The man fell back, his comrades crossed themselves and bent the knee. Raymond passed out of the gate, scarce knowing how he had done so, and sped back to the English camp as if his feet had wings. With that same strangely rapt expression upon his face, he went straight to the lodging of the Prince of Wales, and entering without ceremony found not only the Prince there, but also his royal mother, the gracious Queen Philippa.
Bending his knee to that fair lady, but without one thought beyond the present urgent need of the moment, Raymond told all his tale in the ear of the Queen and the Prince. With that power of graphic description which was the gift of his vivid imagination and deep sense of sympathy with the needs of others, he brought the whole scene before the eyes of his listeners the crowded marketplace, the famine-stricken people in their extremity and despair, the calm heroism of the men who willingly offered their lives to save those of their townspeople, and the wailing multitude watching the start of the devoted six going forth to a shameful and ignominious death on their behalf.
And as Raymond spoke the Prince's cheek flushed, and the eyes of the beautiful Queen kindled and filled with sudden tears; and rising to her feet she held out her hand to Raymond and said:
"Good lad, I thank thee for thy tale, and the request thy lips have not spoken shall be granted. Those men shall not die! I, the Queen of England, will save them. I pledge thee here my royal word. I will to my noble husband and win their pardon myself."
Raymond sank upon his knee and kissed the fair hand extended to him, and both he and the Prince hastened after the Queen, who hoped to find her royal husband alone and in a softened mood, as he was wont to be after the stress of the day was over.
But time had fled fast whilst Raymond had been telling his tale, and already notice had been brought to Edward of the approach of the six citizens, and he had gone forth into a pavilion erected for his convenience in an open part of the camp; and there he was seated with grim aspect and frowning brow as his Queen approached to speak with him.
"I will hear thee anon, good wife," he said, seeing that she craved his ear. "I have sterner work on hand today than the dallying of women. Stay or go as thou wilt, but speak not to me till this day's work is carried through."
Raymond's heart sank as he heard these words, and saw the relentless look upon the King's face. None realized better than he the cruel side to the boasted chivalry of the age; and these middle-aged burgesses, with no knightliness of dress or bearing, would little move the loftier side of the King's nature. There would be no glamour of romance surrounding them. He would think only of the thousands of pounds the resistance of the city had cost him, and he would order to a speedy death those whom he would regard as in part the cause of all this trouble and loss.
The Queen made no further effort to win his notice, but with graceful dignity placed herself beside him; whilst the Prince, quivering with suppressed excitement, stepped behind his father's chair. Raymond stood in the surrounding circle, and felt Gaston's arm slipped within his. But he had eyes only for the mournful procession approaching from the direction of the city, and every nerve was strained to catch the lightest tone of the Queen's voice if she should speak.
The governor of Calais, though disabled by wounds from walking, was pacing on horseback beside the devoted six thus giving themselves up to death; and as he told how they had come forward to save their fellow citizens from death, tears gathered in many eyes, and brave Sir Walter Manny, who had pleaded their cause before, again threw himself upon his knees before his sovereign, and besought his compassion for the brave burgesses.