e repute of English soldiers, dimmed by long peace, was now further
tarnished. Henry's own envoys complained of the army's insubordination,
its impatience of the toils, and inexperience of the feats, of war;
and its ignominious return exposed him to the taunts of both friends
and foes. He had been on the point of ordering it home, when it came
of its own accord; but the blow to his authority was not, on that
account, less severe. His irritation was not likely to be soothed when
he realised the extent to which he had been duped by his father-in-law.
Ferdinand was loud in complaints and excuses.[112] September and
October were, he said, the proper months for a campaign in Guienne,
and he was marching to join the English army at the moment of its
desertion. In reality, it had served his purpose to perfection. Its
presence had diverted French levies from Italy, and enabled him,
unmolested, to conquer Navarre. With that he was content. Why should
he wish to see Henry in Guienne? He was too shrewd to involve his own
forces in that hopeless adventure, and the departure of the English
furnished him with an excuse for entering into secret negotiations
with Louis. His methods were eloquent of sixteenth-century (p. 059)
diplomacy. He was, he ordered Carroz to tell Henry many months
later,[113] when concealment was no longer possible or necessary,
sending a holy friar to his daughter in England; the friar's health
did not permit of his going by sea; so he went through France, and was
taken prisoner. Hearing of his fame for piety, the French Queen desired
his ghostly advice, and took the opportunity of the interview to
persuade the friar to return to Spain with proposals of peace.
Ferdinand was suddenly convinced that death was at hand; his confessor
exhorted him to forgive and make peace with his enemies. This work of
piety he could not in conscience neglect. So he agreed to a twelvemonth's
truce, which secured Navarre. In spite of his conscience he would
never have consented, had he not felt that the truce was really in
Henry's interests. But what weighed with him most was, he said, the
reformation of the Church. That should be Henry's first and noblest
work; he could render no greater service to God. No reformation was
possible without peace, and so long as the Church was unreformed, wars
among princes would never cease.

[Footnote 112: _Sp. Cal._, ii., 68, 70, 72; _cf._
_L. and P._,