(or, ‘The French Crusade)
(1249-1250 A .D.)
A Narrative Poem
Part One
Let us go back, — to the years
1249-1250 A.D., that is one of the story teller’s privileges; back to the period
known as the French Crusade; a French odyssey to say the least! When great
battles took place and death and sorrow lay wait.
“To Babylon, to Babylon!” The French Knights shouted—while
disembarking, some 1800-ships—; vessels great and small, on
Saint Nicholas’s day, — and thus: started the Great March!
King St. Louis of France had two
great, chas-chateils—the King’s belfries (towers)—built
each three stories high. Towers of wood for the King’s cross-bows and archers
to shoot and kill the enemy from.
Alas, the Sultan’s Army,
quickly destroyed each one, with Greek-fire (From warlike machines called La perriere, which flung
The awesome fire—likened to
stars in the night sky onto and over everything!)
Even the Templars, as bold as
they were, who formed a rear-guard whose names carried great weight, could not
restrain such an inordinate undertaking (that of, the great armament of the Saracens): Thereafter, doom and disaster
followed the Knights of France!
For days on end the French
Monarch, fought the Turks and Saracens! Agonizing, over one defeat after the
other: with his Dukes and Earls, Lords, Barons and Knights, —agonizing over
strategists and tragedies!
Many had fallen and were falling
to their deaths, many: brothers, cousins, kin: cloven-breasted.
As their wives back in France, whispered and wept, — waiting for
new husbands!
And in the King’s tent there
was wailing and woe by the Dukes, Earls and Barons! — For their realms in France,
which they may never see again.
Part Two
The March to Babylon
The battles of the war, were
rekindled on the march to Babylon, one after the other: shoulder to shoulder hand
to sword, and swords and battle-axes, hand in hand—both the infantry and
Calvary, both the French and Turks with the Saracens, fought on; and the
Knights of France, warring, and both sides praying to God for glory and might
to win the battles this day, and the next day, and every day, day after day,
night after night! All thinking they were in the right! Not accepting wisdom
only that God was on their side; no one thinking: no one kills in the name of
God to be precise? And so the doors to death were wide open…
One could hear next to his ears on either side the clang and
clash of swords harden by hot anvils!
One to the other, hacked off: hands,
legs, noses, hurled men and beasts (like bears and boars—in a hunt) to their deaths; Now like still stones laying on the ground, soon
to be thrown into the rivers and streams, staining them with corpses, reeking a
stink that caused an ill-fatal disease that once touched no man could escape!
Part Four
The Doomed Knights
The Lords, Gallant Knights with
battle-axe and swords, lances, spikes, shields, all men on horseback— many, way
too many, sank in the muddy river to their deaths…
As often the king did he had made
the sign of the cross as he left his tent, to honor Jesus Christ: perhaps,
hoping to live though the day and night. And the king did live, yet was badly
wounded; in haste, he gathered his strength, in a remarkable recovery, to
battle on, yet a pitiful sight for a king…
The esquire watching the motion
of the battle, high on top his horse, was struck with a lance, with such a blow,
it: ripped open his shoulder, thus, the
lance driven into his neck to where he couldn’t draw his sword. His arms fell
around the horse’s neck, then he fell out of his saddle onto the ground—to His
death! As the king’s knights transverse the Turkish Army of over ten-thousand… With
the king surrounded, yet he made his escape!
In the mist of the latter
battles the horses, now battle-fatigued, swayed with ripped hides, split
asunder, leaped over the dead the rotting corpses over bodies as they foamed
and bled from the mouth: teeth garnishing, spurs sunk deep into their flesh as
harnesses were used for whips: arrows and swords thumped against them, each
grappled with agony to go forward, each dropping their knees to their deaths…! As
the heat of the desert Sunk in, Hence, there was no escape!
The French Knights gave up hope
(surrendered),
as the
incoming black smoke from the burning Naphtha—the Greek fire, killed one after
another —; and the unmerciful sun, hot
and low, no higher than a tree, gave no mercy; hence, those once bold knights, unloosed their saddles, and
watched their horses drop onto their sides! Bleakly staring down on life…
Part Three
The War’s End
And at the battles very end—the
Noble, and brave along with the King of France laid down their swords and Long
spears (as did
the):
infantry and Calvary, archers—: Knights, Barons Lords and all…
All, laid down their swords and
Long spears: for they could not choke victory out of the Great battles, for
Babylon!
(Thus, the enemy, with honor
and dignity, brought it to its end) (As the French Expired.)
It was the might of the Great Dragon,
the flying Greek fire that did all this, victory after victory!
And so it was, the king with
his noble men were brought to their knees, with extending arms and eyes raised
to the heavens as they cried for mercy: and God heard them.
Epitaph
But let it be said: no man goes to war, and kills in God’s name,
that is near, blasphemy!
No: 3256 (Written 12-8-2011) Reedited: 7-2014
Men in War Part I of III
