‘Yes, Father,’ said Isabella meekly.
She had already assured herself that he was not running away from her; she would dance gaily; she would show everyone she did not care that she had been jilted.
THE BURGHERS OF CALAIS
IT had been a fearful winter for the inhabitants of Calais. During all the bitterly cold months they had been attacked from without; arrows had rained into the town; the walls were constantly in need of repair lest there should be a breach which would let in the enemy. The greatest hardship was cold and hunger. Many of the inhabitants were dying of starvation, but they were determined to hold out. ‘Succour will come,’ said the people of Calais. ‘Our King will not forget us.’
The siege of Calais was proving to be the most difficult operation of the war. The place was so well fortified. Its importance to the other side was evident. Edward believed that if he could take it it would not be long before his ambition was realized; Philip knew that to lose it would be a greater blow than the defeats at Helvoetsluys and Crécy.
Edward had sent word to England that he must have more supplies. He needed more ships to blockade the harbour for great hopes had arisen in the town when Philip had managed to get supplies in to the people.
That must never happen again, declared Edward and ordered the Earl of Warwick to keep command of the Channel. For this purpose he had eighty ships under his command. Philip however must endeavour to reach his starving subjects and made an attempt to land forty-four ships most of them victuallers. But they were spotted by Warwick, and the Earls of Northampton and Pembroke were informed. Between them they succeeded in capturing some of the ships and sinking the others, so there was no relief for the starving citizens of Calais and the town continued in extreme suffering. All the corn, meat and wine had long disappeared; they were living on cats, dogs and horses and even the supply of these was running out.
Philip must come to their aid.
He made preparations for the attack. He was growing very unpopular because he had taxed the people of France so heavily to pay for the war; and when he ordered a muster of troops many of the nobles showed a great reluctance to come forward.
Edward, meanwhile, had the support of his people. They were beginning to regard him as a king to be proud of. His magnificent appearance, his displays of grandeur, that special Plantagenet charm which had been his grandfather’s and was perhaps even more apparent in him, the courage of his son and heir the Black Prince, the victor of Crécy—for Edward had had it proclaimed that that success was largely due to the skill and generalship of his beloved son—all this had made the English rally to their King and they were prepared to pay for a share in the glory he brought to England. They talked of Helvoetsluys and Crécy and they wanted to boast of Calais.
Therefore they were ready to pay for their King’s war.
They despised the French. It was generally believed that the men were like women, that they spent a lot of time combing their hair, that their skins were pale unlike the healthy ruddy Englishman’s; they minced and simpered and their manner of speaking was more attuned to a lady’s boudoir than to a battlefield. They were highly immoral and each man, however humble, had a dozen mistresses. They would soon be vanquished by the superior strength and virility of the English.
The French naturally despised the English. ‘They are the dregs of men, the shame of the world and the least of all things,’ they declared. They were barbarians; they ate great quantities of food and did not greatly care how it was cooked or served; they swilled ale instead of fine wines. What had cultivated Frenchmen to fear from such as these?
All through the winter and spring the wretched inhabitants waited for relief. The summer had come and the heat seemed worse than the cold.
They knew they could not hold out much longer when the cheering news came that Philip was on the march. He was bringing an army of two hundred thousand men to relieve them
Edward awaited their arrival. Which way? he wondered. There were three routes Philip might take: By way of the dunes, by Gravelines or across the marches by way of the Bridge of Nieulay.
Edward made sure that whichever way Philip tried to take he should find it almost impassable.
They came by way of the sandhills and saw at once that it was impossible to get nearer than within a mile of the enemy. Edward had arranged his defences so skilfully that the only way for the French to approach the English was over the narrow Bridge of Nieulay which would mean they would fight against tremendous odds.
Philip had one recourse. He must ask Edward to come out into the open country and fight.
When Edward received this message he laughed aloud.
He told the messenger to go back to his master, Philip of Valois, who wrongfully kept him from his inheritance and tell him that he had been at the gates of Calais for the last year.
‘Your master knew this well,’ he went on. ‘He should have come sooner, but he has allowed me to remain here and spend large sums of money on this venture. I am not ready to give way to his request now. If he and his army wish to pass this way he must find some other road, or he must come in and drive me out.’
The messengers returned to the King of France who, fuming with rage, saw that to attempt to oust Edward from the position in which he had esconced himself would be certain defeat. How could they take that narrow bridge, defended as it was? It would be impossible. They would be mown down. It was suicide. And how otherwise approach the enemy?
There was only one course of action open to him, to go away and give up Calais.
He gave the order to be prepared to march at dawn. Before they left they would destroy their camp that it might not fall to the enemy.
When the citizens of Calais heard that their King had deserted them, when from the ramparts of the town they saw the flames of smoke of the burning tents, they knew the battle was lost.
It could only be a matter of hours before Calais was in the hands of the English.
Sir John de Vienne, the Governor of Calais, sent a messenger to Edward. Calais, he said, was ready to come to terms with the King. The town should be surrendered to him if he would grant the lives of the garrison and the citizens.
When Edward received this message he burst into loud laughter.
‘Go and tell your master that it is not for him to make terms,’ he replied. ‘Calais is mine for the taking.’
When the messenger had gone Edward’s rage increased.
‘They ask me this,’ he cried. ‘I have waited here for a very long time. I have expended much money on this siege. And now that it is over and they are surrendering as they should have done months ago, they talk of making terms with me! By God, I will show them that it is not for them to make terms. It is for them to obey orders. This is unconditional surrender.’
Philippa who was with him, replied that the men of Calais had defended their town as any citizen would. ‘You would not, my lord, think highly of your own countryman who gave in immediately to the enemy.’
Edward growled: ‘But to talk of terms! They will see.’
He sent for Sir Walter de Manny—one of his most trusted knights, and a native of Hainault who had come to England in the train of Philippa. He had proved himself completely loyal to both the King and the Queen and was a man of charm and courage, known for his chivalry and courtesy. Both the King and Queen were very fond of him.
‘Well, Walter,’ said Edward, ‘at last Calais is ours. And the governor has had the insolence to send to me to make terms! Does that not make you smile? Yes, he would make terms. I am of a mind to put the whole town to the sword.’