ril was extreme, and an issue from that peril as extremely doubtful.

It was hopeless for the army to attempt to retrace its steps to the upper
river. To have done so would have been to march with the flank of its
march exposed to an immediate advance of French forces, and almost
certainly to be caught in column; and Edward had already suffered such
repulses before Long Pre, Pont Remy, and Picquigny as left him no hope for
success should he attempt these bridges again. His only chance was to
find, if it were possible, some practicable ford across the broad estuary
itself that lay before him.

The moon was within a few hours of the full that night, the highest of the
spring-tides was making--in the open sea they were at their full height of
25 feet, an hour before midnight,--and though where he would strike the
estuary he might hope for a tide more tardy, Edward had before him as he
watched, his only avenue of escape, a great flood that appeared to deny
him all access to the further shore.

Every effort was made to discover from local knowledge whether any passage
existed. The highest rewards were offered, in vain, for in all that
countryside a feeling which if not national was at least strongly opposed
to the invader, forbade treason, and the near presence of the French
King's great force was an active reminder of the punishment that would
attend it. Late in this period of suspense a guide was found.

A man of the name of Gobin Agache, who had been taken prisoner by the
army, was that guide. His was that "invaluable" capture which I mentioned
in the last section. He was a peasant of those parts, and a native of
Mons-en-Vimieux, through which the army had marched from Acheux to
Boismont. He yielded to temptation when all others had refused. He was
promised a hundred pieces of gold (say L500 of our money), his own
liberty, and that of twenty of his companions. For that price he sold
himself, and promised to discover to the King and to his army the only
practicable ford across the estuary.

Just at the end of the night the host set out and marched during the first
hours of the moonlit Wednesday morning along the old road which still
leads over the hills that separate Boismont from Saigneville and marked
the southern bank of the valley. The marshalling was long; the full
ordering of the force, now that it was all gathered together and marching
along one narrow way, inexpeditious; and the two miles that separated the
hea