Deus Lo Volt!

his uncle, Ali. They do not sleep in castles or villages but in open fields. If the weather is bad they construct little huts with poles and hoops over which they drape sheepskin so they resemble the covered litters in which Frankish ladies travel. The men wear long hairy mantles or cloaks and after it rains they spread these on the ground and apply a dressing of alum. In good weather they wear a tunic like the surplice of a priest and tie up their heads with cloth going underneath the chin. They are very ugly, what with black beards and black hair. They carry no weapons except spears and swords and do not put on armor because they think no man dies until his appointed day, at which time his soul enters a different body. Should they wish to rebuke or shame a child they call him accursed like a Frank who dons armor in hope of cheating death. How many Bedouin exist is not known because they travel constantly through the kingdoms of Egypt and Jerusalem and other lands. Their belief that a man does not die until his appointed day is most offensive, implying that our Lord has no power to assist us when we beseech His aid. We know the opposite is true. Christians rest secure in the knowledge of His omnipotence.

That night we took up lodging in the enemy camp. I myself had need of a peaceful sleep, considering the blows I had taken. It was not to be. At daybreak the infidels came back. My chamberlain, who slept at the foot of my pallet and whom I sent outside at the alarm, returned quaking with fright and said the king’s sergeants were up against the ropes of our pavilion. I gathered my knights and we rushed out, albeit few of us put on hauberks because of our wounds. After we routed the pagans I sent to King Louis for aid. In a little while here came Gautier de Châtillon to establish a position between ourselves and a strong force of the enemy. However, eight of them took shelter behind a stone bulwark from which they let loose flights of arrows. Then a priest in my service, Jean de Voysey, left camp wearing a steel cap and quilted tunic and walked toward them, trailing his spear so they might not see it. They, finding him alone, behaved contemptuously. But when he got close he gripped the spear and ran at them, whereupon they fled. Ever afterward my priest was well known. Look you, said one to another, there goes Joinville’s priest who took the measure of eight Saracens.

The first Thursday in Lent we were told by his majesty’s spies that a very brave Egyptian who had been elected leader held up the shield belonging to Comte Robert. He did this to encourage his people. He pretended it was the shield of King Louis. Behold the royal coat of arms, said he. A body without a head can do no harm, nor an army without its king.

When his majesty got word of this he told us to make ready because the enemy would attack. He gave instructions that our men should be deployed between the tents and a surrounding palisade of stakes. Next morning at sunrise here they came, a good four thousand cavalry with thousands more on foot. Seeing how our forces had been arranged they stopped to consider. About midday they advanced with a huge noise of kettledrums, which they call nacaires. During this assault the Comte d’Anjou was almost taken because he dismounted to fight alongside his knights. King Louis at this news spurred directly into battle and rode so deep among the enemy they burnt the crupper of his mount with Greek fire. Guillaume de Sennac, who was master of the Temple, lost an eye, which injury caused his death. He had lost the other eye during the battle on Shrove Tuesday. God comfort him. The Comte de Poitiers was dragged from his mount and would have been led off to captivity but for some butchers and women selling provisions who began to shout, so he was rescued. After him went Josserand de Brancion with twenty knights afoot, of whom twelve perished. Josserand himself was handled so roughly that he could not stand up and later died of these wounds. During his life he fought thirty-six battles. I met him once before we came oversea. He approached me and my brother on a Good Friday and requested our help because some Germans were desecrating a church. We accompanied him and rushed at the Germans with our swords drawn and forced them away. He then dropped on his knees in front of the altar and prayed aloud. Lord, be merciful to me, he prayed. Release me from these battles among Christians. Allow me to die in Thy service that I may come to Thee in Paradise. Surely his words reached up to the Lord on high.

King Louis assembled his barons and spoke to them when the fighting ended. Many thanks do we owe our Savior, he said, for on Shrove Tuesday we caused the enemy to abandon this camp where we are quartered. And on the day just finished our Lord has enabled us to defend ourselves. His majesty also thanked the barons, graciously and charitably, as was his habit.

Nine days afterward we noticed bodies rising to the surface of the water. Putrefied gall may account for this. Whatever the reason, they floated downstream toward a bridge between our camps, but since the Nile was high they could not float under the arches. There they collected, bumping together, glistening with snakes, nudging each other like swimmers in a current. Now and again a bird would settle on a head or a shoulder. King Louis employed a good many wretches to throw pagan bodies over the bridge so they would float away. Pagans could be identified because they were circumcised. Christians were