The Wayland-Dietrich Saga
Yet thanks to these we 'scaped the Turks' sharp darts
And arrows that they shot unceasingly......
Some horses were transfixed, but we ourselves
Went stuck with arrows in our gambesons,
Like porcupines or hedgehogs sooth to say,
For thick as snow in winter fell their darts......
As to the latter end of that sharp fight......
Of how King Richard charged to aid those Knights,
The Hospitallers of my Lord St. John,
With marvellous courage fiercely carving out
A pathway through his foes with flashing sword,
And how full many friends and foes alike
Here fell and perished, 'mongst them that good Knight,
James of Avennes.......Of all this I knew naught,
For I, at my young Lord of Leicester's heels,
Charged as in duty bound. I saw him ringed
By a fierce pack of yelling Nubians,
Hard pressed, his good steed fallen dead to ground.
So deeming my Lord's life of greater worth
Than a poor squire's, I gave him mine own steed.....
Seafoam, the Danish stallion I had trained.....
He urged, with generous heart and helping hand,
That I should mount behind him, but just then,
Pierced by a spear I 'gainst his stirrup reeled.....
Whereat the Earl, albeit a little man,
With left hand dragged me 'thwart his saddle-bow,
So charged, and won out from that mellay safe,
By God's good grace and Seafoam's turn of speed.....
King Richard hearing of this, was then pleased
To send me down to Akka, there to serve
His Lady Queen until my wounds were healed,
And made me Knight......Though, faith! 'Twas a small thing
To give one's horse up to one's own liege Lord.......
Perchance the King remembered how one day
We esquires of the Earl of Leicester joined
To scale the walls of Akka.........Ha! 'Twas good
To be young and high-hearted.........Pardon me,
Holy St. Peter, if I think too much
Of those days long since dead........But to my tale......
When I was able to limp painfully,
Going on crutches, I found my poor gift
Of minstrelsy and tale-telling well served
To please Queen Berengaria and her dames......
O passing beautiful was Richard's Queen!
Dark-haired, black-eyed, and in her noble veins
Flowed Spanish blood upon her mother's side,
Who was well known as Queen Blanche of Castille.....
Gifted was she in many varied ways,
Loving well music and the poet's art,
As did King Richard.......She first won his heart,
At Pampeluna where he rode in joust;
Count of Poitou, her brother Sancho's (12) friend,
Was he in those days.......With my Lady Queen,
The Lady Joan of Sicily was there,
King Richard's widowed sister, (13) and with them,
The sweetest flower of all that company
The little daughter of the Emperor,
The Cypriote Princess......I thought her fair
Beyond all other maidens in those days.....
And faith! I think a little she liked me......
We never spake of love save once, for she
Was of high birth.....Yet I aspired.......Ah, God!
How long the years since my sweet Lilias died......
Now these three ladies lived in amity
Holding each other dear, and thus they dwelt
As birds in cage beneath the careful charge
Of Richard's Castellans........Of whom well known
Was Stephen de Mountchenis, an old Knight
Of fair renown, and Bertrand de Verdun,
A gallant man who fretted much that he
Must needs hold Akka for our Lord the King,
When he had fain won glory in the field;
Which made him sometimes passing querulous
And short of temper to those under him.
Others there were; some wounded like myself,
Or by the duties of their office kept
Within old Akka's walls........For those who chose
To run the risk of martial penalties,
The City offered pleasures and gay joys
Of dalliance, dice and gaming manifold......
Strictly forbidden when we were in Camp,
Though in the Town some licence was allowed......
Yet I have seen no less than six poor knaves
Caught dicing, in their cups, who for three days
Were naked haled and whipped all round the town
Amidst their fellows' jeers.......And other three
For similar offence, who rowers were
On board the King's own galley, by the laws
That govern sailors, were cast overboard,
Trussed hand and foot, and dangling from a rope,
So hauled beneath the galley's keel till they
Were all but drowned, and their bare hides well scraped
By barnacles that clung to the ship's sides.......
This once each morning for three days, that they
Might learn obedience and example shew,
As is prescribed by Laws of Oleron,
Unless their masters choose their ransom pay.
Nor were we Knights exempt from penalties......
No one might gamble freely save the Kings,
Or by their leave.....The Knights and Baronie
Must not lose more than twenty shillings down,
On pain of paying five-fold as a fine,
Which went to the Archbishop of Rouen
To help to swell the funds of the Crusade.
No squire, or man-at-arms, or menial,
Might play at all without his liege Lord's leave,
Or in his presence, for some trifling sum.
Camp Law was strict 'gainst those who led loose lives.....
I saw a young Knight shamed who had been caught
In some house of ill fame within the town.....
One of the Tessons......Roger or else Ralf......
There were a score of them called by those names,
He was a younger son, not long made Knight,
Hot-blooded, reckless, yet at heart not bad,
Though wild like all the Tessons........Later he
Laid down his life right nobly for the Cross........
He had the choice of losing horse and arms,
To be dismissed the Army and sent home
To his old father's hall for aye disgraced,
Or to take penance, put to open shame.....
He chose the latter........So for three days he
Was by the Provost's men dragged through the streets,
Hands tied behind him, bare his head and feet,
Naught on him save his shirt, and round his neck
A halter......'Twas a horrid sight to see,
As with bowed head and bleeding feet he passed
On the third morning, stumbling o'er the stones.....
Some of the folk laughed loudly, some flung mud,
And mocked him with foul words and evil jests,
But most of us much pitied the poor wretch......
I know I was well pleased when the end came,
And they untied him.......He stood shaking there,
Nor for the shame could he lift up his head,
But all his face and neck were burning red......
Then good Sir Bertrand took his trembling hand,
Clapping him on the shoulder....... "Head up, man!
Nor be downhearted......Thou hast paid in full........
Our Lord the King bids me tell thee he's pleased
As Duke of Normandy, thy Suzerain,
That thou hast chosen rather to take shame
Than to desert the Cross. It is well done,
And doth atone for thy late folly......Come!
Get thee thy gear on, Sir.......Thou'rt shivering.....
Wilt catch a fever in this broiling sun.......
Here is my cloak." He took him by the arm
And led him thence, and no man mocked him more.
Aye! Akka was in truth a perilous place,
More dangerous to us Christians when our own,
Than when we daily stormed her hostile walls,
So great her lure of wanton luxury.
Some men were ruined there......But others lived
Laborious lives and noble......... 'Mongst them all
I mind me of the gallant Count St. Gilles,
Raymond, whose father, Lord of fair Toulouse,
Was long time enemy of Aquitaine,
Daring the anger of the Lion-heart
12. Sancho the Strong, King of Navarre. [Back]
13. Widow of King William of Sicily. [Back]
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