CHAPTER XXXIII

NO ROAD

Autumn deepened into winter, and winter was succeeded by spring; and spring ripened and mellowed into summer, with its long, bright, merry days: and every month rumour brought to the camp of the English before Calais tidings that Philip of Valois was coming with a mighty army to relieve the beleaguered town. But month followed month, and season succeeded to season, and still Philip failed to make his appearance; and the warriors of England, growing somewhat vain-glorious, exclaimed with sneers that "hawks come not where eagles hold eyrie;" and the Calesians, on the verge of famine, well-nigh gave way to despair, when suddenly, on a summer day, news reached the camp that the foe, so long looked for, was at last coming, with princes, dukes, and counts, and an overwhelming force at his back, to save Calais and avenge Cressy.

It was a little before Whitsuntide, when Philip of Valois, having summoned all the knights and squires of France to assemble at Amiens, repaired to that city with his sons, the Dukes of Normandy and Orleans, held a grand council of war, and, after much deliberation, resolved to march to the relief of Calais. But, with some vague idea of the difficulties to be encountered--for all his ideas of war were vague--he sent ambassadors to Flanders, and asked for part of his army a free passage through the Flemish territory, his object being to send troops by way of Gravelines, that they might reach Calais on that side, fight with the English and reinforce the garrison. But the Flemings, not to be tempted from their fidelity to the King of England, decidedly refused to comply with the request; and Philip, baffled as to this part of his project, determined to push forward his enterprise by advancing towards Boulogne.

At Arras, however, he took up his quarters for a short time to gather in the forces which were hastening to his standard; and from Arras he advanced slowly to Hesdin, his army and baggage extending over three miles of country. Resting at Hesdin for a day, he moved forward to Blangy, and, having again halted at that place to mature his plans, he threw off hesitation, passed through the country of Faukenberg, and leading his men straight to Sangate, posted them on the hills, between Calais and Wissant.

It will readily be imagined that, at this time, the excitement in the camp of the English was high. Impressive, moreover, was the spectacle which the army of Philip presented to those who rode out to watch their movements. Night had fallen when the French took up their ground, and I can bear witness that it was a beautiful sight to see their banners waving and their arms glistening in the moonlight.

"A most noble army, my lord," remarked Sir Thomas Norwich to the Prince of Wales, with whom and a body of riders he had come to view the approach of the foe.

"A most noble army on my faith!" replied the prince, with admiration. "But," added he, after a pause, "it can avail Calais naught. The position of my lord the king is too strong to be attacked with advantage by mortal man, and Philip of Valois must either retire without striking a blow, or prove himself mad by rushing on destruction, and leading his followers like sheep to the slaughter."

Nor, in speaking in a tone so confident, was the prince guilty of aught like presumption. Nothing, in truth, which skill, and prudence, and labour could do to render the English army absolutely secure, had been left undone by the English king. At the commencement of the siege there were two roads by which the French might have approached Calais. One of these was by the downs along the sea-shore, and the other by the bridge of Nieullet, which afforded a passage over the marshes and ditches further up the country. But neither one nor the other had been neglected. Along the shore Edward posted his fleet, with archers, and artillery, and bombards, the noise of which frightened the enemy; and at the bridge of Nieullet he posted his cousin, the Earl of Derby, with such a force of archers and men-at-arms as were likely to keep it against all comers.

Not wholly informed as to the position of the English or perhaps, when at a distance, contemptuous of their power, Philip of Valois, while encamped at Sangate, sent his marshals to examine the country, and ascertain the most favourable passage towards the foes whom he came to crush; but they returned, with dismay in their faces, to inform him that no attempt could be made without the certainty of an infinite loss of men.

"But," cried Philip, after hearing them, "why not cross the marshes between Sangate and the sea?"

"Because, sire," answered the marshals firmly, "the marshes are known to be impassable, and the idea is not seriously to be entertained."

"Well," exclaimed Philip angrily, "by St. Denis! it seems that I cannot get to my adversary the King of England, but that is no reason why he should not come to me."

And, after pondering for a day and a night, he commanded four of his lords, one of whom was Eustace de Ribeaumont, to go to King Edward and challenge him to leave his camp, and fight on the hill of Sangate.

According to their instructions, the four lords mounted their steeds, passed the bridge of Nieullet, and, on reaching the English camp, found the king surrounded by his barons and knights. Dismounting, they approached, with many reverences, and stood before the king.

"Gentlemen," said Edward, smiling, "ye are welcome. Pray tell me what is your errand, for I would fain know at once."

"Sire," said Eustace de Ribeaumont, speaking for all, "the King of France informs you, through us, that he is come to the hill of Sangate in order to give you battle, but he cannot find any means of approaching you."

Edward looked round on his barons and knights, and, as he did so, he smiled complacently.

"Therefore," continued Ribeaumont, "the King of France wishes you to assemble your council, and he will send some of his, that they may confer together, and fix on some spot where a general combat may take place."

"Gentlemen," said Edward dryly, "I have already taken counsel with my barons and knights, and my answer to the demand of Philip of Valois is brief. I perfectly understand the request made, through you, by my adversary, who wrongfully keeps possession of my inheritance, which, be it known to you, weighs much upon me. You will, therefore, tell him from me, if you please, that I have been on this spot near a twelvemonth. Of this, I am assured, he was well informed; and, had he chosen, he might have come here sooner. But, God's truth! he has allowed me to remain so long that I have expended large sums of money, and have done so much that I must be master of Calais in a very short time. I am not, therefore, inclined in the smallest degree to comply with his caprices, or to gratify his convenience, or to abandon what I have gained, or what I have been so anxious to conquer. If neither he nor his army can pass by the downs nor by the bridge, he must seek out some other road. I am not bound to find him a way."

The French lords bowed low on receiving King Edward's answer, and, having mounted their horses, were courteously escorted to the bridge of Nieullet, and sent on to their own camp. On reaching Sangate they related to Philip of Valois the result of their mission, and gave such an account of the formidable preparations made to oppose them, that the bold countenance of the Valois fell.

"By heavens!" exclaimed he, gesticulating violently, "this passes all patience; but, one day, I will make mine adversaries dearly rue all they are doing."

Having uttered his threat, which the unhappy man was not destined to execute, Philip acknowledged the impossibility of any successful attempt to raise the siege of Calais, and forced himself to the determination of abandoning the enterprise which had created so much stir throughout France. Breaking up his camp, he marched, much crestfallen, from Sangate, and away in the direction of Amiens, there to disband his army. But the English were not inclined to let him off so easily. Attacking the rear of the retreating force, they wrought the French much mischief, and brought off prisoners, horses, and waggons full of wine and other provisions.

Meanwhile, the Calesians were in the last stages of distress, and when they saw Philip depart, leaving them to their fate, they uttered a long wail, expressive of horror and grief. It was, indeed, abundantly evident that all hope of succour had vanished, and, at the instance of the despairing inhabitants, John de Vienne, governor of the town, mounted the walls, and, displaying a flag, made a signal that he demanded a parley.

"Now," said King Edward joyfully, "the fruit is at length ripe, and the wind is about to do its work."

And he ordered Sir Walter Manny to hold a parley with the French governor.