And feathery foliaged pepper-trees in bloom,
Whose rosy blossoms mingled their perfume
With orange-flowrets, white against dark leaves.
All these fair plants and trees and more besides
Rose 'tween the houses of the sea-girt town
In dense profusion. Now the walls thereof,
As we drew nearer, seemed to tower high
Above our heads. Her gardens lay outstretched
Down to the banks of Belus, the small stream
That with the Kishon waters all that plain.
Fringed were its borders with great feathery reeds
That marked its muddy bed, naught but a swamp
In the hot season, wherein wild-fowl bred,
And fevers also, as we knew in Camp.
The orchards shewed fair promise of much fruit;
Edged round were they by the spiked cactus plants,
That now displayed bright buds of orange hue.
Around the town lay the besiegers' Camp.....
In countless multitudes from every realm
Throughout all Christendom had soldiers come,
Well-fitted for the arduous work of war.
Long had the city held out 'gainst our arms
In toil and tribulation, famine-pressed......
Not yet the Christians had raised high the Cross
Above the Crescent.......There beyond our lines
The Turkish host lay spread, not all compact,
But covering the valleys and the plains,
And lower slopes of the environing hills.
Their tents, like ours, of varying shape and hue,
Shone 'neath the blazing sun. We saw high reared
The gay pavilion of great Saladin,
His brother's tent, brave-hearted Saphadin,
And that of Kahadin, that heathen dog
Who watched the coasts to seaward, planning aye
Destruction for us Christians.......Yet we sailed
Safe into Akka roadstead and dropped down
Our anchors with glad hearts.....The French King came
Swiftly with his whole train, and the chief Lords
And Baronie, down to the city's port,
That at this time had fallen in our hands;
While all the soldiers and the riff-raff ran,
Gabbling and shouting in a dozen tongues,
To welcome eagerly the English King.

'Twas just ere sunset that we landed there....
Deep purple shadows fell o'er land and sea;
Yet on the distant hills a rosy glow
Grew more intense each moment, and red gold,
Shot with mauve shadows, gleamed the shining strand
Whereon our new-made Queen was fain to step.
Came hurrying Philip, the false King of France,
Who seemed to have deep buried in the past
His quarrel with our King.....Though of a truth
It must have been a very galling thing
To see King Richard wedded save to one......
The Lady Alois, once his betrothed;
She who was Philip's sister.......Naught I'll say
Of the black scandal that smirched her fair fame.....
For my part I would gladly think it false.....
With what a splendid courtesy he came
Down to the water's edge, and in his arms
Our Lady Berengaria lifting up,
Lest haply she should wet her dainty feet,
From boat to beach he brought her safe and dry.....
The trumpets clanged, horns droned, and the shrill pipes
Mingled their whistling notes with clashing sounds
Of timbrels and sweet melodies of harps,
The drums and nakirs (10) boomed a deep refrain;
Thus soothing symphonies on all sides blent
In joyful harmony their pleasing strain.......
The populace rejoiced.......There was no man
But after his own fashion gave God praise.....
The Priests walked in procession chanting psalms,
Soldiers sang merry ballads of the Camp,
Others loud bellowed lays of olden times,
And others, quaffing wine from costly cups,
Drank to the singers' healths, or to the Kings';
While high and low, the folk of every land
Passed the short night in constant revelry,
Singing and dancing......Darkness we drave out
With waxen torches and great flaring lights
So that we banished night.......For sure the Turks
Must all have thought the City was ablaze,
So girdled lay she by our ring of fire.

Well I remember Akka! Here came I,
Lamed by a spear-thrust, fevered, half insane,
Sent by the King's own orders, litter-borne,
To rest me in that City, which we'd won
After what long and weary perilous siege!
I'll not think on it more......That cursed siege!
We lost too many men.....Ah! That black hour
When we our helpless captives doomed to die!
Though they were heathen they were right brave men.....
We slew them as though swine.......Oh! I know well
They had not spared us were our case reversed.....
War hath no conscience, need doth know no law.....
It ws the fault of Sultan Saladin,
At least men said he had deceived our King
And would not keep his promise, and that he
Slew hundreds of his hostages......May be
King Richard had no choice.......'Tis said he stayed
His hand till the last day and hour ere he
Gave us command to kill.......For me I know,
Though many laughed to see our prisoners die,
Swearing it was good sport and their deserts,
I hated it.......In cold blood thus to slay
Nearly three thousand men was a black deed.......
Yet I, like others, orders must obey,
And what the Council bade us that did we.......
Some few of noble birth had thier lives spared,
Who might be ransomed or perchance exchanged,
The rest we dragged without the City walls,
And hanged in batches some......but others forced
Down on their knees before their friends' grieved eyes,
Then smote the heads off them.......Though some few wept,
None pleaded for thier lives.......E'en as we slew,
Some Saracens to rescue them charged down......
They were too late, and they too mostly fell,
So there was noise of battle o'er the plain
That drowned the groaning of those doomed to die.
Those who were told off to inter the slain,
Did in their horrid greed ransack these men,
Searching within their bodies, hoping there
To find rich gems or gold, for it was said
The prisoners oft, to hide their store of wealth,
In cunning wise had swallowed precious stones.......
I know not if 'twere true, but for my part
I hanged three men of ours for such foul deed,
Deeming it like to cause a pestilence........
And they, poor knaves, declared they had found naught,
And were right loath to hang, but I did all
According to my Lord of Leicester's (11) word,
Who kept strict discipline, though a young man.

Now at this time I served as Leicester's Squire:
A lad but just nineteen, from Norfolk come,
Of a good stock in whose veins Norse blood ran.
Into great danger had I lately come
Following my Lord on Arsuf's bloody field,
Where we fought devils, so at least they seemed,
Blacker than soot, from Afric's deserts come,
Light armed and active, fighting like fell fiends......
On horses faster than swift eagles they
Swooped down upon us irrestibly
In lightning charge, raising such clouds of dust
The very Heavens grew dark. Before them rode
Certain of their bold Emirs who blew loud
On clarions and trumpets, and their gongs
And clattering cymbals clashed, and timbrels played
With blaring business and deep booming horns,
And tabors shrill......Such horrid music they made
And frightful clamour that the earth did shake
And tremble at the loud discordant sounds......
Despite our arbalesters' gallant stand,
And our brave bowmen shooting o'er our heads,
We were at first like sheep hemmed in by wolves;
Cooped up, pent in, we saw naught but the sky,
And all around us thronged the enemy.
Our greatest foe that day was the hot sun....
Scarce might we breathe in our thick coats of mail,
Our quilted padded vests and gambesons.......

Notes: