A Thirteenth-Century Minstrel's Chronicle, a translation by Robert Levine of the Récits d'un ménestrel de Reims, a thirteenth-century historical fiction, Mellen Press, Lewiston, 1990.
Introduction (for footnotes see the published edition)
Although Villehardouin, Joinville and Froissart have received some attention lately, most thirteenth and fourteenth-century vernacular French texts of an historical nature, both in verse and in prose, are unknown to modern readers. Ambroise has been translated in a volume long out of print, while Primat, the Minstrel of Rheims, Philippe de Mouskes, Guiart, Jean d'Outremeuse, Cuvelier, and others have neither been translated nor recently edited. As a result, modern readers without Middle French must base their impressions about the period primarily upon three works designed for the use of courtly aristocrats, or powerful ecclesiatics. The purpose of this translation is to introduce another perspective.
Probably composed in the early 1260's, by a man know only as the minstrel of Rheims, the Récits d'un Menestral de Reims offers, in its only modern edition, 247 pages of vernacular prose devoted to various historical events and characters. Unreliable, entertaining, and difficult to classify, it does not even have a title to which it can incontrovertibly lay claim. To call it a chronicle of Flanders or of Rheims, as some early readers did, leads to problems, since most of the text concerns France and England. Its opening indicates an interest in European adventures in the Near East, but it comes back to events on the continent, in various parts of what today amounts to France, England, Belgium, Spain, Italy, and Germany. A certain amount of specific detail is devoted to activities at Rheims. In addition, to call the Récits a chronicle is misleading, since history in the middle ages was a branch of grammar and rhetoric -- that is, it was literature.
Exactly what kind of literature the Minstrel intended ot produce is not entirely clear, since any title or introduction he may have given his work has not survived. His editor was troubled by the Minstrel's willingness to do anything to get a laugh, and by the fact that his subject matter clearly resembles what jongleurs tend to offer: marvelous events and catastrophic disasters. The cavalier confusion of dates, characters, and places gives his text qualities to be found generally in historical fiction, and in chansons de gestes and romans particularly. Details combine, recombine, are invented or suppressed, in order not to conform to the needs of historians with scientific aspirations, but, in typically medieval fashion, to the needs and abilities of a specific author and a specific audience.
Some of the minstrel's deviations from fact (that is, names, dates, chronologies about which no controversy exists) may be attributed to carelessness or incompetence, and some to purposes that remain resolutely mysterious after more than 700 years. In some cases, however, the Minstrel deviates not necessarily from fact, but from other texts. Since we do not know exactly what texts, if any, he had before him as he composed, studying sources and analogues in this instance can only reveal something about the different intentions, sensibilities, and perspectives of the writers who treated the same characters and events. In addition, however, what the Minstrel does with his materials may reveal something about the way writers of popular historical literature in the thirteenth century, and perhaps in the Middle Ages generally, composed their texts.
Exactly or even roughly who the minstrel was is impossible to tell. By inference from the text of the Récits we may conclude that he drew upon both oral and written material. Bu inference also we may establish that his perspective was compounded out of two major problems: he had to protect himself against royal displeasure, and he had to please a heterogeneous, urban, if not necessarily urbane, audience. His performance lends further support to Jacques LeGoff's assertion that a shift in social perspective among writers of historical texts occurred between the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. However, the Récits also provides an opportunity to examine an exception to the rule that French vernacular history in the thirteenth century reflected an attempt on the part of the aristocracy to "deproblematize" (Spiegel) aristocratic culture, since his attitude towards the aristocracy is skeptical at best.
In the process of his performance, the Minstrel pursues a not very well-hidden agenda, consisting of three items: to praise the Capetians, with the bulk of the panegyric bestowed upon Philip-Augustus; to castigate enemies of the Capetians, both internal and external; and to castigate almost all ecclesiastical figures.
In pursuing the first item on his agenda, the Minstrel devotes more than half of his text to a categorical, uncritical laus Philipi Augusti. In the process he fabricates victories where there were no battles, elides Philips's problems with women and the consequent difficulties with legitimatizing Agnes' children, and makes no mention of the negative actions attributed to the king by Rigord, who complained, for example, that in 1198 Philip treated the church badly, and permitted the Jews to return. Not only does he suppress Rigord's charges, but he fabricates the pious fiction of Philip Augustus making his will on his death-bed, leaving equal thirds to the poor and to the Holy Land. In addition the Minstrel lengthens Philip's reign from 43 to 47 years, apparently to magnify the king's glory, and he assigns his coronation to the age of 14 instead of 16, making him even more of a Wunderkind.
Fabricating accomplishments, exaggerating numbers, and suppressing unfavorable material, however, are not the minstrel's primary strategies for producing panegyric. He also composes dramatic scenes for the purpose of encomium (as he does in other instances to fuel his diatribe), drawing upon material with some basis in historical reality. One of the clearest illustrations of this technique is the incident in which Philip's momentary halt on the way to the battle of Bouvines, represented by only three words -- modici quieti vacaret -- in William the Breton's text, becomes a full-scale dramatic scene.
Panegyric, however, does not often make for interesting, appealing characters, and the Minstrel's Philip is no exception. On the other hand, Philip's enemy, Richard the Lion-Hearted emerges as a more appealing character, since his energy, generosity, and rashness more closely fit the heroic mold developed in chansons de geste and romans. Saladin also emerges as an appealing figure, a noble pagan, like Rainouart or Wolfram von Eschenbach's Feirefiz.
The portrait that emerges from the Minstrel's performance, however, is not sanguine: aristocrats are arrogant and self-destructive; clergymen are arrogant and greedy; the bourgeoisie share the same tendencies, but are less dangerous because still less powerful than the other two groups. The majority of people, those working the land, do not count at all. Disenfranchised politically, economically, and socially, they have no narrative value at all for the Minstrel.
The Translation
I
After Godfrey of Boulogne and the nobility of France had conquered Antioch and Jerusalem, restoring Christianity where it had long been cast out, Christians won no victories against the Saracens in the land of Tyre, except for their retaking of Acre in the time of Saladin, and in the time of king Philip, whom you have heard mentioned earlier, and of Constantinople, which the blind duke of Venice conquered.
Sometime after the death of king Godfrey and king Baldwin, his brother, who were consecutive kings of Jerusalem, there was a king in France whose name was Raoul le Justiciers. He was so named because he carried out justice very well, nor did he tie malefactors to his purse strings, as evil princes do, who are eager for fighting and doing ill, in order to fill their purses, unmindful of Scripture, where David the prophet says: "Always make just judgements."
King Raoul had two sons by his wife, of whom the elder was named Robert, and the younger Louis. Robert had very little understanding, and was quite stupid. Louis was more intelligent, and had more understanding. When the king their father died, paying the debt that we all must pay, the barons and peers held a meeting, to make the elder brother king of France. However, there was one peer who was very wise and mature, who said: "Noble men, if you follow my advice, we shall make Louis, who has wisdom and understanding, king, since you can see very clearly that Robert has no understanding, and if you make him king, the kingdom will grow weak, and discord will arise among us. For we and the people have a very great need for a king in France to rule the kingdom, and you know very well how things are with my lord Robert. And God knows that I am not saying this for my own benefit, since the younger means no more to me than the elder. Do what God instructs you is best to do."
"Indeed," the barons and peers said to him, "we think that you have spoken well, and you have offered good reasons for what you have said." They all agreed to the younger one, and he was crowned king at Rheims, where he was anointed with the holy vial that God sent from the heavens to saint Remigius. Then they made of sir Robert a count of Dreux, who thought himself well-off, since he did not understand what this meant. The Robertines descend from this Robert, and they still say that they were done out of the kingdom, because he was the elder.
II
Let us return now to our subject. The barons agreed that the king should marry, and they gave him the duchess Eleanor, who was a very evil woman. She held Maine, Anjou, Poitou, Limoge, and Touraine, and easily three times the land held by the king. Now it happened that he wanted to go beyond the seas, to deliver the holy Land from the hands of the Saracens. He took the cross, and gathered many men, and they prepared their expedition. Embarking upon the sea at St. John's Day, they sailed for a month at the mercy of the winds, arriving at Tyre, for that was the only land held by Christians in Syria. He remained there for the entire next winter, and did nothing but spend his resources.
When Saladin perceived that he was weak and hesitant, he offered battle several times, but the king would not engage in a fight. When queen Eleanor saw the king's weakness, and she heard men speak of the goodness and strength and understanding and generosity of Saladin, she conceived a great passion for him in her heart, and she sent him greetings through one of her interpreters. He understood that, if he could arrange for her escape, she would take him as her lord, and would give up her faith. When Saladin understood the letter she had sent him through her interpreter, he was very pleased, for he knew that she was the most aristocratic and wealthiest lady in Christendom. Therefore he had a galley prepared, and brought from Ascalon, where he was, to Tyre, together with the interpreter. They arrived at Tyre a bit before midnight.
By means of a hidden gate, the interpreter climbed up to the queen's bedroom, where she was waiting for him. Wheny she saw him, she said: "What news?" "Lady," he said, "look at the galley that stands ready and waiting for you. Hurry, before we are seen." "My word," said the queen, "this has been done well." She quickly took with her two women, and two boxes full of gold and silver, intending to have them brought to the galley. When one of her ladies saw what was happening, she left her bedroom as quietly as possible, going to the bed of the king, who was asleep, waking him, and saying to him: "Sir, unfortunately the queen intends to go to Ascolon with Saladin, and his boat is waiting for her in the harbor. For God's sake, sir, hurry."
When the king heard this, he jumped up, got dressed, went out and ordered his entourage to arm themselves, and he went off to the harbor. There he found the queen, with one foot in the galley, and he took her by the hand, and brought her back to her room. The king's entourage captured the galley and its crew, for they were too surprised to defend themselves.
The king asked the queen why she wanted to do this, and she replied: "In the name of God, because you are not worth much. I heard so much about Saladin that I love him better than I love you. Be sure that you understand that you will never hold me." The king quickly departed, leaving her heavily guarded, and decided to return to France, for his money was running out, and in the East he had acquired only dishonor.
He set out again on the sea, together with the queen, and returned to France, where he consulted with all his barons about what to do with the queen. After he told them what she had done, the barons said: "My God, the best advice we can give you is to let her go, since she is a devil, and we fear that, if you keep her any longer, she will have you killed. In addition, she has given you no child." The king foolishly agreed, and carried out this plan; he should have cloistered her, so that his land would have remained great all his life, and the disasters of which you are about to hear would not have taken place.
The king returned queen Eleanor to her land, and she immediately sent for king Henry of England, who had ordered saint Thomas of Canterbury killed. He came willingly, married her, and did homage to the king for the very sizeable land that he took over. Henry took Eleanor back to England, and kept her until he had three sons with her, of whom the eldest was named Henry Courtmantel, a fine and competent knight, who, however, did not live long. The second was named Richard, a fine, competent, generous, chivalrous man, and the third was named John, an evil, treacherous man, who did not believe in God.
III
At this point we shall set aside, for the moment, the topic of king Henry and his sons, to talk about king Louis, who was without a wife. His barons told him that Henry, count of Champagne, a generous man, had a lovely, refined daughter, whose name was Alix; she was the sister of archbishop William Blanchemain, who was a powerful man in those days; he is the man who reestablished the magistracy at Rheims.
"Sir," said the barons, "we advise you to take her as your wife, for we do not see how you can do any better." The king believed them, and told count Henry to send him his daughter, and he would take her as his wife. The count willingly sent her to him, and the king married her. Their son was baptized Philip, and he was a very fine man, and their daughter was named Agnes. The son grew up, and when he reached the age of sixteen, the king his father saw that the child was wise and strong, and he knew that he himself was weak and old, little respected in his kingdom and scarcely feared by his enemies. It was his wish, and his advisers supported him in this, that his son be crowned at Rheims, and he had everything prepared that was proper for a royal coronation, and Philip was crowned at Rheims on All Saints' Day, in the year of the incarnation of Our Lord 1181, by his uncle, archbishop William Blanchemain. At the dinner, king Henry of England, on his knees, served him, and cut his food for him.
A little later, king Louis, his father, who was called God's Paw, lay down on his death bed, and submitted to death. He was given an elaborate burial, alongside his father, king Raoul le Justicier, in Saint Denis of France. King Philip then began to rule the land, and continually added to it, and this was certainly necessary, since he had no more than 60,000 pounds of income from the land he inherited.
IV
Now I shall tell you of Henry Courtmantel, the eldest son of king Henry of England, who heard that king Philip had a lovely, refined sister. He asked his father to send to king Philip to ask for his sister, that he might marry her. The king replied that he would certainly do this, and he sent a letter, and ten fine, wise knights. They crossed the sea, and found king Philip at Monloon (Laon), and they greeted him in the name of king Henry, and they gave him the letter. The king had it read, and he understood it, and he told the emissaries that he would gladly send her. He had her outfitted splendidly, like the daughter of a king, and the sister of a king, and he gave her gold, silver, and many knights and young women. They took leave of the king and crossed the sea, coming to London, where they found king Henry, who made a great feast in honor of the arrival of the young woman. But his son, Henry Courtmantel, had not yet returned to England, for he was in Scotland, on important business.
Meanwhile, treacherous king Henry turned his attentions to the young woman, and lay with her. When Henry Courtmantel returned and discovered the truth about what had happened, he became so enraged that he took to his bed and died. The young woman was sent back beyond the sea, and arrived in Poitou, where she remained for a long time, not daring to show herself, because of her disgrace, to her brother, king Philip.
Now it happened that the count of Poitou died, and his son, a good-looking young man, who was a cleric, inherited the land of Poitou. He heard of this woman who had come to stay in his country, and he arranged to talk with her, and he finally offered to take her as his wife, if she were willing, and if her brother agreed to the match. After their conversation, the count did not forget the stick or the fire, but he went directly to king Philip, and said: "Sir, with your permission, I would like to take your sister as my wife, to be the countess of Poitou."
When the king heard him speak, he thought for a moment, and the replied: "By the lance of saint [ James, Philips' favorite oath, as other texts testify. ] I would be very pleased if you took her." The count left at once, well satisfied with the king's response, and he came to the lady, reporting that the king had agreed. Very pleased with him, she married the count, and became a very good, wise woman. She and the count loved each other, and they had a lovely, charming daughter, who was married to count Simon, the blood brother of count Renaud of Boulogne. They had three daughters, of whom one became queen of Spain, another the countess of Wales, and the third countess of Roucy.
At this point let us set aside the count and countess of Poitou, and return to king Philip, who was now twenty years old, and who had not yet forgotten the great shame that king Henry had inflicted upon his sister. One day he was at Beauvais, and king Henry was at Gerbroys, an abbey of black monks four leagues from Beauvais.
When king Philip learned this, he was very happy, because he thought that he might possibly take vengeance. He arranged for his knights and his people to eat early, had the horses fed, and, at vespers, he had his men arm themselves, without telling them what he was planning to do. They rode until they reached Gerbroys, where king Henry was lodged. Before he had gone to sleep, king Philip entered the room in which Henry was on his elbows (praying, presumably) on a bed.
When king Philip saw him, he drew his sword and ran at him directly, intending to cut his head open. A knight leaped between them, and deflected the blow. King Henry jumped up in fright, and fled into a bedroom, locking the door firmly. When king Philip saw that he had missed, he was very sorry, and he returned to Beauvais, because staying would do him no good.
When king Henry knew that it was king Philip who wanted to kill him, he said: "Ah, now I have lived too long, if this French brat, son of the wretched king, has come to kill me." King Henry jumped up, took a horse's bridle, went off in despair to rooms set aside for entertainment where, filled with anger, he strangled himself with the reins of the bridle.
When his entourage saw that the king was not with them, they looked everywhere, until they found him strangled to death, with the reins of the bridle around his neck. They were terribly shocked, and they took him, picked him up, and placed him in his bed. They told the people that he had died suddenly, but it doesn't often happen that such a thing happens to such a man without anyone knowing about it; what the entourage knows is not often kept hidden.
The body of the king was prepared for burial, and was carried to Rouen in Normandy, where it was buried in the mother church. Now I shall leave you to speak of king Henry, and I shall speak of his son king Richard, who arrived in the land. He was strong, brave, courtly, generous, and a fine knight, who participated in tourneys in the area between France and Poitou, where he did so well so often that everyone spoke well of him.
V
Let us, at this point, turn from king Richard, to speak of Amalric of Jerusalem, who died at this time, without an heir. The kingdom fell to one of his sisters, who was in the land of Jerusalem, and was married to lord Guy of Lusignan, who was a fine man, but not of royal lineage. Guy, of whom I am speaking, became king because the kingdom fell to his wife; he ruled for a while, like the fine man that he was, and the queen ruled like a fine woman.
It happened that the barons of that land, that is, the marquis of Montferrat, the count of Tripoli, the lord of Beirut, and the lord of Sidon, were jealous of king Guy, and they urged the patriarch of Jerusalem to take the kingdom from king Guy, because, they said, he was not worthy of being king. They did not do this in good faith, but because each wished to be king of Jerusalem. The patriarch agreed, and went to the queen, saying to her: "Lady, you should abandon your husband, for he is not sufficiently wise to hold and to govern the kingdom of Jerusalem."
When the queen heard the patriarch, she was much surprised, and she said to him: "Sir, how can I leave my husband, whom I have loyally married, and who is a fine man?" "Madam," he said, "you may easily do it, for if you do not, the kingdom will be destroyed, and will fall into the hands of the Saracens. See how wise and powerful Saladin is, who is only waiting for discord between you and your barons." "My God," said the queen, "you have responsibility for my soul, and are the apostle's vicar on this side of the sea, and you urge me neither to despise God nor my lord." "Lady," said the patriarch, you speak well, and we shall see in what way we can do better, so that things will turn out better for you."
It was decided by the barons that the queen would stand, on a certain day, in the church of the Holy Cross, which was the cathedral of Acre, and would hold the royal crown in her hand, and all the barons would surround her; he on whose head she placed the crown would become king. The king himself, who was her husband, was there also, and all the barons of the kingdom surrounded him. The queen was in the midst of them all, and she looked at them, and said: "My lord patriarch, and you, all noble barons, you have decided that the man on whose head I place the crown that I hold in my hand shall become king." They all replied that this was true.
"Now I want all of you to swear on the precious body of Our Lord, and you, sir patriarch, swear that you will never compel me to take another lord." The patriarch and all the barons swore to the oath devised by the queen, and she made a sign with her left hand, commended herself to God, and went directly to where she saw her lord, king Guy, and placed the crown on his head, saying to him: "Sir, I do not see here a great man more faithful than you, nor one who better deserves to be king of Jerusalem. I grant and bestow upon you the crown and the kingdom, as well as myself and my love."
VI
When the patriarch and the barons who were present saw what the queen had done, they were very surprised, since each one thought that the crown would belong entirely to him. They quickly departed and held a treacherous meeting, which resulted in their telling king Saladin to meet them secretly, on a certain day in a certain place, for his advantage. Saladin, a wise and generous man, met them, and told them: "Gentlemen, you have asked me here; tell me your pleasure."
"Sir," replied the count of Tripoli, "we shall tell you. You know, of course, that king Amalric is dead; the kingdom is in the hands of his sister and her husband, who is not the kind of man who should control such a kingdom. The queen is not willing to follow our advice or that of the patriarch; if you are willing, we shall turn the land over to you, for the king is foolish and wretched, and has no power without us."
When Saladin heard these words, he was very pleased, and he said: "Gentlemen, if I were sure of you in this matter, I would give you more money from my coffers than you would ever dare to take." "Sir," said the count of Tripoli, "we are prepared to offer whatever security you wish." "By Mahomet, my God," said Saladin, "you speak well. You will all swear, on your law, and you will do more: we all shall make a pledge, and drink each other's blood, to establish an alliance, and we shall all be united."
Everything was done exactly as Saladin determined, and they all made their oaths together, drinking each other's blood. They agreed among themselves about the day on which Saladin would come before Acre, together with his army, but he would not show all of his people. Instead, he would challenge king Guy to fight. The traitors said that they would advise the king to fight, "and we shall promise to aid him loyally. When we are all ready to fight, we shall lower our banners, and remain still, and you will be easily able to do what you wish to do with the king and his people."
As soon as the meeting to organize this mortal betrayal ended, Saladin went back to his own country, and the traitors returned to their lands. Saladin secretly summoned his army, and set out for Acre. When king Guy learned of his approach, he became very worried, and he had letters written, and he sent them to all of his barons and his liege-men, and to all those who could bear arms. He assembled as many men as he could, but they were not equal to the army that Saladin had assembled in two divisions.
When the barons of the land of Tyre had assembled before Acre, king Guy came to them and said: "Gentlemen, I have come to you, to ask, in the name of God, and because it is your duty, that you give me loyal advice, to defend and uphold the kingdom of Jerusalem. For you see that Saladin is here with a great many men, and I am but a single man. Such as I am, I am your lord, and you are all my men and my vassals. Therefore all my trust is placed in you, and I very much want you to know that I wish to put all of my trust in your advice."
The count of Tripoli, who had plotted all of this treachery, replied: "Sir, your words are wise, and we are all ready to defend the kingdom, ourselves, you, and our honor, and we shall behave in such a way that neither God nor the world could ask more of us." When the king heard the count of Tripoli speak like this, he was very glad, and he went back to his tents, and prepared his men as well as he could. The barons came to speak to him frequently, showing excessive signs of love, and they said to him: "Sir, have no fear, were there twice as many on the other side, they would not be able to defeat us."
Trusting their words, the king waited until Saladin, three leagues from Acre, offered to fight him. The king said that he would consider it, and he sent for the count of Tripoli, the marquis of Montferrat, the lord of Beirut, the lord of Sidon, the guardian of Ascalon, and other barons of whose names I have no record. He said to them: "Gentlemen, I have sent for you because I wish to tell you that Saladin has challenged me to fight on saint John the Baptist's Day. I wish to consult with you about what to do, for I wish to do nothing without your assent. By God, advise me and yourselves in good faith, since his behavior towards me and towards you will be the same, and I have great faith in you."
The count of Tripoli, who was the highest ranking of them all, and the best speaker, replied to him: "Sir, I advise you to fight him, for I have no doubt whatsoever that you will be victorious. We are in the right, and he is in the wrong, and we have God on our side, and they do not." When the count of Tripoli had spoken, all the other traitors replied, saying: "Sir, the count of Tripoli gives you good advice, and we all agree with him." "By God," said the king, "since you are all in agreement, I shall not disagree."
Then the emissaries sent by Saladin were summoned, and they were told and assured that the fight would take place on the day requested. The emissaries left and returned to Saladin, and told him that king Guy and the barons of Tyre had agreed to fight. When the day for the fight arrived, the armies approached each other, and joined battle. The archers began to fire at each other, and there were many wounded and killed, and Saladin's archers retreated.
When Saladin saw this, he shouted to his men, and had the horns and trumpets sounded. The Turks roused themselves, cried out, and pushed forward against the Christians. The king and those around him gave them a hearty welcome, and many Saracens were struck, beaten, and killed. When Saladin saw the defeat of his first squadron, he was enraged, and sent forward the group he had kept hidden. They all struck together, surrounding them on all sides, so that none of them could move from the spot.
When king Guy saw himself surrounded, it was no miracle that he was frightened. He took heart, however, and cried out: "Holy Sepulchre!" and struck out among the Saracens, killing and striking down so many that all who caught sight of him laid down their arms and surrendered. Saladin then cried out, saying, "Count of Tripoli, count of Tripoli, keep your oath!" When the count heard Saladin, he had his banners lowered, as did all the other traitors, and none of them moved forward. When king Guy perceived his barons' treachery, his heart was in agony, and he said: "Ah, dear lord God, I am one of your servants, and am here on your errand, to defend Christianity. Lord, help us in our need, for I know that my barons have betrayed me."
Then he and his men struck out among them, and fought marvelously, but in vain, because there were too many Saracens, and his barons were weak. The king and all of his party were captured, and brought to prison in Babylon, and the traitors returned to their lands, and Saladin sent them much gold and silver. Saladin entered Acre, and there was no one to defend it, for all the defenders had been captured or killed, and the queen was in Tyre. The warden of Tyre guarded the city, and the queen had no power. The truth is that Saladin conquered all the land that the Christians had held, except for Tyre, for they were never able to take Tyre.
VII
Here let us turn from king Guy, who was in prison in Babylon, in great distress, and speak of Saladin, than whom no better Saracen ever put a foot in a stirrup. One day he was in Babylon, and he commanded that king Guy be brought before him, and he said to him: "King, now I have you, and I am going to have your head cut off." "Of course," said the king, it is your right and I have deserved it, because it is my fault that the land beyond the seas has been lost, and Christianity dishonored."
"By Mahomet," said Saladin, "that is not true. It is the fault of your barons who betrayed you and took my gold and my silver. I know very well that you are a fine, brave knight, and I shall be generous to you; I shall give you twenty knights, together with their horses, with arms and food, and you may do the best you can." Then Saladin had all the prisoners brought before him, and he said to the king: "Now take the twenty that you want." The king chose the twenty best and most faithful knights, and Saladin supplied them with arms, horses, and food, and they were brought to the gates of Tyre.
The king told the guardian of Tyre to open the gates and let him in, and the guardian told him that he could not enter, nor did he consider him his lord. When the king knew that he could not enter, he had his tent pitched, and remained there a while, unable to do anything. When the queen knew that her lord had set up camp in the field and could not enter the city, she was very unhappy, and she went to the guardian of Tyre and said to him: "Why, sir, why don't you let the king our lord enter, as you should?" "Be quiet, madam," said the guardian, I can do nothing for you, and if you speak about this any more, I shall make you very uncomfortable." Understanding that she had no power, the queen was silent, and went to her room, to think about what she might do.
She decided in her heart to order her women to let down a rope at night from the battlements. When a long, strong rope, that reached to the ground, had been prepared, she and one of her women climbed down. At the sixth hour they reached the tent of the king, who was asleep, and she woke him. When the king saw her, he was very happy, and they took great pleasure in each other, as a fine man and a fine woman should. The next day, when what the queen had done became known, she was much praised for what she had done. The king and the queen, together with their people, remained encamped before Tyre. His suffering there was great, for he could do nothing, but Saladin sent him bread, wine, and other foods, as he had agreed to do.
VIII
Here we shall turn from king Guy and his queen (may God protect them!), who have suffered much, and we shall tell you of the apostle Lucien, who lived at that time, and who received letters from the patriarch, telling him that the lands beyond the seas had been entirely lost to the king of Tyre. He was very much disturbed by this, and quickly sent legates to France, England, Germany, and all the lands under Roman authority, to preach a crusade. The legates were fine men and learned clerics, and they showed God's need clearly, and the people were pious, and eagerly took the cross.
King Philip took the cross, king Richard as well, count Philip of Flanders, count Henry of Champagne, the count of Blois, and many other nobles whose names are not given in my text. They prepared themselves well and at great expense, and embarked upon the sea in 54 ships, and sailed smoothly until they arrived at Tyre on a Wednesday morning. They disembarked, pitched their tents and pavilions, and laid siege to the city by land and sea.
When the guardian understood the situation, and saw that so many great lords had come to lay siege to the city, he told them that he would give Tyre up to them, on condition that they spare his life. King Philip and the other princes told him that they would do nothing of the kind, and if he did not give the city up within three days, he would have no chance to escape. When the guardian heard these words, he was very frightened, and he said that he would surrender the city, and put himself at the king's disposal. Thus the king gained entrance, and the city was surrendered, and the guardian was imprisoned for life.
All of the barons then consulted with each other, and they decided that they would go to lay siege to Acre, and they affirmed by oath that they would not leave until it had been taken. They quickly took down their pavilions and their tents, packed all their gear, and marched to Acre, where they pitched their tents and their pavilions. King Richard wanted to have the best location, and he received it, because he was the most powerful man, and had made the most costly preparations. He had more sterling to spend than the king of France had sous. They attacked the walls of the city many times, with catapults and battering rams, to no avail, for the Saracens burned their catapults and battering rams with Greek fire. Keep in mind the fact that king Philip never participated in the assault.
Thus the whole winter was spent without success. King Richard went to the islands to enjoy himself, and to see the ladies. King Philip did otherwise; he had many machines made beyond the sea, which were brought by boat before Acre, where they were set up quickly. They were all protected by lead against Greek fire, and they began to hurl large, flaming stones, which destroyed those whom they struck.
The Saracens became frightened, and the guardian of Acre, who was Saladin's man, sent a very old, wise Saracen to the top of the battlements, together with an interpreter, who pointed out to him the tents and pavilions of the leading barons, whom he named, and he said: "Sir, there is the tent of king Richard, and there the tent of count Philip of Flanders, and the tent of count Henry of Champagne, and all the tents of the other barons." The Saracen looked and saw the machines of king Philip, and said: "Who is that with those machines?" The interpreter replied: "those are the machines of king Philip of France." The Saracen said: "By Mahomet, we shall lose Acre because of these machines."
The next morning king Philip launched a powerful assault, and Bad Neighbor [The name of a siege-machine] launched a powerful stone; at each blow a section of the wall collapsed. The other barons followed suit, except for king Richard, who was on the island of Cyprus. Their assault and barrage was so powerful that those within the city could not resist them; Christians entered on all sides, and the city was taken. Many Saracens were killed and decapitated, and many were found dead of disease, rotting in the streets. King Philip then announced that the city should be cleaned of Saracen bodies, and the king's orders were carried out. Acre was free, and king Guy and the queen were restored to their power, as lords and masters.
IX
Now let us speak of king Richard, who was in Cyprus, where he received news from Acre that it had been captured. Almost out of his mind with rage, he went to Acre as quickly as he could, with envy and criminal intentions in his heart, because he knew that Acre had been conquered by king Philip. One day it happened that sir William of Barres was riding through Acre, and king Richard was also riding through the city. They met, and king Richard struck him with the truncheon of a long spear that he was holding, intending to knock him from his saddle.
The Barrois held fast, for he was an experienced knight, and he seized the king, as he tried to pass him, by the neck; spurring his own horse, he dragged the king from his saddle by brute strength, and then let go. Richard fell to the ground so painfully that his heart almost burst. For a long time he lay there stunned, without detectable pulse or breath. The Barrois quickly left, and went to the king's lodgings, where he told them of Richard's condition. When the king heard of this, he was troubled, and he had his men arm themselves, for he was very worried about King Richard.
When king Richard recovered from his coma, he had his Englishmen arm themselves, and he went to attack the quarters of king Philip. However, he did not find him surprised or unprepared, but instead, the king's men defended themselves well and vigorously, and there were many arrows launched and blows struck. Then count Henry and many other barons arrived, and they established a truce of three days, and in that time the matter was settled.
King Richard was very much disturbed that king Philip had won the honor of taking Acre, and he began to hate him, particularly because he had killed his father. He tried, with bribes, to poison the king, but by God's mercy he failed. When king Richard saw that he had failed, he approached the count of Flanders, the count of Champagne, and the count of Blois, and gave them so much of his sterling that they swore to kill Philip. They plotted how to kill him, but God, who never forgets his own people, sent an illness to count Philip, which caused his death. When he felt that he was dying, he sent for his godson, king Philip, and said to him:
"Dear godson, hang a rope and tie it around my neck, and have me drawn through all the streets of Acre, for I have deserved such treatment." When the king heard him speak like this, he thought that that the count had gone mad, and he said to him: "Dear godfather, what are you saying?" "In the name of God, I know very well what I am saying; be sure you understand, dear godson, that I have sworn to kill you, and so have your nephew, count Henry, and the count of Blois. Understand also that, unless you leave here immediately, you will be betrayed and killed." "Ah," said the king, "dear godfather, why did you agree to this?" "In the name of God, dear godson, they would have killed me otherwise."
Greatly disturbed, the king left the count, and thought all night long about what he should do. He decided to call all the knights to a dinner at his court three days later. He prepared a great feast, as was appropriate for a king's court, but he did not forget what count Philip had told him. Secretly he prepared his ships, putting aboard everything that was necessary, and the next day, he and his men embarked.
When count Henry heard that the king had left, he got into a boat, and went after him. He caught up to him, because he had not gone a great distance, and he said to him: "Dear lord, fine cousin, will you leave me behind in this foreign country?" The king replied to him: "Yes, by St. James' lance, you foul traitor, you will never return to Champagne, neither you nor your heir." Count Henry then returned to Acre, came to king Richard, and said to him: "Sir, we are dishonored and destroyed, for the king has left for France, and he has found out, through count Philip, that we have been treacherous; you may be certain that he will destroy us all." Then they sent for the count of Blois, and they discussed what they would say to count Philip.
During their discussion, word was brought to them of the count's death, and they were shocked. His body was prepared and brought to church, and he was given the exequies appropriate for a great lord, and buried in the square of the church of Saint Nicholas. The king, count Henry, and the count of Blois returned, entered a room, and discussed what they should do. "By my life," said the English king, "I shall return to England, and as soon as I get there, I shall start a royal war." "In the name of God," said the count of Blois, "I shall return to France, and ask the king's mercy." "By God," said count Henry, "I shall remain in this land, for I know for certain that I have lost my heritage."
King Richard prepared his ships and embarked upon the sea, heading, as best he could, in the direction of Germany, and he reached port. With his own entourage he went overland, traveling as far as Austria, where, when he realized that he had been noticed and recognized, he disguised himself as a servant, and went into the kitchen to prepare capons. A spy went and told the duke who, when he had been informed, sent many knights from his own entourage to overwhelm him. The king was captured and placed in a strong castle, and his entire entourage was placed in another. The king was taken from one castle to another, to keep everyone except the duke in the dark about his whereabouts.
X
Here we shall turn from king Richard in prison, and tell you about the count of Blois, who had embarked on the sea, reaching Marseilles, with full sail. He was caught in a great storm, so great that it seemed that the ship would be lifted to the clouds, and then it was dropped so deep that it seemed to fall into an abyss, and all the while it was in sight of land. When the count of Blois saw these remarkable events, he had a dinghy launched, and got into it, together with one-fourth of his entourage. Scarcely were they afloat, when the storm dashed them against a rock and shattered the dinghy. The count and all those with him were killed, and the storm abated, and the boat reached the safety of the harbor.
Now we shall tell you about count Henry, who had remained in Acre. News was brought to him that the king of Cyprus had died, and his sole remaining survivor was a daughter. He asked for her hand in marriage, and she was willingly granted to him because of his aristocratic rank. Thus he became king of Cyprus, and he had two daughters, of whom the eldest became the queen of Cyprus. The other daughter became the wife of Erard of Rameru (Brienne), who foolishly thought to obtain the county of Champagne because of the marriage.
The king of Cyprus now came to Acre, and wished to borrow money from a burgher, whom he drew aside to talk next to a window, which functioned both as a gate and as a window; it opened from the outside, and was closed, but not locked. When he leaned on it, the gate opened, and the king fell and broke his neck. His knights and entourage ran down and tended to him, finding that he had broken his neck. They were deeply grieved, and carried the king's body to Cyprus, where he was buried.
Here we shall leave king Henry of Cyprus, and return to king Guy and his wife, the good queen, who remained in the land of Tyre. Of the entire kingdom of Jerusalem, only Tyre, Acre, and Beirut remained under their rule; they lost nothing and they acquired nothing. In this condition they lived forty years; king Guy then died, and a short time later, the queen died, having left no heirs of their own blood. The barons of the kingdom assembled, and elected a king, who held the kingdom exactly as king Guy had held it, until the day he died. This king produced a daughter, who married king John, as you will hear later.
XI
Now let us return to king Philip, who escaped the perils of the sea. When he was in greatest danger, thinking that with the next surge, at the next moment, he would perish, as the waves seemed to carry his ship to the clouds, and then down into the abyss, in the dark of the night, the king, firm in his belief in God, asked the sailors what was the time, and they replied that it was about midnight. Then the king said: "Rest assured that we are protected, for my friends of the Cistercian order have gotten up to sing matins and to pray for us."
Then the disturbance subsided, and the sea became still and peaceful. However, the king was not on his guard about drinking what the traitors had prepared for him to drink, but, thank God, the poison was not fatal. He tore his feet and his hands and all of his skin with his nails, and was sick for a whole year, before his health returned, and he was hale and healthy again. The barons of France came to him and said: "Sir, it would be a good idea for you to marry now." "Certainly," said the king, "it is my wish and my desire, and I wish to follow your advice."
"By God," said archbishop William, who was his uncle, "count Philip of Flanders is dead, and his land has fallen to his brother, count Baldwin. I know of no man in France wealthier or more well-born than he, and he has a sister, who is beautiful, graceful, and wise, and I would advice you to take her as your wife." "Sir," said the other barons, "your uncle is giving you good advice." "By God," said the king, "I agree." Two of them were then chosen to go to count Baldwin, and they found him at Lille in Flanders, where he was holding a great meeting of his barons.
The emissaries quickly dismounted, entered the hall, and greeted the count, delivering the king's letter to him. The count received the letter and gave it to the bishop of Arras, who was next to him. The bishop read the letter and explained it to the count, who called his men, entered a room, and said to them: "Gentlemen, the king of France has asked me to grant him my sister's hand in marriage." "Sir," said his men, "the king does you a very great honor, and we advise you to give her to him, together with as much land as he asks of you." The count replied that he would do so.
He came out of the room, and said to the king's emissaries: "Gentlemen, after careful consideration, I have willingly decided to do what the king asks." "Sir," said the emissaries, "you speak wisely. Now we shall tell you what the king requests. He tells you that he wants, together with your sister, the county of Artois, that is, Arras and Peronne, Bapaumes, Saint Omer, Aire, Hesdin, and all the counties that she holds." The count replied that he would willingly give them, and more if the king wished.
The emissaries took leave of the count and departed, and traveled by stages until they reached Paris, where the king and his advisers were. They gave the king greetings from count Baldwin of Flanders, and they said: "Sir, the count willingly and gladly welcomed us, and did us much honor for your sake, and we delivered your letter to him, and when he had taken counsel with the men who were there with him, he spoke to us, and he said: "Gentlemen, I thank your king very much for the honor that he has sent to me; I willingly grant to my lord the king my sister, and the county of Artois, and more if he wishes, and all my barons are of the same opinion." In response, archbishop William replied, saying to the king: "Sir, all that remains is to carry out the task."
The king immediately had a letter written, informing the count that he would marry his sister at Amiens, twenty-one days hence, and that the count should bring her there. What the king ordered was done, and the lady was brought there splendidly, with a great company, and count Baldwin held a fine reception. The king came to Amiens and married the woman, whose name was Isabel, and there was a great celebration throughout Amiens. After remaining in the city three days, the king went back to France, bringing the queen to Paris, where she was received with great respect. Between the king and the queen there was marvelous love, and they had a son who was baptized Louis. Louis was strong, brave, and a fighter, with the heart of a lion, but he was never without pain and sickness as long as he lived.
XII
From this point on we shall tell you about king Richard, whom the duke of Austria held in prison; no one knew of his whereabouts except the duke and his advisers. It happened that the king had brought up from his youth a minstrel whose name was Blondel, who decided to search through every land for some news about him. He set about traveling through foreign countries for a year and a half, and could find no true report about the king.
By chance he entered Austria and came directly to the castle in which the king was being held prisoner. He stayed with a widow, and asked her to whom the fine, strong, well-situated castle belonged, and she replied that it belonged to the duke of Austria. "Lovely hostess," Blondel said, "are there any prisoners in the castle?" "Yes," she said, "there is one, who has been there four [Richard was captured in December, 1192, and released in May 1194. The Minstrel's arithmetic is clearly unreliable.] years, but we do not know who he is. I tell you they certainly guard him well and carefully; we believe that he is a gentleman and a great lord."
When Blondel heard these words, he was very glad, and it seemed to him in his heart that he had found the man for whom he had been looking, but he showed no signs of this to his hostess. That night he slept very well, and he awoke at daybreak. When he heard the guard sound reveille, he arose and went to the church, to ask for God's help. Then he went to the castle, and spoke with the chatelain, saying that he was a minstrel, and would very much like to stay with him if he was willing. The chatelain was a young, good-looking knight, who said that he would willingly keep Blondel with him.
Delighted, Blondel went to get his vielle and his instruments. His services pleased the chatelain and everyone else in the castle very much, and Blondel remained the entire winter in the castle, without being able to find out who the prisoner was. One day, during Easter, while he was walking alone in the garden near the tower, Blondel looked around him, thinking that he might, by chance, see the prisoner. As he was doing this, the king looked through an archer's slot, and saw Blondel. He thought about how to make him recognize him, and he remembered a song that they had made up together, which only the two of them knew.
He began to sing the opening words loudly and clearly, for he sang very well, and when Blondel heard him, he knew certainly that this was his lord. In his heart he felt greater joy than he had ever felt, and he left the garden, and went to his room, where he reclined, picked up his vielle, and began to play, singing of his joy at having found his lord. Blondel stayed until Pentecost, making sure that no one within the castle knew what he was trying to do.
Then Blondel went to the chatelain and said to him: "Sir, please, I would very much like to go back to my own country, for I have been away a long time." "Blondel, dear brother, you will not do this if you have faith in me; stay, and I shall do fine things for you." "Certainly, sir, I must not stay." When the chatelain saw that he could not keep him, he granted him leave to depart, and gave him a horse and a new garment.
After leaving the chatelain, Blondel proceeded by stages to England, where he told the king's friends and barons that he had found the king, and he told them where he was. When they heard the news, they were overjoyed, for the king was the most generous man who ever spurred a horse. They decided to send emissaries to the duke to ransom the king, and, for the expedition, they chose two of the wisest, most valiant knights.
They made their way to Austria, where they found the duke at his castle, and they greeted him on behalf of the barons of England, and they said to him: "Sir, we have been sent here by the barons of England, and we have learned that you hold king Richard prisoner. Sir, they ask and beg that you accept ransom, and they will give you a very satisfying sum." The duke replied that he would take the matter under advisement, and when he had done so, he told them: "Gentlemen, if you wish to take him, you will have to give 200,000 marks sterling [150,000 marks in other texts]. Do not go back on your word, for that would be wasted effort."
The emissaries took leave, and told the barons what he had said, and they discussed the matter. They returned to England, and told the barons what the duke had said, and they said that there would be no delay. They got the ransom ready, and had it taken to the duke, and the duke released the king, and he made the king give security that he would do him no harm.
XIII
King Richard was brought back, and welcomed in England with great honor, but his land was much weakened by the ransom, as were the churches, for they had to give up their chalices, using instead chalices of tin and wood when they sang mass. One night, king Richard lay in bed, unable to sleep, and a cruel, painful thought came to him; he remembered his father, king Henry, who strangled himself with the reins of his horse's bridle, out of anger towards king Philip, who had attacked him with drawn sword at Gerberoy.
He recalled his capture and the ransom that the duke of Austria had taken, following the orders and directions of king Philip, and he grew so angry and outraged in his heart that he said and swore that he would never rest until he had taken vengeance. When day broke, he arose and went to hear mass, then sent for his barons to consult with them, and he told them what he thought.
The barons and councilors replied to him that this was an atrocity, and he would do well to make a change, and he might rest assured that they were prepared to help him with their bodies and with what they possessed, and that they would be stronger than king Philip, both in friends and in land. When king Richard understood that he had the heart-felt support of his barons, he was extremely pleased. He had a letter written, with his seal, offering a challenge to king Philip, and he let him know that he would not consider him his lord or his friend. Furthermore, he let the king know that he would come to see him in a few days, in his own land, but that Philip was not man enough to see him.
He entrusted the letters to a wise knight, who took them from the king's hands, and went by sea and by land to Orleans, where king Philip was. Without giving him a greeting, he handed him the letters, saying to him: "Sir, king Richard of England sends you these letters; please give me your reaction, because I do not wish to remain here long."
The king directed the bishop of Orleans, who was next to him, to open the letters, and to read them. When he had read them, he said to the king: "Sir, king Richard sends you a challenge, and says that he will come to see you in a few days, in your own country, but you are not man enough to see him."
When the king heard king Richard's message, he thought for a while, and then said: "God, Our Lord, who is all powerful, may help us. Tell your lord that if he comes into our land to do harm, we shall be there to meet him with as many men as we can assemble."
Without taking his leave, the knight departed, and crossed the sea. He found king Richard at London, with his higher nobility, and he said to him: "Sir, I have been in France, and I found king Philip at Orleans, and I gave him your letter. He had it read, and he told me that if you enter his land intending to do harm, he will be there, in the forefront, with as many men as he can get together." These were the words they had been waiting for.
King Richard had many boats, tents, and pavilions constructed, for he had great resources in these areas. He prepared for the great undertaking while waiting for the spring. King Philip did not forget the stick or the fire, but he had his castles and borders fortified, and he gathered wine, food, and men to defend himself and his land, for he had great respect for king Richard's ability and courage.
Spring came, and early in the month of May king Richard embarked upon the sea, with all his knights. They had a favoring wind and good weather, and they reached Dieppe, a port in Normandy which belonged to the English. After disembarking from the ships, they reached Rouen, which was fourteen leagues from the port, and they stayed there a month to rest and to make preparations. King Richard then ordered the army to march to Gisors, one of his castles, which was well fortified and well situated, seven leagues from Beauvais.
When they reached Beauvais, they remained two days, and on the third day, king Richard ordered the vanguard to march forward, with the scouts out front. Then you might have seen soldiers, men on foot and on horse, spreading out through the area around Beauvais, carrying off bulls, cows, pigs, sheep, ducks, capons, hens, cart-horses and plow-horses, and bringing them behind the army, outside Gisors, where it was bivouaced, doing all the damage they could throughout the land and countryside. For a long time they did whatever they wished outside the fortresses, for no one prevented them. News of this was reported everywhere, and king Philip heard about it. He was told that king Richard was at Gisors with all of his nobles, burning and looting all the land around Beauvais.
When the king heard about this, he was very angry, and he sent for the count of Chartres, the count of Vendome, the count of Nevers, the count of Sancerre, who was a fine man, and the vidame of Chateadun, and sir Guillaume des Barres, and sir Alain of Roucy, and many other fine men who are not here named. He told them of the damage done by king Richard, who was supposed to be his vassal, and he asked their advice about what to do. "Sir," said the count of Sancerre, "by your leave, we who are here shall take your part, and go to Beauvais to see what is going on. With God's support, the English will do us no further damage."
The king told them to prepare themselves as quickly as possible, and he had them given money for wagons. When their arms and horses were ready, they went directly to Beauvais, and waited there. Breaking up into vanguard and rear-guard, they rode towards Gisors, and those at Gisors rode up to face them. They skirmished for a while, with some gains and some losses, and then left; each day they did the same.
King Richard sent a message to the counts of Sancerre and of Barre, telling them that they took the king's bread and gave him nothing in return but if they were brave enough to come to the elm tree at Gisors, he would consider them truly courageous. The French nobles sent the message back that they would come the next day, at the third hour, to cut the tree down, in spite of him. When the English king heard that they were coming to cut down the tree, he had the trunk reinforced with bands of iron, that were wrapped five times around it.
The next morning the French nobles armed themselves, and assembled five squadrons of their men, one of which was led by the count of Sancerre, another by the count of Chartres, the third by the count of Vendome, the fourth by the count of Nevers, and the fifth by sir William of Barre and sir Alain of Roucy. The rode up to the elm tree at Gisors, with the crossbowmen and carpenters out front, and they had in their hands sharp axes and good pointed hammers, with which to cut the bands that were fastened around the tree. They stopped at the elm tree, tore off the bands, and cut it down, in spite of all resistance.
Meanwhile, however, king Richard was not asleep. He had prepared five squadrons also, and he attacked the French vigorously, like the brave knight that he was. He received a fine welcome from the king's men, and lances were broken, and many men killed and knocked down. They drew their swords and fought hand-to-hand, and many fell on both sides. King Richard performed wonderful deeds, striking down knights and horses, tearing helms from heads and shields from necks, terrifying the king's men with his prowess.
On the other side, Barrois did well, striking to the ground every knight he met; no one dared to face him, but instead retreated when they saw him. King Richard watched him performing so well, and was envious, for he had hated his achievements at arms for a long time. He took up a long lance, and cried out to him: "Barrois, Barrois, you have ridden too long." When Barrois heard him, he recognized him, and took a long, stout, sharp lance from his squire, and spurred his horse against the king, and the king spurred his horse in response.
The meeting of their bodies and horses made the earth shake, and they struck each other's armor so powerfully that the straps of their equipment broke and they fell to the ground over the cruppers of the horses, with their saddles between their thighs. They leaped up, unsheathed their swords, and ran at each other, striking powerful blows on each other's helmets and shields. Neither could have won had the battle lasted long. After more exchanges on both sides, both sides remounted and left the field, returning to their quarters, because night was approaching.
The next day, after king Richard had heard mass, an emissary, who had ridden hard, came into the room and asked for the king. When he was shown where the king was, he went up to him and greeted him, saying: "Sir, the count of Gloucester, whom you left in charge of England, is dead, and your people are frightened, for the kings of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales have invaded your kingdom, and are doing you great harm. For God's sake, sir, offer your wisdom, as you should, like the lord and king that you are."
The king heard the emissary, and was so angry that he could hardly contain himself. He called his advisers and his most valiant, wisest barons, and he asked their advice. They replied that there was nothing else for him to do but go quickly to England, bringing with him whatever amount of men would be necessary; the others should remain here, guarding the castle, and battling the French king's men. "And we shall make them spend the king's money." "By God," said the king, "you speak well." The king then left his advisers, prepared his expedition the next day, picking his best barons, and went off to England. He found his country disturbed and frightened, like people without a lord.
XIV
At this point we shall turn from king Richard to king Philip, who had received from the count of Sancerre, the leader of the army, letters telling him that king Richard had gone to England, together with the best of his barons. The king thought that the time was ripe, and he had letters written sent to all his vassals, telling them to come to Beauvais fully armed, within a month. None of them delayed, but all appeared within a month, and they found the king there already. He made up a vanguard and a rear-guard of fine knights and archers to lead the army, and in the morning they came before Gisors, pitching their tents and pavilions around the castle, a crossbow's shot from the tower.
Those inside the castle came out, and gave them as much trouble as they could, but without results, because they were outnumbered by the king's forces, and they had no aid. Thus the French were in position, and the next morning the king ordered the siege-engines brought up; the assault weapons, catapults, battering rams, and covered galleries went to work furiously. As a result, in a short time the besieged were so sorely pressed, night and day, that they did not know what was happening, or what to do. So many had been killed that scarcely one third of them remained unharmed.
When the leader of those inside Gisors saw that they were all going to die, he sent a message to king Philip, after consulting with his people, and he told him that the castle would be surrendered in a month if he had no help from king Richard. The king agreed, taking as a hostage the son of the chatelain. He halted the work of the siege-engines, and the chatelain sent a message to England, asking king Richard to come and help him, because he had very few men, and he would have to surrender the castle in a month.
When the king heard the message from the chatelain, he was extremely angry, and he quickly ordered letters to be written, telling the chatelain that he could not reach him by that date, but that he should, for God's sake, hold on, for he would help him as soon as he could. While the truce was on, the king sent some of his men to Nior, a strong, well-situated castle, which belonged to the English king. They arrived so secretly that those within the castle did not notice them, and they were so surprised that when the king's men broke in, the castle was captured immediately, and the defenders seized and imprisoned. When king Philip heard this, he was so pleased that no one could restrain him.
Meanwhile, the emissaries sent by the chatelain to England returned, and the chatelain heard his lord's reply to the letter he had sent. He saw clearly that he would not receive help from his lord, and therefore he surrendered the castle of Gisors to noble, powerful king Philip. The king had the castle provided with good men and with whatever they needed, and then he left, traveling through Normandy, where he did what he wished outside of the fortresses. Meanwhile, king Richard finished his war against his enemies, and was reconciled with them.
As quickly as he could, he went to Normandy, arriving one evening at Dieppe. The next day he had his people armed before dawn, to set out to where the king was. King Philip was out riding with his entourage, having taken no precautions, since he thought that king Richard was still in England. The peasants, however, have a proverb: "In a barrel of thought there is not a cup full of wisdom." Even though king Philip was the wisest prince in the world, it often happens that a wise man does something very foolish, for he did not have the Barrois with him. Instead he had Alain de Roucy, who detested the Barrois, who in turn detested him.
Sir Alain looked ahead of him, and saw, less than two leagues distant, a thick crowd of barons, to the left and to the right, across the land. He came to the king and said to him: "Sir, I see many banners, and we are in a land at war; we should arm ourselves, believe me, for king Richard is a great knight, and highly capable at war." "By the lance of saint James," said the king, "I have never seen you behave like a coward until now." "By my life," said sir Alain, "I shall not say another word." [Alain is clearly playing Oliver to the king's Roland in this dialogue]
The king looked before him, and he saw the banners approaching him, and the land was filled with people. He called to lord Alain and said to him: "Alain, as you advised me, our men should arm themselves." Sir Alain replied to the king: "Cutting should be done at the right time. Sir, you may be absolutely sure that this is king Richard, and I tell you that we shall all certainly be captured. Do the right thing now; get on the fastest horse you have and go to Gisors, which is near here, and make sure that you are safely inside. I shall stay here, wearing your arms, and we shall do the best we can."
The king mounted a strong, fast horse, and raced off to Gisors. He was seen by the vanguard, and more than 200 of them ran after him, but they were armed, and he was unarmed, and on a better mount than any they had. He rode off at top speed to Gisors, where he was quickly taken in, and sir Alain de Roucy remained, wearing the arms of the king, and he divided whatever men he had into two squadrons, and sent them into battle.
King Richard and his men now attacked, and the few men of king Philip who were there fought back vigorously, defending themselves remarkably well. Their valiant efforts, however, were in vain, for there were only a few of them against the English, and king Richard was a very fine knight in a battle. King Philip's men were finally defeated, and sir Alain, wearing the king's arms, was captured.
When king Richard saw him, he cried out: "In the name of God, king, I have caught you." "You certainly have not," said sir Alain; "instead, you have caught sir Alain of Roucy, a poor vavasour." "What the devil!" said the king, "are you Alain? By saint Thomas, I thought that I had caught the king himself. Ah, God, if we have missed the king, do we have the Barrois?" "Indeed not," said sir Alain, "for he is not here. Had he been here, you may be certain that you all would have been captured or killed." This speech was reported to the Barrois, who hated him very much, but, by means of this speech, they were reconciled.
King Richard, with all of his prisoners, departed, and went to Vernon, one of his castles, which was very beautiful, and well-situated on the Seine. He distributed his prisoners among his castles, keeping sir Alain with him, bringing him with him to Rouen, where he remained for a while.
Now I shall tell you of king Philip, who was at Gisors, where he told his nobility to assemble. He returned to France and remained there for a while. King Richard, who was at Rouen, was very unhappy that he had lost Gisors and Nior (Deux-Sevres). He took part of his men and sent them into the border areas to pillage and ravage the countryside, while he led the other part to a castle on the border that belonged to king Philip, and he laid siege to it.
He spent a long time besieging it, guarding the roads so that no messengers could get out of the castle. When he finally took the castle by force, he had one hand cut off of each crossbowman, and an eye gouged out from each ordinary soldier. He demanded ransom for the knights, and let them go after a while. When king Philip learned of this, he was very troubled, but there was nothing that he could do at this time, for he was seriously ill and was unable to recover for a year and a half.
XV
Let us return now to king Richard, who now had a free hand to do whatever he wished in the French countryside. He captured booty and peasants, and made so much trouble that throughout the borderland, and beyond, no sowing or reaping could take place. The French fortresses, however, were so well supplied with good men, wine, and food, and whatever else was necessary, that they were not overly concerned about king Richard, although he pressed them so closely that they could not move from where they were.
At this time he was told that the king of Spain had besieged Riole and Brai Gerart, two of his good towns. When he heard this news, he lowered his head, and said that, as the soul of his father was dear to him, he would delay no longer; the king of Spain had awakened the sleeping cat, and the proverb was correct that said, "an uncomfortable goat scratches quite a bit." King Richard then summoned his vassals, assembled a large army, and embarked upon the sea, sailing to Bayonne, a city that is located in Gascony, on the sea.
They remained there eight days; on the ninth day the English king ordered the army to march, and to invade, as quickly as possible, the land of the king of Spain. They set the whole countryside aflame, took booty, lay waste fields, vineyards, and gardens, and destroyed everything they could get their hands on. For fourteen days they did this, before the king of Spain heard of what was happening. One who had observed king Richard's army came directly to la Riole, where the king of Spain was, together with his army, and said to him: "Sir, things are going badly; king Richard has arrived in Bayonne with all of his people, and you may be certain that he has done you great harm, for he has burned and destroyed everything outside of the fortresses, nor has anyone put up any resistance."
When the king heard these unpleasant words, he planned to fight, for he knew that king Richard was strong and brave, and he would leave him nothing as his own. However, he thought that king Philip had kept him so busy that he could not have moved, but, as the saying goes, "Thinking and hoping are two fools." King Ferrand of Spain withdrew, summoned his advisers, and said to them: "Gentlemen, give me your advice, for I have great need of it. King Richard has invaded my land, and I know that he is arrogant, and if he gets his hands on me, I won't get away alive, or, at the very least, I will end up a prisoner."
"By God," his barons and advisers said, "you will not find a man among us who will abandon you. Summon your nobles, of whom there are many, and send help. Spend all your resources, and anyone who holds back will be alone. You will have twice the number of men that you have here, and in your own country, your forces will grow steadily." They all agreed upon this plan, and the king had letters written and sent quickly throughout his land. Everyone came on the appointed day; when king Richard was four leagues from them, he sent a challenge, defying king Ferrand, to fight him three days hence. King Ferrand sent a message that he would willingly fight, and he was very eager.
There one could see on both sides hauberks being cleaned. spears being spit-polished, doublets and cuirasses and shields being prepared, saddles and harnesses and breastplates prepared, horses shoed, and everyone taking great care that nothing would go wrong. On the third day, they all arose, and each of the kings had his army divided into ten squadrons, lined up in formations that seemed most effective to them. Each squadron was led by a constable, who was a fine nobleman.
The armies approached each other and the leading squadrons joined battle. Many were struck down and killed, and the English had the worst of it. But the second squadron came up vigorously, and charged their enemies forcefully. When the second squadron of Spaniards saw that they were losing, they struck out forcefully and killed and struck down many. Then the third, fourth, and fifth squadrons, and all the others, on both sides, attacked, and there was a general melee. So many knights were struck down, and so many horses wandered off, that no one could count the number.
King Richard then, lance in its rest, moved forward, shouting: "King Ferrand of Spain, where have you gone? Here is king Richard, who has come to defend La Riole and Brai Gerart against you, and the entire land of Gascony, to which you have no right. You have shown yourself to be a treacherous, evil man, for you thought that the king of France had kept me so busy that I could not get here." Then he made an excessive boast: "Indeed, I shall battle both you and him many times, as long as I shall." Alas! God, he thought that he would live longer than he actually did.
When the king of Spain heard himself called a traitor, he was disturbed. Spurring his horse on, with his shield hanging from his neck, on which three golden castles, signifying that he was the king of Castille, were painted, he went to the part of the field where king Richard was. He lowered his lance, and headed towards king Richard, who, in vermilion arms, headed towards him, his lance lowered. They met with such force that their waist-straps and breast-plates could not prevent them from falling to the ground, their saddles at their feet.
They leaped up as quickly as they could, and drew their bare swords from their sheaths, striking each other with powerful blows. They would have done great harm to each other, for they were both great knights, had they not been helped by their men, who put them back on their horses. The fighting lasted until late afternoon, when the Spaniards became frightened, for they were not well-armed, and did not know as much about fighting as did the English. The English were particularly encouraged by the behavior of their lord, king Richard, who fought so well that all those who saw him marveled. Neither the king of Spain, nor anyone else dared to face him.
When king Ferrand and his men saw that they could not stand up to the English, they retreated. The English pursued them until night fell, and no one could see anyone else. The English returned to king Ferrand's tents and remained there for the night, finding whatever they needed, and taking great treasure. The next morning they went to Bayonne, embarked upon the sea joyfully, and sailed for 12 days, arriving at one of the king's castles at Dover, where they English joyfully celebrated their lord's victory.
When the king had eaten and gone to bed, he could not sleep, because he remembered Gisros and Nior, which he had lost. He thought that he would go take Gisors by force, for king Philip was ill, and king Richard had most of his men with him, and his navy was ready. The next morning he had his men get ready the next morning to embark on the sea, and they sailed willingly. because he was a generous man.
They arrived at Dieppe, one of their own ports, and went to Rouen, which the king loved very much, and there they took what they needed. He had his army march to a castle named Loche, which belonged to king Philip, and was very strong, well-situated, well supplied, and very much in his way. He laid siege to it, and swore that he would not leave before capturing it by force, besieging it night and day. However, the defenders fought vigorously, because there were many of them, and they were well supplied.
One day king Richard went up to the castle to examine it, with a shield in front of him, and he was struck by a crossbowman who was in a small, corner tower, in front of the other towers. Placing an arrow in the noche, he aimed directly at the king, and struck him at an opening in a joint of the armor covering his right shoulder, wounding him badly. When the king felt that he had been wounded, he retreated and went to his tent. The doctors were prepared, and they took the whole arrow out of his shoulder, examined the wound, and said that he would not have to worry if he took good care of it. However, the king, who was fearless, paid no attention to the wound or to the doctors, but drank and ate whatever he wanted, and lay with his wife. His wound began to get worse, and he became feverish; in a short while his side and arms were entirely infected.
When the king saw that he was burning up and about to die, he began to lament and to express sorrow, saying: "Ah, king Richard, will you die now? Ah, death, how brave you are to attack king Richard, the greatest and most courtly knight in the entire world. Ah, knighthood, how you are going to decline! Ah, poor ladies, poor knights, what will become of you? Ah, God, who now will uphold knighthood, generosity, courtliness?"
Thus the king lamented, and when he saw that he was about to die, he ordered that his heart be buried at Rouen, because he loved the city so much, and his body be carried to London, and buried in the mother church. Then he died and gave up his spirit, and his men began to make the greatest mourning every made by any people, and the army went from there to Rouen, where the heart of the king was buried. His body was carried to London, where the greatest mourning that had ever been made for any soul was made, and he was buried in the great church with great honor, and a tomb was constructed for him, that was beautiful and rich, as befitted a king.
XVI
At this point we shall leave king Richard, who died without bodily heir, and we shall speak of the king of Jerusalem, who was chosen by election, and reigned eight years. Both he and his wife, the queen, died, and they left a daughter. The kingdom was in the hands of the barons, and they took charge of the girl, and protected her until she reached marriageable age.
Now we shall tell you of John of Brienne, who was the son of count Walter the elder of Brienne, who had several children older than John. Count Walter wanted his son John to become a cleric, but he was unwilling, fleeing instead to Clairvaux, where he had an uncle, his mother's brother, who provided for him whatever he needed. He took what he was given gratefully, for he was very young, only 14 years old.
One day knights of his family were going to a tournament, and they passed before the gates of Clairvaux; they saw the child John, who was at the gates, and they saw that he was a good-looking, well-proportioned boy, who looked like an aristocrat. They stopped at the gates, asked who this child was, and were told that he was the child of Walter of Brienne, who had fled to his uncle at Clairvaux because he did not want to become a cleric.
The knights said that he had certainly done the right thing, and that his actions proceeded from a good and noble heart. They gave him a shield, put him on a pack-horse, and brought him with them to a tournament, where they gave him another horse. They brought him with them from place to place, and he grew and improved in his ability to aid his friends in the most difficult encounters in tournaments. When he was 28 years old the lord of Chateauvillain saw him and recognized his intelligence and strength, and made him his knight. He became a strong and able member of his retinue.
His friends decided to ask count Walter, his father, to give him land, for it seemed to them that he would use it well. The count swore to them that never, alive or dead, would he have any land from him, and from that moment he was called John Lackland. Nevertheless, he continued to go to tournaments and fights and everywhere that other knights went to acquire glory, for his friends, admiring his ability, gave him whatever was necessary.
Thus he traveled much, acquiring great praise for his knightly deeds, and his great fame spread through all lands, as far as Syria, where the barons assembled and agreed to send for him, as a husband for their princess, to make him king. They carried out their plan, and he was summoned by a letter from the barons. When he heard this news, he thanked Our Lord, and he informed the lord of Chateauvillain and the lord of Joinville, and his other friends, and they were all very happy. They gave him whatever he needed, money, clothing, horses, armor, and knights of their own lineage to accompany him and to do him honor.
John Lackland now departed from his friends and his country, taking leave of them all, and traveled by stages, reaching Marseilles in 14 days. There they found ships ready, and they put on board whatever was necessary, embarking upon the sea on a Tuesday morning. God gave them such favoring winds that they made the voyage in 20 days, and they disembarked in Acre on a Monday, in the afternoon. They were welcomed in Acre with great joy, and stayed there 15 days to recover from the sea-journey.
Then the barons came to him and said: "Sir, we have sent for you for your own good, and to do you honor, for we know very well that you are a noble man, an able and faithful knight, and we do not think that anyone can handle the kingdom of Jerusalem better than you. We grant you the queen and the land, and may God see to it that we have done the right thing!" "Indeed, may God grant that!" said John Lackland, and he accepted the lady, and married her in the church of the Holy Cross, which was the bishop's church. The marriage was celebrated elaborately and well, and lasted eight full days. On the eighth day they were brought to Beirut, and both were crowned there, for the see where kings of Jerusalem were crowned was there, now that Jerusalem was in the hands of the Saracens.
Exactly as I have told the story to you, John Lackland became the king of Jerusalem, and he lost the name of John Lackland, and thenceforth was called good king John. He ruled the kingdom justly and well, reigning as good king a long time. He and the queen had a daughter who later became the wife of the emperor Frederick; she had a son who married the daughter of the duke of Bavaria, and this son had a son who would become the king of Jerusalem.
The queen of Jerusalem, a fine and holy woman, died, and was buried in the church of the Holy Cross. A short time later the king took a wife who was the daughter of the king of Armenia, and they had a son was was baptized John, named after his father, and this child lived only seven years.
XVII
Now the story of king John stops, but we shall return to it at the proper time and place, and we shall tell you of the apostle Innocent, who heard that the land overseas was in the hands of the Saracens, who were treating it badly, for the services of Our Lord were never celebrated there. His pity was moved greatly, and he called a general assembly of all the orders under Roman law.
They assembled on that day in Rome, and many of the sacerdotal rules necessary for holy Church were established. There it was determined that a bell be carried with the body of Our Lord, for this was not being done. It was also established that priests whose copes had sleeves would wear them round; many other rules which had not been observed were established.
Then they spoke of the overseas territories in the hands of the Saracens, a condition that rightly infuriated holy Christianity. All the prelates agreed to preach a crusade. The French legate was named Robert of Courson, an Englishman, who was a fine man, a great drinker (as many fine men are), and he recruited many people for the Crusade.
They departed in two groups; the first group arrived in Acre on Saint Michael's Day, and it contained many great nobles. They consulted among themselves, and, together with king John, decided to lay siege to Damietta while their ranks continued to grow. All the highest ranking men agreed to this plan, and they prepared their ships, and embarked on the sea. Arriving at Damietta, they disembarked, pitched their tents and pavilions, and settled in as best they could.
When the Saracens saw them, they were very frightened, and they closed their gates and provisioned their towers, making remarkable preparations to defend themselves. They sent to Saphadin, the sultan of Babylon, who was the lord of Damietta, to come and help them, because king John and the Christians were besieging them. When Saphadin heard this news, he was not overjoyed. He had letters written and distributed through all the pagan lands, telling them to bring help, "For king John and all the Christians of France, Lombardy, Tuscany, and Germany were besieging Damietta, and they knew that this was the gateway to the pagan lands."
All the highest ranking men assembled at Baghdad to decide what to do. The sultan of Damascus, whose name was Coradin, was there; he was the blood brother of Saphadin, the sultan of Babylon. The sultan of Iconium was also there, as was the sultan of Chamelle, the sultan of Aleppo, whence come the finest pagan knights, and many other sultans and emirs were there. They all agreed that they would go there, and they sent a message to the sultan of Babylon that they would arrive on a certain day, and each of them returned to his own country.
They got together as many men as they could, and arrived at Babylon on the appointed day, and they proceeded to discuss what they should do. For a long time no one would yield the leadership to anyone else; however, the Christians built fortifications, dug ditches, and set up lists across the plain. They made a bridge of ships across the river, which was wide and deep, to cut off the port of Damietta, since all of its supplies were brought by river. They split their men into two armies, one on this side of the bridge and one on the other, and their strategy did great damage to the pagans.
At this point we shall turn, for a moment, from king John and his army, and we shall tell you of the other part of the Christians who remained. There was the elector, Milo of Beauvais, who was the brother of sir Walter of Nantueil, and sir Andrew his brother, and sir John of Arcis, and the count of Pingin, and the lord of Loupines, who was a fine man, and sir John Fuinons, and many other fine men, whom I shall not name here, because it would be too much to name so many people.
The elector collected the tithe for the apostle from the clerics, and they prepared to fight on Saint John's Day. They outfitted their ships, embarked on the sea, and sailed without trouble to Acre, where they asked the king's whereabouts. They were told that he was besieging Damietta, and had been there for a year. When the elector heard this, he got his ships ready, and, the next day, embarked on the sea, arriving six days later at Damietta, where he disembarked, and set up camp with the others, who were very glad that he had come, although only harm came of this, as you will hear shortly.
XVIII.
Now we shall tell you of Saphadin, the sultan of Babylon, who was encamped two leagues from the army. While the Christians were attacking Damietta, the Saracens were attacking the Christians to help out those besieged in Damietta, for they could not enter Damietta without going through the Christian army. They fought a long while, until the day that the legate, king John, the elector of Beauvais, and all the other barons held a meeting, and said that it would be a good idea to attack the Saracens, and, if it pleased God, they would be victorious. Some, however, said that it would be a good idea if they asked for help first.
"By God," said king John, "we do not need help from so far away, for we shall have them in the lists every day if we wish." "Indeed, king," said the elector of Beauvais, you now want us to remain in this country forever." "That's certainly not what I want," said the king, "for I believe that your going is worth more than your staying. I want to do what the others want to do, and let the future bring what it will."
They all agreed to challenge the sultan of Babylon to battle, and the sultan agreed to fight on St. John the Baptist's day. You may be certain that Christians who fight Saracens on this day have never won. The Christians prepared as well as they could, and the Saracens did also, and they lined up their squadrons, and met head-on. The Christians, who were over-confident, did not think far enough ahead, but they moved two leagues through the hot, burning sand, driving their horses into the sand up to their knees, with the foot-soldiers accompanying them.
As they got closer to the Saracens, the foot-soldiers were exhausted and out of breath; their courage wilted, and, conceding defeat, they turned in flight towards the lists. When the Saracens saw what the Christians were doing, they pursued them and killed as many as they pleased. They would all have been killed had not the cavalry, which had been in the rear, protected them. They suffered terribly from the assault of the Saracens, and they could scarcely endure the heat of the day, for they were heavily armed, and had traveled far. The Saracens were fresh, and lightly armed, and they and their horses were able to endure the heat, and they did with the Christians what they wished.
The elector of Beauvais was captured there, and his brother, sir Andrew of Nanteuil, and sir John of Arcies, and the lord of Loupines, and sir John Fuinon, and many other fine men, who were brought to Cahaire, a castle near Babylon, which belonged to the sultan, and there they were placed in harsh, foul confinement. When king John and the legates and the other barons heard of this, they were very sorry, and they showed more fear of the Saracens, and were much more careful. Treating their enemies now with more respect, they assailed Damietta so that no one could get in or out.
For a long time Saphadin and the other sultans did not move, and those inside Damietta were in great trouble, and they suffered an illness of the mouth which prevented them from drinking and eating, and they died swift deaths. The stench of the corpses in Damietta was unbearable, and as many died of the stench as of the disease, and they were so hardpressed that they could bear no more.
They took a carrier-pigeon that had been raised in Babylon, and they wrote a letter describing the suffering and death that was going on, and asked for help in the name of Mahomet, for they were greatly in need. They said that they had no leader, for he had died of the disease of which everyone was dying, and they asked that a noble leader, able and wise, who understood the city and could govern it, be sent to them. They tied the letter to the pigeon, under his right wing, and they released it.
Once released, the pigeon flew aloft, set his path directly towards Babylon, and flew until he reached the pigeon-loft where he had been raised. When the man in charge of the pigeon-loft saw him, he went to the sultan and told him: "Sir, a message has just arrived." The sultan said to bring it to him, and this was done. He took the pigeon, removed the letter from his right wing, and had the message read; then he knew what was going on in Damietta. When he understood the situation, he grew sad, and that was understandable, since Damietta was the key to the land.
He took counsel about what to do, and he was advised to send a noble, wise, energetic man to Damietta to be their leader. This was done, and he had a bull's hide folded over four times, like an egg, and the man was placed in it, together with the sultan's letter. The vessel was then carefully sewn and weighted, and placed in cork, so that it would not turn over or sink. Placed in the river, only about a foot of it could be seen, and it had a hole on top, through which one could breath. It was put in the river at night, and floated as far as the bridge that the Christians had constructed across the river.
The Christians had stretched a net the length of the bridge, as an additional safeguard, and when the vessel reached the bridge in the middle of the night, it was caught in the net, and remained there until day, when someone saw its top sticking out of the water. They went to the boats and took the vessel out with hooks, and brought it to the king's tent, where it was taken apart; out fell the Saracen and the message.
The king had the message read, and he saw in the letter that this was the sultan's nephew, sent to Damietta to become its leader, and the king saw that the situation inside the city was desperate. The king had the Saracen put in chains and guarded carefully, until one night, when the guards fell into such a deep, drunken sleep that their prisoner escaped, and fled behind the tents.
When his guards awoke, they cried out "hahai!" and went looking for him among the troops. The prisoner had gone a considerable distance, however, and was beyond the rear tents. He would have escaped entirely, had not some bakers, who had gotten up early to knead bread, heard the chains ringing, and cried out: "Catch the prisoner, catch the prisoner!" One of them held a baker's rolling-pin, with which he hit him on the head so hard that he killed him. The king was very sorry when he learned about this, for he could have obtained a very large ransom for him, or exchanged him for a nobleman.
XIX
Now we shall tell you about Saphadin, the king of Babylon, who was most distressed, because he thought that he had lost Damietta. He assembled the highest ranking princes of his army, and said to them: "Gentlemen, if we lose Damietta, we have lost everything, for it is the key to our land, and all of our wealth, our grain and other things, come from it. We should take great pains, risking our lives, to recover it, because, by Mahomet, if it is lost, I fear that it will never be recovered.
I have a plan, if you support it: we shall release all the prisoners that we hold, the old and the young, and give up all the land that king Amalric holds, except for Gras and Montreal which are held by people over whom we have no power, and we shall pay yearly what the two castles are worth. In this way we shall have a truce for twenty years, in return for which they will lift the siege of Damietta."
They all agreed to this plan, and they had the prisoners brought before them, and told them what had been decided upon, and they were very glad. They chose two of the prisoners to carry the message; one of them was named sir Andrew of Nanteuil, and the other sir John of Arcies. The others gave their lives as pledges. The two arrived at the king's tent, and all the legates and barons were summoned, and sir Andrew said to them:
"Gentlemen, we have been sent here by the pagan nobles, who offer to you the most agreeable peace that has ever been offered to Christians. They will give you all the prisoners that they hold, both the old and the young, and all the land that king Amalric holds, except for Gras and Montreal, for those two castle they cannot turn over, because they are in the hands of men over whom they have no power. But they will give you every year what they are worth. You will then have a truce for twenty years, if only you lift the siege of Damietta, and return to your own country."
The king, the legates, and the barons said that they would discuss the matter, and they were in conference for a long time; much was said on both side of the issue. Some wanted to accept the offer, to free their friends, the prisoners, while others said that this would not be a good thing to do, because they had been there nearly two years, suffering cold and heat and great discomforts, spending their wealth, and they were on the point of capturing the city. They could not agree.
In fact, the second group was overcome by pride, and particularly by the pride of the elector of Beauvais, who had more pride than Nebuchdonosor, who had more than enough. The majority agreed to their plan, and the emissaries returned in tears, delivering the decision of the king and the legates and the barons to the prisoners, who were very unhappy at this news. Then they told their message to the sultan, who was most disturbed, because he had more at stake than all the others.
Here we shall turn from the prisoners who were suffering terribly in their prison in Cahaire, sharing their misery, without hope of ever being delivered, to tell you about the king who was laying siege to Damietta. One night it happened that the scouts of the army approached the walls of the city, and listened; they heard nothing anywhere, neither on the walls, nor at the gates, nor on the towers. they returned to the king and said: "Sir, it seems to us that there is no one in Damietta. Either they are dead, or they have fled." "Indeed," said the king, "now we need only mount an attack. To the ladders! A thousand besants to the first man who enters the city."
The ladders then were drawn up and attached to the walls, and the best climbers mounted them, and entered the city. There was no one to put up resistance, for they were nearly all dead or sick. They reached the gates, and cut the bolts, and the entire army entered the city. They found so many dead Saracens that the stench was scarcely bearable, but the king ordered that the bodies be carried out to the fields and burned. The king's orders were carried out, and the city was cleansed, and the king and the legates and all the others entered the city, and they found it well provided with grain, with wine, with arms, with gold and silver, and with whatever a fine city needed.
They stayed in Damietta until one day, when the barons and the other high-ranking men held a meeting, and they said: "What's going to happen? Are we always to be shut up in this city, and do nothing else? Let's go, let us conquer the pagans. The Saracens are scattered, and will never be able to get themselves together. A castle named Tenis is near here, about four leagues, which we shall capture at the first assault, and once we have taken it, we should take Babylon easily."
They all agreed to this plan, and they went to the king and to the legate, and told them what had been said. The legate said that it was a good thing to do, while the king replied that the legate might say what he wished, but he did not understand what was involved. "The Saracens are very wise, and they are in their own land, and they know very well what time and place are best for them. Now they are very angry that they have lost Damietta: my advice is to remain here until the river has finished rising.
"It certainly seems to me," said the legate, that it would be better to go than to stay. "I certainly believe," said the king, "that it would turn out badly, but do not stay on my behalf, for I don't want anyone to place the blame on me." "By God, then," said the legate, "let's get going to Tenis, for as soon as we get there, we may be sure that we shall take it."
But things turned out otherwise. They moved the army, and reached Tenis, which was well-situated, with a fine location, where a river divided into left and right branches. Between the two arms of the river there was an arable field, and there the Christians had their boats carry their tents across the river. Then they pitched their tents, and laid siege to the castle.
However, they did not stay there long. When Saphadin, who was a very wise Saracen, learned that they had come, he had the river damned, and it overflowed its channel, flowing back across the island on which the legate and king John, and the Christians were bivouacking. Had this happened during the night, they would have found themselves floating in the water, and they all would have drowned, had the sultan wished. But he was very wise, and he well knew that by means of these men he would regain Damietta. Had he drowned them, he would have gained nothing, for Damietta was well defended by good men. Therefore he trapped them in this narrow place, and let them know that, unless they surrendered Damietta to him, he would have them drowned.
When the king and the legate and the other barons saw what their position was, they felt foolish, and they said that it would have been better had they followed the king's advice, but it was too late. They made as best a truce as they could, entirely according to the sultan's wishes, and the sultan turned over to them the prisoners that he had taken, both the old and the young, nor did he demand of them any more than Damietta, in its present state. The king and the Christians agreed to his conditions, but the sultan would accept no Templars nor Hospitaliers as hostages, nor any living man, except for the king himself. Thus the king was compelled to remain as a hostage until Damietta had surrendered. As the saying goes, "some things are done because there is no choice."
XX.
Thus the city was surrendered, and the king and the barons set free. They embarked upon the sea, arrived at Acre, disembarked and remained for a while. The elector, Milo of Beauvais, who was their leader, wanted to return to France, as did all those who had come with him. They set sail on the sea, and arrived at Saint Nicholas of Bari. From there they went overland to Rome, where they visited the apostle, and the elector asked the apostle to consecrate him.
The apostle replied that he would gladly do this, and he consecrated him and anointed him as a bishop. He had him put on a type of shoe that clerics call sandals, which symbolize the necessity of taking no step in vain. Then he put on the surplice, which is white, and is a symbol of chastity. Then he put the mantle over his head, which is a symbol for humility, and then the aube, which is pure white, and is a symbol for virginity.
Then he put the fanon (fetlock, wattle) on his left arm, which is a symbol for abstinence, for the left arm, which is tied, must hold back, and the right arm, which is untied, must give. Then he took the stole, which is a symbol for obedience, and put it on his neck. Then he put on the tunic, in which one reads the epistle; it is green, which is a symbol for suffering, and then the dalmatic, in which one reads the gospel; it is white, and is a symbol for justice. Above all the other garments, he put on the chasuble, which must be vermillion, to symbolize holy love.
Then the crozier was placed in his left hand; it is curved at the top, and sharp at the bottom, symbolizing pity and vengeance, for prelates must draw sinners by preaching and by good example, and they must not offer too sharp a penance. For sinners may be so frightened by their sinning that they may fall into despair, which is one the the sins that God most hates. That is the reason why the crozier is curved at the top.
Do you know why it is sharp at the bottom? because prelates should give to sinners penance that is as sharp as the point of the crozier, and one should never pardon the sinner from doing penance for his sin, for if he is completely pardoned, he will more easily return to it. Then he put on the ring, which symbolizes marriage, for he was married to holy church. Then he put on his head the mitre, which must be white, with two peaks, one of which stands for confession, and the other satisfaction [Contrition, perhaps. Ms D offers the Old and New Testaments instead].
Now we have told you how the elector of Beauvais was consecrated; the apostle gave him the Vaus d'Alise, and he held them a long time, and never did anything but evil. He had to return through Chanteleu, because he had stayed too long. Cardinal Romanus was there, and he preached the crusade. The bishop preached otherwise, for he tried with all his might to prevent any of the archbishops or bishops of the kingdom from replying in the presence of the king. They often met at Saint Quentin, and it was in the time of the archbishop Henry of Brainne, who, together with many of the other bishops, agreed with bishop Milo. The queen learned of this from one of the bishops who did not approve of the agreement.
Milo did even worse things, slanderously accusing the queen of being pregnant by cardinal Romanus. The queen showed no signs of how she felt, but kept her feelings hidden, intending to take action at the right time and place. She suffered until one day, when people from Beauvais came to complain to her that their bishop had wrongly and unreasonably excommunicated them, and they said to her: "Lady, our bishop has wrongly and unreasonably excommunicated us. Lady, see to it that we are absolved, for we are ready to perform justice, no matter where justice leads us."
When the queen heard this, she was very glad, for now she knew she could take action in response to what he had said about her. She ordered him to absolve the citizens, and to treat them justly. He replied that he would not obey her in matters of Christian faith. When the queen heard his reply, she ordered him to appear before her. When he failed to appear, neither coming in person nor sending an emissary, the queen summoned all of the barons who were her vassals, all the prelates, and the bishop of Beauvais also, and they all came to the meeting.
The good, thoughtful queen had not forgotten the wretched thing that the bishop of Beauvais had said about her, but she dressed herself in a pure chemise, covered herself with a cloak, and came out of her bedroom. She entered the hall where the princes and prelates were, directed the ushers to call for quiet, and when the noise abated, she stood up, both feet on top of a sleeping-table, and said, in the presence of the bishop of Beauvais: "Lords, look at me, all of you; someone has said that I am big with child." She let her cloak fall on the table, turned to the front, and then to the back, so that everyone could see her, and she clearly had no child in her belly.
When the barons saw their lady naked, they ran forward and covered her with her cloak, and brought her to her room, and had her dressed. Then she returned to the meeting, and there was much discussion of one thing and another. Finally, the citizens of Beauvais were sent for, and they complained about their bishop, who had excommunicated them. The queen had the bishop called, and she asked him why he had excommunicated the king's citizens. The bishop replied that he was not compelled to reply. "Are you not," said the queen, "the king's man, and don't you perform justice for us, who guard the kingdom of France?"
"By saint Peter," said the bishop, "I want all those present here to understand that I have no lord over me in the world, except the apostle, who is my protector. I need answer to any other lord." She then replied: "Lords, you have heard clearly what the bishop said. May the time and the place be recorded, and I shall take counsel according to what is said." The meeting then broke up, and each one went back to his own land.
The queen called a meeting of her advisers, and asked what was to be done about the bishop of Beauvais, who had conspired against the crown of France. Her council said, since he had harmed the king's rights, she could legally seize the fief that he held from the king. The queen had a letter written, and sent it to the bailly of Beauvais. When the bishop heard of it, he was very frightened, but did not wish to humble himself, or to ask mercy of the queen, for the great pride that he had in his heart would not permit him. His heart was blinded by pride, so that he could hardly see at all; so the vices of the world destroy reason and justice in a man.
When the bishop saw that how things really stood, he had preparations made to travel, arranging for money and horses. He left Beauvais with a large entourage, never to return. He went by stages until he reached Turin, a city in Lombardy, and he stayed there overnight, in comfortable lodgings. The next morning he arose and heard mass, and went on his way. He had not traveled far when he came upon a man digging in a vineyard, with a large crown, and a gold ring on his finger. He stopped and greeted him, and said to him:
"Good sir, who are you, digging in the vineyard?" "Indeed, sir," said the good man, "I am the bishop of Turin, who earns his bread here." The bishop of Beauvais said: "But it is not proper for a bishop to dig in a vineyard." "In the name of God," said the bishop of Turin, "my bishopric is too poor to provide me with a living; I've got to do the best I can."
Then the bishop of Beauvais said: "Sir, for God's sake, pray for me, for I am greatly in need of it." The bishop replied that he would gladly do so, and if he wished, he might pray for him too, and would he tell him his name. He said that his name was Milo, and he was the bishop of Beauvais. He then left, followed by his entourage, with eighteen pack-horses. The bishop who was digging in the vineyard asked to whom they belonged, and they told him that they belonged to the bishop of Beauvais, and he cried out: "Sir, hear me, hear me!" The bishop stopped and asked him what he wanted, and the good man said to him: "Sir, you agreed to pray for me; dear, good sir, I release you from the promise." "My God," said the bishop of Beauvais, "what do you mean to say?" "In the name of God, sir," said the bishop of Turin, "I shall tell you. It seems to me that you are already too busy, and have too many things to take care of, to be able to pay any attention to my problems."
They parted from each other, and the bishop continued his journey, until he arrived at Assisi, where saint Francis was born, and where his body lies. There he was struck by a terrible disease; an impostume grew inside his body, on his spine, and became so large that it broke his spine from the rump to the shoulders, and it opened as though he had been decapitated. For four days in lived in great pain, and then he died, and was buried, as a bishop, in the mother church, and his entourage did what they wanted with his possessions. That is the way things turn out with clerics who do not do look after their proper affairs. The bishop's entourage returned to their own land.
XXI
Here we shall turn from bishop Milo of Beauvais, who died as you have heard, and his death gave pleasure to his neighbors; now we shall tell you of king John of Acre, who remained in the land of Syria, and behaved like a fine man. A truce between Christians and Saracens was granted for 20 years. One day the king was in Acre, and he was told that a noble Saracen was in prison. The king ordered that he be brought before him quickly, and the Saracen was brought before the king. When the king saw him he was very pleased, and he asked who he was. Through interpreters he explained that he was the uncle of Saladin, and an important man.
The king looked at him for a long time, and admired his manner. He saw that he was tall, well-proportioned, and erect. He was very old, with a vermilion face, a long, white beard, which reached down to his feet, and the beard was braided in a long, thick braid, which reached below his hips, and he seemed a very fine man. After the king had looked at him carefully, he told him to sit down, and then he asked, through an interpreter, about Saladin. He replied that he would tell him much, and it would be true.
He said to him: "I saw my nephew Saladin, the king of Babylon, with thirty kings under his jurisdiction, send a fine, well-dressed servant on a horse, traveling through all the good towns, carrying three ells of cloth tied to a lance. At every crossroad he cried out: 'Saladin values his kingdom and his treasury no more than he does these three ells of cloth for his shroud.'
Later on, he did a remarkable thing. He heard of the great charity of the hospital of Saint John of Acre; he was told that no sick person was turned away there, and whatever anyone asked for was given to him, if it was possible. Saladin thought that he would test to see if this were true; he took a staff, wallet, and cape, and disguised himself as best he could, and went directly to Acre. He pretended to be sick and wretched, and went to the hospital of Saint John, and asked for shelter, for he was in great need.
When the man who welcomed the sick saw him, he took him in, because he seemed to be in great need. He gave him a place to sleep, and made him as comfortable as he could, then asked him if he would like to eat. 'For God's sake, let me sleep, for I need it very much; I have wanted for a long time to die among the poor people here.'
They left him in peace, and he went to sleep, sleeping the entire day and the entire night. The next day the man in charge of the poor asked if he would like to eat, and he said that he did not care to eat. The man said: 'My God, if you don't eat, you won't be able to live long.' Saladin fasted for three days and three days, without drinking or eating anything. The man returned to him and said to him: 'Good friend, you should take something to eat to keep yourself alive, for we shall be blamed if you die here because of our failure to take care of you.'
'Sir, please understand,' said Saladin, 'that I shall never again in my life eat, if I do not get something for which I have a mortal desire, and I know very well that I shall never get it, for it is insane to think of it and to wish for for it.' 'Ah, dear friend, do not hesitate to ask for anything, for the hospitaliers here have such great charity that no sick person has ever failed to get what he wants here, if it could be had for gold or silver. If you ask for it honestly, you will get it.'
Having received this assurance from the master, Saladin told him what he wanted. 'I want,' he said, 'the right foot of Morel, the fine horse of the grand master of this place. I want to see it cut off before my eyes, or I shall never eat again. Now you have heard my madness,' said Saladin, 'but for God's sake I beg you not to do what I want; it would be better that I, who am a poor man, die, than that such a valuable animal should die. For they say that the great master would not take a thousand besants for him.'
The man left him and went to the grand master, and told him what the sick man had asked for. When the grand master heard this, he thought for a moment, and, remarkably, a desire to comply with the wish came to him, and he said to the master of the sick: 'Go, take the horse, and satisfy his desire. It is better that my horse should die than that a man should die. Moreover, we would be blamed for ever after.'
The horse was brought before Saladin, and was tied up and pushed to the ground; a servant was ready, with a large axe in one hand and a truncheon in the other, and he said: 'Which foot does the sick man want?" He was told, "the right front foot.' He took the truncheon and placed it under the foot, lifted the axe in his two hands, and was about to strike as hard a blow as he could, when Saladin cried out: 'Hold still! My desire has cooled, and I would prefer to eat something else; I'd like some mutton.' The horse was then untied and led back to the stable.
When the grand-master heard about this, he was very glad, as were the other brothers. The sick man was given what he asked for, and he ate and drank well, for he had fasted for three days. He remained there four more days, and they gave him everything he wanted. Then he asked for his robe, his staff and his cape, and he took leave of the master, and thanked him for the things he had given him, and for the honor he had paid him. He went back to his own land, but did not forget what had been done for him in the hospital, and he had a manuscript made, and sealed with his own seal, and had written in it:
'May everyone who is and will be know that I, Saladin, king of Babylon, grant in perpetuity to the hospital of Saint John of Acre 1000 besants of gold for shrouds and blankets to cover the sick who are sheltered there, to be taken every year, on the the day of saint John the Baptist, from my income of Babylon, in such a way that payments will not cease, even if there is a war between us and the Christians.
Let the master of the hospital know that I am doing this because of his house's great charity, and because I was given shelter there. They did not flinch when I tested them by asking for the right front foot of the grand-master's horse, and he was willing to cut it off in my presence, but I would not permit it.' The charter was sent to the hospital of Saint John and delivered to the grand-master and to the brothers, and they were very pleased, for they knew that Saladin would keep his word. From that time on they were paid 1000 besants every year on saint John's day, and the money is still paid today.
Saladin did something else as well," the Saracen said. "The marquis of Casearea (Palestine), who held the city for the king of Jerusalem, and was well provided with knights, ordinary soldiers, and crossbowmen, nevertheless, because of his great greed, every fifteen days impoverished those within the city, filling his coffers with gold and silver. He thought that Saladin was unaware of what he was doing, and he was told that to place the supplies in his own coffer was a very bad idea, because the city could be lost by so doing, for they were very far from the other Christians, and, if they needed help, it would arrive too late. Furthermore, he was told, Saladin was wise and a good soldier, and he knew his worst and the best. 'Be quiet,' said the marquis, 'When I want them, I shall make a thousand knights leap from my coffers.'
These words were reported to Saladin by a spy, who told him of the marquis' greed, and about those inside the city. He said that the garrison was so depleted that there were few, if any men left. When Saladin heard this, he was delighted, and he summoned his men secretly to assemble three leagues from Caesaria, and they all assembled on a Saturday evening. Before daybreak they had marched three leagues, reaching Caesarea at daybreak. They attacked the city on all sides, placing ladders against the walls. Those inside the city heard the sounds of the Saracens, and they ran to the wall to defend the city, but to no avail, for they were too few, and had too little equipment, and were taken by surprise.
The Saracens forced their way into the city, capturing the marquis and his wife. The marquis was led, with his hands tied behind his back, before Saladin, who was very eager to see him. When he saw him, he said to him: 'Marquis, marquis, where are the thousand knights you were going to pull out of your coffers? By Mahomet, your greed fooled you. You never had enough gold or silver, but you will have enough now.' With these remarks, Saladin took some gold and silver, placed it in an iron stove, and made him swallow the burning gold and silver. He died immediately. Saladin, out of courtliness, had the marquis' wife sent back, with ten Christian men and women, to Acre, where she was given sanctuary.
"I could tell you many stories about Saladin," said the Saracen, "but he did one thing at his death that bothered us very much. When he learned that he was going to die, he asked for a basin of water. A servant ran quickly to bring him a silver basin, and he put it in his left hand. Saladin had himself propped up, made the sign of the cross over the basin with his right hand, touched the four corners of the basin, and he said: 'There is as much from here to here, as from here to here.' He said this because no one was observing him. Then he poured the water over his head and over his body, and said, under his breath, three words in French that we didn't understand. As well as I could make it out, he seemed to be baptizing himself.
Thus Saladin, the best pagan prince who ever lived, passed away, and he was buried in the cemetery of saint Nicholas of Acre, near his mother, who had been buried there very grandly. Above them a beautiful, tall tower was built, in which a lamp full of olive oil burns day and night; it is paid for and kept burning by the men of St. John of the Hospi