The Boy Crusaders: A Story of the Days of Louis IX.

The ambassadors now breathed freely; and the attendants looked upon Bisset as almost more than mortal; and the knight congratulated himself on the prospect of getting his head out of the lion's den. It was not, however, till the morrow that the Templar and the English knight were led to the presence of Oulagon; a semi-savage warrior, with those Tartar features which naturally looked harsh to the eyes of men accustomed to the features of Norman and Saxon, and short of stature, but thickset, compact of body, and of prodigious strength. Bisset was at first by no means satisfied with Oulagon's look, but the Tartar manifested every disposition to treat the ambassadors as friends.

'The wrath of the King of Kings,' said he, 'is like the fire of a conflagration, which the slightest wind may light up, but which nothing but blood can quench. But between the King of Kings and the King of France there is peace and amity and goodwill. Wherefore, friend, say what you desire of me, and your will shall be granted.'

'Simply,' replied Bisset, 'permission to depart with my comrade and our train, and six Christian captives who have thrown themselves on our protection.'

'Be it as you will, Frank,' said Oulagon. 'But not till you have had fitting gifts; for this is the storehouse of the treasure of the world, and I would fain send gifts to the King of France; nor would I like his ambassadors to depart empty-handed.'

The knight and the Templar bowed.

'But,' said Oulagon with a cunning leer, 'ere departing you must visit the caliph in my company, that you may relate to the King of the Franks how the King of Kings punishes men who are the enemies of both.'

And without delay the Tartar led the ambassadors to the prison where he had on the previous day shut up Musteazem in an iron cage, and where he had since kept his captive without food.

'Caliph,' asked Oulagon approaching, 'dost thou hunger?'

'Yes,' answered Musteazem indignantly. 'I do hunger, and not without cause.'

'Then,' said Oulagon, 'thou shalt have that to eat which above all things thy heart loveth.' And the Tartar ordered a large golden platter, filled with jewels and precious stones, to be brought and set before the captive.

'Knowest thou these treasures, caliph?' asked he with an affectation of carelessness.

'Yes,' answered Musteazem sharply, 'I know them, for they are mine own.'

'And dost thou dearly love thy treasures?' asked Oulagon.

'Yes,' replied Musteazem, simply and frankly.

'Well, then,' said Oulagon, 'since thou lovest thy treasures so well, take of these jewels as many as thou wilt, and appease thy hunger.'

'They are not food to eat,' replied Musteazem, shaking his head with an air of great dejection.

'Ah, caliph,' said Oulagon with bitter scorn, 'thou mayest now see thy great fault; for if thou hadst given part of thy treasures, which thou lovest so dearly, to subsidise soldiers for thy defence, thou mightest have held out against me. But that which thou didst prize most highly has failed thee in the hour of need.'

And Oulagon withdrew with the Templar and the English knight; and soon after this interview Musteazem drew his last breath. But whether he perished of hunger, or of indignant despair, or by the violence of his conquerors, is not clearly ascertained. In the midst of the tumult and disorder which followed the sack of Bagdad, and the extinction of the caliphate, chroniclers neglected to record under what circumstances, and how, died the last of the caliphs.

But, however that may have been, the ambassadors next morning took their departure from Bagdad.

'Now God and all the saints be praised!' exclaimed Bisset: 'our heads are out of the lion's mouth.'

CHAPTER XL.

END OF THE ARMED PILGRIMAGE

THE Templar and the English knight after a variety of adventures reached Acre, having on their way fallen in with Father Yves, whom King Louis had sent on a mission to 'the Old Man of the Mountains' – that remarkable personage to whose behests kings bowed, and at whose name princes trembled – and a knight of the noble House of Coucy, who had come from Constantinople, and whose accounts of the state of the Latin empire of the East much increased Bisset's desire to go and offer his sword to the Emperor Baldwin de Courtenay, then struggling desperately to maintain his throne against Greeks and Turks.

On reaching Acre, however, the ambassadors found that King Louis and the court were at Sajecte, and without delay repaired thither to present the gifts sent by Oulagon, and inform him of the unexpected event which had frustrated the object of their mission. Louis was deeply grieved at the failure of his attempt to open the prison doors of the unfortunate captives, and with tears bewailed their unhappy fate.

But soon after this, the saint-king found that the case was not desperate. The Sultan of Damascus went to war with the Mamelukes, and both parties craved the alliance of the French monarch. Louis, therefore, sent John de Valence to Cairo once more to demand the release of the captives, and this time he obtained something like satisfaction. Two hundred knights were immediately set at liberty, and allowed to depart for Acre, which they reached in safety.

At length, however, news came to King Louis, while he was at Sajecte, which compelled him to turn his thoughts towards France, where he was much wanted, and to deliberate on the expediency of returning to his own kingdom.

When it was known in France that the king was a prisoner in the hands of the Saracens, the utmost excitement prevailed throughout the land; and suddenly among the pastoral population appeared a man bearing a letter, to which he pretended to attach a mysterious importance.

'This,' said he, solemnly, 'I have received from the mother of God; and it commands me to assemble all the Christian shepherds and herdsmen, and to march at their head to deliver the king. Follow me then, and fear not, for the battle is not to the strong, but reserved for the weak and humble.'

It appears that this man's eloquence, and the mystery which he affected, fascinated the shepherds and herdsmen of France, and they flocked to him in multitudes; and his followers, having been joined by outlaws and exiles, ere long formed a formidable force, and caused much alarm.

At first, indeed, the queen-mother, Blanche of Castille, naturally anxious for her son's release, favoured the enterprise. But the priests, aware it might be that the leaders of the movement had ulterior objects in view, set their faces decidedly against it, and the leaders of the shepherds retaliated by stirring up the populace against the priests, and by the massacre of several ecclesiastics. On hearing this, Queen Blanche changed her policy, took part against the shepherds, caused their leader to be beheaded, and their army to be dispersed. Moreover, the populace, who had at first held the shepherds in high honour, began to suspect them of imposture, and slaughtered them without mercy; and all was still doubt and dismay and confusion, when messengers brought to Sajecte news that Queen Blanche had breathed her last.

Louis was profoundly affected when he heard of his mother's death, and mourned sadly for two or three days, without speaking with any one. However, at the end of that time, he was visited by the papal legate, and sent for the Lord of Joinville; and Joinville, who was on the point of going into a meadow to amuse himself with martial exercises, entered into conversation.

'Ah, seneschal,' began the king, mournfully, 'I have lost my mother.'

'Well, sire,' said Joinville, calmly, 'I am not surprised at such an event, seeing that she was no longer young, and that to all of us death must come some time; but, sire, I am surprised that so great a prince should grieve so outrageously; for you know that the wise man says, "Whatever grief the valiant man may suffer in his mind, he ought not to show it on his countenance; for he that does so causes pain to his friends and pleasure to his enemies."'

'However, seneschal,' said the legate, 'the king is much satisfied with the good and agreeable services you have rendered him, and earnestly wishes for your honour and advancement. He commands me to tell you, as he knows it will give you pleasure at heart, that he intends to embark for France on this side of Easter.'

'In truth, it does give me pleasure,' said Joinville. 'And I pray that the Lord may ever induce the king to act in accordance with his will.'

And soon after Louis, with his queen and his knights and nobles, returned to Acre, and made preparations for his departure.

It happened that when John de Valence and his associates went to Cairo, to treat for the release of the French captives, and also for the remains of some of the French warriors who fell at Mansourah, the Saracens suddenly reminded him of the Earl of Salisbury.

'I wonder,' said an emir, 'that you Christians, who venerate the ashes of the dead, make no inquiry for the bones of that most illustrious and noble-born William, to whom you give the name of Longsword; whereas we, seeing that he was slain in battle and on account of his illustrious qualities, have treated his remains with all respect.'

On hearing this, the ambassadors were somewhat confused.

'How,' asked they, one of another, 'can we disparage this man, because he was an Englishman, when even the Saracens accord the honour due to his nobility of soul?'

Accordingly, the Crusaders requested that Salisbury's bones might be given to them; they carried them to Acre, where they were laid, with much respect, in the church of the Holy Cross.

It was on the afternoon of the day when the burial took place that Bisset, who had been maturing his project of repairing to Constantinople, entered his lodgings, and took Walter Espec by one hand and Guy Muschamp by the other.

'Boys,' said he, 'this crusade, as I foresaw, has resulted in naught save disaster, and, as fighting men, it behoves us to consider whither we are now to carry our swords. For my part, I am resolved to turn the gifts of the Tartar warrior into money, and make without delay for Constantinople, and fight for the Latin Emperor. Are you willing to accompany me and share my fortunes, or must we part?'

'In truth, sir knight,' replied Walter, frankly, 'I sigh for the green fields and the oak forests of my native land; and, therefore, I would fain embark with the army of King Louis, and return to Europe.'

'As you will, sir squire,' said Bisset, a little mortified: 'albeit, I cannot but deem that you are not moved so much by the desire to visit your native land, as to be near to a certain noble demoiselle, on whose gratitude you have some claims. Well, on my life, I blame you not; for at your age I might have felt as you do, and, mayhap, lived to repent my delusion. But, be it known to you that, as matters stand, the Sultan of Damascus has intimated that he will permit any of the pilgrims to visit Jerusalem. Now, have you the courage – for courage will be needed – to enter the Holy City, held as it is by fierce Saracens, and kneel at the Holy Sepulchre?'

'By Holy Katherine, sir knight!' exclaimed Walter, bluntly, 'you must hold me excused. Happy, indeed, should I deem myself in the privilege of kneeling at the Holy Sepulchre, even at the cost of much labour and fatigue. But these are not the days of Godfrey and the Baldwins; and I care not to trust to the tender mercies of Bibars Bendocdar and his Mameluke myrmidons. I will not needlessly put my head again into the lion's mouth.'

'And what say you on the point, my gay and puissant warrior?' asked Bisset, turning to Guy Muschamp.

'Oh,' answered Guy, merrily, 'as says the good Walter, so say I, neither to Jerusalem nor to Constantinople do I go. I have a father and mother and kindred at home, whose faces I long to see. Wherefore, I go to England, and to no other place.'

Walter Espec sighed, as he was in the habit of doing, at the mention of kindred, and gave himself up to painful reminiscences.

'Sir knight,' said he, addressing Bisset, after a long silence, 'deem you that my lost brother can be in the hands of him who is known as the Old Man of the Mountains?'