THE murderers of the last of the Ayoubites having, after much hesitation, arrived at the decision of maintaining 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 Moslem 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 crusaders, he used one argument which appealed to the cupidity of his audience. M 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 captivity, were ordered to Damietta. The gold covenanted 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 potentates 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 utmost 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 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 Christian shepherds and herdsmen, and to march at their head, to deliver our King. Follow me, then; for the battle is not to the strong, but reserved, on this occasion, for the humble and the weak."
Fascinated by the eloquence and mystery of this man, the shepherds and herdsmen flocked to his standard: 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, determined 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 glided 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 the sword. Nor was this the worst; for the peasantry, 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 profound 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 immediately entered on the subject.
"Ah, Seneschal! " said the King, mournfully, " I have lost my mother."
"Sire," replied Joinville, "lam not surprised at it; for you know death must come sometime. But I am surprised that so great a prince should grieve so outrageously; 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 he was leaving Louis, "I entreat you to wait on the Queen to comfort her; for she is in marvellous great grief."
"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 Queen; "but it is for my lord, who is in such melancholy, 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 dominions. In the autumn of that year, the Saint-king arrived 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 multiplied disasters.
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From John G. Edgar
The Crusades and the Crusaders, 1860
