The Plantagenet Prelude - Plaidy Jean (книги серия книги читать бесплатно полностью .TXT) 📗

‘What an enchanting spot!’ cried Eleonore.

‘It is indeed,’ Saldebreuil agreed, ‘and sad that we must not tarry here.’

‘But we shall tarry here,’ said Eleonore. ‘It is too beautiful for us to ignore. It’s an enchanting spot. I want to rest here. Imagine it in moonlight.’

‘The King’s orders were that we were to encamp on the plateau,’ her constable reminded her.

‘Leave the King to me. He will understand that having discovered such a spot we cannot be so blind to the beauties of nature as to pass through it. We shall sing tonight of the glories of nature. We shall thank God for leading us to this beautiful spot.’

‘And the King...’

‘The King will understand that it was my wish,’ said Eleonore.

So they camped in the valley and darkness fell.

The King coming along behind with the loads of baggage was aware that the Arabs were swarming for the attack.

‘Thank God,’ he said, ‘that the Queen has gone on ahead and will be safe on the plateau.’

By this time there were Arabs on all sides of them.

‘On!’ cried the King. ‘We must reach the plateau. There our soldiers will be waiting for us. Once we are on it we shall be able to face the enemy in all our strength.’

Fiercely battling its way forward, harassed on all sides by the attacking Arabs, the French army approached the valley. To their consternation they saw that the heights above were not occupied by their troops as they had expected.

‘What of the Queen?’ cried Louis. ‘Where is she?’

It occurred to him that since she was not with his troops on the heights she must be in the valley and the horror of the situation alarmed him. He had to place himself between the Arabs and the advance troops among whom were the Queen and her ladies. He pictured what could happen to Eleonore and her women if they fell into those infidel hands.

They could be sold into slavery; they could be submitted to a thousand indignities. At all costs he must reach Eleonore.

But the Arabs were upon him. They had discovered the rich baggage and there were shouts of triumph as they dragged the bales from the pack-horses. Eleonore’s beautiful robes, her jewels, all that which had delighted her and made the journey so far such an exciting adventure would be lost.

Worse still, what would become of her and the women? What would become of his men?

All about him his soldiers were falling and there were very few left between him and the enemy. Vitry and all its horror came into his mind, and with it the terrible knowledge of the danger the Queen would be in if he were killed.

It seemed as if by a miracle that he noticed a nearby tree and above it an enormous boulder. Acting on impulse he seized the branch of this tree and swung himself up to the top of the rock. He was then out of reach of those cruel scimitars.

There was another point in his favour for it had grown suddenly dark, and the Arabs who had been attacking those who surrounded him, fearing that others would take the best of the spoils from the pack-horses, shouting to each other, hurried off to make sure of their share of the plunder.

He caught at the branch of the tree on which he had swung to the rock and descended. Then he climbed the tree. He believed he had been saved by a miracle. The tree had been put there by God for it had undoubtedly saved his life.

There he was temporarily safe. The leaves completely hid him. Peering through them he could in the moonlight make out something of the horrible carnage and he knew that this was a defeat as certain as that which had befallen Conrad of Germany.

And Eleonore? What of her? Was she safe in the valley?

He thought she must be and she was in any case protected by the best of men.

Had she gone to the heights as he had commanded this would not have happened. She should never have come on this crusade. Women did occasionally follow the men, but they had to obey orders strictly and they came rather as camp followers than crusader commanders. But Eleonore would never be anything but a ruler. She would always impose her will on those about her. He wondered what his life would have been like if he had married a less forceful woman.

And even now with this horror all about him he could not regret his marriage. There was about her a quality which no other woman would ever have for him. He would never forget the first time they had met when he had thought her more beautiful than any creature he had ever seen. And he who had thought he would never wish to live with a woman had wanted Eleonore with him day and night.

He was bound to her. Whatever she did he would love her; he would never regret his marriage. And he could think thus while overlooking this carnage for which to a great degree her headstrong ways were to blame; he could still feel love for her, still be anxious for her, still never regret the day he had seen her and known she was to be his wife.

The dawn showed that the enemy had retired. The pack-horses minus their burdens wandered aimlessly among the bodies of fallen men.

The King descended the tree. What was left of his army rallied round him. They could not bury the dead but they could succour the wounded.

Then sadly they made their way into the valley where the Queen and her protectors received them with great sorrow.

Seven thousand fine soldiers had been slain and the army was without means of continuing the fight. The brief success at Phrygia was as though it had never been.

Louis and the French army were in as unhappy a state as Conrad and his Germans had been.

By the cooling streams of the Orontes they made fresh plans.

‘We dare not stay here,’ said Louis. ‘The enemy will return. They know our weak state. They will finish us completely.’

Eleonore was despondent. All those handsome men lost and with them the beautiful gowns and jewels which were her delight. She had no desire for this kind of adventure if she must appear disheveled in a dirty gown. The adventure had been spoilt.

‘And can we travel in our present state?’ asked the Bishop of Langres. ‘What of our wounded?’

‘We must somehow manage to take them with us,’ said the King. ‘And to delay here is dangerous. We must march on and hope for succour. If we can get to Pamphilia we might make our way to Antioch.’

‘My uncle Raymond is the Governor of Antioch as you know,’ said the Queen. ‘We must reach Antioch and there we can nurse the wounded back to health and re-form the army.’

‘There is a chance,’ said Louis, ‘if we can get there before we are overtaken by the Arabs who will certainly pursue us. If they did, in our present sorry state we should stand little chance of survival.’

‘We shall do it,’ said Eleonore.

‘And if we fail,’ said the King, ‘we shall have died in Christ, for in battle with the infidel we have done His work and we shall know that it is His will.’

It was the Queen’s example rather than the King’s expression of acceptance of any fate which awaited him which spurred the survivors of that disastrous campaign to continue their march.

On they went to be harassed continually by marauding bands of Arabs. On one of these skirmishes Saldebreuil de Sanzay was captured. The Queen was desolate. The thought of her handsome constable in the hands of the infidel was unbearable. What would they do to him! It would doubtless be better for him if he had been killed. She could not wish it otherwise if the infidel should submit him to torture. She was more than a little in love with him as she was with several of the gal ant men who surrounded her and was constantly comparing them with the monk-like Louis.

But the situation was too desperate for her to brood too long on the fate of others. They must make their way to Antioch without delay. At length famished, wretched, denuded of most of their baggage they reached Pamphilia.