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 Crecy, decided
that it would be too costly an experiment to attack those works. But
were not those the days of chivalry? was not Edward famed for his
chivalrous spirit? Surely he, as a noble and puissant knight, would not
take an unfair advantage of his adversary. As a knight of renown he
could not refuse to march into the open field, and trust to God and St.
George of England for his defence, as against God and St. Denys of
France.
Philip, thereupon, sent four of his principal lords to the English
king, saying that he was there to do battle, as knight against knight,
but _could find no way to come to him_.
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