CHAPTER LVIII

THE PEACE-MAKER

On foot, in the midst of his army, in the thickest part of the vineyard, where he had posted his men, as I have already stated, stood the Prince of Wales, calm and serene in the midst of danger. Never, perhaps, in the whole course of his eventful life, was the young hero more calm and serene than when it was announced to him that the Cardinal of Perigord was dismounting and about to come into his presence. And when, without delay, the cardinal approached, he was evidently greatly impressed; and, making a low reverence, which the prince returned with much affability, he indicated his errand, and forthwith entered upon the business of mediation.

"Fair son," said the cardinal, "if you have well considered the great army of the King of France you will permit me to make up matters between you, if I possibly can."

"Sir," replied the prince, "my own honour and that of my army saved, I am ready to listen to any reasonable terms."

"Fair son," said the cardinal, who seemed to rejoice at the prince's words, "you speak well, and if I can I will bring about a treaty; for it would be a great pity that so many worthy persons as are here should meet in battle when the quarrel might be peacefully settled."

Finding that the Prince of Wales was well inclined to listen to proposals of peace, and to give them a rational consideration, the cardinal returned to John of Valois; and all Sunday he rode from one army to the other, and exerted his art and eloquence to effect a reconciliation. Many proposals were discussed. Much to his disappointment, however, he made no progress. Indeed, John's demands were such that the prince could not have consented to them without sacrificing his own pride and the dignity of his country; and as the day wore away it became evident that the negociation would arrive at no satisfactory conclusion.

"I can listen to no other terms," said John, violently, "than that four of the chief persons of the English army should be given up to my will, and that the Prince of Wales and all his army should surrender themselves unconditionally."

"Sir," said the prince to the cardinal, when this proposal was repeated to him, "you know full well that it is impossible for me to agree to such terms. But I offer to surrender all the towns I have taken in France during my expedition, to give up without ransom all my prisoners, and to swear not to bear arms against France for the space of seven years."

"No," exclaimed John, after holding conference with his council; "this offer is not satisfactory. But if the Prince of Wales and a hundred of his knights will surrender themselves as my prisoners, I promise to allow the English to pass on without a battle."

"No," replied the prince with much disdain; "I can do nothing to the prejudice of my honour, for which I am accountable to my father and to my country; and as for surrendering myself a prisoner, in that case I should have to be ransomed; and I swear, by good St. George, that none but liars shall ever have it in their power to tell that England had to pay a ransom for me."

It now appeared that the cardinal was not destined to accomplish the work which he so earnestly desired. But so completely was his heart set on peace that he once more returned to the French army, still hoping by his exhortations to pacify the leaders of the embattled hosts. His reception, however, was this time the reverse of complimentary.

"Return to Poictiers," cried John of Valois and his council, "and attempt not to bring us any more of your treaties or pacifications, or it may fare the worse with you."

"Fair son," said the cardinal, coming to the Prince of Wales to inform him of the result of his negociations, "I have done all that a man could do to bring about peace. But I cannot pacify the King of France. There must be a battle: so exert yourself as much as possible."

"Such are my intentions, and such the intentions of my army," replied the prince, "and may God defend the right!"

The cardinal now took leave, and rode away towards Poictiers. In his train, however, there were some knights and men-at-arms who were much more inclined to the French than to the English. Aware that a battle was imminent, they selected as their leader the Castellan of Amposta, who was then attached to the cardinal, and, between the camps and the city, stole quietly away to join the French.

On hearing of this the Prince of Wales was highly enraged. Not unnaturally blaming the cardinal, who had so strongly expressed his neutrality, the prince, in his anger, concluded that he had been deceived, and did not fail to express himself strongly on the subject.

"By my faith," said he angrily, "it seems that, notwithstanding his fine words, this priest has been exercising all his cunning to deceive me. But let him beware; for, by my father's soul, ere the sun sets to-morrow I may send him such a token as will convince him that I am not one to be fooled with impunity."

"My lord," said those in whose presence this threat was uttered, "restrain your wrath; for we cannot tell whether or no the cardinal was aware of the desertion of his company till he arrived at Poictiers."