Her despair and terror were such, that her life was
in the utmost danger, and nothing soothed her except holding the hand of
an old knight, aged eighty years, who did his utmost to calm her. If she
slept for a few moments, she awoke starting, and fancying the room was
full of Saracens, and the old knight had to assure her that he was
there, and she need fear nothing. Once she sent every one else out of
the room, and, kneeling down, insisted that he should make oath to do
what she should require of him. It was, that, should the enemy take the
city, he would sweep off her head with his sword, rather than let her
fall into their hands. "Willingly," said the old knight. "Had you not
asked it of me, I had thought of doing so."
The morning after, a son was born to her, and named Jean Tristan, on
account of the sadness that reigned around. On that very day word was
brought to her that the Genoese and Pisans, who garrisoned the town,
were preparing their vessels to depart. The poor Queen sent for their
leaders, and as they stood round her bed, she held up her new-born babe,
and conjured them not to desert the town and destroy all hopes for the
King. They told her that they had no provisions: on which she sent
to buy up all in the town, and promised to maintain them at her own
expense; thus awakening sufficient compassion and honor to make them
promise at least to await her recovery.
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