As we later found out, in November of the previous year she retired to the Cistercian abbey of Maubuisson and devoted her last days to spiritual exercise while clothed in the habit of a nun. According to his majesty’s brother Charles, when she felt death forthcoming she lost the ability to speak. Priests and clerics hesitated, uncertain what to do. But all at once she herself began to intone Subvenite Sancti Dei, muttering the prayer between her teeth, yielding her soul little by little as though reluctant to concede.
Toward young Queen Marguerite she behaved with uncommon harshness. Indeed, she would try to prevent the king from seeing his consort. The palace his majesty most enjoyed was at Pointoise, mayhap because his wife’s chamber was beneath his own, the two connected by a winding staircase so they could meet without interference. They directed ushers to knock on the door with rods if the Queen Mother approached, whereupon the king would hurry up to his quarters. Once while Marguerite lay near death after childbirth the Queen Mother took his majesty by the hand and told him to come away because he was doing no good. At this Marguerite cried out and fainted. Only then did King Louis summon strength enough to withdraw from his imperious mother.
Soon after I had spoken with the king about his mother’s death I was approached by Madame de Vertus asking me to go and comfort Queen Marguerite who was prostrate with grief. I found her weeping, which astonished me. My lady, I said, he who first observed that a man cannot know how a woman will respond spoke truly. The Queen Mother detested you. Now she is dead. Why do you grieve?
Not for her do I grieve, she answered, but that my husband should feel such loss.
His majesty held more than one office for the deceased queen and he sent to France a trunk full of letters addressed to all the churches, requesting prayers for her soul.
Now with Saida almost rebuilt he ordered processions through the camp, after each of which the legate exhorted us to pray that King Louis should do whatever most pleased God, whether he remained in the Holy Land or embarked to France. Later I was summoned to a courtyard where the legate ceremoniously informed me that King Louis was pleased with my service. Further, said he, I am to tell you that the king will return to France this coming Easter.
May it be so, I replied.
The legate asked me to his quarters. He led me to an empty room, shut the door, took my hands and began weeping. When he had recovered he told me how glad he was that we would soon escape this diabolic land. For myself, he went on, the thought of leaving such honorable company fills me with regret since I must go back to Rome and conduct myself as best I can among those treacherous people.
It seemed to me that our companions were less honorable than he thought. I had on one occasion told him of sins committed in the city of Acre as they were related to me by a priest and he responded that none knew better than himself what deplorable acts were done. It behooves God to avenge them, he had said, in such wise that the streets will be washed by the blood of citizens and others come to take their place. The legate prophesied much too well.
At the beginning of Lent we returned to Acre and King Louis supervised preparations for the voyage. His fleet consisted of thirteen galleys and sailing ships. All had been made ready in time for the king and his consort to embark on the vigil of Saint Mark.
Next morning the wind rose fair. His majesty told me that he was born on Saint Mark’s Day, to which I answered that he might call himself reborn if one took into account what we had been through.
Saturday we came in view of Cyprus and the mountain that is known as Mountain of the Cross. Unluckily a mist blew down from the island, so we did not know how close we were and fetched a sandbank. Up went a huge cry with mariners shouting and wringing their hands in terror of being drowned. It happened I was in bed when we struck. I therefore got up and went on deck. Just as I reached the forecastle I heard Brother Raymond, who was a Templar in charge of the crew, order one of his people to throw the lead. Almost at once a sailor cried for mercy since we were aground. Brother Raymond howled that we were lost and clawed his beard and tore his garment. Now here came one of my knights, Jean de Monson, with a lined surcoat to put around my shoulders because I wore only a tunic. I demanded to know what use I had of a surcoat if we were going to drown, but he said he did not want me to catch a chill. The mariners shouted for a galley to rescue the king, but not one drew near. Later I understood the wisdom of this. We had eight hundred people aboard who would have hopped from our vessel like rats to save their lives and a galley would capsize.
By God’s grace we drifted off the sandbank, although we did not realize this until the lead was thrown a second time. Brother Raymond went to inform his majesty and found him supine on deck before the altar, arms outstretched to form a cross, barefoot and hair uncombed, ready to be drowned.
Next morning we understood how fortunate we were to scrape ourselves on the sandbank, for beyond it was a rock.
His majesty brought master mariners from other vessels who sent down divers to investigate the damage. Each reported a great length of keel missing. We think the timbers are out of joint, the mariners said, and they advised his majesty to board another
