Deus Lo Volt!

blood spouting like wine from a barrel. Érard took a sword cut on the face that left his nose dangling over his lips. I thought of Saint James and prayed aloud. Érard heard me. He spoke through the blood streaming down his face and said if I thought neither he nor his heirs would incur reproach for it he would go to fetch help from the Comte d’Anjou in a field close by. I answered that he would earn great honor if he went for help to save us, adding that I thought his life in jeopardy from his wound, which in fact was true since later he died of it. He took counsel with other knights and having listened to them asked me for his horse, which I held by the bridle. I gave it to him and he rode furiously out of the ruin. We saw him approach the Comte d’Anjou. There was some argument, but presently the Comte looked in our direction. Now his sergeants laid spurs to their mounts whereupon the pagans who bedeviled us took flight. I saw Pierre d’Auberive riding toward us with his sword clenched in his fist and could not but think Saint James heard my plea.

I stood there all bloody since I had got a lance thrust between my shoulders when King Louis appeared with his battalions and screeching trumpets and clashing cymbals and kettledrums like thunder, which was the most welcome music on earth. He drew himself up on a raised causeway to look across the field. He wore a gilded helm and carried a long sword of German steel. I never saw a more perfect knight.

When I next saw him he was close to the river. His men had been forced backward by Egyptians attacking with maces and swords. Some of his men thought to swim across to join the duke of Burgundy, but the animals were tired and the day had got very hot so as we moved downstream we saw lances and shields everywhere with horses and men drowning. King Louis was almost captured. Lord Jean de Saillenay told me that some Turks grasped the bridle of his horse but he freed himself with vigorous sword strokes. Then his people gathered up courage and rallied about him.

We were guarding a little bridge when Pierre de Bretagne came toward us and such a cut face that his mouth was full of blood. He rode a stout pony and had dropped the reins in order to grip the pommel with both hands since he did not want to be jostled by the men crowding him. He cursed and spat blood while the pony trotted. Ha! said he. God’s head! Did ever you see worse dregs! By which oath he meant his own people. Directly after him was Pierre de Neuville, whom they called Caier, and the Comte de Soissons, both leaking blood, followed by Egyptians attempting to finish them off. I told the Comte de Soissons, who was my wife’s cousin, that we ought to hold this bridge since otherwise the enemy would attack our king from both sides. He said he would stay if I remained. I assured him I would. So we faced them, I mounted on a sturdy cob, Pierre to our left. From behind us out of nowhere came an Egyptian who struck Lord Pierre on the head with a mace, laying him across the withers of his pony, and got away before we could do anything.

These accursed unbelievers had brought with them a mob of peasants who flung clots of earth at two of his majesty’s sergeants, Guillaume de Boon and Jean de Gamaches. One threw a pot of Greek fire at Guillaume who stopped it on his shield or he would have turned to ashes. We were now all of us abristle with darts. By good luck I had found a padded Saracen tunic and used it like a buckler. The Comte de Soissons now thought fit to jest. Seneschal! cried he. Let the dogs howl! By God’s bonnet we shall one day speak of this, you and I, at home with our ladies!

Near sunset a company of his majesty’s crossbowmen formed ranks ahead of us, an agreeable sight. When these good men set foot to the stirrup of their bows the enemy did not much care for it, vanishing quick as roaches.

The constable said I should go to King Louis and remain at his side, which I did. As we went riding along I persuaded the king to take off his helm and put on my steel cap so he might get some air. Soon afterward Henri de Ronnay, who was provost of the Hospital, came up and kissed his gauntlet. The king asked if there were news of Comte Robert, to which the provost answered that his majesty’s brother was in Paradise.

Ah, Sire, the provost continued, find solace in the knowledge that no king of France has earned such glory as you, for you have crossed a river to defeat the enemy and have captured their tents. You will sleep at peace tonight.

To this King Louis answered that we should thank God for every blessing. Then he sighed. As he spoke I saw his eyes fill with tears. If, said he, my brother lies dead, God grant him forgiveness of his sins, both him and all the rest.

During the battle certain of our men shamefully quit the field, vitals drained. No argument would make them stay. How unlike the courage and dignity of our sainted king.

We had no more put the infidel troops to flight than Bedouin rushed forward to pillage their empty camp. These wretched nomads who would not expose their bellies to danger now felt entitled to the spoil. What can be said of the Bedouin? It is widely known how they descend like birds of prey to feast on what is vulnerable. I am told they do not obey the precepts of Mahomet but follow the teaching of