The French historian and statesman François Guizot translated the Philippide (or La Philippide) into French in the 1820s. This twelve-book epic poem was originally written in Latin by the medieval chronicler William the Breton to celebrate the reign of King Philip II Augustus
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CANTO FOURTH.
ARGUMENT.
The death of Henry passes the scepter into the hands of Richard, who soon after sets out for Jerusalem with King Philip. — They spend the winter in the territory of Sicily, from where their quarrels prevent them from departing together. — Cyprus submits to the English, the city of Acre to the children of France; the cities of Gaza, Ascalon and Jaffa submit to the two kings. — Philip falls ill and returns to his homeland. — Richard, returning also, is taken prisoner, but he is ransomed from captivity and resists with great valor the French who wage war against him. — John causes Frenchmen to perish through horrible treachery. — Gautier re-establishes the lost charters of the royal domain.
IN ACCORDANCE with ancient laws, the right of primogeniture made Richard king of the English, after the death of his father. Having ascended the throne, he remained firm in his love for Philip, and honored him respectfully as his lord. For an entire year, no discord arose between them, and sweet peace established good relations between the two kingdoms.
However, the king, eager to fulfill his vow to Christ, which he had offered with holy intentions, hastened to work on it, took all his measures with vigilant care, and prepared all the things that might be necessary for such a great enterprise and for a voyage of such long duration. He took with him warriors full of vigor, as much as he thought he needed for such a great affair, all elite men, and proven in their homeland for war as well as for peace.
It was in the year 1190 that King Philip departed for the kingdoms beyond the seas. Having had loaded onto his innumerable ships grains, vegetables, silver, meats, gold, goods, horses, weapons, hardtack and wine, and when his fleet was all ready, abandoning itself to the breath of the zephyr, he departed from the Italian city which illustrated the name of Genoa. Sailing for three weeks on the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea, having Rome on his left, to his right the forts of Carthage, after having endured several storms, escaped from great perils, and suffered considerable losses, he finally landed on the coast of Sicily.
While the fleet was sailing along the Strait of Messina, a storm having suddenly arisen, the vessels were on the point of perishing, and would have been swallowed by the waves if the prudent pilot had not thrown into the sea horses, grains, provisions and barrels full of wine. No one tried to contradict him; each on the contrary hastened to throw his belongings into the water, preferring to lose what belonged to him than to lose life without receiving burial, and to feed the fish with his possessions rather than his person; and no one considered as a loss any means of delaying, even for a short time, the hour of his death. The ships thus unloaded, already past the middle of the night, the storm still raged with the same violence, the terrifying aspect of the atmosphere made them despair of any means of salvation; the thunder, the clouds, and thick darkness hid the sight of the stars; frequent flashes of lightning alone came to interrupt this scene and bring terror to all hearts; then the king, deploying the strength of his soul, consoled with these words those who were thus struck with stupor:
“Let all your fears cease; behold, God visits us from the heavens, behold, the storm is retreating; already the brothers of Clairvaux have risen for matins; already the saints who do not forget you, render their holy oracles in honor of Christ; their prayers reconcile us with Christ, their prayers will deliver us from this great peril.”
He had barely spoken, and already all the crashing and tumult of the atmosphere subside, the fury of the winds calms, the darkness dissipates, and the moon and the stars spread a brilliant light. Thus all having found salvation after the king’s words, the night retreats, a favorable wind pushes the fleet under the protection of God; and finally, after having suffered considerable losses, the travelers, filled with joy, escape the peril and enter the port of salvation, shouting cries of joy. Then the king, opening his treasures, distributed his gifts on all sides, in order to make the champions of Christ forget the losses they had suffered, and that none of them should lack horses or fodder to feed them.
On his side, King Richard, no less eager than Philip for the service of the cross (for he was bound, by right and by oath, to associate himself with this enterprise), departed from the city of Marseille so well supplied with goods and arms, and followed by so many elite men, that he seemed inferior neither to Philip nor for the forces nor for all the other provisions he might need. From there, rapidly led over the waves of the Tuscan sea, he landed with a numerous fleet in the ports of Sicily, having suffered no damage, and his arrival renewed the joys of the French and of King Philip, who had just gone to Messina, and had been staying in that city for a short time. The Sicilians then gave themselves over to their transports, all of Sicily rejoiced to welcome such guests, followed by so many armies. King Tancred paid them the greatest honors; he then held the scepter of rich Sicily, which he had skillfully seized by uniting artifice with violence.
King William had died very recently1, and his wife Joanna rejoiced to have Richard as a brother; but she had no child who could console her in her widowhood and serve as heir to the deceased king. His sister, Constance2, claimed after his death to have the right to succeed him, since he left no child; but Tancred, who was the uncle of the deceased king3, would not suffer Constance to seize the scepter of her fathers, claiming without any right to succeed his nephew, and having himself recognized as king, to the prejudice of his aunt. She, however, when she married King Henry, who a short time later was elevated to the Roman Empire, became Queen of Sicily, with the assistance of her new husband. Adorned at once with the diadem of an empire and that of a kingdom, she also managed to be reinstated in her rights: it is she who later gave life to Frederick, who now reigns and governs the Teutons, the Romans, and the Sicilians.
Alas! how easily the human heart is changed, how susceptible it shows itself to various movements, when it allows itself to be seduced by the artifices of the instigator of all iniquity! This one, always at war against love and always suffering hatred, sows division among friends, disunites by his cunning those he sees tenderly united, in order to subdue by separating those he cannot conquer when they are bound by a reciprocal love, and when they stand firm without imprudently bending to let pass him who has the power to deceive only those who yield before him to let him pass. We too are too easy to yield to him, to him who has no right over us other than that which we grant him; moreover, when we wish it, and as many times as we are tempted by him, we have enough within us to resist him with the strength that divine power lends us, and no one is pushed to be wicked if he does not voluntarily welcome the enemy: our will alone submits us to the tempter, and if we do not have this will, there is no sin in us.
Here are two kings whom the same affection, the same spirit, the same faith unite and bind so closely to one another, that one loves or does only what the other loves or does equally, so much does their reciprocal affection attach them to one another; but such great tenderness cannot long subsist between them. Richard, having found a favorable occasion, revealed what he kept hidden in the depths of his heart, and spoke to Philip in these terms:
“Good king, whom France obeys, whose knight I am, to whose arms my vows bind me, to whom I recognize myself as committed as to my lord, before whom Egypt and the land of Palestine tremble, whose cross and the Lord’s sepulchre await help, whose uttered name makes Saladin pale, to whom the already vanquished Parthians stretch out their arms, under whose banners the ramparts of Acre bow, I beg you, that the words I am about to tell you do not displease you. I return your sister to you, and, I beg you, please do not ask me the secret motive that leads me to this step4. She was married only by betrothal; there is nothing more, I have never known her according to the flesh. Bérengère has already united with my bed, Bérengère daughter of the king of Navarre; already the union of the flesh has confirmed the holy sacrament, and we are no longer but one flesh. There is absolutely no reason for me to send her away, since she is now bound to me both by flesh and by law. But there are counts, there are barons, O venerable king, to one of whom your sister may be united by a stronger bond.”
The king remains struck with stupor and keeps silence, so great is his anger. Soon however he responds to Richard in a few words:
“If you return my sister to me, you must likewise return to me all of my sister’s dowry. It was given to you with her as a dowry; now it must be returned to me, since my sister is returning to me. But for the moment I make no complaint and do not demand anything; I do not wish to threaten. A greater work calls us. Let us finish without quarrel the enterprise that urges us, let us devote ourselves unreservedly to the service of the cross and to the glory of him who took away the sins of the world, and for the love of whom we have come as pilgrims to foreign shores. I grant you a truce of safety as long as you bear arms for the service of the cross; later, fear me and mine.”
The king’s words are accepted by Richard, he does not ask for anything more; the truce granted to him suffices. From that moment, however, he no longer showed himself openly to Philip nor to his men, and on his part Philip no longer had the same goodwill towards him. After they had spent five winter months in the country of Sicily, our king invited the King of England to set out with him and go to bring aid to the Sepulchre of the Lord, as he had pledged by oath. But Richard did not want to leave, and remained in Sicily, lending his assistance to King Tancred for the wars in which he was engaged on all sides. At the beginning of spring, King Philip, followed by his Frenchmen, thus entrusted his sails to the breath of the zephyrs, and leaving Greece to his left, Paros island to his right, happily passing the islands of Crete and Cyprus, he went to disembark in the city of Accaron, on the eve of Holy Easter, thus guided by divine grace, so that he could celebrate on solid ground the solemnity of this sacred day. Already he had been preceded in Accaron by the illustrious Jacques d’Avesne, of brilliant valor, who, having with him only a small number of men, had audaciously besieged this city, placing all his confidence in the Lord, who, in his goodness, did indeed send him timely and very precious aid, for the Lord is always favorable to those who trust in him.
The French, having disembarked from their ships, rejoice to set foot on solid ground, and go leaping and stretching their bodies on the sand. Joyful after the prolonged weariness of a sea voyage, they eagerly seize the shore, and breathe a purer air which restores their health within, and the air of gaiety and vigor without. At the same time, they hasten, vying with each other, to pitch their tents in the plain and in the valleys, and they invest the city from all sides, so that no one can leave, and no one can come to relieve it by bringing arms or provisions from outside; then they proceed to enclose the entire perimeter of their camp behind deep entrenchments and ditches, and at the same time they erect at various points tall three-story machines and wooden towers, so that Saladin cannot attack them by surprise, for he did not cease to engage in frequent battles with the servants of Christ, and to harass them night and day, although he always retreated vanquished and overwhelmed with confusion; he had no shame in being constantly beaten, in fleeing shamefully after a defeat, and in losing in these successive engagements the men who were dearest to him, only grieving that he could not give the besieged any salutary advice, nor relieve them in an advantageous manner.
Richard, however, did not stay long in Sicily. From there he went to Cyprus, and having besieged this island for two months, he subdued it by his brilliant valor and for his own account, and having seized it, he also took prisoner the prince who governed it. Although Christ was recognized and adored there according to the Greek rite, the country of Cyprus nevertheless repelled the servants of Christ who had taken the cross, refused to bring aid to the Lord’s sepulchre, and favored the Saracens. After thus triumphing over Cyprus, Richard, laden with gold and spoils, hastened to Acre, whose walls were already overthrown on all sides, and whose inhabitants urgently demanded to surrender, under the sole condition of having their lives saved. At this price Saladin had already committed to the King of the French, Philip, to return all the servants of Christ held in harsh captivity by the Saracens, and to restore the holy cross. But the Catholic king did not want to enjoy such a great triumph alone before the arrival of the King of the English, to whom he had promised to always be a faithful companion as long as both consecrated themselves with the same zeal. in the service of the Cross; and he awaited his companion to share with him the honor that the clemency of Christ had granted to him alone, by the invincible force of a race invincible in war, and which had covered itself with its own blood for the service of Christ.
After this the Syrian did not want, or perhaps could not keep his word and fulfill the promises he had made to Philip. Consequently Richard, his heart swollen with righteous anger, had (without Philip offering any opposition) all the servants of Mahomet whom he found imprisoned in the city, to the number of twelve thousand5, beheaded and sent to Tartarus.
The city having been repaired and provided with defenders, all the streets and the surrounding countryside were distributed among the servants of Christ, and the pilgrims built new churches in which they could adore the name of Christ. Affairs and these places immediately took on a cheerful and entirely new aspect: soon the name of Mahomet was banished from all mouths, and throughout the land the cult of the Catholic faith was openly established everywhere.
Eleven hundred ninety-one years had passed since God had become man, when the French race, led by its king Philip, seized the city of Accaron, which surrendered on the eleventh day of July.
The army, having departed from this place, advanced joyfully to overthrow the walls of Ascalon, where was born formerly that Herod who delivered to death one hundred forty-four thousand children, fearing to lose his kingdom by the birth of the eternal prince, and believing he would cause Christ to perish among so many other children. From there, and under the leadership of Richard, the pilgrims triumphed over Joppa and Gaza, cities formerly illustrated by brilliant exploits. The former was once made famous by that centurion who, yielding to the invitations of the angel, adopted the teachings of Peter, and deserved to be purified and reborn in the sacred waters of baptism; the other city was often attacked and beaten in illustrious battles by Samson, endowed with a strength that had never been and was never, in the sequel, given to any man. After having struck it with numerous calamities, Samson carried away in his arms the leaves of its gates, all resplendent with brass and covered with banners, and went to stop on the summit of a high mountain; then, blinded by the artifices of his wife, he finally died, killing by his death a greater number of men than he had overthrown enemies during his life.
This event shows us that Christ, by giving us life through his death, crucified our death on his own cross; that by dying for his church, which he chose himself among the nations, he broke the barriers and the iron gates, and that seizing in his strength the weapons of the armed and vigorous enemy, he then ascended into the heavens, victorious and laden with spoils. But Judea has not not yet deserved to see the face of the new Moses, since it gathers from the law the straw and not the good grain.
Amidst these events, Philip, surrounded by a small number of his own, afflicted with a strong fever, and often overwhelmed by a painful trembling, was sick and confined to his bed in the city of Acaron. Violent sweats, terrible fevers, wrought such great havoc in his bones and in all his limbs, that the nails fell from all his fingers, and the hair from his head, so that it was believed, and this rumor is not yet dispelled, that he had tasted a deadly poison. Divine goodness, however, spared him for us, so that mutilated France would not have to deplore so promptly the loss of its prince, whose assiduous care was to make it enjoy in the future the benefits of a long peace. Nevertheless, he languished for a long time: by force of time, however, he began to recover little by little and slowly in convalescence, and as he could not fully recover, he finally decided, upon the invitation of the great lords, his friends, and the advice of the doctors, to return to his country and to the places of his birth; but before departing, he gave to five hundred knights, and from his own treasury, the necessary sums to cover all their expenses for three years, taking care in addition to add ten thousand foot soldiers, wishing them all to work with the same zeal and the same fidelity to fight in his place for the sepulchre of the Lord, and entrusting to the Duke of the Allobroges6 the care of commanding them.
After having provided with a vigilant spirit for all these arrangements, the king, taking advantage of a favorable wind, resumed his sea route. Arrived in Rome, he was received with the greatest honors by Pope Celestine, the third of that name, who governed in that city, and who, born of the illustrious blood of kings, was also united to the king, in the third degree of kinship. After he had been very honorably entertained by the fathers and the sacred college, he finally took leave, and crossing the steep peaks of Radicofani, passing over hills all covered with mud and impassable, where a traveler can barely go or return, leaving behind him the laurels of Montecchio and the summit of Mount Bardon, close to the sky, he entered the plain of Liguria; from there, painfully crossing the ladders of Mount Cenis and the Maurienne valley, difficult and dangerous passages, he finally discovered Burgundy. After having taken some rest in this country to relax from his journey across dreadful rocks, along the Cottian Alps and beyond the rivers Isère and Rhône, where no ford is found, he finally arrived home around the middle of November (for which we give thanks to God), safe and sound, his face smiling, and having regained the usual glow of his complexion.
Meanwhile, the King of England had lost Gaza and Jaffa, either by voluntarily abandoning them, or because they had been taken from him by force, for he sent writings to Saladin, and the latter sent them to him in turn, and even Saladin often succeeded in appeasing him with numerous gifts. Already the counts Thibaut of Blois and Philip of Flanders, already Count of Vendôme7 and those sent by Gien8, Clermont9 and Perche10, had seen their blessed souls depart from their earthen vessels. Sancerre had grieved over the funeral of the illustrious Stephen; Burgundy had mourned the loss of Hugh. Cruel death would not even spare James, and Avesnes was saddened by this deplorable death. Throughout the kingdom, one could barely find a place where someone did not have some reason to weep, either for the loss of their lord, or for that of a brother or some close relative: this one had to regret his children, that one his father; one lamented the death of his relatives, the other that of his friends; this one wept for his servant, that one his companion; one his uncles, the other his nephews, so great was the disaster that precipitated our great lords into the tomb, when they were all struck by death in the city of Accaron.
Then King Richard, having become odious to many men, thought of secretly abandoning this land. Hiding his royal dignity, and followed only by a few ships, he furrowed the sea, and having left the Ionian Sea he entered the Adriatic; then, sailing to the right, he landed on the coast of Illyria, and there, leaving his ships, he entered the territory of the Empire in the simple habit of a Templar, in order to travel with greater safety under this disguise. Indeed, he had offended many great lords, and as he feared a great number of them, he hid from many of them. He was recognized however by your duke11, of Austria, by this duke whose tents he had broken in the land of Syria, and whom he had overwhelmed with unworthy affronts12.
Alas! who can escape the unforeseen blows of fate and avoid the perils that destiny has assigned to him in advance? Often one falls by chance into violences worse than those prepared by cunning, and often it happens, by the chain of destinies, that an enemy encountered unexpectedly is more dangerous than one who seeks on all sides. What good is it to prepare dishes, to serve in the kitchen? What good is it for the lord to debase himself to the functions of a slave? What good is it for this king to have deviated from his path, to have changed clothes, to have made himself smaller than the least of servants? Marius found no profit in hiding in the marshes of Minturnae, nor did the son of Thetis, covered in shameful clothes, in mingling with the choirs of young girls in the court of Lycomedes. A king does not conceal himself any more than a mountain hides: royal majesty does not allow itself to be thus denied; whatever he did, the person of the king was revealed everywhere, and refusing to envelop itself in the desired darkness, it betrayed itself, not even finding a retreat amidst the shadows, and shining with all the splendor that is proper to him even in the most secret asylum. Thus, while hiding, the king was made prisoner by the very one he feared the most, and whom he most wanted to avoid; thus he was captured while hiding from one who was not looking for him at all, and who certainly had no hope of meeting him.
The previous year, the great Frederick, abhorring the long troubles of the sea, had set out for Jerusalem across the plains of Cilicia, having taken the cross with innumerable thousands of Teutons. As he was hastily heading towards Nicaea, after leaving the land of Antioch, burned by the sun and having wanted, during the midday heat, to imprudently bathe in the depths of a certain river, swallowed by the waters he suddenly became the prey of death. He thus having died, his son Henry, successor and heir to his paternal rights, ascended to the Empire. However, he was promoted there less by virtue of his rights of succession than by the aid of the election of the clergy and the magnates, for such is the order established among the Teutons that no one reigns over them unless he is first elected by the unanimous consent of the clergy and the magnates. Henry had thus succeeded his father in this manner, and he was staying in the city of Mainz when the Duke of Austria came to present the King of the English to him, and Henry spoke to him in these terms:
“Recently, friend of a usurping king, you waged war against us, having bound yourself by oath to the impious arms of Tancred, and you wanted to strip our wife of her father’s throne; recently also, groping in Syria for the treasures of Saladin, you delivered the servants of Christ to the enemies of the cross of Christ, suffering willingly that Gaza, Joppa and Ascalon were overthrown, without coming to blows and without combat, and you did not blush to cause some of the great men of my empire to die and to ill-treat a greater number. What’s more, you wanted to deliver to the Parthians your lord, the friend of our father and our brother, so that France, thus mutilated, would have to grieve the loss of its leader, and could not reclaim the things that belong to it by right and that you unjustly withhold.”
Richard could not bear this language any longer; and, as if he were seated on the throne of his ancestors, or in the court of Lincoln, or in the midst of the city of Caen, as if he had forgotten the garment under which he was held prisoner, with a royal and eloquent mouth and a lion’s heart, he suddenly spoke:
“Let him who accuses me of treason appear, let him present himself fully armed, let him consent to a duel with me, to try if he can convince me on this point. Certainly, my courage has not abandoned me to the point that someone could defeat me, when I trust in my right and in my accustomed vigor. Let what is prescribed by law be done. If the law does not favor me, I will not say another word to avoid death. If I fought for the rights of a sister, and if by You, Tancred finally returned to her what was due to her, I have not, by such conduct, offended your empire. Have pity, I beg you, of my travels and my fatigues; have pity of my homeland, which my brother devastates, alas! by wickedly inciting against me the arms of the children of France! While I remain here captive, King Philip overthrows my castles at will, destroys the ramparts of Gisors; already he has subjugated Pacy and Ivry-sur-Eure, already he has taken Beaumont-le-Roger and the castle of Lions. You are prince recently, wars threaten you, I see that you have a very great need of considerable sums and much money: if you wish to triumph over as many enemies as are now present, all ready to show themselves rebellious against you, I will give you one hundred thousand marks of silver, and I will recognize myself and my scepter as your vassals. My captivity is of no advantage to you; there is no glory in winning a victory over an unarmed king. Allow me then to go and bring aid to my kingdom, already too desolate.”
The prince approved these words and softened, and his consent was manifested by these few words:
“Do then as you have said, and go in liberty.”
Then the king confirmed his words by deeds; and, retiring free, he finally saw Sandwich again, after a long absence. England rejoiced at the arrival of its king; John then exiled himself from this country, and secretly attached himself to the King of the French. But already the Vaudreuil, at the point where the river Eure bathes the meadows of its divine waters, up to the places where, falling into a river of greater renown, it adopts itself a greater name, from places where far from there it receives into its bosom the graceful Orne, and gives it its name, up to the places where the Risle, flowing in the midst of smiling meadows, waters with a smile the countryside of Brionne, and all the territory finally which extends from there to the fountain of Serens, which takes its source from the river Epte, and fertilizes the gardens and the fields, before losing itself far away in the river Seine, already all this region had submitted to the powerful arms of the descendant of Charles. In his foresight, he filled the castles with arms and men, he had the moats surveyed, he rebuilt the overthrown citadels, so that every fortress would become much stronger than it had ever been before, and so as not to lose in an hour what he had acquired at the cost of so much effort. However, having fortified Evreux with even greater care, after having filled this city with a large number of arms and warriors, and with many provisions, he gave it to John, out of love for him, and so that he would keep it for him, without however delivering the citadel to him. This man, full of cunning, who had betrayed his father and more recently his brother, could not fail to betray the king as well. Surpassing all the tyrants of Sicily in wickedness of soul, John therefore invites to a feast all the children of France whom he could find in Evreux, and the knights, and the men-at-arms, with the exception of a small number, whom chance had kept in the citadel. These men therefore, having laid down their arms, the prince, after having gathered them all in a single house, where they believed they were gathering for dinner, suddenly calls, from the depths of their retreat, his armed Englishmen, and envelops three hundred men in a single massacre. Then, having had their heads attached to burning pikes, he parades them all around the city (a frightful spectacle), in order to add even more to the king’s grief by such a monstrous act, declaring by such deeds what gratitude he had for the thousand marks the king had given him?13
Formerly Horse and Hengist massacred in a similar manner all the Breton patricians whom they had treacherously invited to a feast, and whom they had surrounded with Englishmen: only one of them escaped, Eldon of Salisbury, who, having found, by a happy chance, a strong spear, and overthrowing a thousand enemies before him, saved himself, and, subsequently resuming the war, won victory over his enemies.
Stained by such a horrible carnage, John hastened to his brother; but such a criminal act could not please him. What man, indeed, unless he is possessed by the devil, absolutely abandoned by God, and that no virtue compensates for his vices, could delight in such cruel artifices, or pursue peace at the price of such a crime? But, as he was his brother, and as he detested an action equally detestable to all, Richard did not refuse him, although he was unworthy of it, his fraternal alliance, and did not withdraw his love from him who had recently wanted to strip him of his scepter.
At that time, the king had already been besieging the castle of Verneuil for three weeks, whose inhabitants, a race infinitely wicked and accustomed to provoking the French with their tongue, had, on the very gate of the castle, painted the figure of the king, armed with a mace, never ceasing to overwhelm this mute image of a living man with their insulting mockery. But in the end, they entirely renounced these bravadoes and all these grand speeches, and, with bowed heads, they respectfully honored the king, and humbly bore the yoke of the French, grieving to see themselves deprived of their walls and their superb towers, which the king had razed, in order to teach them, at their own expense, to repress the malice of their tongues.
However, as soon as the king was positively informed of John’s treason and the massacre of his people, he lifted the siege he had undertaken; and, spurred by the sting of anger, burning with the desire to exterminate his enemy, he first set fire to Evreux, and reduced that city to ashes, so much so that the flames devoured all the houses and all the churches. From there, setting fire to all the habitations, and devastating the countryside, he entered the country of Caux, and forced Richard to lift the siege of Arques. While the latter fled, the knights sustained fierce battles with the French, and defended themselves in the forest. In one of these battles, the illustrious John of Leicester, very renowned in the world for his fine exploits, gathering all his strength, struck Matthew of Marle and pierced his two thighs with his lance; and Matthew, striking him in turn in the chest, with the iron point of his spear (although blood flowed in abundance from his two thighs), forced him to mark the earth with the imprint of his immense body, and to suffer captivity, confessing himself vanquished. The other children of France did not emerge from this combat without glory, having taken twenty-five illustrious knights prisoner for their exploits and a large number of other enemies, and having killed even more.
Not far from there, was a very famous port and a city powerful in riches named Dieppe. Around the same time, the French went to plunder all its treasures, and, after having stripped it, they reduced it to ashes. Thus enriched, the army corps withdrew in triumph, as no one could say that there was any place or city that contained so many riches or such precious objects. As the French were returning from there, Richard, having positioned himself at the mouth of a certain forest, with many knights and lightly armed servants, in a place favorable for an ambush, inflicted much harm upon them, and took many men from their rearguard, all laden with spoils and booty. From there, quickly retreating towards Beaumont-le-Roger, on his territory, he entered Berry; the descendant of Charles followed him there with a rapid pursuit, and the Englishman, informed of his approach, prepared to set new ambushes for him.
Between Fretteval and the castle of Blois, there is a little-known place called Beaufour, somewhat lost in the middle of the woods, and deep in dark valleys. The king happened to be in this place with his barons; and towards the middle of the morning, he was taking his meal, while the troops marched with the chariots and horses laden with arms, with vases and with all other things necessary for the use of a camp. Suddenly the King of England rushes from his retreat, and easily disperses this unarmed people and all laden with provisions and effects: he kills, carries off, removes the chariots, the baggage, the horses, the baskets and the vases from the kitchens and tables, vases that gold and silver made brilliant and more precious than all others. The plunderer did not spare the small barrels full of écus, nor the sacks that contained ornaments, the tax registers and the fiscal papers; the royal seal itself was carried off as well as all the other effects; and the king suffered such a considerable loss in this place, that one might believe that this village had truly received its name from war and fraud14.
They had not yet reached the first moment of rest, when suddenly the cry “to arms!” was heard; all the men rush to arms pell-mell; no one asks if he is seizing the arms that belong to him or those of his companion, and each takes for himself those he finds most within reach. But already, laden with spoils and booty, the plunderers had prudently dispersed into the woods and into distant valleys, where the king could not lead men-at-arms. When he recognized that there was no means of pursuing the enemies, he continued his journey, and ordered that everything that had been lost be remade and guarded henceforth with greater care. In place of all the lost things, it was easy for him to have better ones made, or at least equally precious; but it was only with infinite difficulty that the registers could be re-established by which one knew in advance what was due to the treasury, what they were, and how much the subsidies amounted to, what each was obliged to pay, by way of census, taille, or for feudal right, who were exempt and who were condemned to corvées, who were the serfs of the glebe and the domestic serfs, and finally by what dues a freedman was still bound to his patron. Gautier the younger presided over this work; he took on this arduous task, and, guided by his natural spirit and by a judgment full of vigor, he re-established all things in their former and legitimate state, enlightened in advance by him who taught Ezra to remake the Books of the Law and the Prophets, the Books of Psalms, and finally all the writings of the Old Testament, which Chaldean impiety had entirely delivered to the flames, when the holy city was taken by the prince of the butchers, under the orders of the king of Assyria15, who, having put out the king’s eyes16, had him led to Babylon, along with all his people. The latter, having taken, in the midst of a feast, a laxative drink that was treacherously presented to him, suffered terribly in his stomach, and this beverage gave him, in his prison, sorrow and death.
During this time Renaud, Count of Dammartin, to whom the king had also given the countess with all the county of Boulogne, and Baldwin, invested with the first honors of the palace, proud of his ancestors, brother of Queen Elizabeth, and Count of Flanders and of Hainaut, having abandoned the King of the French, had gone over to the party of the King of the English. In addition, many barons, secretly become his friends, favored him by dissembling in their hearts, for this king attached all the great lords, and pursued the eager hearts of the children of France, by the abundance of his presents and the allure of his promises, generously distributing gold and silver to them, and giving them ornaments, provisions, domains and farmsteads. However, he could not succeed in corrupting by his presents the lord of Barres.
It happened, a short time after these events, that the Virgin Mother of God, who teaches us by her words and by the facts that she is the lady of Chartres, wishing to re-establish in a more splendid form the church that this city had specially consecrated to her, permitted by a marvelous dispensation that the fires of Vulcan should unleash at her will against this church, so that such a remedy might put an end to the languishing illness that consumed the house of the Lord in the place where it was situated, and that this destruction might become the principle of the new construction, which shines today with a greater splendor than any other church in the world. This church having therefore been demolished, a new church rises, already perfect in beauty, whose entire body is enclosed under a vast vault, and which has nothing to fear from fire until the day of judgment. From this fire also resulted in the salvation of many people, by whose help the new work was undertaken and completed. Indeed, the enemy of the human race, always unjust, always delights in adding a new misfortune to a misfortune, and can never wish for or love good. He himself, however, never does any harm without the Lord himself permitting it, and the Lord permits it so that he may always sin in all things. Nevertheless, through all these acts, God always has in view the advantages that can result for the human race: He punishes sin or else He represses in the hearts of men the feelings of pride, so that the just may be further justified by the present afflictions, and that he who is defiled may be further defiled by a just judgment; for patience, guardian of virtue, strengthens the just, and the will once chained to vice makes the unjust persevere. By this it happens that, good and bad at the same time, the enemy is equally useful to us by the same action, while he is harmful to himself and his own; and this is not because he can or wants to be simply good, but because, even in being bad, it is an occasion for the development of our good. Thus, bad for the Jews and good for us, the passion of Christ was transformed for us into life, for them into death. The same event which was so greatly useful to the world, in that the passion saves us, in that the action committed by the Jews condemns them: the first pleases the eternal Father, the second displeases Him.
But as our journey through such a harsh path takes away the breath of our steed, may it be allowed to stop for a moment, so that after this fourth pause it may run with more lightness.
CANTO FIVE.
ARGUMENT.
This fifth canto contains massacres and particular battles. — The king chases the enemies from Vaudreuil, and makes them lift a siege after having made an eight-day march in three days. Richard, having seized Vierzon, torments the inhabitants of Brittany, but these, however, refuse to surrender Arthur to his uncle. — Philip destroys the castles of Dangu and Aumale. There King Richard, wanting to lift his camp, is defeated, and then he is wounded at Gaillon by a dart that hits him in the knee. — The French take the Count of Namur and massacre three thousand Welshmen. — Richard, having captured the Bishop of Beauvais, suddenly wants to undertake to seize Philip’s person while the latter marches towards Courcelles, followed only by a small number of knights; but filled with indignation, Atropos cuts the thread of Richard’s days.
MEANWHILE Count John was besieging Vaudreuil and making vain efforts to reduce it under the domination of his brother. He had with him Count David17, the Archbishop of York18, the lord of Arundel19, a babbling multitude come from the superb city of Rome, the people of the Pays d’Auge, who drink hard cider; those of Lisieux, who have no fountain, and who, instead of spring water, content themselves with drinking the water of muddy marshes, in in which toads are piled one upon the other, while the frog mates with its male whose body is all spotted; the people of Vexin, who produce much grain; the hardy inhabitants of the Pays de Caux, and those of Hiémois, who are distressed at occupying only sterile mountains. All these peoples and many others united made concerted efforts to seize the castle.
But all the knights and the people, children of France, as many as could be gathered from the neighboring places, had united and set up their camp on the banks of the beautiful river Eure. King Philip went to them in great haste, from the city of Bourges. In three days (oh miracle!) he made an eight-day march, without dismounting from his horse, without taking a single moment of rest to refresh himself. Drenched in sweat, and covered in dust, he was still the first to cross the Eure at the ford. No delay held back the French; immediately they rushed with their accustomed lightness against the enemy, already troubled by their approach, who no longer considered it shameful for him to cowardly turn his back, and who preferred to flee and hide in the nearby forest, rather than defend himself in combat. The English knights therefore fled, throwing down their weapons, in order to save themselves more lightly, and the foot soldiers were taken prisoner, unable with their feet alone to escape the pursuit of the victor.
When the king had returned anew to the territory of Berry, John went to besiege Bressoles, but he suffered the same fate, and the inhabitants of the country alone drove him out, to his great shame.
I return to this journey of the king, to be astonished again that he could, like a giant, make in three days this march of eight days. And who would not be astonished that this king, followed by troops and laden with arms, flying in some sort with winged speed, rather than walking on foot, could, in so little time, accomplish so many days of march? What runner, or what winged-footed pilgrim, burning with the desire to return to his homeland, after having accomplished a vow, can boast of having done so, in three days, a march of one hundred forty miles? We are not told that formerly the great Alexander pursued with rapid flight Narbazan and Bessus, when they hastened to return to Bactriana, after the death of Darius. Thus, as it is recounted, Caesar, having left the city of Sens, arrived in Paris in one day’s march, when the Parisians, having driven the Romans from their homes, claimed to give themselves Camulogenus as king, whom Neustria sent to them from the city of Rouen, which caused Lutetia to be besieged and taken once again.
After this, King Richard and King Philip found themselves again in each other’s presence and prepared to fight; but Richard renounced remaining armed, and without any other warning, if not from him who holds in his hands the hearts and arms of powerful men, he placed himself at the disposal of his lord and declared himself ready to obey him in all things. He therefore renewed his oaths of fealty. and loyalty, and swore that he would be faithful to his lord, in peace and good friendship; but a short time later he even renounced this peace. However, as he could not violate it by an open enterprise, fearing the reproaches of renown if he showed himself openly rebellious towards his lord, and without any motive, he applied himself to secretly doing what he could not do by force, and inserted a fraud into the writing by which he committed himself. Thus, by this hidden artifice, he provoked a cause for war such that Philip was forced to undertake it first, and that this insult provided him, Richard, with a kind of right, by virtue of which he was permitted to repel the attacks directed against him.
A port situated on the bank of the river Seine, and which is called Porte-Joie, serves for the passage of those who go to the country of Vexin and to Vaudreuil. There is an island that cuts the riverbed in two, and which, situated in the middle of the current, is common to both banks. King Richard had a high citadel built on this island, fortified with ramparts, in contempt of the stipulations of the peace he had sworn; and as Philip wanted to reprimand him on this subject, he excused himself with as much perfidy as skill, trying to hide his injustice under the appearance of good right, and seeking to palliate his fraud with an art full of subtlety. Although the king had well demonstrated and exposed this perfidy, he did not want to take up arms again for this fact. He therefore remained calm; and Richard then resorted to new means. He initiated a lawsuit against the lord of Vierzon, and disregarding all rules, making himself the once judge and party, he summoned him before him for this unjust trial, concerning an affair which, according to law, belonged to Philip’s jurisdiction. The brave lord, his heart filled with indignation, could not bear this insult, and went to Paris to present his complaints to the king. But before he could return to his properties, Richard suddenly invaded all that belonged to him, completely stripped and plundered Vierzon, set fire to all the houses, and carried off rich spoils.
Oh, what sorrow! This castle of admirable beauty, abundant in all things that could contribute to the adornment of a castle, was reduced to nothing by an unforeseen stratagem and by an enemy who was not even suspected, and whom by right one should not have feared at all. Throughout the territory of Berry, which the sun burns with its rays, one could not find any castle more beautiful than that one, and whose lands were more fertile. To its right it was embellished by the plains of Sologne, whose land is fertile in grains; and the left side was adorned by the Cher, which flows gently through verdant meadows, whose banks are made more pleasant by the trees and the well-cultivated lands that surround it, which carries boats and gives the inhabitants of the country fish and all sorts of other advantages.
The king, when he was informed of an act of perfidy, such as he had experienced several times before, sent many servants and knights to fortify the places in Berry, so that Richard could not master them by such stratagems, and went, with many troops, to besiege Dangu. Richard having attempted several times to chase him away, and not being able to succeed, crossed the river Eure, and Nicolas, seduced by his gifts, delivered to him the castle of Nonnancourt which he was charged to guard. Then, having recognized how criminal it was to thus violate his engagements towards the one who had trusted his faith, and to deliver the castle of his lord, Nicolas took the habit of a Templar, and fled to the shores of Syria.
But the king, after having first seized Dangu, indefatigable, headed towards the castle of Nonnancourt, and reduced it under his domination. Those whom Richard had left in this castle, the king had them all loaded with irons and imprisoned them in the tower of Mantes, where they were guarded by Josselin, a man of brilliant valor, very zealous in chivalry, full of strength and courage, magnificent, and bearing in his heart a tender compassion for the afflicted. He therefore generously gave drink and food to his prisoners, and very often he allowed them to sleep before the tables with him, without precaution for himself; while he drank among them, he was killed by these men, children of Satan, who struck him with a dagger in the heart, at the very moment he was drinking. This act of treason, long meditated, being thus consummated, the prisoners who, by a secret fraud, had also long since filed their chains, then opened the doors, descended to the ground, by a steep slope, through the rough parts of a staircase, and thus found themselves outside the tower. While, counting on the darkness of a very thick fog, they were already preparing to leave from various sides through the false gates, suddenly a great noise arose throughout the castle enclosure, the inhabitants rushed, closed the gates before these men, all trembling, and soon they arrested almost all of them. The next day, raised head in the air at the top of a gallows, they were justly offered in sacrifice to Jupiter, and rightly removed from the earth, without however being received into the abode of the heavens; for, equally detestable to earth and sky, they deserved to be welcomed neither by the one nor by the other, and barely did the mobile air allow them to sway in its bosom. A punishment doubtless less great than the crime, if it were the only one inflicted for such a misdeed, but much less formidable than the punishment reserved for souls, when they have shed the flesh.
Richard, however, having invaded the Bretons, struck them with all sorts of calamities, overturned several castles, and devastated many towns and cities, sparing neither children nor grown men. Moreover, on the very day when the adorable Passion of Christ is celebrated, he caused many men to perish by the sword, and, preparing in his cruelty an unheard-of kind of death, he forced many others to perish in the flames and smoke, after they had entered caves, and even into the bowels of the earth, to flee death: but death pursues in all places those who flee it, and reaches them in all their retreats. However, with all his ferocity, Richard could not turn the Bretons from their obedience to Philip and their loyalty to the French; nor could he make them consent to hand over his nephew Arthur, for whom they suffered so much evils, Arthur, still a child, whom Guidenoc, bishop of Vannes, guarded at that time, whom he then returned safe and sound to King Philip, who was raised during his childhood at the court of Paris with Louis, a child like him, and who lived several years at this court, without experiencing any harm: he perished by the hand of his uncle, as soon as he fell into his power, having lived in safety among strangers, and was assassinated by the hands of a friend20.
Without further delay Richard left the territory of Bretagne, and followed by all his banners gathered in a crowd, passing through the fields of Bayeux, all covered with rye-grass, and the plains of the Caux region, then leaving Beauvais behind him, he led his troops in a rapid march, boasting of his plan to fight King Philip if the latter did not hasten to lift the siege of Aumale castle, whose ramparts he had invested six weeks earlier, established on the summit of a hill and amidst rocks. Richard therefore chose the best among his brave knights, those whose courage and fidelity inspired him with the most confidence, to lead them with him to attack the besiegers’ camp by surprise. Among these knights, the most valiant in war was Gui de Thouars, who became Duke of the Bretons a short time later, by marrying Arthur’s mother and receiving this duchy from her. With them were also Hugues le Brun, hero of La Marche, and Guillaume de Mauléon, followed by many knights.
Richard, carried away by the ardor of war, hoping with such auxiliaries to triumph over all his enemies, rushed with a rapid march towards the camp. Coming out of the same camp, and flying to meet him with no less ardor, then advanced Count Simon21, the Baron des Barres, Alain the Breton of Dinant, from whom King Richard had recently unjustly and by force taken the only one of his ancestors who still remained to him; with them are young men of elite, whose courage is indomitable, and whose arm is accustomed to war. Richard ceaselessly repeats that there is nothing to fear, and urges his men to always push for the most difficult enterprises. But as soon as the vigorous lion saw before him these warriors of indomitable courage, he recognized them successively by the banner of each of them. Like a lion of Libya transported by anger against the bulls he sees advancing in the middle of the pastures, raising their horns, standing tightly united and all ready to defend themselves: the lion dares not present his back to flee, and yet he dares not approach them either, being unable to hope for victory. Likewise, the noble king remains struck with stupor upon seeing his enemy so close to him; he dares not rush upon him, and the pride of his soul does not allow him to retreat either. This last course of action would make him fail in honor, but there would be more safety; in the other there is no safety, but also, and above all, there is honor. Finally, the valiant king, jealous of preserving his honor as much as possible, prefers this honor to the party that offers him more security. Filled with ardor, lowering his sword, and pressing his spurs into the flanks of his steed, he rushes upon the warriors with a transport of rage, and the warriors also rush towards him. Both sides fight with varying fortunes; lances break, swords are blunted under repeated blows, and soon a fierce combat engages with daggers drawn from their scabbards. According to his custom, the knight des Barres rages against the enemies, clearing a path with his sword to reach the king, with whom he ardently desires to come to blows; the knight unhorses three knights from their horses, without stopping to shackle them, and seeking only to unhorse others still.
Meanwhile, Count Simon’s arm was not inactive, and the other lords fought with no less valor. On its side, the troop of Poitevins showed no inferiority in courage, and performed no less praiseworthy exploits. They strike the enemy and are struck; they are unhorsed and unhorse; they take prisoners and are in turn taken prisoner. It is still uncertain on which side victory will settle, to which of the two parties fortune will grant its favors; both sides fight with varied chances, until the moment when the king saw, amidst thousands of enemies, Alain alone in the plain, who had withdrawn to repair his broken helmet. Having recognized him, the king leaves the fray, and, straightening his lance, rapidly heads into the plain, towards the place where he could rejoin Alain. As soon as he saw the king advance towards him, the Breton rejoiced no less to see him animated by the same desire that possessed him. But the king’s lance, striking against a pierced shield, breaks and refuses to fulfill its master’s wish. Similarly, the Breton’s lance cannot pierce the king’s shield, but sliding over the shield and advancing further, it penetrates the horse’s entrails, between its two thighs; with its well-sharpened point it cuts the horse’s tail at the point where it is attached, and finally breaking at this spot, it stops. The king and the animal then fall; but the king rises with admirable lightness, and leaps more quickly than one might have hoped onto another horse. Already the troops were shamefully turning their backs and fleeing, already the king himself could no longer withstand such fierce assaults. Gui, who was to become Duke of the Bretons, is taken prisoner with many others. The French, however, pursue the fugitives, the plain is cleared, and those who flee leave behind precious hostages, thirty knights and fifty other less considerable warriors. In the entire troop of the children of France, no one was taken prisoner or struck by death.
Following such a great triumph, the French indulge in transports of joy in their camp, and after having besieged the castle of Aumale for forty-nine days, and finally taken it, not without great efforts, they completely destroyed it, so that scarcely a trace of it remains. King Richard then sadly withdrew, unable to bear in his heart, overwhelmed with grief at having lost so many of his knights and abandoned the plain by a shameful flight, without even, amidst the vicissitudes of this harsh combat, having dealt death to a single one of all the French, without taking even one into captivity.
A short time later, Richard, wishing to besiege and invest the walls of Gaillon, having approached the ramparts of this castle, and carefully searching for the paths by which he could most easily ascend to penetrate into the citadel, the lord of this castle, Cadoc, having seen him from the top of a tower, launched a bolt from his crossbow, and the bolt struck the king in the knee and lodged in the horse’s flank. The animal rolled over immediately, and mortally wounded, barely had the strength to carry his master to the midst of his own men, who at the same time uttered a thousand threats against the lord of Gaillon, if he at least preserved his life. At the end of a month, when his wound had been healed with the help of powerful remedies, and by the care of a skilled hand, the king, stronger and more irritated than ever, resumed all his fury; having regained his vigor, he trembled and burned to take up arms, like the snake which, having shed its old skin, presenting its glistening back to the sun, works to arm its teeth with their poison, awaiting the one against whom it will launch its dart, or whom it will wound with its freshly composed venom.
Soon the king called to him from the extremities of England an immense troop of Welshmen, so that they might spread throughout the forest-covered lands, and that with their natural ferocity they devastate the territory of our kingdom by iron and fire; for here are the particular habits of the Gallois, among all the indigenous peoples of England, habits to which they remain faithful from the first times of their existence: instead of houses they live in the woods, they prefer war to peace, they are quick to anger and light-footed in running in places where there are no paths; their feet are not shod with soles, nor their legs with boots; they are trained to suffer cold and do not shrink from any fatigue; they wear short clothing and do not burden their bodies with any kind of armor; they do not wrap their flanks in a cuirass, they do not cover their head with a helmet, they carry no other weapons than those with which they can give death to the enemy, the club with the javelin, spears, pikes, a two-edged axe, a bow, arrows, knotty darts or the lance. They delight in constantly taking plunder, in shedding blood, and rarely do they die otherwise than by a violent death, following wounds; if someone has the right to reproach another that his own father died unavenged by death, it is for this one the height of dishonor. Cheese, butter and poorly cooked meats are considered by the most important among them the most delicious feast; they press their meats several times in the half-open trunk of a tree, and often eat them after having only expressed the blood. Meats serve them as bread, instead of wine they drink milk. These men therefore, ravaging our territory on all the points where they found free access, horribly tormented the old men and young people, the children and their parents. However, at the entrance to the valley of Andely, our army, having wisely deployed its squadrons in front and behind the valley, so tightly hemmed in these Gauls, that in a single day three thousand four hundred were seen to perish.
This event violently moved King Richard, and he could not contain in his heart the terrible anger that agitated him. At that moment he happened to have three Frenchmen chained in his prisons: as soon as he learned of the slaughter of his own, in his fury he had these three men thrown from the bank of the Seine, from the top of a rock on which he later had the ramparts of Château-Gaillard built, and plunging them by an iniquitous judgment into the abyss of death, he had these men perish who had deserved nothing of the sort, and who, falling, had all their bones and nerves of their bodies broken. Then, and in the same prison, he had the eyes of fifteen more men torn out, giving them as a guide a man to whom he had left one eye, so that he might lead them in this state to the King of the French. The latter, animated by a just anger, had the same torture inflicted on an equal number of Englishmen, and having them released from prison at the same time, sent them to the King of the English, under the guidance of the wife of one of them, and he also had three others thrown from the top of a rock, so that no one might believe him inferior to Richard in strength or courage, or think that he feared him. He also took care of those who had lost their sight because of him, and their gave them, to help them, the things they might need, so that they would have enough of what is necessary for the sustenance of life.
From there Richard, crossing well-watered valleys, went to cross the river Epte at the ford, entered the territory of Beauvais, and after having killed many people, carried off immense booty in men and beasts. The Bishop of Beauvais22 rushed to meet him, and with him the noble Guillaume, lord of Mellot, wishing at least to try to defend their homeland; but they were so enveloped by the band of Mercadier, that both of them, fighting thus for their country, were taken prisoner, loaded with chains, and thrown into a prison, where they suffered for a long time all sorts of torments. This same bishop was the illustrious son of Robert23, who was himself a royal scion of Louis the Fat, so that this son was the king’s first cousin; but neither his dignity as a prelate of the church, nor the sacred order to which he was bound, nor his personal valor, nor the renown of such a birth, were of any help to prevent him from being confined like the lowest soldier of the common people in a prison for criminals, and from languishing miserably for several years.
A short time after these events, the brother of the Count of Flanders, who was himself by his own right Count of Namur, while he was traversing the environs of Sens with many knights of his country, was taken prisoner, and with him sixteen knights who accompanied him. The king’s friends, who defended this region in his name, defeated them in a battle and forced them to receive chains.
However, the King of England, unable to contain all the joy he felt at the capture of the bishop, burned with the desire to give battle to his lord, whatever the decree of fate might be. Having with him fifteen hundred armed knights, forty thousand lower-ranking combatants and Marchader’s innumerable bands, and having learned with certainty that the king was heading almost alone towards the walls of Gisors, Richard flooded the plains and valleys surrounding Courcelles with his knights, all armed with helmets, and arranged his armed cohorts in good order in the fields of Vexin, so that Philip could find no open path to reach Gisors, as he had planned.
The latter, unaware of this stratagem, and not even knowing where the King of England was, had left all his troops in the castle of Mantes, and, fearing nothing for himself, had taken with him only forty-four knights and a hundred men-at-arms. They had already passed Courcelles, whose ramparts the King of England had overthrown and taken captive the lord, named Robert, who had received a terrible wound to the head. As soon as the French saw the valleys all filled with warriors, whose glittering arms redoubled the sun’s brilliance in the fields, they were seized with stupor, and could find no way out of their predicament, neither to the right nor to the left. The king, always intrepid, followed the path he saw before him, when Manassé de Malvoisin, a strong man in the council, and even more strongly in combat, stopped him by the bridle of his horse, and, his soul filled with fury, addressed these words to him:
“Where are you rushing, O you who will perish? What help can our arms lend you? Why do you seem to want to deliver yourself with all your men to the blows of blind fortune? How will such a weak troop dare to fight so many thousands of men, in such a way as to defend its life for only an hour? Alexander did not lead so many Greeks to battle; Xerxes (although it is reported that his army exhausted rivers when it took a meal) did not cross the sea near Mount Athos with as many ships as there are men waiting for you there. Do you not see then how all the paths are already occupied, and that there is no way out in the valleys or in the fields for us to pass? So then, as soon as possible, while we are allowed to do so, and before the enemy does not yet surround us on all sides, let us turn back quickly, and retreat to a place of safety. Or rather, go away alone, without any feeling of shame stopping you, while we will fight to resist the enemy. Our death will be only a slight loss, but in you rest the hope and glory of the whole kingdom; you alone remaining safe and sound, France has nothing to fear.”
He would have said more, but the king, transported with anger:
“Far from me,” he cried, “that I abandon my enterprise for any enemy whatsoever, or that I turn my back to march as a fugitive. This royal road must lead me to Gisors. Far be it from us that, in our kingdom, a stranger could frighten us! If all paths are refused to us, if the fields and valleys are closed to us, so that we can find no way to go further, let each one make his way with his sword through the enemies. Let our swords be our guides to accomplish the journey we have undertaken. Far be it from us that a fault could be reproached to the King of the French! Valor is not measured by number, but by the heart of the warriors.”
He spoke, and rushed with brilliant courage into the midst of the battalions; all the children of France advanced with similar agility, moving as one man: each one cleared a passage with his gleaming sword; and in a short time, putting the enemies to flight, overthrowing and killing a great number, they led the king, who always marched along his straight path, as he had promised, into the plain. So while the king went on, without having received any wound, the enemy fled, discontent, and seeing only with sorrow their defeat and the triumph of the latter, who continued his march.
Meanwhile, the most illustrious of the children of the French nation continued to fight, doing much harm to the enemies, and staining the grass with their blood. But, while such a small number of men cannot triumph over so many thousands of adversaries, and although they know well that they cannot trust the deceptive face of fortune, most of them, not knowing how to yield, stubbornly fight, unwilling to be vanquished, and are held prisoner by the enemy. Thus were captured Matthieu de Marle, Philippe de Nanteuil, Pierre, nicknamed “the Sow”, Gautier, who was known as “de la Porte”, and ninety-two other great, young men illustrious in war, all decorated with the rank of knights, of distinguished birth, and bearing famous names. Furthermore, the bridge of Gisors, by which one reaches the iron gate, being unable to support all those who rushed upon it in a rapid charge, collapsed, and carried several warriors into the river. The king’s horse crossed the river, and arrived with the king on the opposite bank, without any accident: of all those who followed him, the king lost no one, either drowned in the river, or killed on the battlefield. As for the King of England, regarding himself as a victor with his ninety-two captive knights, after taking a few moments of rest, he headed towards Château-Gaillard, joyful and triumphant, and barely able to contain his excitement.
Oh! how ignorant is the heart of man of the things to come! Alas! how blind he is, he who never remembers past events, who never fears those of the future, who takes no precautions against what must happen, and cares only for the present! This very victory, O Richard, will turn to ill for you; soon it will come to pass that you will regret having won it, and having fought in one way or another against your lord (with which your mother had instructed you never to come to blows, teaching you on the contrary to render him honor respectfully), when a rough bolt having struck you in the middle of the body, death will knock at your door, since neither the Passion of Christ, nor the sacred time of Lent, can turn you away from combat. Such is the death that awaits you before Chalus24 he who must be your murderer! Why do you rejoice imprudently? why do you pride yourself on your victory? Fool, what are these transports? what vain glory seduces you? you burst with joy for the present, and you do not consider what the hour of tomorrow may bring you, what end can put a stop to your momentary joy, how deceptive glory is, how mobile is the destiny of man! wisdom alone measures the end of all things. Why do you not offer fervent thanks to the Lord? Why do you attribute to yourself alone what he has granted in his good will for you? You are foolish if you think that the same thing can return ceaselessly, that present circumstances never change, as if fortune remained obstinately in the same place! Do you not know the whims of this sovereign? those whom she raises highest, all of a sudden she makes them fall lowest by a more terrible fall. Mobile fate always leaves in obscurity him who has fallen behind him. The heart swells and exalts before the ruin that overwhelms the imprudent, and when he has fallen unexpectedly, he is delivered to a torment that the man who, by his own actions, has prepared for himself all these evils, so that he who trusts too much in himself, and has not wanted to become wise through his faults, may learn finally through punishment how humble he should have shown himself in triumph. But pride above all must be repressed more severely, when the mercy of God has subjected an enemy to us, when God has given to those who do not deserve them the honors of a fragile world, for fear that we may not lose at once both the gifts of him who gives, and him who alone gives and takes away all these things. This king, to whom you boast rashly of having inspired fear, whom you believe to have vanquished, has rather vanquished yourself; and when he made his way himself with his sword through the army that sought in vain to stop him, striking with confusion you and yours, and triumphant, invincible in war, over you and yours, he truly gained much more honor by escaping all your forces with so few knights, than you could acquire by stopping a few knights with such a large number of men. It is therefore to him that this triumph belongs, and it is no longer yours.
Already some time had passed since these events; it was beyond mid-Lent, and the faithful people were preparing to celebrate the venerable Passion of Christ, when, far away, in the territory of Limoges, a prodigious event occurred. In the land of Chalus, a certain peasant, placed under the orders of a lord named Achard, was tilling the land with his plow, to sow vetch or millet there, when he found a hidden treasure in the plowed field; and having found it, he went to reveal it to his lord. The latter secretly took the gold, having with him only a small number of witnesses, according to what those who love to tell false stories report. This event became known to Richard, through the accounts of gossiping fame, which always adds great things to lesser things, and which delights, in its chatter, in mixing the false with the true. Delighted by these agreeable reports, Richard, neglecting all other care, applied himself solely to this matter, in order to bring Achard, in one way or another, either by force or by affection, to hand over the treasure he had discovered. First, therefore, he wrote to him, but without obtaining any result. Then he gathered his cohorts, and arrived with great clamor beneath the ramparts of Chalus, uttering horrible threats, and declaring that he would destroy everything if Achard did not deliver the gold he had found as soon as possible.
However, Achard begs and asks for a truce for the holy days, until at least the solemnity of Easter has passed. He declares himself perfectly innocent of the crime and ignorant of the fact that the king imputes it to him; but he promises that he will very willingly submit to whatever the court of France, which must govern according to its laws the great men of the kingdom and Richard himself, decides on this subject. The king, more and more furious, remains deaf to all these propositions, does not even accept reasons, and listens neither to justice nor to equity. What pleases him is also what he judges just, and at the same time he makes the greatest efforts to seize the castle. Already the greater part of the walls has fallen; the tower itself is shaken, and Achard will soon have nothing left to to defend themselves. But they have reached the point where despair gives strength, which happens when the last misfortune overwhelms the unfortunate, and when they can finally fear no greater misfortunes. Six knights and nine servants still fight in the tower, and deploy all their forces to defend the castle. The more they see that it becomes impossible for them to escape death, the more audacious they show themselves in resisting death by fighting; no fear manifests itself where there is no longer any hope of salvation. If they find no other projectile under their hands, they throw planks, beams, debris from the tower, and, by throwing all sorts of things, they constantly reduce the number of their enemies. Meanwhile, Atropos addresses these words to her two sisters, Clotho and Lachesis:
“Why, Clotho, why do you provide Lachesis with so much to spin for the use of King Richard? What good is it to have taken so much trouble for one who does not deserve it? For one whom our patience, as I see it, makes too proud, whom our good deeds make rebellious towards us, who hopes too much to abuse our gifts, as if he were always to conquer, as if I should never have the power to break, when I wish, the thread you spin; he who, driven by his excessive greed, dares to despise the most holy days and the blessed time that the Father who thunders in the heavens consecrated with the blood of his own Son, and who gave us to be his ministers; he, finally, who has so many times broken the treaties he had concluded with his lord, and who but recently still wished to seize his person. I pass over in silence the frauds committed by him in the land of Syria and in the kingdom of Palermo; I keep silent about the grievance of having so often disregarded the rights of nature. What are, Clotho, these murmurs that answer my voice? you, who are nothing but the force by which the sovereign Father calls everything into existence, in its time, and as it pleases Him; so that you only have the power to hold the distaff, and nothing beyond. And you, Lachésis, what are you other than the fate by which this same Creator guides what is already produced, makes it vegetate, and directs it through existence? But in me, who dominates over all things, there is no change, nothing can hinder me: my force strips of existence all that comes into existence through you, or traverses existence. But enough, the irrevocable word of the Father urges me. Make, Clotho, make your distaff learn to stop; make, Lachésis, that this spindle you turn with your thumb ceases to swell. You can more usefully furnish your spindles for this Philip, who respects both us and our Father, who presents his homage everywhere, and honors his ministers everywhere. Why do you tremble, Achard? why are you afraid? your tower is at its last extremity, it fears the fall, and already it is delivered. Behold, I come to your aid: what do you say, that there are no more arrows? look at the wall; under this still firm beam, next to you, hangs a short arrow, with a square point, that Richard sent. against you, desiring to strike you with a sudden death. Present this arrow to Gui25, who carries a crossbow, so that he may send back to Richard what Richard has sent: I want Richard to perish from this death, and not from another, so that he who first showed the children of France the use of the crossbow, may himself experience it, and feel within himself the force of the instrument whose practice he taught to others.”
Atropos has spoken; her words pleased her two sisters; Clotho leaves her distaff, and Lachesis renounces her thoughts.
Meanwhile, Richard continues to go back and forth incessantly around the walls of the fort: Gui, having recognized him from the top of the citadel, turns the nut of his crossbow with his left thumb, presses the trigger with his right hand; the string vibrated, and behold, the fatal arrow entered the king’s shoulder. Suddenly, a sound of mourning spreads throughout the camp; every knight sadly returns to his tent; the young men, laying down their arms, abandon themselves to lamentations; they carry the king back to his royal couch, and the soldiers, overcome by grief, attack only weakly. Forgetting the battles, they shed tears and no longer arrows. The besieged give themselves over to transports of their joy; already Achard no longer hides; having no more fear, he delights in walking the ramparts with his companions in arms, for already the enemy had withdrawn.
Meanwhile, the troops pressed pell-mell around the king. The doctors applied soothing balms, the surgeons cut into the wound to remove the iron with less danger. The blow was not mortal; but the king refused to listen to the salutary advice of the doctors and his friends, and preferring the evil joys of pleasure to the counsels of the wise, he drew death upon himself without suspecting it. Already Atropos had broken the thread of his life. So, the invincible king was dissolved by death, this king, such that none of those who had borne the scepter of the English would have been better than him if he had taken care to keep his faith to the king to whom the law obliged him to submit, and if he had had the fear of the supreme king. The clergy of the church of Rouen enclosed his heart in gold and silver, deposited it amidst the sacred bodies of saints, in the edifice consecrated to this use, and rendered him devoutly the greatest honors, so that the devotion of such an illustrious church might publicly attest how much it had cherished during his life the one whose manes it still deigned to honor. The head and the rest of the body were buried at Fontevrault, next to the king his father. Oh! how changeable is the state of kingdoms, and how often dissimilar are the chiefs who fall to empires! Richard was succeeded by John, a man such that none in the world was worse than him, and who was devoid of all good sentiment. Brother of Richard, he succeeded his brother by an injustice of fate, for Arthur should rather have succeeded Richard, since he was the son of John’s elder brother. Blind fate was against him, for often the decrees of destiny show themselves opposed to the judgments of men.
Here my muse, complaining of the weariness of these odious cares, said to me:
“I am tired and want to rest again. This song wants to be finished at the same time that such a great king finishes: so make this song and Richard have the same end. My fatigue invites me to take a few moments of rest.”
Remove one year, and the death of King Richard is marked in the year twelve hundred since the birth of Christ.
The laziness of the spirit always finds words of excuse for the lazy, and does not seek to present to it cares for which it would want to renounce its softness and endure fatigues, nor which could make it the host always eager for courage, which, exempt from softness, delights in being the companion of fatigue. Let us therefore take a moment of rest; but let this moment be short, for fear that, if too long a delay turned into habit, the spirit might become languid and finally be captive and dominated by laziness.
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William the Good, King of Sicily, died in November 1189. ↩︎
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Constance was the aunt of William the Good, and daughter of King Roger. ↩︎
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He was the son of a concubine of Roger, Duke of Apulia, and the elder of King Roger. ↩︎
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Public opinion accused King Henry of having seduced his son Richard’s fiancée. ↩︎
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William of Newburgh says: about two thousand six hundred (Bk. IV, ch. 3). Rigord speaks of five thousand men, and even more. ↩︎
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Hugh, Duke of Burgundy. ↩︎
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John. ↩︎
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William Goeth. ↩︎
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Baosi, Count of Clermont. ↩︎
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Rotrou, Count of Perche. ↩︎
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Leopold. ↩︎
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In the vicinity of Acre, Richard removed from a certain chief the banner of the Duke of Austria, and after having broken it, he threw it shamefully into a deep mire, to the great dishonor of the duke. See the Life of Philip-Augustus by Rigord, in this Collection. ↩︎
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Rigord recounts this same event, but without attributing it to Prince John. ↩︎
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Bad pun on the name Belfogia (Beaufort): Bel for bellum, and fogia for fraus. ↩︎
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Nebuchadnezzar. ↩︎
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Zedekiah. ↩︎
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David, Count of Huntingdon, brother of Malcolm IV, King of Scotland. ↩︎
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Geoffrey, bastard of Henry II, King of England, and who was archbishop in 1191. ↩︎
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William ↩︎
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Arthur, Duke of Brittany, son of Geoffrey, third brother of Richard and elder brother of King John, was assassinated by the latter, his uncle, in the year 1203. ↩︎
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Simon de Montfort. ↩︎
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Philip. ↩︎
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Count of Dreux. ↩︎
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The castle of Chalus, in Limousin. ↩︎
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The testimonies of historians vary on the name of the one who killed Richard. Matthew Paris calls him Pierre de Bâle, Roger of Hoveden names him Bertrand de Gourdon (and M. de Sismondi adopted this opinion); other writers have not named him, and some said he was a knight, others a crossbowman. ↩︎
