fright at the siege of Saint Omer and ran
away, leaving their weapons and baggage
behind them. Philip, the French King,
coming up with his army, and Edward being
very anxious to decide the war, proposed
to settle the difference by single combat with
him, or by a fight of one hundred knights on
each side. The French King said, he thanked
him; but being very well as he was, he would
rather not. So, after some skirmishing and
talking, a short peace was made.

It was soon broken by King Edward's
favouring the cause of John, Earl of Montford;
a French nobleman, who asserted a
claim of his own against the French King, and
offered to do homage to England for the
Crown of France, if he could obtain it through
England's help. This French lord, himself,
was soon defeated by the French King's son,
and shut up in a tower in Paris; but his wife,
a courageous and beautiful woman, who is
said to have had the courage of a man, and
the heart of a lion, assembled the people of
Brittany, where she then was; and, showing
them her infant son, made many pathetic
entreaties to them not to desert her and their
young Lord. They took fire at this appeal,
and rallied around her in the strong castle of
Hennebon. Here she was not only besieged
without by the French under Charles de
Blois, but was endangered within by a
dreary old bishop, who was always
representing to the people what horrors they
must undergo if they were faithful—first
from famine, and afterwards from fire and
sword. But this noble lady, whose heart
never failed her, encouraged her soldiers by
her own example; went from post to post like
a great general; even mounted on horseback
fully armed, and, issuing from the castle by
a bye-path, fell upon the French camp, set
fire to the tents, and threw the whole force
into disorder. This done, she got safely back
to Hennebon again, and was received with loud
shouts of joy by the defenders of the castle,
who had given her up for lost. As they were
now very short of provisions, however, and as
they could not dine off enthusiasm, and as the
old bishop was always saying, "I told you
what it would come to!" they began to lose
heart, and to talk of yielding the castle up.
The brave Countess retiring to an upper room
and looking with great grief out to sea, where
she expected relief from England, saw, at this
very time, the English ships in the distance,
and was relieved and rescued! Sir Walter
Manny, the English commander, so admired
her courage, that, being come into the
castle with the English knights, and having
made a feast there, he assaulted the French
by way of dessert, and beat them off
triumphantly. Then he and the knights came
back to the castle with great joy; and the
Countess, who had watched them from a high
tower, thanked them with all her heart, and
kissed them every one.

This noble lady distinguished herself
afterwards in a sea-fight with the French off
Guernsey, when she was on her way to
England to ask for more troops. Her great
spirit roused another lady, the wife of another
French lord (whom the French King very
barbarously murdered), to distinguish herself
scarcely less. The time was fast coming,
however, when Edward, Prince of Wales,
was to be the great star of this French and
English war.

It was in the month of July in the year
one thousand three hundred and forty-six,
when the King embarked at Southampton
for France, with an army of about thirty
thousand men in all, attended by the Prince
of Wales and by several of the chief nobles.
He landed at La Hogue in Normandy; and,
burning and destroying as he went, according
to custom, advanced up the left bank of the
River Seine, and fired the small towns even
close to Paris; but, being watched from the
right bank of the river by the French King
and all his army, it came to this at last, that
Edward found himself, on Saturday the
twenty-sixth of August one thousand three
hundred and forty-six, on a rising ground
behind the little French village of Crecy, face
to face with the French King's force. And,
although the French King had an enormous
army—in number more than eight times his
—he there resolved to beat him or be beaten.

The young Prince, assisted by the Earl of
Oxford and the Earl of Warwick, led the first
division of the English army; two other
great Earls led the second; and the King, the
third. When the morning dawned, the King
received the sacrament, and heard prayers,
and then, mounted on horseback with a white
wand in his hand, rode from company to
company, and rank to rank, cheering and
encouraging both officers and men. Then
the whole army breakfasted, each man sitting
on the ground where he had stood; and then
they remained quietly on the ground with
their weapons ready.

Up came the French king with all his great
force. It was dark and angry weather; there
was an eclipse of the sun; there was a
thunder-storm, accompanied with tremendous
rain; the frightened birds flew screaming
above the soldiers' heads. A certain captain in
the French army advised the French King, who
was by no means cheerful, not to begin the
battle until the morrow. The King, taking
this advice, gave the word to halt. But, those
behind not understanding it, or desiring to be
foremost with the rest, came pressing on.
The roads for a great distance were covered
with this immense army, and with the common
people from the villages, who were flourishing
their rude weapons, and making a great noise.
Owing to these circumstances, the French
army advanced in the greatest confusion;
every French lord doing what he liked with
his own men, and putting out the men of
every other French lord.

Now, their King relied strongly upon a