Books: Heroes Every Child Should Know

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The first attack was made on the Count of Anjou. He held that part
of the camp that was nearest to the city of Cairo. Some of the enemy
were on horseback and some on foot; there were some also that threw
Greek fire among the count's men. Between them they pressed the
count so sorely that he was fain to send to the King for help. This
the King gave without loss of time; he led the men himself, and it
was not long before they chased the Saracens from this part of the
field.

When the battle was over the King called the barons to his tent, and
thanked them for all that they had done, and gave them great
encouragement, saying that as they had driven back the Saracens over
and again, it would, beyond doubt, go well with them in the end.

And now the army was sore distressed for want both of food and of
water. In Damietta, indeed, there were yet stores of barley, rice,
and other grains; but in the camp scarce anything that could be
eaten. Some small fishes were caught in the river; but these were
very ill savoured, and all the more so--so, at least, it seemed to
such as eat them under constraint of hunger--because they fed on
dead bodies, of which many were thrown into the river. For a while
some portion of the stores that were in the city were carried across
the river to the camp. But this the Saracens hindered, for by this
time their ships had the mastery over the ships of the Christians.
They kept, therefore, the river, suffering nothing to pass. If
anything was carried across, it was but a trifle. Some things the
country people brought into the camp, but these were not to be
purchased save for large sums of money, and money was by this time
scarce even among the richer sort. And when it was judged expedient
that the King's army should cross the river again and return to the
camp, things were worse rather than better, so far as victuals were
concerned. It was well that the army should be brought together,
both for attack and for defence, but with the greater multitude the
famine grew worse and worse.

After a while there was a treating for peace between the King and
the Saracens; and for a while it seemed as if they might come to an
agreement, and this not without advantage to the King. But the
matter came to naught, because the Saracens would have the King
himself as a hostage for the due performance of the treaty. The
Christians would have given the King's brothers, and these were
willing to go; but the King they could not give. "It would be
better," said one of the bravest knights in the army, and in this
matter he spake the mind of all, "that we should all be taken
captive or slain, than that we should leave the King in pledge."

The King, seeing that the condition of the army still grew from bad
to worse, and that if they tarried they would all be dead men,
commanded that they should make their way into the town of Damietta.
And this the army began to do the very next night. Now the first
thing to be cared for was the taking of the sick, of whom there was
a great multitude, on board the ships. But while this was being
done, the Saracens entered the camp on the other side. When the
sailors who were busy in embarking the sick saw this, they loosed
the cables by which they were moored to the shore, and made as if
they would fly. Now the King was on the bank of the river, and there
was a galley in waiting for him, whereon, if he had been so minded,
he might easily have escaped. Nor could he have been blamed
therefor, because he was afflicted with the dysentery that prevailed
in the camp. But this he would not do; "Nay," he said, "I will stay
with my people." But when there was now no hope of safety, one of
his officers took him, mounted as he was on a pony, to a village
hard by, defending him all the way from such as chanced to fall in
with him--but none knew that he was the King. When he was come to
the village they took him into a house that there was, and laid him
down almost dead. A good woman of Paris that was there took his head
upon her lap, and there was no one but thought that he would die
before nightfall. Then one of the nobles coming in asked the King
whether he should not go to the chief of the Saracens, and see
whether a treaty might not yet be made on such terms as they would.
The King said yes; so he went. Now there was a company of the
Saracens round the house, whither by this time not a few of the
Christians had assembled. And one of the King's officers cried-
whether from fear or with traitorous intent cannot be said--"Sir
knights, surrender yourselves! The King will have it so; if you do
not, the King will perish." So the knights gave up their swords, and
the Saracens took them as prisoners. When the chief of the Saracens,
with whom the noble aforesaid was talking, saw them, he said, "There
can be no talk of truce and agreement with these men; they are
prisoners."

And now the question was not of a treaty but a ransom. About this
there was no little debate between the Sultan and the King. First
the Sultan required that the King should surrender to him the
castles of the Knights Templars and of the Hospitallers of St. John.
"Nay," said the King, "that I cannot do, for they are not mine to
give." This answer greatly provoked the Sultan, and he threatened to
put the King to the torture, to which the King answered this only,
that he was a prisoner in their hands, and that they could do with
him as they would.

When they saw that they could not turn him from his purpose by
threats or by fear, they asked him how much money he was willing to
pay to the Sultan for his ransom, such money being over and above
the rendering up of the town of Damietta. Then the King made answer:
"If the Sultan will take a reasonable sum in money for ransom, I
will recommend it to the Queen that she should pay the same." "Nay,"
said the envoy of the Sultan, "why do you not say outright that you
will have it so?" "Because," answered the King, "in this matter it
is for the Queen to say yea or nay. I am a prisoner, and my royal
power is gone from me." So it was agreed that if the Queen would pay
a thousand thousand gold pieces by way of ransom, the King should go
free. Said the King, "Will the Sultan swear to this bargain?" They
said that he would. So it was agreed that the King should pay for
the ransom of his army a thousand thousand gold pieces, and for his
own ransom the town of Damietta, "for," said he, "a King cannot be
bought and sold for money." When the Sultan heard this, he said, "On
my word, this is a noble thing of the Frenchman that he makes no
bargaining concerning so great a thing. Tell him that I give him as
a free gift the fifth part of the sum which he has covenanted to
pay."

All things were now settled, and there were but four days before the
fulfilling of the treaty, when the King should give up Damietta to
the Sultan, and the Sultan, on his part, should suffer the King and
his people to go free. But lo! there came to pass that which was
like to bring the whole matter to nothing. The emirs of the Sultan
made a conspiracy against him. "Know this," they said one to
another, "that so soon as he shall find himself master of Damietta,
he will slay us. Let us therefore be beforehand with him." And it
was agreed that this should be done. First, when the Sultan was
going to his chamber after a banquet which he had given to the
emirs, one, who was, indeed, his sword-bearer, dealt him a blow and
struck off his hand. But the Sultan, being young and nimble, escaped
into a strong tower that was hard by his chamber, and three of his
priests were with him. The emirs called upon him to give himself up.
"That," said he, "I will do, if you will give me a promise of my
life." "Nay," they answered, "we will give you no promises. If you
surrender not of your own free will, then will we compel you." Then
they threw Greek fire at the tower, and the tower, which was built
of pine-wood, caught fire on the instant. When the Sultan saw this
he ran down with all the speed that he could, seeking to reach the
river, if so be he could find a ship. But the emirs and their men
were ranged along the way, nor was it long before they slew him. And
he that dealt him the last blow came to the King, his hand yet
dripping with blood, and said, "What will you give me? I have slain
your enemy, who would assuredly have done you to death had he
lived." But the King answered him not a word.

Now the covenant between the King and the Saracen chiefs was
renewed, nor was any change made in the conditions; only the payment
was differently ordered; that is to say, one-half of the ransom was
to be paid before the King left the place where he was, and the
other half in the town of Acre.

Then the emirs on the one part and the King on the other took the
oaths that were held to be the most binding on them. The King indeed
held staunchly by his faith, and when the emirs would have had him
swear in a way that he thought to be unseemly to him as a Christian
man he would not. And the emirs paid him the more honour and
reverence for this very cause. It was said, indeed, that they would
have made him Sultan of Cairo, if he had been minded to receive that
dignity at their hands; furthermore, some that knew the King
affirmed that he was not altogether set against it. But none knew
for certain the truth in the matter. Yet it was well said by one of
the emirs, "There surely never was better or more steadfast
Christian than this King Louis. Verily if he had been made our
sultan he would never have been content till he had either made us
all Christians, or, failing this, had put us all to the sword."

And now there came a time of great peril to the prisoners. First the
town of Damietta was given up to the Saracens, the gates being
opened and their flag hoisted On the towers.

On the next day the paying of the ransom was begun. When the money
was counted it was found to be short by some thirty thousand pieces.
These were taken from the treasury of the Templars much against
their will, but the necessities of the prisoners prevailed.

As for the King, there could not have been a man more loyal in the
fulfilling of his promise. When one of those that counted the money
said that the Saracens had received less than their due by some ten
thousand pieces, the King would not suffer but that the whole matter
should be looked into, lest the Saracens should have wrong. The
counter, indeed, averred that this thing was said in jest; but the
King answered that such a jest was out of season, and that above all
things it was necessary that a Christian should show good faith.

Not many days after the paying of the ransom the King sent for his
chief counsellors and opened his mind to them in the matter of his
return to France. He said, "The Queen, my mother, begs me to come
back to France, saying that my kingdom is in great peril seeing,
that I have no peace, nor even a truce, with England. Tell me, then,
what you think. And because it is a great matter, I give you eight
days to consider it."

After this the King went to Acre, where he tarried till what was
left over of the ransom was paid.

On the day appointed the counsellors came before the King, who said
to them, "What do you advise? Shall I go, or shall I stay?" They
said that they had chosen one from among them, a certain Guy
Malvoisin, to speak for them. Thereupon this Guy said, "These lords
have taken counsel together, and are agreed that you cannot tarry in
this country without damage to yourself and your kingdom. For think
how that of all the knights whom you had in Cyprus, two thousand
eight hundred in number, there remain with you here in Acre scarce
one hundred. Our counsel, therefore, is that you return to France,
and there gather another army, with which you may come hither again
and take vengeance on your enemies for their trespasses against God
and against you."

Then the King turned to a certain John, who was Count of Jaffa, and
asked him for his judgment. Count John answered: "Ask me not, sire;
my domain is here, and if I bid you stay, then it will be said that
I did this for my own profit." But when the King was urgent for his
advice he said, "If you stay for a year it will be for your honour."
And one other of the counsellors gave the same judgment; but all the
rest were urgent for the King's return. Then the King said, "I will
tell you eight days hence what it is my pleasure to do."

On the day appointed they all came together again, and the King
said, "I thank you, my lords, for your counsel--both those who have
advised my going back and those who have advised my staying. Now I
hold that if I stay, my kingdom of France will be in no peril,
seeing that the Queen, my mother, is well able to keep it in charge;
but that if I depart, then the kingdom of Jerusalem will most
certainly be lost, because no man will be bold enough to stay after
I am gone. Now, it was for the sake of this same kingdom of
Jerusalem that I have come hither. My purpose, therefore, is to
stay." There was no little trouble among the barons when they heard
these words. There were some among them who could not hold back
their tears. But though the King resolved himself to stay, yet he
commanded his brothers to depart. And this they did before many
days.

While the King tarried at Acre there came to him messengers from the
Old Man of the Mountain. One of the messengers was the spokesman,
and had his place in front; the second had in his hand three
daggers, to signify what danger threatened him who should not listen
to the message; the third carried a shroud of buckram for him who
should be smitten with the daggers. The King said to the first
envoy, "Speak on." Then the envoy said, "My master says, 'Know you
me?'" The King answered, "I know him not, for I have never seen him;
yet I have often heard others talk of him." "Why, then," went on the
envoy, "have you not sent him such gifts as would have gained his
friendship, even as the Emperor of Germany and the King of Hungary
and other princes have done, yea, and do now year after year,
knowing well that they cannot live save by my lord's pleasure?" The
King made no answer, but bade the envoys come again in the
afternoon. When they came they found the King sitting with the
Master of the Templars on one side and the Master of the
Hospitallers on the other. Now the Old Man is in great awe of these
two, for he knows that if he slay them there will be put in their
place other two as good or better. The envoys were not a little
disturbed when they saw the two. And the Master of the Templars
said, "Your lord is over bold to send you with such a message for
the King. Now be sure that we would have drowned you in the sea, but
that so doing might be a wrong to him. Go now to your lord, and come
again in fourteen days with such a token and such gifts as may
suffice for the making of peace."

So the envoys departed, and came again in the time appointed, and
they brought with them the shirt of the Old Man and his ring, which
was of the finest gold, and with these things this message: "As man
wears no garment that is nearer to him than his shirt, so the Old
Man would have the King nearer to him than any other King upon
earth; and as a ring is the sign of marriage by which two are made
one, so the Old Man would have himself and the King to be one."
Other gifts there were, an elephant of crystal, very cunningly
wrought, and a monster which they call a giraffe, also of crystal,
and draughts and chessmen, all finely made. The King, on his part,
sent to the Old Man a great store of newels, and scarlet cloth, and
dishes of gold and bridles of silver.

While the King was at Jaffa it was told him that if he desired to
make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem the Sultan of Damascus would give him
a safe-conduct. The King consulted his nobles on the matter, and
both he and they were of one mind in the matter, to wit, that he
should not go. "For," said they, "if the King should go as a
pilgrim, when he has not been able to take the Holy City itself out
of the hands of the infidel, then will other Kings in time to come
do the same. They will be content to go as pilgrims, but will take
no thought as to the city, whether it be held by Christian or
infidel."

After these things the King went to the city of Sidon and fortified
it with strong walls, for he was greatly unwilling to give up his
hope of winning the whole land out of the hands of the infidel. But
when he had brought this work to an end, there came news to him from
his own country that the Queen his mother, who was charged with the
government thereof, was dead. Then he took counsel with his nobles
what he should do, and it seemed to them that he must of necessity
return to France. One among them put the case before the King as
follows:

"Sire, we see that it will not profit the kingdom of Jerusalem that
you tarry longer here. You have done what was in your power. You
have fortified the city of Sidon, and Cassarea, and Jaffa, and you
have made the city of Acre much stronger than it was. And now for
your own kingdom's sake, you must needs depart." And to this the
King gave his consent, though with an unwilling heart. So he
departed, and this, as it chanced, on his birthday. As the ship went
forth from the harbour he said to the Lord of Joinville, who stood
by him, "On this day I was born." And the Lord of Joinville said to
him, "Truly, sire, I should say that you are beginning another life,
now that you are safely quit of this land of death."

Some seventeen years after the things last recorded, I took a
journey to the Island of Sardinia, and made my abode at a town on
the west coast, called Neapolis. When I had sojourned there two
months there came in sight on a certain day a great fleet of ships,
which those who were acquainted with such things declared to be from
the land of France. As for the crowd that came ashore that day, it
were best to say little. It is more to the purpose to say that I met
with one whom I knew, having consorted with him in time past, and
this the more constantly because he followed the same occupation as
I. I asked him, "How came you hither? If you are bound for
Palestine, this is but a short stage in your journey." He answered
me with something of a smile in his eye, though his mouth was set,
"Where could we more conveniently halt than here, for we are bound
for Tunis?" "For Tunis?" said I; "but how shall this help you for
the taking of Jerusalem?" "That," said he, "you must ask of some one
that has more wisdom than I. But this I know that the King was told,
by whom I know not, that the Bey of Tunis desired to be baptised.
This, then, is cause sufficient for him. Are you minded to come with
me? If so, I can find you a place in the King's ship, for it is in
it that I sail."

When I heard that, I consented without delay. So that night I gave
my friend the shelter of my lodging; and the next day he took me
with him, and commended me to one of the chief officers of the ship,
bearing witness to my skill as a physician. On the fourth day we
sailed, and came in two days, the wind blowing from the north, to
the harbour of Tunis. As for the King, I saw him but once. His
valets carried him up on the deck; and, to tell the truth, he looked
as little fit for doing feats of arms as man could look. But I
thought that the sickness which takes many men upon the sea might be
the cause.

Scarce had the army landed than there began a most grievous
sickness. In truth the place for the camp had been ill chosen, for
there was a little stream into which much of the filth of the city
was wont to run. From this there came a most evil smell. Many also,
for want of good water, would drink of the stream, than which there
could be no more deadly thing.

On the very day after he landed from his ship the King fell sick.
His physician being disabled by the same malady, I was called in to
the King's help; and from the first I saw that, save by a miracle,
he could not live. On the fourth day he died, making as good and
devout an end as any that I have ever seen. He would know the truth,
for he was not one of those who buoy themselves up with false hopes.
And when he knew it, then first with the help of the priests that
attended him he prepared his soul, and afterward he gave what time
remained to teaching the son who should be King after him how he
should best do his duty to God and man.

I heard much from him who had put it in my mind to come from the
island of Sardinia concerning King Louis. Never, he told me, was a
King more bent on doing justice and judgment. These he maintained
with his whole heart and strength, not having any respect of
persons, or having regard to his own profit. Though he held bishops
and priests in great reverence, being most careful of all the
offices of religion, yet he would withstand even these when they
seemed to seek that which was not fair and just. He was a lover of
peace far beyond the wont of Kings, who indeed, for the most part,
care but little for it, so that men say in a proverb, "War is the
game of Kings." Of the poor he was a great and constant favourer.
Every day he had a multitude of them fed at his cost in his palace,
and sometimes he would serve himself, and it was his custom on a
certain day to wash the feet of poor men. In his eating and drinking
he was as temperate as man could be, drinking, for example, but one
cup of wine, and that largely mingled with water. In all things
wherein great men ofttimes offend he was wholly blameless and beyond
reproach. Of all men that I had any knowledge of, whether by sight
or by hearing, in this business of the Crusades there was not one
who could be so much as named in comparison with King Louis. To King
Louis religion was as life itself. It filled, as it were, his whole
soul; he judged of all things by it; he hungered and thirsted after
it. And yet of all who bore the cross this man, being, as he was, so
much the most faithful to his vow, by far the truest cross-bearer of
all, yet failed the most utterly. Of such things I have not the wit
to judge; yet this, methinks, is manifest, that the Kingdom of God
is not set forward by the power of armies. I do believe that if King
Louis, being what he was, a man after God's own heart, had come, not
with the sword, but preaching the truth by his life, he had done
more for the cause that he had at heart. As it was, he furthered it
not at all, so far as I can discern, but rather set it back. That he
did not gain for Christendom so much as a single foot of earth is
not so much to be lamented, as that he made wider the breach between
Christian men and the followers of Mahomet. And this he did, though
he was in very truth the most Christlike of all the men that I have
ever seen.

CHAPTER XV

WILLIAM TELL

William Tell was born toward the close of the thirteenth century. I
cannot tell you the precise year of his birth; but in the year 1307
he was a married man, and lived with his wife and children, in the
village of Burglen, near the great town of Altdorf, in the canton of
Uri.

Tell maintained his family chiefly by hunting the chamois, and
shooting other wild game. So skilful was he in the use of the bow,
that the fame of his exploits in that way had obtained for him the
name of "The Crossbowman of Burglen." He was also very skilful in
the management of boats upon the lakes. His father had followed the
profession of a pilot, and William Tell, though he preferred the
life of a hunter, understood the navigation of the lakes better than
almost any boatman in the canton of Uri. It was a saying, "That
William Tell knew how to handle the rudder as expertly as the bow."
In short, he was a person of strong natural talents, who observed on
everything he saw, and acquired all the knowledge he could.

Switzerland was at that time in a state of slavery to Albert, Duke
of Austria, who had recently been selected Emperor of Germany. He
had taken great offence with the Swiss, because they wished Count
Adolph of Nassau to be elected Emperor of Germany instead of him.
The first use he made of his power was to punish the Swiss for
having favoured the cause of his rival; and he was so unwise as to
declare publicly, "that he would no longer treat them as subjects,
but as slaves." In pursuance of this wicked resolution he deprived
them of many of their rights and privileges, and altered their
ancient laws and customs.

By these proceedings the Emperor rendered his government very
unpopular, and when he found that the people expressed
dissatisfaction, he built castles and fortresses all over the
country, and filled them with soldiers to awe the people into
submission. In each of these fortresses he placed a governor, who
exercised despotic power in the district over which his sway
extended. The inhabitants of the canton Uri, in particular, had to
complain of the oppression of their German governor, Gessler, who
had committed several murders, and acted in such a manner as to
excite general indignation, by his pride, cruelty, and injustice.
The whole country was indeed ripe for a revolt, in case an
opportunity should occur of throwing off the German yoke.

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