ordered the heads of the whole six to be
struck off. Sir Walter Manny pleaded for
them, but in vain. However, the good Queen
fell upon her knees, and besought the King to
give them up to her. The King replied, "I
wish you had been somewhere else; but I
cannot refuse you." So she had them properly
dressed, made a feast for them, and sent them
back with a handsome present, to the great
rejoicing of the whole camp. I hope the
people of Calais loved the daughter to whom
she gave birth soon afterwards, for her gentle
mother's sake.

Now, came that terrible disease, the Plague,
into Europe, hurrying from the heart of
China; and killed the wretched people—
especially the poor—in such enormous numbers,
that one-half of the inhabitants of England
are related to have died of it. It killed the
cattle, in great numbers, too; and so few
working men remained alive, that there were
not enough left to till the ground.

After eight years of differing and quarrelling,
the Prince of Wales again invaded France
with an army of sixty thousand men. He
went through the south of the country, burning
and plundering wheresoever he went; while
his father, who had still the Scottish war
upon his hands, did the like in Scotland, but
was harassed and worried in his retreat
from that country by the Scottish men, who
repaid his cruelties with interest.

The French King, Philip, was now dead,
and was succeeded by his son John. The
Black Prince, called by that name from
the colour of the armour he wore to set
off his fair complexion, continuing to burn
and destroy in France, roused John into
determined opposition; and so cruel had
the Black Prince been in his campaign,
so severely had the French peasants suffered,
that he could not find one who, for love, or
money, or the fear of death, would tell him
what the French King was doing, or where
he was. Thus it happened that he came
upon the French King's forces, all of a sudden,
near the town of Poictiers, and found that
the whole neighbouring country was occupied
by a vast French army. "God help us!"
said the Black Prince, "we must make the
best of it."

So, on a Sunday morning, the eighteenth of
September, the Prince—whose army was
now reduced to ten thousand men in all—
prepared to give battle to the French King,
who had sixty thousand horse alone. While
he was so engaged, there came riding from
the French camp, a Cardinal, who had
persuaded John to let him offer terms, and try
to save the shedding of Christian blood.
"Save my honour," said the Prince to this
good priest, "and save the honour of my
army, and I will make any reasonable
terms." He offered to give up all the towns,
castles, and prisoners he had taken, and to
swear to make no war in France for seven
years; but, as Philip would hear of nothing
but his surrender, with a hundred of his chief
knights, the treaty was broken off, and the
Prince said, quietly—"God defend the right;
we shall fight to-morrow."

Therefore, on the Monday morning, at
break of day, the two armies prepared for
battle. The English were posted in a strong
place, which could only be approached by one
narrow lane, skirted by hedges on both sides.
The French attacked them by this lane;
but were so galled and slain by English
arrows from behind the hedges, that they
were forced to retreat. Then, went six
hundred English bowmen round about, and,
coming upon the rear of the French army,
rained arrows on them thick and fast. The
French knights, thrown into confusion, quitted
their banners and dispersed in all directions.
Said Sir John Chandos to the Prince, "Ride
forward, noble Prince, and the day is yours.
The King of France is so valiant a gentleman,
that I know he will never fly, and may be
taken prisoner." Said the Prince to this,
"Advance English banners, in the name of
God and St. George!" and on they pressed
until they came up with the French King,
fighting fiercely with his battle-axe, and,
when all his nobles had forsaken him,
attended faithfully to the last by his youngest son
Philip, only sixteen years of age. Father and
son fought well, and the King had already
two wounds in his face, and had been beaten
down, when he at last delivered himself to a
banished French Knight, and gave him his
right-hand glove in token that he had done so.

The Black Prince was generous as well as
brave, and he invited his royal prisoner to
supper in his tent, and waited upon him at
table, and, when they afterwards rode into
London in a gorgeous procession, mounted
the French King on a fine cream-coloured
horse, and rode at his side on a little
pony. This was all very kind, but I think it
was, perhaps, a little theatrical too, and has
been made more meritorious than it deserved
to be; especially as I am inclined to think
that the greatest kindness to the King of
France would have been not to have shown
him to the people at all. However, it must
be said, for these acts of politeness, that, in
course of time, they did much to soften the
horrors of war and the passions of conquerors.
It was a long, long time before the common
soldiers began to have the benefit of such
courtly deeds; but they did at last; and thus
it is possible that a poor soldier who asked
for quarter at the battle of Waterloo, or any
other such great fight, may have owed his life
indirectly to Edward the Black Prince.

At this time there stood in the Strand, in
London, a palace called the Savoy, which was
given up to the captive King of France and
his son for their residence. As the King of
Scotland had now been King Edward's
captive for eleven years too, his success was, at
this time, tolerably complete. The Scottish
business was settled by the prisoner being