cised upon the worst cases a searching influence. He had one day
sent his chaplain, William de Chartres, to visit one of his household
servants, a modest man of some means, named Gaugelme, who was at the
point of death. When the chaplain was retiring, "I am waiting for my
lord, our saintly king, to come," said the dying man; "I will not depart
this life until I have seen him and spoken to him: and then I will die."
The king came, and addressed to him the most affectionate words of
consolation; and when he had left him, and before he had re-entered his
tent, he was told that Gaugelme had expired. When the 5th of April, the
day fixed for the retreat, had come, Louis himself was ill and much
enfeebled. He was urged to go aboard one of the vessels which were to
descend the Nile, carrying the wounded and the most suffering; but he
refused absolutely, saying, "I don't separate from my people in the hour
of danger." He remained on land, and when he had to move forward he
fainted twice. When he came to himself, he was amongst the last to leave
the camp, got himself helped on to the back of a little Arab horse,
covered with silken housings, and marched at a slow pace with the
rear-guard, having beside him Geoffrey de Sargines, who watched over him,
"and protected me against the Saracens," said Louis himself to Joinville,
"as a good servant protects his lord's tankard against the flies."

Neither the king's courage nor his servants' devotion was enough to
insure success, even to the retreat. At four leagues' distance from the
camp it had just left, the rear-guard of the crusaders, harassed by
clouds of Saracens, was obliged to halt. Louis could no longer keep on
his horse. He was put up at a house," says Joinville, "and laid, almost
dead, upon the lap of a tradeswoman from Paris; and it was believed that
he would not last till evening." With his consent, one of his lieges
entered into parley with one of the Mussulman chiefs; a truce was about
to be concluded, and the Mussulman was taking off his ring from his
finger as a pledge that he would observe it. "But during this," says
Joinville, "there took place a great mishap. A traitor of a sergeant,
whose name was Marcel, began calling to our people, 'Sirs knights,
surrender, for such is the king's command: cause not the king's death.'
All thought that it was the king's command; and they gave up their swords
to the Saracens." Being forthwith declared prisoners, the king an