to have another letter, put 
 his hand in his bosom as if to produce it. Instead, 
 however, he drew forth a dagger, and made a thrust 
 at Edward's side. The Prince was in the utmost 
 peril ; but his keen eye was on the assassin in an 
 instant ; and, quick as thought, he raised his arm and 
 warded off the blow. Utterly desperate, the " Old 
 Man " made a second attempt. Springing up at a 
 bound, Edward wrenched the dagger from his hand, 
 and exclaiming " Base traitor," laid him lifeless on 
 the floor. 
 
 Meanwhile the noise of a scufHe reached the ears 
 of Edward's household ; and, in alarm, the officers in 
 attendance rushed in to ascertain the cause. Seeing 
 Anazazim on the floor, and Edward pale with rage, 
 the Prince's harper, guessing the whole, seized a stool, 
 and beat out the assassin's brains. But the Prince 
 reproved the harper with indignation. " Why," he 
 
358 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRTJSADEES. 
 
 asked indignantly, " do you strike a man who is 
 dead?" 
 
 News of Edward's mishap quickly reached the 
 court of the palace and flew into the city ; and great 
 was the alarm caused thereby. Everybody was seized 
 with apprehension ; and all wrung their hands. But 
 the master of the Templars said, " The wound must 
 be looked to, for doubtless the weapon would be 
 poisoned ; " and having procured a potion, which it 
 was believed, would prevent poison from taking effect, 
 he hurried to the Prince. " I forewarned vou that 
 the man meditated treachery," said the Grand Master, 
 as he entered Edward's chamber. " However, be of 
 good cheer. Take this potion ; and all will end well." 
 
 Surgeons having been sent for, the wound was 
 dressed ; and hopes of a speedy recovery were enter- 
 tained. But when a few days passed over, gloom 
 appeared on the faces of the English crusaders ; and 
 much alarm was excited in Acre by a rumor that the 
 wound was growing black and showing signs of morti- 
 fication. On observing this, the surgeons, though little 
 guessing the value of the life with which they were 
 dealing, manifested dismay, and conversed in so low 
 a tone, as not only to alarm the Princess, who was 
 present, but even to attract the attention of the mighty 
 patient. 
 
 " Assuredly," they whispered to one another, " the 
 dagger has been smeared with poison." 
 
 *' Why do you whisper among yourselves ? " asked 
 Edward, turning on his uneasy couch. " Tell me the 
 truth, and fear not. Can I not be cured ? " 
 
 One of the physicians stepped forward. He was 
 an Englishman and celebrated for his skill. 
 
THE PKINCE AND THE ASSASSIN. 359 
 
 " Sire Edward," he answered, " you can be cured. 
 But, in that case, it will be necessary for you to under- 
 go acute suffering." 
 
 " And if I suffer," asked Edward, " do you promise 
 me restoration to health." 
 
 " I promise it," said the English physician ; " and I 
 would hazard .my head on the cure." 
 
 " Then," said Edward, " I commit my body to your 
 hands. Do with me whatever you will." 
 
 At this time, Eleanor of Castille, then about twenty- 
 seven, stood by Edward's couch ; and horrified at the 
 pain which was to be inflicted on her husband, the 
 Princess gave way to grief and burst into tears. But 
 the physician, feeling that he could not operate in her 
 presence, and moreover that it was no time for cere- 
 mony, insisted that she should leave the chamber, and 
 requested Edmund Crouchback and John de Yesci to 
 lead her out. 
 
 " I will not go," exclaimed Eleanor, weeping ; " I 
 will not leave my husband at such a moment." 
 
 " ]\Iadam," said de Vesci, removing the Princess, 
 but with chivalrous respect, "be contented — it is 
 better that one woman should shed tears for a little 
 while, than that all England should lament for a great 
 season." 
 
 When the chamber was cleared, the Ensrlish surgeon 
 set to work ; and, having nerve and skill, he per- 
 formed the operation with complete success. " Now, 
 Sire," said he, " take comfort ; for I prophesy that in a 
 fortnight you will be able to mount your horse." The 
 prediction of the English surgeon appeared unlikely 
 
360 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 to be fulfilled ; but his skill excited general admira- 
 tion. '♦' 
 
 When Edward's wound began to heal, the Chris- 
 tians in Acre expressed their anxiety to march against 
 the Saracens and avenge the attempt at assassination. 
 But Edward, turning on his couch, said, " In the name 
 of the Lord, I prohibit all from molesting the pagans 
 at this time. Know you not that many of my nation 
 have gone, in small companies, on pilgrimages to the 
 Sepulchre ; and if we give the pagans even the small- 
 est annoyance, my countrymen will all be slain ? " 
 
 IMeanwhile Bibars Bendocdar, hearing of Edward's 
 wound, sent several of his chief men to express his 
 regret at what had occurred, and to call God to witness 
 that he had no knowledge whatever of the treachery. 
 On coming into Edward's presence, the Sultan's am- 
 bassadors fell on their faces. " What," exclaimed the 
 Prince in English, " is the use of paying this reverence 
 to me, whom of all men you most bitterly hate ? 
 
 :? 
 
 * " The vulgar story," says Tyrrell, " of Eleanor sucking 
 the venom out of her husband's wound, is a mere romance; 
 this action of hers not being mentioned in any ancient author 
 of, or near, the time : the first in which I can find it being Mr. 
 Camden in his ' Britannia,' from Avhom it is also transcribed 
 by Mr. Speede in his Chronicle ; and both of them cite Rodericus 
 Toletanus, or Eoderick, Archbishop of Toledo, for it. But 
 though I have diligently searched that author's history of Spain, 
 yet I cannot find it there, nor I believe anybody else; for, at the 
 end of his work, he tells the reader that he finished it a.d. 1243, 
 which was ten years before Prince Edward married the Princess 
 of Castille, and near twenty before the accident of the assas- 
 sin's wounding that prince." — History of England. 
 
THE PRINCE AND THE ASSASSIN. 361 
 
 It appears that Edward fully acquitted Bibars Ben- 
 docdar ; indeed, his suspicions were turned in a differ- 
 ent direction. He had reason to fear that the same 
 influence which led to the assassination of Henry of 
 Cornwall in the church of St. Lawrence, was exercised 
 to point the knife of Anazazim at his own heart. But 
 the instigators of the crime, whoever they might have 
 been, were disappointed, and, within fifteen days of 
 the operation, the English surgeon had the gratification 
 of seeing the Prince mount his steed. 
 
 31 
 
362 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Edward's return. 
 
 Edward was recovering from his wound, and the 
 ambassadors of Bibars Bendocdar were hastening back 
 to their master, when " some Preacher and Minorite 
 brethren," reached Acre, and made their way to the 
 residence of Theobald, Archdeacon of Liege. The 
 inteUigence brought by these holy men was such as 
 to secure them an early audience. In fact, they had 
 come from Viterbo with news that the cardinals had 
 elected Theobald to the papal dignity. All Acre was 
 excited by this event ; aiid the Syrian Christians de- 
 lighted their minds with the idea that the elevation of 
 the legate to the chair of St. Peter, would lead to a 
 mighty effort for the deliverance of Jerusalem from 
 the Infidels. 
 
 Theobald was hardly less sanguine than his neigh- 
 bors, and with high resolutions, prepared to sail for 
 Italy. Before embarking, however, he assured the 
 Christians of Syria, that he would exert all his in- 
 fluence on their behalf; and in a discourse, addressed 
 to a large assembly, took for his text : " If 1 forget 
 thee, O Jerusalem, may I myself be forgotten among 
 men ! " Having given this solemn pledge, Theobald 
 
Edward's return. 363 
 
 departed to ascend the papal throne with the title of 
 Gregory the Tenth. 
 
 Meanwhile Edward began to think seriously of Eng- 
 land. He could now entertain little hope of accom- 
 plishing anything of consequence in the East ; and he 
 had received from his aged father letT;ers urging his 
 immediate return. After doing all in his power to 
 strengthen Acre, the Prince became anxious to see a 
 peace negotiated, and the King of Cyprus and Jeru- 
 salem concluded a treaty with Bibars Bendocdar. By 
 this treaty it was agreed that the Christians should 
 peacefully hold Acre, and a certain extent of territory 
 in the vicinity of the city ; and the English Prince, 
 albeit not much relishing the conditions, was fain to 
 consent. Matters having thus been arranged, Edward, 
 with the Princess, and their infant daughter, Joan of 
 Acre, prepared to return to England, for which his 
 brother Edmund, and several of his companions, had 
 already set out.* 
 
 After sailing from Syria, where he left a reputation 
 inferior to no man who had ever borne the cross, 
 Edward, on the 15th of August, 1272, landed at Tra- 
 pani, in Sicily. At that place, he received a pressing 
 invitation from his old tutor to visit Rome ; and crossed 
 the Faro, a narrow strait that separates Sicily from 
 Calabria. At a mountain village of Calabria, Edward, 
 who had already received intelligence of the death of 
 his son, Prince John, was informed that, in December, 
 
 * "This year, some nobles of Ireland, especially one great 
 noble, Thomas de Clare, who brought with him four Saracens 
 prisoners, returned from the Holy Land to England." — Matthew 
 of Westminster. 
 
364 THE CRITSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 1271, his father, King Henry, had died at Westminster. 
 On hearing this, Edward was so much affected, that 
 Charles of Anjou, who knew nothing of tenderness but 
 the name, expressed his extreme surprise. 
 
 " Cousin," said Charles roughly, " I cannot but 
 marvel, that you grieve so much more for your aged 
 father, than you did for your young son." 
 
 " The loss of a son," said Edward, " is a calamity 
 which, with God's blessing, I may live to repair ; but 
 the loss of a father is irreparable." 
 
 Proceeding on his way, Edward, in the month of 
 February, 1273, reached Rome, and remained for 
 several days in " the Eternal City." Finding, how- 
 ever, that the Pope was absent at Civita Vecchia, about 
 forty miles from Rome, he turned towards that town, 
 and was there received by Gregory with high honors. 
 After being treated by his host with the utmost con- 
 sideration, and warned to beware of the machinations 
 of his foes, Edward left Civita Vecchia, and pursued 
 his journey through Italy. 
 
 Never had the presence of a crusader in Europe 
 excited so much admiration or elicited so much ap- 
 plause. Edward's fame as a champion of the cross 
 had preceded him ; and, in every city, the inhabitants 
 came forth to do him honor. By the Milanese, espe- 
 cially, he was received with enthusiasm ; and they 
 forced on his acceptance rich presents of horses and 
 purple mantles. After crossing the Alps, he met a 
 deputation from England, who formally announced his 
 accession ; and then he paid a visit of ceremony to 
 Philip of France, 
 
 From Paris Edward proceeded to Aquitaine to settle 
 
EDWAliD's RETURN. 365 
 
 the afTairs of that province, and knowing that all was 
 quiet in England, remained on the Continent, hoping 
 to fathom the projects of the French King, whom he 
 distrusted. This nearly cost him dear, and proved too 
 plainly that the Pope, in warning Edward to beware 
 of his foes, was animated by no groundless sus- 
 picions. 
 
 The summer of 1274 had set in, and Edward was 
 still lingering on the Continent, when, to his surprise, 
 he received a challenge from the Count of Chalons. 
 The Count, distinguished as a warrior, pretended great 
 eagerness to break a lance with a champion who had 
 filled the East with his renown ; and Edward, with 
 little hesitation, accepted this challenge to the listed 
 plain. Each was to be accompanied by a thousand 
 men, and preparations were forthwith made for the 
 grand encounter. 
 
 At the time and place appointed, Edward, with a 
 heart as fearless as the lion on his shield, appeared in 
 the lists, attended by a thousand warriors and bestrid- 
 ing one of those war-steeds celebrated in minstrels' 
 song. Soon after the challenger appeared, but, to 
 Edward's surprise, with double the followers agreed 
 on. Suspicions of foul play immediately pervaded the 
 English ranks, and were soon confirmed by a furious 
 assault. 
 
 A fierce conflict now took place ; and the Count of 
 Chalons, a champion of great physical prowess, threw 
 his brawny arms around Edward's neck ; and made 
 a desperate efibrt to drag the English King to the 
 ground. But the Count soon found that he had mis- 
 taken his man. Not only did Edward sit firm as a 
 31* 
 
366 THE CRUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 rock, but, giving his charger the spur, he hfted the 
 Count from his saddle, and hurled the bulky warrior 
 headlong to the ground. The Count's knights spurred 
 in to the rescue ; but the Count, bruised and terrified, 
 cried for quarter, and offered to surrender his sword. 
 With a look of disdain, Edward turned away, aad or- 
 dered an English soldier to receive the weapon. Mean- 
 while, the English bowmen had driven the Count's 
 infantry from the field; and brought the struggle to a 
 termination little anticipated by their assailants. 
 
 After this conflict, which was long remembered as 
 " the little war of Chalons," Edward turned his steps 
 homeward ; and, landing at Dover on the 2nd of Au- 
 gust, he prepared to enter London. Never before had 
 the English capital presented an aspect so gay. Wine 
 flowed without stint, the streets were hung with silken 
 cloths, arras, and tapestry, and the municipal func- 
 tionaries manifested their enthusiasm by throwing 
 handfuls of gold and silver from the windows. As 
 Edward and his fair spouse entered the city, the streets 
 rang with cheers ; and not until they had disappeared 
 within the Palace of Westminster did the populace 
 cease from displaying their enthusiasm. Nor was this 
 popularity evanescent. Ere long Simon de Montfort 
 was quite forgotten by his former idolaters ; and all 
 caps were in the air for " the good King Edward." 
 After a reign of thirty-five years, Edward was still the 
 hero of Englishmen ; and when he expired at Burgh- 
 on-the-Sands, his death was bewailed by the whole 
 nation. 
 
MAMELUKE SULTANS. 367 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MAMELUKE SULTANS. 
 
 The English chivalry having disappeared from Syria, 
 and the last of the great crusaders having had the 
 Confessor's crown placed on his brow in the abbey of 
 Westminster, Bibars Bendocdar resumed his career of 
 conquest in the East. 
 
 The Sultan was no longer restrained by fear of 
 arrivals from Europe. After Edward's crusade, every 
 attempt to rouse the old spirit proved abortive ; and 
 the condition of the kingdom of Jerusalem was by no 
 means enviable. Acre, indeed, was comparatively 
 secure : for, even in the event of the Sultan disre- 
 garding the treaty of 1272, the walls had been fortified 
 by Edward with such care, that the city was in a con- 
 dition to stand a siege. Other places, however, were 
 less fortunate ; and when Bibars resumed operations, 
 the Christians were much inclined to cry, as they had 
 done before Edward's arrival — " O Mussulmans, 
 spare us ! spare us ! " ^** 
 
 All this time the Christians in the East conducted 
 
 * " Iq a word," says Fuller, "his (Edward's) coming to 
 Ptolemais and assisting them there, was like a cordial given to a 
 dying man, which doth piece out his life (or death rather) a few 
 groans and as many gasps the longer." 
 
368 IHE CKUSADES AND THE CHUSADEHS. 
 
 themselves in such a way as could hardly fail ulti- 
 mately to render the remnant of their kingdom an easy 
 conquest. Even the succession to the sovereignty of 
 Jerusalem Avas a matter of dispute. The King of 
 Cyprus and the King of Sicily were both pretenders 
 to the crown ; and the adherents of each were foolish 
 enough to fight about the claim to a kingdom that 
 could no longer be said to exist. 
 
 It happened, however, that while the Syrian Chris- 
 tians were by their discord playing the Sultan's game, 
 their formidable foe did not sit easily on his throne or 
 in his saddle. In fact, Bibars Bendocdar having sacri- 
 ficed two sultans to his ambitious projects, had ever 
 been in dread of some Mameluke chief proving as un- 
 scrupulous as himself, and following the course which 
 had conducted him to power. His temper, naturally 
 jealous, became with years so much so, that the sim- 
 plest circumstance was sufHcient to excite his suspi- 
 cions, and the most trifling communication between 
 neighbors was concluded to be a conspiracy. 
 
 At length, wiiile engaged in w^ar with Albaga, King 
 of the Tartars, Bibars ordered enormous imposts to be 
 levied. Deep discontent was the consequence ; the 
 death of the Sultan was earnestly prayed for, as the 
 most desirable of events ; and hardly had the levy of 
 the tribute commenced, when Bibars Bendocdar, after 
 reigning seventeen years, was numbered with the dead. 
 The cause of the great Sultan's death has been 
 variously stated. One says that he expired from the 
 effects of a wound received in Armenia ; another, that 
 he died of cold caught while swimming the Euphrates ; 
 and a third, that he was poisoned. But, however that 
 
MAMELUKE SULTANS. 369 
 
 might have been, his name inspired awe and dread 
 even after Ufa had departed ; and men trembled around 
 the litter that bore his corpse from Damascus to Cairo. 
 His fame was of high account in the East , and he 
 could boast that, except showing the white feather in 
 presence of " our Edward," he never retreated before 
 the face of an enemy, nor sought to divest himself of 
 the odium of a crime. 
 
 When Bibars was carried off by death, his son was 
 placed on the throne of Cairo. But a revolution, ex- 
 cited by the Mamelukes, soon after occurred ; and 
 Kelaoun, the bravest of the emirs, was invested with 
 sovereign authority. 
 
 The new Sultan vowed to complete the work which 
 his predecessor had begun ; and the Christian states 
 were threatened with speedy ruin. At feud with each 
 other, and indifferent as to the fate of their neighbors, 
 the Christians formed no plan of defence. Castle 
 after castle, and fortress after fortress, fell into the 
 Sultan's hands ; and Tripoli having, after a siege of 
 more than a month, surrendered, w^as consigned to the 
 flames. 
 
 Acre, after the fall of Tripoli, stood almost alone to 
 bear the brunt of the battle ; and the Sultan not only 
 occupied himself with schemes for its destruction, but 
 appeared in a menacing attitude at the gates. But, 
 brave as he was, and flushed with victory, Kelaoun 
 hesitated to push matters to a crisis, and entertained 
 so serious a dread of the warriors of the West, that he 
 consented to a truce for two years. 
 
 Scai?cely had Kelaoun led his turbaned warriors 
 from the walls of Acre, when the vicious propensities 
 
370 THE CRUSADES AND THE CEUSADEKS. 
 
 of the wife of a rich citizen led to outrages that gave 
 the Sultan a pretext for renewing the war. It appears 
 that this lady had so far forgotten herself, as to be- 
 come enamoured of a young Saracen ; and, in defiance 
 of prudence and propriety, indulged him with meet- 
 ings in one of the gardens surrounding the city. The 
 husband, however, became aware of what was taking 
 place, and, in his anger, swore to be avenged. Sum- 
 moning a few of his friends, therefore, he walked out 
 of the gates, entered the gardens, surprised the amor- 
 ous pair, and sacrificed both to his outraged honor. 
 The shrieks of the lady attracted to the spot some 
 Saracens, who endeavored to avenge their country- 
 man. Swords were drawn, a scuffle ensued, and the 
 Christians being superior in number, soon laid every 
 Moslem dead on the ground. 
 
 News of this bloodshed was carried to Cairo. The 
 Sultan was not of course the man to tolerate such 
 proceedings, and he instantly demanded full satisfac- 
 tion. The Christians of Acre divided in opinion, and 
 reluctant to gratify the Sultan, despatched ambassa- 
 dors to Cairo to ofier, not satisfaction, but excuses and 
 presents, Kelaoun, after listening to the excuses and 
 rejecting the presents with contempt, sent back the 
 ambassadors to Acre with a threat that the Christians 
 should feel the full weight of his anger. 
 
 The ambassadors returned to Acre to render an 
 account of their mission : and Kelaoun prepared to 
 execute his threats. At his word, the signal for war 
 went through all his provinces ; and from the Nile to 
 the Euphrates, the Moslems were soon in motion. 
 
 But even Sultans are mortal, and Kelaoun was not 
 
MAMELUKE SULTAXS. 371 
 
 destined to live to anniiiilate the Christian state. When 
 about to set forth on his enterprise, he was attacked by 
 sickness, and soon became aware that his end was 
 approaching. ]\Iore fortunate in his offspring than 
 Noureddin, or Saladin, or Bibars Bendocdar, Kelaoun 
 had a son, Chalil, who was quite capable of grasping 
 the sceptre. Ere closing his eyes, Kelaoun summoned 
 his son, and conjured him, in presence of the emirs, 
 to pursue, without intermission, the war against the 
 Christians. 
 
372 THE CKUSADES AND THE CRUSADEKS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CITY OF REFUGE. 
 
 While Kelaoun was yielding up bis breath at Cairo, 
 and ChaUl was^promising to execute bis father's dying 
 command, and imans were imprecating the curses of 
 Mahomet on the Christians of the East, Acre warned 
 of the impending peril, was astir and preparing. 
 
 The inhabitants of Acre were not without encour- 
 agement, so far as the sovereigns of Christendom were 
 concerned, to present a brave front to the gathering 
 foe. Henry de Lusignan, King of Cyprus, landed 
 with hundreds of warriors to fight for the remnants 
 of that kingdom which he claimed ; John de Gresli 
 came from France to represent Philip the Fair; and 
 from England, Otho de Grandison, who had accom- 
 panied the great Edward in the last crusade, arrived 
 to intimate that, whenever the Conqueror of Evesham 
 could be spared from Europe, he would come to de- 
 fend the city which he had formerly saved. 
 
 On hearing of Kelaoun^s death, the Christians in- 
 dulged in vague hopes of the danger passing over. But, 
 about the beginning of April, 1291, their delusions on 
 this point were dispelled by the appearance of Chalil 
 on that plain which a century earlier, had been occupied 
 by Saladin. The army of the young Sultan presented 
 
THE CITY OF KEFUGE. 373 
 
 a most formidable aspect. Two hundred thousand men, 
 sixty thousand of whom were mounted, ranged them- 
 selves around the Sultan's banner ; and, covering 
 several leagues of ground, extended from Mount 
 Carmel to the sea. With them came three hundred 
 machines of war, one of which was so large that a 
 hundred chariots were scarcely sufficient for its trans- 
 portation. 
 
 After the Grand Master of the Temple had made 
 an ineffectual attempt to negotiate, and been accused 
 of " treachery " for so doing, the Sultan roused the 
 ardor of his soldiers ; and, despatching his emirs to 
 possess themselves of Tyre, Sidon, and the other 
 Christian cities, he prepared to commence the siege 
 of Acre. The inhabitants at first, exhibited high 
 courage, and arranged themselves in four divisions. 
 One of these was commanded by the Grand Master of 
 the Templars ; another by the Grand Master of the 
 Hospital ; a third, consisting of Englishmen and 
 Frenchmen, was commanded by Otho de Grandison 
 and John de Gresli ; and a fourth, composed of the 
 fighting men of Syria and the warriors from the isles 
 of the Mediterranean, by the King of Cyprus. Each 
 of these divisions was charged with the defence of 
 certain towers and ramparts ; the King of Cyprus 
 taking his post at the tower and gate of St. Anthony, 
 on the east of the city. 
 
 The siege at length commenced ; and the Moslem 
 warriors, fighting under the Sultan's eye, pursued the 
 operations with incredible vigor, while the Christians 
 conducted the defence in such a way as to inflict much 
 loss on their assailants. The machmes of the besiegers 
 
 32 
 
374 THE CKUSADES AND THE CBUSADEES. 
 
 not only hurled fire-pots and leaden balls, but huge 
 stones, which, when they^fell, shook palaces and 
 houses to their foundations ; but the Christians re- 
 taliated with a vigor which cost many thousands of 
 the besiegers their lives, and caused the Sultan grave 
 doubts as to the issue of the conflict. United by a 
 feeling of common danger, and not without hope of 
 aid from Europe, the besieged hurled arrows, darts, 
 and stones with destructive effect from the walls ; 
 and, ever and anon, made sorties with such skill and 
 courage, as to carry carnage and confusion into the 
 ranks of their adversaries. 
 
 The success of these adventurous sallies inspired 
 the crusaders with a dangerous degree of temerity ; 
 and, on one occasion, carried away by enthusiasm, 
 they penetrated into the Saracen camp. The exploit 
 was fatal in its results. While some were repulsed 
 with slaughter, others, encompassed by countless foes, 
 were cut down ; and the Moslem cavalry, fastening 
 the heads of the slain round the necks of their horses, 
 went to exhibit them to the Sultan as trophies of 
 victory. 
 
 But though at first, the crusaders fought with the 
 utmost ardor, their zeal, as weeks passed, began to 
 cool. Their courage was exhausted by fatigue ; their 
 numbers rapidly diminished ; the struggle gradually 
 became more hopeless ; and the attacks of the be- 
 siegers grew more frequent. Many, under such cir- 
 cumstances, began to despair ; and, discouraging each 
 other by sinister predictions, exhibited anxiety to leave 
 a city which they could not defend. The quay was 
 daily crowded with numbers eager to depart ; and, to 
 
THE CITY OF EEFUGE. 375 
 
 the evil of desertion, was added dissention among 
 those in authority. There was no leader sufficiently- 
 elevated by genius and renown above the others to 
 command general obedience, and there was only one 
 man in Europe whose presence could have changed 
 the fate of the East. At that time the King of Eng- 
 land was too busily occupied with the consolidation of 
 the empire of the Bretwaldas to reconquer the king- 
 dom of the Baldwins ; and every day brought the last 
 refuge of the Christians of the East nearer its catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 The Sultan, having been a month before Acre, 
 became impatient of further delay. He therefore 
 announced his will that the city should be taken by 
 storm; and, on the 1st of May, the signal was given 
 for an assault. At daybreak the drums of the Sara- 
 cens, placed on three hundred camels, sent forth a 
 deafening sound ; the most formidable of those ma- 
 chines of war which had been brought from Cairo, 
 moved forward to batter the ramparts of St. Anthony, 
 and the Moslem soldiers, planting ladders at the base 
 of the walls, commenced the attack with the spirit of 
 men resolute to conquer or die. 
 
 At this point the King of Cyprus commanded, and 
 had the advantage of headino; soldiers who recognized 
 his authority. For the whole of that day he con- 
 ducted the defence so gallantly, that the Saracens 
 were kept at bay ; and when night suspended opera- 
 tions, they retreated without having gained any advan- 
 tage. Nevertheless, the King began to think more of 
 saving himself and his army than the city, and re- 
 solved on getting away. Eetiring in the evening, 
 
37G THE CEUSADES AND THE CETJSADEKS. 
 
 under pretext of taking repose, he promised to re- 
 sume his post at daybreak ; but, meanwhile, he em- 
 barked with all his soldiers, ordered his sails to be 
 hoisted, and steered towards his insular dominion. 
 
 When morning dawned, and the desertion of the 
 King of Cyprus became known, the crusaders loudly 
 expressed their indignation. The Saracens, becoming 
 aware of the circumstance, redoubled their exertions, 
 and battered the walls with rams till a breach was 
 made. A fearful conflict now took place ; Christian 
 and Saracen fighting hand to hand, and steel to steel. 
 No quarter was asked or given ; on all sides scenes of 
 valor and despair were enacted ; and when night 
 closed over the city, two thousand crusaders had 
 been added to the previous carnage. 
 
 Nevertheless, the Sultan felt as if the prize were 
 about to elude his grasp. Acre appeared not one city, 
 but a number of cities within one wall, all of which 
 were defended by their inhabitants ; and these, having 
 been once more addressed by the Patriarch, were 
 girding themselves up for a desperate effort. More- 
 over, the Templars and Knights of St. John were 
 determined to struggle to the last, and were hourly 
 performing prodigies of valor. William de Clermont, 
 marshal of the Knights of St. John, won particular 
 distinction, presenting himself wherever the danger 
 was greatest, and leading on the Christians to the de- 
 struction of their foes. The Sultan, astonished at the 
 obstinacy of the defence, began to lose hope ; but, 
 influenced by imans and renegades, he held to his 
 purpose ; and, while threatening with the severest 
 punishment all who should fly from the face of a 
 
THE CITY OF EEEUGE. 877 
 
 Christian, promised high rewards to any one who 
 should plant the standard of the Prophet, not on the 
 walls, but in the heart of the Christian city. 
 
 Having thus endeavored to profit at once by the 
 hopes and fears of his soldiers, Chalil, on the morning 
 of the 4th of May, gave the signal for a decisive 
 attack. Led by the Sultan, and animated by his 
 presence, the Saracens stormed the gate of St. 
 Anthony, now defended by the Templars, and, with- 
 out regard to the loss they sustained, pushed on the 
 attack with frenzied courage. The crusaders fought 
 more fiercely than ever ; but it was of no avail. The 
 Saracens pursued the attack with an impetuosity that 
 defied resistance, beat down the ramparts and rushed 
 into the breach. 
 
 The Knights of the Temple were now in despair. 
 Their valor, however, was proof against the peril they 
 had to front. Resolving to attack the enemy's camp, 
 they formed in order, and sallied furiously out with 
 lances in rest. But it was rashly done. Encountered 
 by superior numbers, they were driven back after a 
 sanguinary conflict ; and had scarcely reached the 
 ramparts, when the Grand Master, struck with an 
 arrow, fell mortally wounded in the midst of his 
 knights. A few hundreds of warriors now remained 
 to guard the gate ; and these fell back before the 
 press of a multitude of foes, fiery with fanaticism and 
 lavish of blood. 
 
 The elements seemed to conspire with the Sultan to 
 strike dismay and terror into the hearts of the Chris- 
 tians. As the day advanced, gloom spread over the 
 sky, and gradually deepened mto such darkness that 
 
 32* 
 
378 THE CHUSADES AND THE CRUSADERS. 
 
 men could hardly distinguish friends from foes. At the 
 same time, a tempest burst with fearful violence on the 
 city, adding to the consternation and confusion. 
 
 At this stage, when despair was in every heart, and 
 when the destruction of Acre was inevitable, one man 
 appeared to cherish hope. Rallying some fugitives, 
 and shouting his battle-cry, William de Clermont, 
 marshal of St. John, spurred towards the gate of 
 St. Anthony, which had just been abandoned. With 
 shouts of defiance, and almost alone, he couched his 
 spear and penetrated several times into the ranks of 
 the Saracens. Returning alive, he rode to the market- 
 place, and seemed bent on new adventures. But his 
 steed, jaded and fatigued, stood still, unable to move ; 
 and the gallant Marshal, pierced with an arrow, sunk 
 in the heart of the city of which he had been the 
 bravest defender. 
 
 The Christians now perceived that the struggle was 
 over ; and, animated by the instinct of self-preserva- 
 tion, they crowded to the quay in the hope of escaping. 
 But this was no easy matter. The ships in the port 
 were too few to convey the multitude who rushed to 
 embark ; and the sea was so agitated by the storm, 
 that the ships could not approach the shore. The 
 consequence w^as a scene of unspeakable horrors. 
 Everybody was imploring the aid, which few were 
 in a position to render. Wives were calling on their 
 husbands ; mothers on their sons ; children on their 
 parents. Many, becoming desperate, threw themselves 
 into the bay, and sunk in attempting to swim to the 
 ships, or yielded to their fate, when beaten off from 
 the sides. Noble ladies, whose brothers and sires had 
 
THE CITY OF EEFUGE. 379 
 
 fallen during the siege, appeared on tlie quay, ofTcring 
 their diamonds and jewels to be saved, and even se- 
 curing a passage from the sacked city by promising the 
 mariners to become their wives, if carried beyond the 
 reach of the infidels>- 
 
 The Patriarch of Jerusalem had nobly done his 
 duty during the siege, and appeared to regard calmly 
 the prospect of dying amid the ruins of the city. 
 The friends of the venerable man, however, carried 
 him to the quay and placed him securely in his vessel. 
 Unfortunately, the charity of the Patriarch moved him 
 to receive on board all who implored his protection ; 
 and, the vessel sinking under its load, all on board 
 found a watery grave. While this was occurring, 
 the Sultan's cavalry, galloping down to the harbor, 
 chased the multitude into the water ; and the weapons 
 of the Saracens speedily despatched such of the Chris- 
 tians as hesitated to trust themselves to the waves of 
 the sea. 
 
 By this time the conflict was deluging every street 
 with blood. The Christian warriors disputed the 
 ground foot by foot ; and, on all sides, corpses lay 
 
 ♦ " It is strange -what is reported," says Fuller, " that about 
 five hundred matrons and virgins of noble blood, standing on 
 the shore, and having all their richest jewels with them, cried 
 out with lamentable voice, and proffered to any mariner that 
 would undertake safely to land them anjnvhere, all their wealth 
 for his hire, and also that he should choose any one of them for 
 his wife. Then a certain mariner came, and transporting them 
 all freely, safely landed them in Cyprus; nor by any inquiry 
 could it be known, when he was sought for to receive his hii"e, 
 who this mariner was, nor whither he went." 
 
380 THE CEUSA.DES AND THE CKIJSADERS. 
 
 in heaps. At every church, palace, and public edifice, 
 the crusaders made a stand ; and when they saw 
 these places taken, one after another, by the Saracens 
 and given to the flames, they threw themselves, with 
 desperate intent, into the castle of the Templars. 
 
 On learning the situation of the warriors who had 
 escaped the swords of his soldiers, the Sultan caused 
 the castle of the Templars to be besieged 5 and sol- 
 diers, instructed to put all within to the sword, sur- 
 rounded the stronghold. For several days, the knights 
 maintained themselves with desperate valor ; and, 
 driven to the tower of the Grand Master, attempted to 
 resist their fate. But, the tower, having been under- 
 rained, was utterly insecure, and, while the Sara- 
 cens were mounting to an assault, the structure gave 
 way with a fearful crash. The Christian knights, 
 their Moslem assailants, and many women and children, 
 who had there sought an asylum, all perished beneath 
 the ruins. 
 
 The long struggle was now at an end ; and Acre in 
 the hands of the Sultan. Destruction, however, was 
 the policy of the Saracens in regard to all that the 
 Christians had reared. Churches, towers, and ram- 
 parts, were demolished ; palaces and public edifices 
 were given to the flames ; and everything was de- 
 stroyed, likely to again attract the warriors of the 
 West to the coast of Syria. 
 
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