At his
heels was a little white-haired ecclesiastic in a flowing gown of
scarlet sendal, expostulating and arguing in a torrent of words.
"Not another word, my Lord Cardinal," cried the angry prince. "I
have listened to you overlong, and by God's dignity! that which
you say is neither good nor fair in my ears. Hark you, John, I
would have your counsel. What think you is the message which my
Lord Cardinal of Perigord has carried from the King of France? He
says that of his clemency he will let my army pass back to
Bordeaux if we will restore to him all that we have taken, remit
all ransoms, and surrender my own person with that of a hundred
nobles of England and Guienne to be held as prisoners. What think
you, John?"
Chandos smiled. "Things are not done in that fashion," said he.
"But my Lord Chandos," cried the Cardinal, "I have made it clear
to the Prince that indeed it is a scandal to all Christendom and a
cause of mocking to the heathen, that two great sons of the Church
should turn their swords thus upon each other."
"Then bid the King of France keep clear of us," said the Prince.
"Fair son, you are aware that you are in the heart of his country
and that it standeth not aright that he should suffer you to go
forth as you came. You have but a small army, three thousand
bowmen and five thousand men-at-arms at the most, who seem in evil
case for want of food and rest.
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