To the ladders! cried King John. And that man who is first to enter Damietta, he shall have one thousand bezants!
Ladders were made fast and up they scurried quick as mice, each for himself, but were not opposed. They ran to the gates and cut the bars and swung the gates apart for King John’s host. A familiar stench pervaded Damietta. Once there had been sixty thousand inhabitants. Now, by some accounts, three thousand remained alive. Christians rushing through the city saw how the dead had slain the living. Dead husbands and dead wives lay on their beds, wasted away, corrupting their own homes. Starved infants with open mouths hung in the embrace of dead mothers. Avaricious merchants blue and cold among stacks of wheat, so there was food, yet not what they required. Fruit, herbs, garlic, vegetables, butter, olives, fish, none of it slipped the Christian noose. Courtyards, public houses, streets, temples, everywhere corpses rotted. By order of King John these bodies were dragged outside the walls for burning. King John and Cardinal Pelagius saw fit to enter when Damietta had been cleansed. They found gold, silver, weapons, handsome armor, corn and wine enough, whatever belongs in a good city.
As to the living inhabitants, most soon expired. Others went into captivity, others baptized. Some few notable citizens were kept to barter.
How often it is said that men are made into thieves by concupiscence of their eyes. Here was Babylonian luxury. Pearls of varied color. Silken stuff. Fringes with golden threads. Apples cunningly whittled from amber. Soft pillows. Bodkins, necklaces, silver chains for the ankle. Little moons and ornaments for shoes. Sweet tablets to suck. Jewels to hang on the forehead. Cloaks. Looking-glasses. Veils. Lawns. Crisping pins. Now was the army of Christ debauched, given to adultery and drunken chambering. And that summer while they loitered here came fourteen galleys from Venice wondrously appointed. And merchant ships wallowing with provision. But a fleet of Saracen galleys kept watch and swept in to capture these supplies. Also, the pagans made for a great vessel bringing Henry, called the Lion, who was duke of Saxony. Through the grace of providence these unbelievers were repulsed. Still, they burnt and sank a ship belonging to the Teutonic House that was loaded with barley. Also during that summer Count Diether resolved to sail for Thessalonika, no matter if the legate objected. Stubbornly he would do as he pleased, hence the legate excommunicated his renegade ship with all aboard. Off the coast of Cyprus he fell among pirates and his ship burnt. Count Diether narrowly escaped death by swimming away. Again we remark how the Lord adjudicates and punishes those who disregard His wishes.
Emperor Frederick did not yet show his face. The principal barons asked one another. What is to be? Shall we sit closed up in this place? Have we not come to conquer Egypt? Then off they went to ask questions of King John and Cardinal Pelagius.
Their desire to attack Babylon gratified the legate, but King John demurred. The Saracens are full of anger, said he, but wise enough to discern what advantage they hold. This is their ground. For my part, I think we should wait until the flooding of the river is past.
Nay, said Cardinal Pelagius, we are better going now.
Nay verily, answered King John, it would be far worse. Nevertheless, I will not halt the plan.
Then let us move ourselves, said Pelagius. We will go to Babylon, assault it and take it.
How many Templars, Hospitalers, and valiant knights gave up the ghost at Damietta? Among others the noble Count Milo of Barsur-Seine with both of his sons, delivered from human grief in the shadow of these walls. This I know because my father Simon battled at their side for glory, as once he fought to crush faithless Albigenses at Béziers and Carcassonne.
Here also departed from life Barzella Merxadrus, ordinary soldier, citizen of Bologna. On the twenty-third day of December in the year 1219, feeling mortally ill, he dictated terms for burial and disbursement of his goods. Five bezants he left for the repose of his soul. Weapons, armor, and hauberk he bequeathed to the Hospital of Germans where he wished to be interred. One bezant to James of Ungine, notary. One bezant to the army common chest. To his companions in the tent, three bezants. To his wife Guiletta, rights and benefits of office oversea in this army and his share in the city of Damietta, or spoil therefrom, which in any form might accrue. To his wife, aforesaid Guiletta, his part in the tent with furnishings that she might enjoy fully and peacefully as she had heretofore. Such was the testament of Barzella Merxadrus, humble pilgrim, drawn up beside the walls. Some little note writ on parchment, a register of light account, nothing to inscribe on stone. And yet, what our Lord has created in His image, that does He embrace.
From Damietta to Cairo requires three days. Without bloodshed a route was found through Saramsah, which boasts a magnificent palace. Inhabitants who fled in terror from the mighty visage of God had scorched their fields. Still, the pilgrim host found vegetables, barley, straw, fruit hanging in the gardens.
Anon to that church where Blessed Mary paused with the child Jesus when she fled into Egypt and heathen idols toppled. From here is but half a league to that balsam garden where she drew water from a spring to wash the clothing of the Holy Infant. They say this garden is like a vineyard with plants growing after the fashion of willow. Sirobalsam is the name of this plant, which has a sparse leaf pointed like the licorice leaf. If a branch is cut or scratched a fragrant liquid seeps out and is caught in dishes.
