A few days after this a native of Genoa—probably a prisoner—came out of the Turkish camp to the gate of Auvergne and demanded to speak with someone in authority. When his request was granted, he inquired why the town, which could hold out no longer, was not surrendered, while there was yet time to get good terms from the Sultan. Thrice he made attempts to prevail on the Knights to listen to his proposals, but they would not, preferring rather to die at their posts. The townspeople, however, thought otherwise, and whispered together secretly at first, and then openly, that they would fain save their own lives and that of their children, seeing there was no further hope of driving away the enemy. And these murmurings soon came to the ears of the council, who laid them before the Grand Master.
While the assembled lords were talking over this weighty matter, some of the citizens knocked at the door of the chamber and, being admitted, 'meekly besought the said reverend lord the Grand Master to consider the piteous and sorrowful state the town was in', and to pray that if he would not surrender it, at least to send away their wives and children, or otherwise they would become slaves or be slain. 'And the conclusion was, that if the said lord would not purvey, they would purvey for it themselves. That is, they would see to the placing in safety of their wives and children.'
The Grand Master heard them with a gloomy face, and dismissed them, saying, they should know shortly what was in the minds of the council to do. He then inquired of the Knight who had charge of the gunpowder how much there was left, and received for answer 'not more than was needed to withstand two assaults.' At that the Grand Master turned to Sir Gabriel Martinengo, who was Captain of the soldiers, and asked if the town might hold out or not, or if there were any means to save it.
'Scarcely are there folk enough to move a piece of artillery from one place to another,' answered he, 'and it is impossible without folk to set up the repairs which every day are broken and crushed by the great, furious, and continual shot of the enemy.'
Very unwillingly the Grand Master was convinced that his cause was hopeless and that, as it was the wish of the people and of many of the lords also, a treaty must be made with the Sultan. 'He took it most heavily and was more sorrowful than any of the others,' writes the old chronicler, 'for the business belonged very near to him.'
So a 'sign' was set upon the tower of the abbey outside the walls, and the two Turks who came from the camp in answer bore with them a letter from Solyman to the Grand Master, offering, in case of surrender, to let all the Knights and the people leave the town with their 'goods and jewels without fear of harm or displeasure of his folks. But that if the Grand Master would not accept the treaty none of the city should think to escape, but they all, unto the cats, should pass by the edge of the sword.'
The die had been cast by the council, yet even so the Grand Master could not bear to deliver up his trust, and seems to have sought to delay matters. Therefore he sent two of his Knights into the Turkish camp to beg an audience of the Sultan and to ascertain without a doubt that faith would be kept with the Christians.
The ambassadors were received courteously by two high Turkish officials, and a truce of three days was agreed upon, during which 'the enemies came to our repairs and spake with our folk, and drank with one another,' as enemies should after the battle is over. When the Christian Knights saw the Sultan, he repeated his terms, and informed them that at the end of the truce he must have an answer. He then dismissed them, giving each a garment of velvet and cloth of gold as a present.