knew it well, and knew as well that haste alone could save him one of
his fairest towns.

[Illustration: THE PORT OF CALAIS.]

But he had suffered a frightful defeat at Crecy only five days before
the siege of Calais began. Twelve hundred of his knights and thirty
thousand of his foot-soldiers--a number equal to the whole English
force--had been slain on the field; thousands of others had been taken
prisoner; a new army was not easily to be raised. Months passed before
Philip was able to come to the relief of the beleaguered stronghold. The
Oriflamme, the sacred banner of the realm, never displayed but in times
of dire extremity, was at length unfurled to the winds, and from every
side the great vassels of the kingdom hastened to its support. France,
ever prolific of men, poured forth her sons until she had another large
army in the field. In July of 1347, eleven months after the siege began,
the garrison, weary with long waiting, saw afar from their lookout
towers the floating banners of France, and beneath them the faintly-seen
forms of a mighty host.

The glad news spread through the town. The king was coming with a great
army at his back! Their sufferings had not been in vain; they would soon
be relieved, and those obstinate English be driven into the sea! Had a
fleet of bread-ships broken through the blockade, and sailed with waving
pennons into the harbor, the souls of the garrison could not have been
more uplifted with joy.

Alas! it was a short-lived joy. Not many days elapsed before that great
host faded before their eyes like a mist under the sun-rays, its banners
lifting and falling as they slowly vanished into the distance, the gleam
of its many steel-headed weapons dying out until not a point of light
remained. Their gladness turned into redoubled misery as they saw
themselves thus left to their fate; their king, who had marched up with
such a gallant show of banners and arms, marching away without striking
a blow. It was hard to believe it; but there they went, and there the
English lay.

The soil of France had never seen anything quite so ludicrous--but for
its tragic side--as this march of Philip the king. Two roads led to the
town, but these King Edward, who was well advised of what was coming,
had taken care to intrench and guard so strongly that it would prove no
light nor safe matter to force a way through. Philip sent out his spies,
learned what was before him, and, full of the memory of Crec