The Courts of Love - Jean Plaidy [61]
Louis needed such a victory. The crusade had shown little but disaster so far—but then I had a feeling that anything he undertook would end in disaster.
I scarcely listened to their plans for conquest. My heart was in Antioch. Every morning when I awoke I would wonder what Raymond was doing and whether he was thinking of me as I was of him. What had his feelings been when he arose on that morning and discovered that I had been taken away from him?
How could I be interested in this foolish dream of conquest which these little men were concocting?
They had an initial success and were soon encamped about the walls of Damascus, calculating how long the inhabitants would be able to hold out without food and water.
How trusting Louis was! He believed that those about him who professed to be Christians were as guileless as he. He was no warrior. He was fully aware of this, as he hated war. But this venture, he would assure himself, was in the name of Christianity. The truth was that he could not bear the thought of returning home with his depleted army and nothing achieved except prayers at the shrine of Jerusalem and the expiation of his own sins. His people would say he was saving his soul at the cost of all those lives which had been lost on the way. Wives and mothers would revile him for taking their men away from him. All those fine words, all that waving of crosses . . . what was that now? He had to have a victory to make the project worthwhile and to make those at home proud of their country.
Alas, poor Louis. He was surrounded by dishonest men. None of them appeared to have any heart for the battle. We learned afterward that young Baldwin himself accepted bribes from the governor of Damascus for messengers to be smuggled out of the besieged city who could reach Nureddin, the Emir of Aleppo and Mosul. Nureddin was a fierce fighter; his name was dreaded throughout the area; he was a legend, as fanatical a Mohammedan as Louis was a Christian, as determined to maintain his religion throughout the land as the Christians were to uphold theirs. He was even more dedicated than his father, Zengi, and his had been a name to strike terror into his enemies.
Word came to the men who lay outside Damascus: “Nureddin is coming.”
The thought of the bloodshed which would inevitably ensue was too much for the besiegers. They decided to return to Jerusalem and ignobly retreated and when the people of Damascus saw that they were retreating—frightened at the mention of Nureddin’s name—they sent out cavalry to chase them away.
And so ended the attempt to take Damascus.
A feeling of lassitude spread through the ranks. What was left of the army had lost its enthusiasm for the crusade. The men were nostalgic for France. Of what use was it to stay in Jerusalem? They could not spend their days visiting shrines. How many times had they traversed the Via Dolorosa, halting where Jesus had halted with his cross, praying, singing hymns of praise. They had done it—and they wanted to go home.
Many of them left, Conrad with them. He had lost his army and was nothing but a humble pilgrim now.
I said to Louis: “It is time we left.”
He nodded gravely, but he made no attempt to leave. Each day he was at the holy shrine; he said he found great contentment in prayer.
I wondered whether he had no wish to return home because he would return defeated. Moreover he knew that I was waiting to take up the matter of our consanguinity. Perhaps he feared to return to a people who might despise him—a poor king who had lost an army and was on the point of losing a wife.
Months were passing and still Louis would not go home. Few of those who had come out with him remained.
I was relieved when letters came from Suger urging him to return, reminding him that he was a king with a kingdom to govern.
I saw the letter he