On the eve of Shrove Tuesday we buried Hugues de Landricourt, a knight-banneret. While his corpse lay on a bier in my chapel I happened to enter and found the priest much annoyed because half a dozen knights were loitering on sacks of barley chattering as they might in a tavern. I told them to be quiet. I said it was not proper to talk while mass was sung but they laughed and said they were discussing the widow of Hugues. I said this was neither decent nor appropriate, that they seemed already to have forgotten their comrade. Our Lord was listening to them jest and He was angered because next day all were killed or mortally stricken, leaving the wives of all six free to marry.
Thanks to divine providence we learned of a Bedouin who would take us to a ford at the canal of Achmoum in exchange for five hundred bezants. Some people think this man was a Copt, which is to say Christian. However it may be, King Louis agreed so the money was paid.
The Templars were selected to lead. Comte Robert d’Artois with his men should come next.
Shrove Tuesday at dawn we rode into the stream where the Bedouin indicated and our horses began to swim. No sooner did we get to the middle than our horses felt bottom and were happy about not having to swim anymore. Many slipped and some fell on the riders while trying to climb out because the bank was steep and soft. It was here that Jean d’Orléans ascended to glory. I called to those with me that we should continue upstream until we found a better place. When at last we climbed out we could see Egyptians flying away pursued by Comte Robert, which should not have happened because the Templars were chosen to lead. They, much affronted, feeling dishonored, sent word for him to check his people. He did not get this message because a knight in his service, Foucaud de Merle, a gallant knight but also quite deaf, did not hear what the Templar said and continued shouting at the top of his voice that everybody should pursue the Babylonians. After them! After them! he shouted. Because of so much confusion the Templars set spurs to their mounts and galloped forward.
I have heard that the Grand Master tried to stop Comte Robert, saying they were in danger of being surrounded. God’s mercy, he cried. Let us await the king who must get here soon.
They say Comte Robert pretended to laugh and told the Grand Master that among Templars would always be found some hair of the wolf, by which he implied treachery.
Ride as you will, the Master retorted. Nor ever, please God, shall you impeach a Templar for cowardice. Yet will Christendom suffer this day, even as my heart forebodes.
Whereupon both struck spurs to their mounts and rode straightway through the village of Mansourah into fields beyond as if they would chase Egyptians all the way to Cairo. How far they went into the fields I do not know, but as they returned through Mansourah the rooftops thronged with citizens anxious to hurt or kill them, dropping sharpened stakes, hot water, stones, timbers, throwing down all manner of objects, and these Christians pressed so tight in the narrow streets of destruction they lost themselves. Three hundred gave up the ghost, among them Raoul de Coucy and his majesty’s brother, Comte Robert d’Artois. And round about this time here came a strong force of mameluk Turks.
I myself saw none of what occurred at Mansourah because I resolved to attack some enemies of God who were collecting equipment in their camp. When I rode among the tents I saw an unbeliever with hands on the saddle of his mount getting ready to draw himself up. I thrust my lance in his side and he fell dead. We saw a great many who had retreated into the fields. They, after consultation, came charging toward us and killed Hugues de Trichâtel, lord of Conflans, who rode beside me holding a banner. I saw Raoul de Wanou struck down and went to his aid. Egyptians thrust at me with lances and drove my horse to its knees so I pitched forward and shook the earth but got up as best I could with sword in hand. Érard de Silverey, a bold knight, pointed to the ruin of a house, saying we ought to take refuge behind the walls until his majesty arrived. As we went toward it, some afoot, others on horseback, Egyptians charged again and rode over me so I lost my shield. Érard helped me to the ruin. Frédéric de Loupey, Renaud de Menoncourt, Hugues d’Écot, and others whose names I do not recall joined us. From everywhere Egyptians appeared like wasps, some climbing the walls to thrust down lances and prick us, cursing hideously in their language. Hugues d’Écot got three lance wounds in the face. Frédéric took a lance deep in the back, which brought his
