Chapter II: Part 2

The Cid planted his banner on the Alcazar, which was the name given to all royal houses and palaces in Spain. He caused Abeniaf to be seized by force, and after he had made him say where he had concealed the treasures of Yahia he condemned him to be burnt alive, but showed mercy to his son when the Moors entreated him not to include him in the punishment of his father; and had the Cid put the innocent child to death it would have been as dreadful a crime as Abeniaf was guilty of in murdering Yahia.

The city of Valencia lay in a great plain which was called the Garden, because it was covered with the most luxuriant vegetation, and trees, such as the mulberry, olive, orange, carob, and palm grew in its fertile soil. There were fair gardens lying between the walls and the shore.

When the Cid had taken up his abode in the vast and beautiful Alcazar, the people began to cast off their sorrow and gloom, and to take part in the rejoicings made by the Spaniards. Valencia was now all his own. He suffered the Moors to remain in the city and to keep all their herds and flocks; they were to give him a tenth part of their substance, and to retain all their customs; and he made a good man Wali over them that they might be governed by their own laws. Those who were not content with this arrangement, he ordered to go and dwell in the suburb of Alcudia, outside the walls. From this time he was called the Cid Campeador, the latter title being given to one greatly renowned for his exploits.

One day, Hieronymo, a holy and learned man, "all shaven and shorn," came from the East to Valencia, and desired to see the Cid. He said that if he might once meet the Moors on the battle-field, and have his fill of smiting them, he would be content. These were warlike words for a priest, but they pleased Ruy Diaz, and the very next day after the stranger arrived the mosques were changed into churches, and Hieronymo was made Bishop of Valencia.

The King of Seville soon came with the Almoravides to besiege the Cid in his new abode. Ruy Diaz defeated him, and won from them his famed horse Bavieca, although the chronicles say that Bavieca was the horse he chose when a boy, because it was so fiery, and the name was given to it from his godfather exclaiming, "Bavieca (meaning simpleton) thou hast chosen ill."

After this he sent his faithful cousin Alvar with a number of brave knights to fetch his wife and daughters from the convent of Cardena, where they had been all this time. The ladies were joyful indeed to hear that Valencia was gained, and when they drew near, the Cid came out on his horse Bavieca, with a stately company to meet them, and he took them up to the highest tower of the Alcazar, whence they could see all the fair city lying in its plain beside the sea, and its beautiful houses built by the Moorish architects, its fountains and gateways, and its gardens filled with the brilliant flowers and luscious fruits of the East.

Dona Ximena and her daughters had been in Valencia about three months, when news was brought to the Cid that King Yusef was coming from Morocco with 50,000 horsemen, and myriads of men on foot, to invest the city by sea and land. The Campeador was not alarmed; he had his fortresses well manned, and the enormously thick walls of the city repaired, and he got in plenty of provisions, whilst a number of his vassals, Christians and Moors, came to his aid.

The day before the battle he took his wife and Elvira and Sol to the tower, and showed them the Moors as they gained their footing on shore. Soon they began to enter the gardens, and Ruy Diaz told a very brave man to go down thither with two hundred knights, and show them a little play. So he went down, and soon drove them out of the gardens. The Cid, being so often at war, had certain signals, by which the knights knew how many of them were to arm themselves and assemble, the signal being usually the ringing of a bell.

Early the next morning Bishop Hieronymo sang the mass and absolved all the Christians from their sins; praying afterwards, warlike man that he was, to be the first to drive back the enemy. Whilst it was still dark, the Cid, well armed and mounted on Bavieca, went out with his company at the gate which was called the Gate of the Snake. They loitered about at first, and then when the Cid rang his bell the Christians came out of their hiding-places amongst the narrow ways and passes, and the Moors were shut in between their enemies and the sea. There was hard fighting that day; the Moors, arming themselves in haste, made a firm stand, but before night they were overcome and fled to Denia, leaving great riches behind them in the camp. Ruy Diaz, who had been wounded in the battle, rode joyfully back to the city when they were gone, still mounted on Bavieca, and with his drawn sword still in his hand; and he sent King Alonzo a present of three hundred horses laden with the gold and silver he had found amongst the spoils.

Yusef died soon after his defeat, and his brother Bucar swore upon the Koran, the book of their law, that he would take revenge upon the mighty Castillian chief.

The Infantes of Carrion, Diego, and Fernan Gonzalez, vassals of King Alonzo in Castille, having heard how the power of the Cid was increasing day by day, demanded his daughters in marriage, thinking by so doing they would become rich and powerful themselves. The Cid was pleased with the proposal, but Dona Ximena did not like the idea of such a marriage at all; however, since the king had heartily approved of it, she dared say nothing against it.

The weddings were performed by Bishop Hieronymo, and there were great rejoicings in Valencia for eight days. Each day had its festival, either in bull-fighting, or tilting, or shooting stones from the cross-bow, or they witnessed the performances of the Moorish jugglers and buffoons, who were very clever in their art. Then there were magnificent banquets in the Alcazar, the tables being covered with silver dishes filled with rare and highly-seasoned meats.

For two years the Infantes lived with their wives at Valencia in peace; but at the end of that time a misfortune happened, which caused them to break with their father-in-law, although it was no fault of his. The Cid had a very large and lively lion, which afforded him great amusement, and was kept in an iron house, which opened into a high court behind the Alcazar; three men had the charge of it, and it was their custom about mid-day to open the door of its house, and let it come into the court to eat its dinner, taking care before they left to fasten the door of the court securely.

The Cid used to dine in company every day, and after dinner he sometimes fell asleep, for he was getting old. One day a man came to him, and told him that many vessels had arrived before Valencia, having on board a great host of the Moors, and among them Bucar, the African king, who had sworn to revenge the death of his brother. When the Cid heard this he was very much pleased, for it was nearly three years since he had had a fight with the Moors. He had his bell rung as a sign that all the honourable men in the city should assemble, and when they came to Alcazar, and the Infantes were there too, he told them the news, and agreed with them as to the manner in which they should repel the advance of their foes. When this was done he went quietly to sleep, and Diego and Fernan, and the rest of the company sat playing at tables[9] and at chess.

It happened that the men who guarded the lion heard that the Moors had come, and rushed to the palace to see if the news were true, forgetting in their anxiety to close the door of the court behind them. And lo and behold! the lion, when it had dined right royally, and saw the door open, walked out of the court and straight into the great hall where all the company were assembled. It certainly was an alarming sight, and the people did not know what to do, fearing that the lion might be roused to fury and tear some of them to pieces. Diego and Fernan Gonzalez showed more terror and cowardice than all the rest, and Diego ran and hid himself under the Cid's chair, and very nearly died of fright in his undignified retreat, whilst Fernan rushed out of a gallery which led into a court where there was a winepress, and entering therein he tumbled among the lees, which served him quite right.

The others remained in the hall, and stood around the Cid to guard him while he slept. The noise of their talking, however, at last awakened him, and he saw how the lion came towards him and licked his hand, and he asked what it meant. And when the lion heard his voice, it stood quite quiet, and the Cid arose and took it by the neck as if it had been a hound, and made it go back to its iron house, calmly giving orders that it should be more strictly guarded in future.

When the Infantes came out of their hiding-places they must have felt very much ashamed, but they gave a very different version of the story to what had really happened. In the famous poem of the Cid, which contains a great deal of historic truth, Ruy Diaz forbears reproaching his sons-in-law for their cowardice. Be that as it may, they made the event a pretence for taking offence with him, as they were wicked and discontented men; they were tired of their wives, and thought that they ought to have wedded damsels of far higher rank than the daughters of the Cid. So they said that he had arranged that the lion should come out of its den only to put them to shame before all the hidalgos; and their uncle, Suero Gonzalez, wickedly advised them to ask Ruy Diaz to let them take their wives to their home in Carrion, that, once out of Valencia, they might do with them whatsoever they pleased.

In the meantime there was much noise in the city. Bucar had landed his forces, and arrived in a plain about a league from Valencia, which was called Quarto; and there the Cid gave him such a defeat that he was obliged to flee with his diminished army across the sea. Ruy Diaz was still kindly disposed towards his sons-in-law; and when the battle was over he thanked them for the share they had had in it, when they had really done nothing at all, and had only pretended to fight; such men were not worthy to have married the daughters of the Cid! Now they said that they had heard no news of their father and mother in Carrion since they left Castille; and they wanted to take their wives home, and tell their parents what honour they had attained to by marrying them. Dona Ximena had no faith in them, and she told her husband that they were not true-hearted; she was very loth to let her daughters go with them; nevertheless the Cid trusted them still, and one day Elvira and Sol set out from Valencia with the Infantes; their parents, and a great and valiant company going with them two leagues on the road to Castille. Before they started, Ruy Diaz gave them presents worthy of a king. First of all, he gave them a quantity of cloth of gold, silk, and wool, a hundred horses richly caparisoned, and a hundred mules with gorgeous trappings; then he gave them ten goblets of pure gold, and a hundred vases of silver besides quantities of silver in plate and shields. A hundred well-appointed knights were to accompany them into Castille; amongst whom were two very brave men, named Martin Pelaez and Pero Sanchez, whom the Cid held in great esteem. Last of all he gave the Infantes each a golden-hilted sword to defend their wives with; these two swords he prized very much, because he had won them from the Moors, and he had named them Colada and Tizona.

When it was time to part, Elvira and Sol took a sorrowful leave of their parents, and the Cid, as he turned away from them began to feel some misgivings in his heart, and to wonder if Ximena had really been right in her distrust. The Infantes, however, still promised to treat their wives with honour, and the cavalcade went on towards Castille. On the way they were entertained by a Moorish king, a vassal of the Cid's, who could not do enough to show his pleasure in welcoming them, and so far all was well, and they went through the valleys until they reached the oak forest of Torpes. When they arrived there the Infantes told all the knights to go forward, and said they would stay for a while in the forest. Elvira asked her husband Diego why they remained there alone; he replied that she should soon see. Then these wicked men took their wives by the hair and dragged them along until they came to the fountain of Torpes, and there they beat them with the leathern girths of their saddles until the blood flowed from their wounds. And they took from them all the costly jewels, and robes of silk and ermine Dona Ximena had given them, and went on their way, leaving the poor ladies half dead by themselves in the forest, where the wild beasts might have come and devoured them. Elvira and Sol startled the birds in the branches overhead by the piteous cries they uttered in their terror and pain; then, finding that no one came to their aid, they said their prayers very fervently, and sank fainting to the ground.

The cruel Infantes mounted their horses, and took the mules which had carried their wives, and said aloud as they went out of the forest, "Now we have done with the daughters of the Cid! We demeaned ourselves by marrying them, and we are avenged of the affront their father put upon us by letting loose the lion."

Felez Nunoz, however, the nephew of the Cid, happened to pass that way, and he heard what the Infantes said. He would have punished them on the spot, but he feared they would return and perhaps kill their wives; so he went into the deep oak glades, and kept calling his cousins by their names until he found them. Then, in great sorrow to behold the terrible plight they were in, he gave them water to drink, and carried them to a part of the forest where they would be in greater safety, and made a soft couch for them of tender green leaves and grass, whereon they might rest, for they were utterly worn out.

The knights had gone on their way, and when they saw the Infantes coming towards them bringing with them the mules and the rich robes of their wives, they began to fear that some evil deed had been done, and they all crowded round them, taunting them with their cowardice, and threatening to fight them. The Infantes wanted to be rid of them all, and declared that if the knights would go back to the forest, they would find Elvira and Sol by the fountain there unharmed. So Martin Pelaez and Pero Sanchez, and all the bravest men in the company returned thither; but when Felez Nunoz and his cousins heard their voices they were alarmed, thinking the Infantes were near; and they kept quite still, so that the knights could not find them, and returned, very angry, to pursue the cowardly brothers, feeling sure that some foul deed had been done. Diego and Fernan, however, were already beyond their pursuit,--craven-hearted men can fly fast, and the knights set out at once for the court of Don Alonzo, and told their king all that had happened.

Now the ladies in the forest at first had nothing to eat, and were very near dying of hunger, when, by good fortune Felez Nunoz found his way to a village where he bought them food, and he kept them thus from starving for seven days; but could not make their misfortunes known to the Cid because he feared to leave them by themselves in the wild forest. At last he found in his village a worthy man in whose house the Cid had once lodged, and he brought two asses to the forest, and made the noble ladies mount them, and led them in safety to his own house, where his wife tended them kindly, rejoicing that she had them under her roof. Here they wrote a letter to their father, which Felez Nunoz undertook to convey to him at Valencia. On the road thither he met Alvar Fanez and Pero Bermudez, who were going to the king with a present from Ruy Diaz, of two hundred horses he had won in his battle with Bucar, besides a number of swords and a hundred Moorish captives. These knights were enabled to give Don Alonzo a faithful account of all that had happened, and the king was very indignant at the wickedness of his vassals, and appointed a day, three months from the time, when he would hear the matter through, and give judgment in his Cortes at Toledo. And Alvar and Pero set out in search of the Cid's daughters, taking with them from Alonzo two mules, with saddles richly adorned with gold, and jewelled robes for the sisters, so that they might return to Valencia in the same attire they had worn when they started on their hapless journey. When they had found them at the good man's house, Pero went on to Valencia, and Alvar remained with the knights who had followed him to guard his cousins. The indignation and anger of the mighty Cid may be imagined when he heard how his children had been treated. Dona Ximena was more dead than alive, and she was thankful indeed when she had her dear daughters safe at home with her once more.

Great preparations were made for the day of trial. The walls of the palace, where judgment was to be given, were hung with cloth of gold, rich carpets were spread on the floor, and a great throne was placed in readiness for the king. The Cid left Hieronymo and Martin Pelaez in charge of his city, and set out betimes for Toledo with so great a host of followers that it looked like an army. When he drew near Alonzo came out to meet him, but he would not cross the Tagus that night, and had candles lighted in the church of Saint Servans on the shore, and kept a vigil there a great part of the night with his friends. And he ordered one of his hidalgos to set a beautiful ivory chair he had won from the Moors close beside the king's throne, and sent a hundred squires, each one an hidalgo, to stand around it all night to guard it, with swords hanging from their necks.

There were many people in Toledo who were friends of the Infantes of Carrion, and therefore ill-disposed towards the Cid, and they thought he was taking a great liberty in having his chair set beside the king's throne: but Alonzo honoured him, and he suffered it to remain.

It was a stately meeting; we are told that when the day came Ruy Diaz wore a tunic of gold tissue, and over that a red skin with points of gold; this he always wore, and on his head he had a coif of scarlet and gold: his long beard, which was getting white, was tied up with a cord.[10] When he came into the hall, the king and all the people stood up, except those who were on the side of the Infantes of Carrion.

Alonzo gave judgment against those wicked men, and made them give up the golden-hilted swords Colada and Tizona, which they did not indeed deserve to keep. But the Cid was not content when judgment was pronounced; he thought the dishonour was not yet wiped away, and he stood up and required that three knights should fight for his cause against three of Carrion.

When he said this the three brave knights named Martin Antolinez, Pero Bermudez, and Nuno Gustios, entreated him to let them fight on his side; and a terrible quarrel arose; the Infantes said many rude things of the Cid, and his haughty hidalgos would not suffer their insults to pass; they quarrelled and fought until the king could scarcely hear himself speak, and he rose from his seat and called the Alcaydes, and went to confer with them in a chamber apart, while the Cid and all the others remained in the hall. When he came back he sat down on his throne with great solemnity, and told the people to listen to the sentence, which decreed that a combat should take place three weeks from that day between the Infantes and their uncle Suero Gonzalez on the side of Carrion, and the three brave knights who were willing to fight for the Cid.

Ruy Diaz was now content; he rose from his seat and kissed the king's hand, and prayed that God might have him in His holy keeping for many good years, so that he might administer justice worthily, as he had done that day.

In the midst of all this, messengers arrived at the palace from the kings of Arragon and Navarre, demanding the daughters of the Cid in marriage for their sons, when the unhappy marriage they had made with the Infantes of Carrion should be dissolved. Ruy Diaz went back to Valencia in joy, and told the glad news to his wife; adding that they need have no fear now for their daughters' happiness, because the princes of Arragon and Navarre were known far and wide to be honourable men. The combat took place on the appointed day. The Cid lent Colada and Tizona to his knights, and Diego and Fernan Gonzalez, and their uncle Suero, were all three overcome and wounded in the presence of King Alonzo; and, they crept away in disgrace and were never seen more, and Carrion, after the death of Don Gonzalez, their father, went back to the crown of Castille.

When the three victorious knights returned safe and sound to Valencia, and made known there the result of the combat, the joy of the Cid was beyond all bounds, and as for Dona Ximena, and Elvira, and Sol, they would fain have kissed the feet of their valiant defenders. There was rejoicing in the city for eight days, and banquets were held every day, the silver dishes being filled with the flesh of many extraordinary animals, which were cooked in Spain for the first time, having been sent to the Cid with a number of rare and beautiful presents from the Soldan, or Sultan of Persia. The Soldan paid great court to Ruy Diaz, and made known to him how a vast army of Christians had come out to the East and lay before Jerusalem, hoping to conquer that city from the Saracens; and that was the first crusade which had been preached by Peter the Hermit, when William Rufus was reigning in England.

The Cid remained in peace at Valencia for five years, and kept the Moors so quiet that they no longer molested the Christians, but lived with them on friendly terms. At the end of this time news came suddenly that Bucar had stirred up all the chiefs in Barbary to cross the sea in revenge for the victory that Ruy Diaz had gained over him in the field of Quarto.

The Cid sent the Moors who dwelt in the city to the suburb of Alcudia, where he thought they had better remain until the affair was ended. His strength was failing fast; and one night, as he lay wakeful on his bed, his chamber was filled with a strange brightness and fragrance, and he had another wonderful vision, in which Saint Peter appeared to him, aged and white as snow, with a bunch of keys in his hand, and told him now to mind other things besides the coming of Bucar, for that in thirty days he should die, and yet by the help of Saint James he should conquer his foes after he was dead. When the vision disappeared the Cid was lost in wonder, but he felt greatly comforted; and early in the morning he called the hidalgos around him and told them what he had seen, and how they should conquer the Moors. The last day that he was able to rise from his bed he ordered the city gates to be shut, and repaired to the church of Saint Peter, where he spoke long and earnestly to the people assembled there, reminding them that, however great and honourable their estate in life might be, not one of them could escape death. Then he took leave of them all, and confessed his sins at the feet of Bishop Hieronymo. From that time until his death, seven days afterwards, he took no nourishment except a little myrrh and balsam stirred in rose water, such as was used to embalm the dead bodies of kings in the East, and had been sent among the gifts of the Soldan in a casket of gold. He bequeathed great riches to his knights, leaving a thousand marks of silver to those who had only served him one year, and he ordered four thousand poor persons to be clothed at his expense. On Sunday, the 25th of May, 1099, the Cid died, in the seventy-third year of his age. These were his dying words: "Lord Jesus Christ, Thine is the kingdom; Thou art above all kings and all nations, and all kings are at Thy command. I beseech Thee to pardon my sins, and let my soul enter the light that hath no end."

Three days after his death King Bucar came, and with him thirty-six kings or chiefs. It is said that fifteen thousand tents were pitched around Valencia. As all was quiet inside the city, the Africans thought that their enemy dared not come out against them.

Meanwhile the body of the Cid had been embalmed and fixed in a wooden frame upright upon Bavieca, and the frame being painted to represent armour, it looked really as if he were alive. A mournful procession went out at midnight from the gate towards Castille. First the banner of the Cid was carried, guarded by five hundred knights; then came one hundred more, around the body of their lord; and lastly, Ximena followed sorrowfully with all her company, and three hundred knights in the rear. By the time they had all passed out the summer night was spent, and it was broad daylight.

Alvar Funez now fell upon the Moors with the forces that remained in Valencia; and so great was the terror and uproar he caused that they fled towards the sea, leaving their riches for the spoils of the Christians. The Moors who had retired to the suburb saw the procession pass, and thought that their lord had gone forth alive. But when they entered the city from whence all the Spanish knights had gone, they marvelled at the strange silence in the streets, until they saw written on the walls in Arabic that the Cid Campeador was dead. From that day Valencia remained in the power of the Moors until it was won by King Jayme of Arragon, in the year 1238; but the city was always known by the name of "Valencia of the Cid."

The body of Ruy Diaz was placed in his ivory chair at the right of the altar of Saint Peter in the church of Cardena. It was clothed in purple cloth which had been given to him by the Soldan, and remained thus more than ten years. When that time had passed it was buried in a vault beside the grave of Dona Ximena, who only survived him three years. And Bavieca, his favourite horse, was buried not far from his master, under some trees in front of the convent of Saint Peter of Cardena.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Like the Alhambra court in the Crystal Palace.

[8] _Sol_, Spanish for sun.

[9] _Tablas_, in the Spanish tables, probably the game of draughts.

[10] See Southey's "Chronicle."

LOUIS IX., KING OF FRANCE.

The good king Louis the Ninth, commonly called St. Louis, because he led so holy a life, was born at Poissy, in the year 1215, whilst his grandfather, Philip Augustus, was still on the throne of France. Poissy was a beautiful place, just as Fontainebleau is now, where the kings of France used to go and hunt, and enjoy the sweet fresh air; and the queens passed many happy days with their little children, away from the cares and the splendour of the court.

Louis was always of a meek and gentle disposition, truthful and upright. His mother, Blanche of Castille, watched over him tenderly herself, and took care to place around him as early as possible the holiest and most learned men in France, in the hope that through their influence he might grow up to be a good king. Blanche was a woman of great piety, and she was very clever and beautiful besides; she had many children, but although Louis was always her favourite amongst them all, she did not indulge him either in luxury or pleasure, and used often to say to him, "My son, I love you more than I can tell; yet I would rather see you lying dead at my feet than know you were guilty of a mortal sin."

Louis did indeed try earnestly to be good, and to remember the words of his mother; he was obedient to his instructors, and is said to have understood Latin well, and to have been versed in the works of the fathers of the Church, and in the history of the kings who reigned before him; and that was knowing a great deal, for the times he lived in were called "the dark ages," because so very little was learnt or known, especially in Europe. His amusements were hunting and fishing, and playing at chess, but he did not care for these as he cared for the services of the church, attending them daily with his little brothers, and loving the holy chants and hymns he heard there more than any songs of merriment.

Louis was only eleven years old when his father, King Louis the Eighth, died, after a reign of less than four years. He had then four brothers younger than himself--Robert, John, Alphonse, and Charles; and one little sister named Isabel. As he was so very young, his mother, Queen Blanche, governed his kingdom for him, and she had many troubles to contend with, on account of the quarrels and revolts of some of the most powerful nobles in the land. Several of these refused to attend the coronation of Louis, which took place at Rheims, after he had been knighted, according to the custom of the time, at Soissons. The ceremony was very solemn; Queen Blanche would not let it be made an occasion of rejoicing, because her heart was so full of sorrow for the death of her husband; and the day after she took Louis to Paris, and began at once to think what would be the best measures for securing his safety and the welfare of the country.

It was at the siege of Bellesme that Louis gained his first experience in war, when he was only twelve years of age. The Count de Bretagne, foremost of the rebellious nobles, had invaded the territory of the king, and was causing great misery to the country people by laying waste their land and destroying their villages. To chastise him, and bring him to obedience, Queen Blanche set off in the depth of winter with her son Louis and only a few followers, to lay siege to the Castle of Bellesme, where the count had first set up his standard of rebellion.

The snow lay deep on the ground, and icicles hung from the trees along the road-side: the cold was intense, and the march was difficult in the short winter days, but little Louis was as brave as he was gentle, and cared nothing for the cold and discomfort, nor did he tremble the least at the idea of the coming affray; his mother had taught him to endure manfully hardships and pain and fatigue, and to trust in God, whatever danger was at hand.

The Castle of Bellesme exists no longer; its ruins have long crumbled away: in those days it was a strong fortress, surrounded by thick walls flanked with towers. The Count of Bretagne was inside the castle with all the bravest of his men, and the queen's party made two assaults upon it in vain. The cold had numbed the energies of the knights and the soldiers in the camp, and they were very nearly frozen to death. Queen Blanche then published a decree which promised large rewards to all persons who should cut down the trees in the forests around, and bring the wood to the camp. The peasants were soon seen joyfully bringing the wood on their shoulders and in carts: enormous fires were kindled, and the warmth so quickly restored the spirits of the besiegers, that before two days had passed, the greater part of the fortification was thrown down, and the haughty Count de Bretagne, seeing no hope of succour, was obliged to surrender. Queen Blanche and her little son treated the garrison with great kindness when they came out; and a treaty was soon after made, by which it was agreed that Louis's brother John should marry, when he grew up, the daughter of the Count de Bretagne.

Whilst Louis was growing out of childhood, and striving day by day to become more holy in the sight of God, the rebellions of the nobles were continually breaking out afresh, and had to be put down by force of arms, or the crown would have lost much of its power. This chapter, however, is not to be a record of all the disturbances that occurred in France during the early part of the good king's reign, but rather a description of the events which brought to light most strikingly his piety, his courage, and his patience.

In the year 1233 Louis was persuaded by his mother to bestow his hand on Marguerite, daughter of Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence. Raymond had four daughters, and Marguerite was the most beautiful and talented of them all. Her sister Eleanor was married soon after to Henry the Third of England, and another sister, named Beatrice, to Louis's brother Charles, Count of Anjou.

The royal marriage was celebrated with great magnificence at Sens; and when Louis was twenty years of age he took the reins of government into his own hands: nevertheless Queen Blanche continued to influence him by her advice, and was obeyed by him until her death, on all occasions save one, as will be seen hereafter.

The peace of the country was not really established until the year 1239, when some of the quarrelsome nobles had gone on a crusade to the Holy Land. The enterprise did not succeed; the Christian army was entrapped and defeated by the Saracens, and Jerusalem became a possession of the Sultan of Egypt. The king was deeply grieved at the failure; he was always thinking of the miseries and oppressions the Christians were forced to endure in the East, and resolved to go and help them as soon as he could leave his country in prosperity. When the rumour of this was spread in Palestine, the sheik, or old man of the mountain, singled out the King of France for his victim, and despatched two of his assassins to Paris, thinking thus to put an end to all idea of a fresh crusade.

Having boasted, however, of his intended deed before some of the knights templars, he was told by them that if he put Louis to death, his brothers would certainly avenge the crime, and draw upon him the ill will of many nations besides France. The sheik now became as anxious to preserve the king's life as he had been to take it, and sent off in a great hurry two of his emirs to the court of France to warn Louis of his danger. The king received the intelligence calmly, and only instituted another company of guards, who were armed with maces of brass. But when the assassins could not be discovered, notwithstanding the marks by which the emirs declared they would be known, these men hastened to Marseilles, and luckily arrived there before the Arabs set foot on shore. When they had told them how the sheik had determined not to take the king's life, they conducted them to Paris, and all four were received with kindness by Louis, and went back to the East much impressed with the magnificence of the French court; for although the king loved neither luxury nor pleasure, his court was always kept up with dignity and splendour. The Sire de Joinville, who was twenty-two years in his company, tells us how, at a great festival held at Saumur, which was called a plenary court, the king wore a coat of blue samite, a species of satin, with overcoat and mantle of crimson samite, bordered with ermine, and strangely enough, a cotton cap on his head, which did not become him at all. His hair, which was fair, he wore short, according to the custom of the time. At this feast there were at least three thousand knights present, and so many robes of cloth of gold and of silk had never been seen before. King Louis, his brothers, and the King of Navarre sat at one table, Joinville himself carving for them; the queen mother and her ladies sat at another, and the archbishops and bishops at a third; and to guard the king's table stood three of the greatest barons in the land; and to guard them stood thirty knights, in garments of rich silken stuff; and these again had a retinue of the royal officers behind them.

During the whole time that the plenary courts were held, the king was obliged to dine in public, and it was an old custom, that before the dinner was ended, three heralds at arms, each with a rich cap in his hand, cried out three times, "Bounty of the most powerful King!" and then threw gold and silver to the people, so that the poor had their share of the rejoicing as well as the rich.

The king was seized with a dangerous illness at Pontoise in the year 1244. This was a very great sorrow for his people, since it was feared that he would die, and they joined in solemn processions all over the kingdom, and went to the churches to pray to the Almighty to restore him to health. Queen Blanche was the saddest of all, and passed her time between the sick chamber of her son, and the foot of the altar, where she knelt for hours in silent prayer.

When Louis felt that he was getting weaker, he sent for all the members of his household, and thanked them for their services; after which he recommended them to serve God with earnest and faithful hearts. Then he sank into a lethargy, which those who were watching by his bedside at first mistook for death. The lethargy lasted several days, and then the king gave signs of returning life. The first words he spoke after opening his eyes were these:--"By the grace of God the light of the East has shone upon me from the height of heaven, and recalled me from the dead." He summoned the Bishop of Paris to his presence, and required him to affix the cross to his shoulder, as a sign that he bound himself to go on the crusade.

The sorrow which had been forgotten when the king gave signs of recovery, now broke out afresh. The two queens, Blanche and Marguerite, threw themselves on their knees, and implored him with many tears not to go on the crusade; even the bishops, who stood by, tried to persuade him not to engage in so difficult an enterprise, but all in vain. Louis would take no nourishment until the cross was really fastened to his shoulder; and his people heard of the vow he had taken in gloom and regret, for they thought if he once set sail for the Holy Land, they would never see him again.

The king did not really recover until several months had passed, and then he wrote to the Christians in the East to tell them that he was coming to their aid. But it was a long time yet before he was able to set out, because he loved his people very dearly, and wanted to provide everything for their comfort and happiness during his absence, when his mother, Queen Blanche, was to rule over them in his stead. He persuaded the most turbulent of the nobles to go with him on the crusade, and when the best measures had been taken for securing the peace of the kingdom, he made known that he was ready to redress every injury he had offered, it being the custom then for all good crusaders to make their peace with God and man before they embarked in their enterprise.

Louis then went with his brothers, Robert of Artois and Charles of Anjou, to the church of Saint Denis to receive his pilgrim's scrip and staff, and the oriflamme, or sacred banner of Saint Denis. This was a banner of flame-coloured silk, which was always carried before the French armies on solemn occasions for the encouragement of the soldiers. The king, having requested all holy persons to pray that his undertaking might prove successful, came back to Paris, and heard mass at the great church of Notre Dame, and then went out of the city he was not to behold again for so long, followed by the clergy, the nobles, and multitudes of the common people.

The crimson and the samite, the gold-embroidered garments with the ermines, were now laid aside for a plain grey robe trimmed with grey and white fur. The trappings of the king's horses were no longer adorned with gold, but the steel of their harness was polished until it shone like silver. Louis computed before he left France how much his former luxuries had cost him yearly, and then caused the amount to be regularly distributed to the poor.

At Cluny, Queen Blanche bade her son a long sad farewell: it was the first time he had ever thwarted her wishes by refusing to give up the crusade, when she urged that a vow made in a time of extreme weakness was not binding. His young wife could not bring herself to part with him, and declared she would follow him to the end of the world.

When all was ready, the king, with his brothers Robert and Charles, Queen Marguerite, and the young Countess of Anjou, and a vast number of crusaders of all nations, embarked at Aigues-Mortes, a port on the Mediterranean, which had been constructed for the occasion. They took the direction of Cyprus, and the winds being favourable, all the vessels except one, which was unhappily shipwrecked, reached the island in safety. Here the crusaders remained during the winter. For two years before they arrived, the king's people had been bringing wine and various provisions for the army from the most fertile countries of Europe, and had laid up their store in the island. The tubs of wine they had piled one upon the other, until they looked like great barns; and the wheat and the barley lay in heaps in the fields, green on the outside, where the warm rains falling softly upon them had made them sprout. The crusaders found an abundant supply of food in Cyprus, without having recourse to their stores, and when in the spring they wanted to set out for Egypt, they took off the outer covering of the heaps, and saw the wheat and the barley beneath, as fresh as if it had just been cut.

The departure from the island was fixed for Ascension Day in the year 1249. The crusaders embarked towards evening at the port called Limesson, where they had landed. The vessels large and small amounted to 1,650, and were thronged with a vast assembly of people of all callings and nations, 2,800 of them being knights. The next day the king sent a sealed packet into every vessel, with orders for it to remain unopened until the fleet had set sail; the purport of this was that they should proceed direct to Damietta. The wind, however, blew against them, and forced them to return to the port; and when they had got out to sea again a few days after, a violent tempest arose from the side of Egypt, and scattered all the vessels. Louis himself was obliged to go back to the port of Limesson, and found on arriving there that his fleet was diminished by one hundred and twenty vessels, and that the number of knights was reduced to seven hundred! But he would not suffer the followers who remained to him to be cast down, and on Trinity Sunday they set sail once more, and although in continual dread of another storm, they went on their way safely, until a sailor who knew the coasts of Egypt, and served as a guide, warned them that they were before Damietta, the great stronghold of the Saracens in Egypt. All the other vessels now crowded around the one which bore the king, who stood up among his people calm and trustful, encouraging them to persevere for the love of God, and not to flinch in the moment of danger.

Saleh, the Sultan, was at some distance from Damietta; he was supposed to be dying, and had confided the care of his army to the emir Facardin. The Saracens had seen the sea covered with masts and sails by seven o'clock in the morning, and had rung the bell of their great mosque to spread the alarm in the city: the Christians heard the sound across the sea in the clear summer air. Facardin ordered four Corsair vessels to approach the fleet, but three of these ventured too near, and were overwhelmed by showers of stones from the larger vessels. The fourth went back to convey the tidings that the King of France had come with a number of foreign princes.

At mid-day the fleet of the Christians cast anchor in the roads of Damietta. The port was full of men-of-war, and the flat country of Egypt was covered with rich tents, whilst crowds of people on foot and on horse stood along the shore, sounding their twisted horns, and their great cymbals, two of which were a sufficient load for an elephant; and making, as the Sire de Joinville affirms, "a sound horrible to be heard!"

A council was held on board the king's vessel, at which it was resolved to land the next day, although only a portion of the fleet had as yet arrived in the roads; but Louis thought that delay would inspire fear, and perhaps afford the Saracens the opportunity of destroying his army by degrees. So when it got dark, the crusaders lighted a great number of torches, and kept watch all night; and they confessed their sins one to another, and prayed for those they loved, and had left behind in Europe; and as many as had quarrelled made friends, that they might be ready for death, if it should meet them in the struggle on the morrow.

At daybreak they lifted anchor, and sailed for the island of Giza, which was joined to Damietta by a bridge of boats across the river Nile. The king commanded his people to get down into the flat boats they had brought with them, because the large vessels could not approach the shore: the boat Joinville was in soon distanced the one which bore the Oriflamme, and was first to gain the land.

Suddenly the air was darkened by a flight of arrows from the bows of the Saracens. Louis, seeing this, gave orders for each man to disembark as he could, and jumped from his boat into the water, covered as he was by his armour, with his shield on his breast, and his sword in his hand. The water was deeper there than elsewhere, and he was immersed up to his shoulders, but the sight of the Oriflamme safely landed encouraged him in his efforts, and he got to the shore before any of the others. Although countless swords and pike points were aimed at him as he landed, the good king did not forget to kneel down for a moment on the sand, to thank the Almighty for having preserved him thus far; then, rising, he would have rushed on the Saracens at once and alone, if his knights, who were now gaining their footing on shore, had not prevented him.

All the rest now followed; Louis put his people in battle array as they landed, and ordered an attack to be made on some of the enemy's larger vessels. Before the day was ended the Christian army had driven the Saracens from the western shores of the Nile, and had got possession of the bridge of boats; they would have pursued their foes, but night coming on, the king sounded a retreat, and encamped on the ground he had conquered. Meanwhile the poor queen and the Countess of Anjou had been in terrible anxiety and distress when they watched from their vessel afar the multitudes rushing into the water, and could not tell whether their husbands were alive or drowned. And great must have been their joy when the news was conveyed to him that those they loved so dearly were safe on shore, and that their efforts, as yet, had been crowned with success.

Early the next morning, which was Sunday, the king was giving orders for the siege of Damietta, when two Christian captives came to the camp and told him that the city was deserted. The king could scarcely credit their words, and sent one of his knights to the spot to see if they were really true. The knight returned with the same account; the Saracens had gone back to Damietta in great distress the evening before, and on their arrival had heard that the Sultan was dead.

The rumour struck dismay into the heart of Facardin, and he only waited to put the Christian slaves who were in the city to death, and to burn the bazaars where the provisions were sold, and then he went out at the gates the same night with his army and the garrison; old men and women, children and sick persons following in the rear of the craven-hearted troops, until by daylight the whole city was deserted.