But his position was sufficiently critical, and defeat meant the annihilation of the gallant little army who had followed his fortunes through two campaigns, and who were to a man his devoted servants.  He had led them, according to promise, upon another long march of unopposed plunder and victory, right into the very heart of France; whilst another English army in Normandy and Brittany had been harassing the French King, and averting his attention from the movements of his son.

Perhaps young Edward’s half-matured plan had been to join the other English forces in the north, for he was too much the general and the soldier to think of marching upon Paris or of attacking the French army with his own small host.  Indeed, a few reverses had recently taught him that he had already ventured almost too far into the heart of a hostile country; and he was, in fact, retreating upon Bordeaux, believing the French army to be behind him, when he discovered that it was in front of him, intercepting his farther progress, and he was made aware of this unwelcome fact by seeing the advance guard of his own army literally cut to pieces by the French soldiers before he could come to their assistance.

Realizing at once the immense peril of his position, the Prince had marched on till he reached a spot where he could post his men to some advantage amongst hedges and bushes that gave them shelter, and would serve to embarrass an attacking foe, and in particular any charge of cavalry.  The place selected was some six miles from Poitiers, and possessed so many natural advantages that the Prince felt encouraged to hope for a good issue to the day, albeit the odds were fearfully to his disadvantage.

He had looked to be speedily attacked by the French King, who was in person leading his host; but the Saturday passed away without any advance, and on Sunday morning the good Cardinal de Perigord began to strive to bring matters to a peaceable issue.

Brave as the young Prince was, and great as his reliance on his men had always been, his position was perilous in the extreme, and he had been willing to listen to the words of the Cardinal.  Indeed, he had made wonderful concessions to the messenger of peace, for he had at last consented to give up all the places he had taken, to set free all prisoners, and to swear not to take up arms against the King of France for seven years; and now he stood looking towards the French host with a frown of anxious perplexity upon his face, for the Cardinal had gone back to the French King with this message, and already the Prince was half repentant at having conceded so much.  He had been persuaded rather against his will, and he was wondering what his royal father would say when he should hear.

He had been thinking rather of his brave soldiers’ lives than his own military renown, when he had let himself be won over by the good Cardinal.  Had he, after all, made a grand mistake?