His majesty sailed again from Aigues-Mortes, thinking to redeem the Barbary coast. I know little concerning that voyage. In view of Sardinia he dictated a will. He made land close by the castle of Carthage and nearly at once fell victim to flux. Some few days later he amended his will, replacing as executors two barons who had died from the illness gripping him. Now as he understood the desire of his spirit to leave this world he sent for Prince Philippe, instructing the youth to reign with dignity and consideration. When he finished admonishing his son he requested the sacraments, which he heard with a clear mind because it is known that he repeated each verse of the seven psalms chanted by priests anointing him.
On the final Sunday of his majesty’s life Brother Godfrey de Beaulieu found him kneeling on the floor with hands clasped. The night preceding his death he was heard to sigh and twice murmured the holy name of Jerusalem. Shortly before the end he asked to be laid on a bed sprinkled with ashes. He looked upward and beseeched our Lord to show mercy toward Christians on that iniquitous coast. Later he spoke in Latin, commending his spirit to Almighty God. He said nothing else, but at the hour of vespers in the fifty-sixth year of life he departed. This occurred one day after the feast of Saint Bartholomew in our year of grace 1270. The shell of him they boiled in wine and water until the flesh slipped from his bones. These bones they conveyed to France, to Saint Denys where he wished to be laid. The cathedral of Monreale in Palermo received his heart.
Almost at once we heard of miracles worked before the tomb. His Holiness Gregory ordered an inquiry, naming Cardinal Simon de Brie as legate. Further, the pontiff asked Geoffrey de Beaulieu to prepare a summary of the king’s virtues. Six years elapsed and the legate’s report not finished, His Holiness ascended to God.
His Holiness Martin IV in the year 1280 instituted a public inquiry, this to be directed by the archbishop of Rouen. Sessions opened at Saint Denys. For ten months the commissioners listened. On the king’s life, thirty-eight witnesses testified. Charles d’Anjou offered a special deposition from Naples on the virtue of his brother. I myself testified at Saint Denys for two full days.
Concerning miracles, more than three hundred witnesses testified. Among them Master Dudes, canon of Paris, who accompanied his majesty on the last crusade. Master Dudes subsequently fell ill with ague and fever, little hope obtained for his recovery. After settling his affairs, having made confession, he prayed to the king, saying, I beseech you to help me as I have served you. Then in a dream he beheld King Louis dressed all in white embroidered with gold, crowned, a scepter in his hand. The king touched Master Dudes on the head, removing an evil humor that had been the cause of illness. Next morning Master Dudes awoke in high spirits, confounding his physicians by requesting a goblet of wine and a chicken to eat.
The wife of a man who once had served the king testified concerning a flood in her cellar. She recalled that King Louis had given her husband some old peacock feather hats and despatched a lackey to make the sign of the cross over the flood with one of his majesty’s hats. By evening curfew, according to what this woman said, the water had receded so much that it was possible to draw wine from casks that had been floating. And next day the flood disappeared, only mud to prove where it stood.
Not least, here was a shoemaker of Saint Denys who mocked those who came to pray, who jeered them, claiming Henry of England was greater than King Louis. So a malady struck his leg and he was cured only by repenting his words and kneeling in prayer.
Twenty-eight years after King Louis ascended to glory he was lifted from his tomb, carried by a great number of archbishops and bishops to the dais where he would be honored. Brother Jean de Samois delivered the oration.
For myself, I thought of a vision I once had. King Louis stood in my chapel at Joinville, very pleased, as was I myself to find him there. My lord, I said, at Chevillon, which belongs to me, I would make a place for you. He laughed with delight, but said he had no wish to leave my chapel. When I awoke it seemed to me that I should build an altar, which I did. I endowed it to his memory and to the glory of God, that masses might be sung forever and forever. Here was the music of his presence.
In our year of grace 1305, by permission of the sovereign pontiff, one rib and the head of Saint Louis, excepting his jaw, were lifted from the crypt. King Philippe le Bel, attended by numerous prelates and barons, escorted these relics to Paris. On Tuesday preceding Japhe his rib was conveyed to the church of Notre-Dame, his head to the king’s chapel. His gold cup, out of which no one afterward drank, and his missal were carefully preserved. With this, I think, the tapestry of his life was finished.
A carved stone effigy is but the semblance of this man I knew so well and loved past computation. Often I recall that moment in Acre when he put his hands atop my head and I, mistaking him for Philippe de Nemours, bade him leave me alone. I recall how gently he reproved me. Then does his majesty reappear as he once was and I am all but destroyed with love.
He rose to glory anticipating the redemption of Jerusalem. It was not to be. No more did we embark from Acre than what he effected in Syria began to lapse and sink, eroding
