The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [48]
As we came into the city, we were surprised to see how few people there were. Many of the houses seemed deserted. We made our way to the governor’s palace.
He came out to greet us. He was welcoming but melancholy. He would have been delighted to treat us as we deserved, he said, but there had been so many raids on the town that many of the people had left. He could give us a little food but he was not sure whether it would be enough for our needs. We had come at a difficult time.
He took Louis and me with some of the commanders into the palace, where food was prepared for us. There was not enough shelter for all our soldiers. Some of them went to the deserted houses and stables, fending for themselves as best they could. At least we had roofs over our heads.
The governor was anxious to help—as well as he could. He advised us that our best plan was to get to Antioch as soon as we could.
“That is what we propose to do,” said Louis.
“How far is it?” I asked.
“My lady, it is forty days’ march and the country is infested with Turks. It would be a hazardous journey.”
I cried: “It will be similar to that which we have already suffered. Oh no. I do not think I could endure that.”
“You could go by sea,” said the governor.
“And how long would that take?”
“Three days.”
“Then by sea we must go,” I said.
“What of transport?” asked Thierry Galeran, who was as usual at Louis’s side.
“I will do my best to find boats to carry you there.”
I felt greatly comforted. In three days we should be in Antioch.
But it seemed that God was determined to try us. With the memory of the cries of the burning victims of Vitry in his ears, Louis could endure hardship. I could not. And when I saw the vessels which were to carry us on this journey, I knew that our troubles were by no means over.
In the first place there was not enough transport to carry us all; and those boats that would were only just seaworthy.
There were many conferences as to what must be done.
Clearly some of us would have to undertake the forty days’ march to Antioch. This caused great consternation. Louis was distraught. How could he sail away and leave his men behind? Yet how could he take them with him?
“There is only one thing to do,” he said. “We must take everyone with us.”
“The ships would sink before they were a mile from the shore,” he was told.
“How can I leave my men behind?”
Galeran said: “They will just have to continue with the march. They have come so far. They have endured great hardship but they knew that the crusade was not a pleasure trip. They are expiating their sins. They will have to march.”
“While I sail in one of the ships!” cried Louis. “Never! I shall place myself at the head of them.”
Galeran reasoned with him. He was the King. He was the leader of the expedition. He must not expose himself to unnecessary danger. There was only one thing to do. Sail to Antioch with those who could be accommodated in the ships.
“How can I do this?” wailed Louis. “How can I?”
“It is clearly God’s will,” was the answer. “If He had intended all the men to go He would have provided the ships.”
Louis was at length convinced that this was so, and he and I, with the ladies and principal knights and commanders, boarded one of the ships and set sail for Antioch, after Louis had left all provisions behind for the men who must march.
He was greatly distressed by this and fretted continually as to the fate of those left behind for the long march.
And so we left. We had lost three-quarters of the army.
Three days, we had been told. It was more like three weeks . . . three weeks of abject misery. I wondered how I survived them. There were times when I should have been happier to die than go on. No sooner had we left the land than storms beset us. We were driven miles off our course. Antioch seemed farther away than it had when we were on the march. I longed to be back on land, riding along through the mud and slush, beset by the fear of Turkish arrows—anything but this fearsome pitching and tossing, fearing at any moment that