The king now turned to these master mariners. What would you do, he asked, if the vessel belonged to you and was freighted with your goods? Would you abandon her?
They replied in unison that indeed they would not, but would sooner risk drowning than spend four thousand livres on another ship.
Then, said the king, why should I quit her?
Sire, they answered, the stakes are not equivalent. Gold and silver may be weighed, whereas the lives of yourself, your queen, and your children may not.
I have listened to all opinions, said the king. Here is my judgment. Were I to board another vessel I would leave behind these hundreds of pilgrims, each of whom treasures his life as I do mine. Many would choose to land on Cyprus rather than subject themselves to a fitful sea. And these, perhaps, might never return to France. Therefore, he continued, he would not do such harm to his people but would entrust himself, his wife, and his children to the hands of the Lord.
In my opinion we had been tried enough, yet no more did we escape the sandbank than a fierce wind drove us toward the island. Anchors were tossed out to halt our progress but we drifted forward. We did not stop till the mariners had thrown out five anchors. Gilles le Brun and I lay miserably in the king’s chamber when the door opened and there was Queen Marguerite looking for her husband. She wanted him to vow that he would undertake a pilgrimage of some sort if we might be saved, mariners having told her they could promise nothing. I did not know where the king was, but I said there was one thing she herself might do. She might promise the Lord that if we got safely home she would commission a silver ship to the value of five marks in the name of the king, herself, and their children. For, said I, only last night when we hit the sandbank I vowed to Saint Nicholas that if he would preserve us I would walk barefoot from Joinville to his shrine at Varangeville. The queen replied that she would promise a silver ship worth five marks if I stood surety for Saint Nicholas. I answered that I would. Then off she went, but in a while came back to tell us that Saint Nicholas had listened, for the wind had fallen.
Now as the storm abated King Louis seated himself on the bulwarks and told me to sit at his feet. Seneschal, he began, our Lord has visibly manifested His strength in that with a single wind He might have drowned the king of France with his wife and children and all this company. The saints inform us that tribulation should be held as a warning, therefore we ought to look within ourselves to see how we have angered Him. And we should cast out whatever we find offensive, since otherwise He may smite us with death or some other calamity.
After a while he continued. You know, the saint addresses God in this manner. O Lord, why dost Thou intimidate us? Our end could not diminish Thee, nor could our deliverance enhance Thee. And therefore, Seneschal, admonitions arise out of God’s vast love for us, that we may perceive our deficiencies and purge ourselves of what He finds abhorrent.
Then his majesty was a long time silent.
Olivier de Termes, a valiant knight who distinguished himself in the Holy Land, disembarked at Cyprus because he nurtured a fear of drowning. Such were the difficulties of travel that almost two years would elapse before he saw France again, although he was a wealthy lord with money enough for passage. Lesser folk might well be condemned to life on that island. So it may be seen how the king spoke truly.
After we had taken aboard fresh water and provisions we departed Cyprus and came to the island of Lampedusa. Here we caught a great many rabbits. Also, we visited a deserted hermitage among the rocks and saw a garden that was laid out by these monks. A pleasant stream trickled through it. We walked down the slope and entered a grotto in which we found a lime-washed oratory with a red cross made of baked clay. In another grotto we saw the skeletons of two men who lay as though asleep, the bones of their hands folded on their ribs. They were laid toward the east like those consigned to earth.
Upon returning to our ship we learned that a seaman had deserted. Our captain thought he might have decided to become a hermit. We left three sacks of biscuit where he might find them and continued our voyage.
Next we came to Pantalaria in the midst of the sea. Queen Marguerite wished to obtain fruit for her children, but his majesty was reluctant to put men ashore because the inhabitants of this island were Saracen. At last he consented and despatched three galleys, telling the captains they should not loiter but quickly rejoin the fleet. They pulled ahead in the direction of a small harbor. We did not see them when we passed by so we thought they must have been captured. Our seamen advised his majesty not to wait, pointing out that we were between Sicily and Tunis, kingdoms that did not love us. Give us leave to sail on and by dawn we shall pass through this strait, said they with anxious looks. His majesty refused to listen. He said he would not leave his people in Saracen hands and make no effort to rescue them. Turn your sails, he ordered, so
