EMAIL-194 barons had shared their provisions with the less fortunate and were now as starved and sick as their poorest menatarms. Amalric had kept his food and money for himself and for the men he valued most, such as dEtampes and Maurice. Thank Saint Dominic for Maurice, who could slip out of the camp now and then and come back with fresh fruit and meat. The retreating men shuffled and stumbled over the bridge. Many of them looked too weak to swing a sword. They were riddled, Amalric knew, with fever, scurvy, and the flux, maladies that had killed more of Louiss men than the Mamelukes had. And what of the Mamelukes? He eyed the still un breached walls of Mansura. Behind those walls, he knew through Maurices contacts with the Egyptians, ever greater numbers of Saracens were gathering, coming in from the farthest reaches of the Sultan of Cairos empire. Movement under the walls of Mansura caught Amalrics eye. He saw banners unfurl and heard the Saracen drums and war cries. Those heart freezing yells were now as familiar to him as-the sight of death. Our damned fool engineers, they have not even started to cut the ropes that hold the bridge together, thought Amalric. It looked so inviting, lying wide open before the rapidly massing Egyptian army. Amalric could now hear fear in the shouts of the crusaders as they, too, caught sight of the Saracens pouring out of Mansura. Allahuakbar A great shout reached Amalric from the other side of the river. What a loathsome din. Thousands of Saracens were howling, backed by hundreds of pipes, trumpets, and drums. First to come onto the bridge were bizarre looking men dancing and singing, in black and white robes with long beards. Some stopped every few steps and twirled on their toes so rapidly that their robes billowed out like huge white flowers. Behind them walked tambourine and flute players. These mad priests dervishes Maurice called them? often led aEMAIL-195onto the bridge. Behind them the Marnelake cavalry came trooping, yellow and green banners waving above their spiked helmets. Suddenly he could no longer see where the Egyptian vanguard began and the French rear ended. Bodies were tumbling into the river. The water was being stained red. Clouds of Saracen arrows were arching into the sky and falling on the crusaders. Guy dEtampes rode up. Have we had any change in orders from the King, Monseigneur? No, said Amalric. And we cannot afford to wait for his command. Give the order to ride past the old camp and stop again when we are on the road to Damietta. Without waiting for a response he wheeled his horse and headed off northward. He had to hold back his horse almost to a walk to give his men on foot which most of them were a chance to keep up. In the past few weeks horses had become more valued for eating than for riding. He glanced at the site where the crusaders had first camped on arriving before Mansura. Servants, priests, and other camp followers were swarming like ants whose hill has been kicked open, striking tents, loading bundles on their backs, and fighting over the few remaining donkeys and camels. Wait, Monseigneur, will you let us ride with you? some of the rabble called. He ignored them. He rode past galleys tied up along the shore, eyeing them covetously. He could be in Damietta in less than two days if he could commandeer one of those. But Louis, damn him, had insisted on loading the galleys with the sick and wounded. Well, they would be lucky if they got away before the Egyptians fell upon them. He rode on. He had left the camp a good distance behind when dEtampes, who was bringing up the rear, trotted up. Monseigneur, it appears that our army has turned to stand and fight. Amalrics stomach burned with anger. He had no time for dEtampes and his stupid reports. He wanted to get himself back to Damietta and safety. That was what counted. But now he would have to make at least a show of concern. He looked over hisEMAIL-196 shoulder and saw that some knights and archers had formed a defensive line around the galleys. Fools, he thought. The Saracens will annihilate them. The King commanded a retreat, he said curtly, and retreat we will, unless he calls me back. And not even then, he thought to himself. If Louis should live through this day and I pray he will not and he calls me to account, I shall just say I received no message. They rode along in silence, dEtampes on one of the few warhorses that had not been eaten, Maurice on Amalrics other side on a gray palfrey that the wily old man had managed to find somewhere. Before them rode an equerry with the purple and gold Gobignon banner. The Gobignon contingent retreats in good order, Amalric thought with satisfaction, considering what we have been through. By Saint Dominic, I will see Nicolette again. The thought of her made his groin ache. He had had no woman in months. The filthy, brown Egyptian women disgusted him. Nicolette, and no more troubadour coming between us, he exulted. That is all over forever. The shouts and clanging of drifted to Amalrics ears like a reproach. He was ill at ease with what he was doing riding away from battle. But knightly conduct or not, what was the purpose in staying? Louiss army was outnumbered, and the men were too weak to fight. Saint Dominic grant there are no more Saracens waiting up ahead for us. His troops were not the only ones fleeing such unfavorable odds. Looking back, he could see small bands or men breaking away from the fighting and hurrying up this same road. He ground his teeth as, one by one, the galleys loaded with the sick and wounded sailed by, moving swiftly downriver with the brown current. Sailing to Damietta loaded with useless ones, he told himself, while he and his men must plod along the road. In silence he rode, his followers strung out along the riverbank behind him. At mid afternoon he heard himselfEMAIL-197 the road? The party of His Excellency the Patriarch of Jerusalem is behind yours and must hurry on. Damn Amalric thought. More lost time. But he could not deny the right of way to the most eminent prelate on the expedition. Grudgingly, he passed the order to dEtampes. Amalric recognized the Patriarch, a wizened old man wrapped in a black traveling cloak. Even though he was nearly eighty, he kept up easily with the rest of his party without assistance. Clustered about him on horses and donkeys were a flock of priests and monks, most of them, Amalric noted contemptuously, with white faces and wildly staring eyes. They know that the Saracens have especially ugly ways of killing Christian priests, he thought. Two Templars, perhaps the last of the lot that had ridden under William de Sennac, rode on the flanks of the party. The Patriarch made the sign of the cross at Amalric and his men as he passed by them. Amalric touched forehead, breast, and shoulders in response, but shuddered as he did. I have done everything I could to destroy this crusade, to bring about the death of the King and his brothers. I have Roberts blood on my hands. Can a blessing do me any good, or am I damned? A little later, as they rode on, Guy dEtampes said, The Oriflamme. Amalric looked back to see the gold banner bobbing over the river road half a league or so behind them. I told you the King intended to make no stand, said Amalric. He is able to escape because others are making a stand, said dEtampes. There we a hint of disapproval in his voice that angered Amalric. He forgets, he would be nothing without me. I do not think that knight is wholly loyal to you, Monseigneur, said Maurice in a low voice. I would keep an eye on him. In the late afternoon, a messenger from the King reached Amalric. The Kings party, the man reported, had stopped at a village a league back. The fighting, he said, seemed to be dying down. The King requested Amalrics presence at a council. The village was a collection of mud brick huts with thatched roofs, abandoned for now by its fellahinEMAIL-198 gray brown house that looked like a small box made of clay. There was not even a door, just a brown curtain through which Amalric pushed. The sight of Louis filled Amalric with secret delight. The King sat on a pile of blankets, his long body bent double, holding his belly, his gaunt face dripping with feverish sweat. His cook. Isambert, a sturdy man, stood beside him with folded arms. A small group of barons, all looking exhausted, was gathered around the dark room. Count Charles dAnjou sat on the dirt floor of the hut near the King. Amalric grew wary at the sight of Louiss shorter, darker brother. Knowing Charles to be more practical than Louis and far more clever than the late Count Robert Amalric felt he must be especially on his guard in his presence. God has seen fit, Louis said in a weak voice, to give me the flux. But I am happy to see you looking strong, Amalric. He means it, the idiot, Amalric thought. Count Amalric, Charles said, the King should not be riding, should he? There is still one galley left. Tell him he should go by galley to Damietta. Amalric tensed, fearing that Charless advice might get Louis out of danger. As long as my army marches, I will march, said Louis with his usual quiet stubbornness. Gallantly spoken, sire, Amalric said heartily. Charles rolled his eyes in despair. Alphonse, the youngest of the royal brothers, a slight, sandy haired youth, sat staring at the floor, as if trying to keep his mind off the conversation. We have little enough occasion for gallantry left, my good Amalric, said Louis. I have decided to ask the Saracens for a truce. I intend to plead with them to halt their attack on us, permitting us to withdraw in peace to Damietta. Why in Gods name should they do that? Amalric thought. Does he think this is a tournament? They have us now. They can annihilate us and take Damietta at their leisure. What will we offer them in return, sire? he asked. If they destroy us here, they will lose thousandsEMAIL-199 Of their own men doing it, Louis said. We are weak, but we are desperate men. There are still perhaps ten thousand of us, and each of us will kill many of them before he falls. On the other hand, I will suggest that if they let us return to Damietta we might reach some final settlement of this war. Louis sighed sadly. Then his face went white and he clutched at his stomach. My Jesus, the pain He reached out a shaking hand to Isambert, who hauled him to his feet and half carried, half dragged him out of the hut. He cannot even walk, thought Amalric. He must be near death. He felt himself breathing harder with excitement. And I am already Constable of France. So close, so close except for Louiss brothers. Charles dAnjou made a grimace of distaste, as if the Kings illness embarrassed him. What think you of my brothers idea of a truce, Count? It seems to me we have no choice but to try it. How to answer? In his mind, Amalric could see the royal palace in Paris. Could see himself dominating a council of those who would rule the country after this disastrous crusade. He ached with a longing to make that vision real. Louis could be dying, but Charles and Alphonse both looked healthy enough. He had to be rid of them. So, first, no treaty with the Saracens. If they agreed to bargain, everything he planned could be ruined. As I have said before, he declared, the Saracens will think we are even weaker than we are if we ask for a truce. It will convince them that this is their great chance to wipe us out, and they will fall upon us ferociously. Whereas if we really resist they might decide that the cost of defeating us is too great. They might then withdraw, leaving us to make our way to safety. Charles opened his mouth to reply when another voice broke in. If I had only myself to think of, said Louis from the doorway, his voice barely audible, I would happily make a last stand here, with a few brave companions such as yourself Amalric. AEMAIL-200 place on the blankets, leaning heavily on Isambert. The rest of the army might escape while we held off the Saracens. We could die like Roland and his men, and perhaps be remembered in song. Amalric started, then realized that Louis was only maundering on about the ancient hero Roland De Vency, that dog of a troubadour, would be remembered in no ones songs. Louis went on, But my knights and men came with me to liberate Jerusalem, not to die in a fruitless struggle against impossible odds. I have always accepted it as my duty to lead men to their deaths when necessary, but I have no right to waste lives when I can preserve them. Well said, brother, Charles put in. Alphonse did not even look up, but went on staring fixedly at the dirt floor. He is only a boy, and he is terrified, thought Amalric. This is his first war. Besides, said Louis, if we fall here, there will be no one left to defend Damietta. Those of us who cannot fight are going there in galleys. Our ladies are there. What if those helpless souls fell to the Mamelukes? Horror widened the eyes of charles and Alphonse, both of whom, like Louis, had wives in Damietta. However this turns out, Amalric thought, proud of his strength, I will be in Damietta protecting my wife. Sire, he said fiercely, everything we have fought for, all the lives we have lost already, all will be for naught if we give up now. Tears appeared on Louiss cheeks. I know, Amalric, I know, I know. Oh, the pain I feel, being the one who made all this happen. All these men dying in vain. It would be a happy release for me, too, to die in battle now. But my life is not my own to dispose of. No, must do what seems best for my men, and seek a truce. Here is Philip de Montfort, recently come to us from Tyre, who will spedk to the Egyptians for me. De Montfort, an elderly knight who had been born and reared in Outremer, stepped away from the clay wall and bowed to the King. De Montforts mustache was white, in