midnight
`` My king and friend , the good Louis , had sailed from France for Palestine , on his last hapless voyage , ere I had executed my mission . On my return to France , however , I found a galley of Toulon on the eve of quitting port , to join with his fleet , then on the coast of Africa , and , snatching a hurried interview with the lady of my affections , maugre the vigilance of her relatives , I embarked to fight under Louis , as of old , for the blessed sepulchre . We landed near Tunis , and saw the tents of France glittering to the sun . But all was silent as midnight , and the royal standard hung reversed over the pavilion of the good Louis . He had died that morning of the plague ; and his base and cruel brother , the false Charles of Anjou , sat beside the corpse . I felt that I had fallen among my enemies ; for though the young King was there , he was weak and inexperienced , and open to the influence of his uncle . The first knight I met , as I entered the camp , was Loithaire of Languedoc -- now the wily friend and counsellor of Charles .