On hearing these most unwelcome tidings, Charles set off for the English camp in hot haste, attended by a small escort, and nursing his wrath as he rode.[7] King Edward was rather alarmed at the duke’s aspect when the latter appeared, and asked whether he would not like a private interview.  Charles disregarded his question.  “Is it true?  Have you made peace?” he demanded.  Edward’s attempt at smooth explanations was blocked by a flood of invectives poured out by Charles, who remembered himself sufficiently to speak in English so that the bystanders might have the full benefit of his passionate reproaches.  He spared nothing, comparing the lazy, sensual, pleasure-loving monarch, whose easeful ways were rapidly increasing his weight of flesh, with the heroism of other English Edwards with whom he was proud to claim kin.  As to the offers to remember his interests in the perfidious peace that perfidious Albion was about to swear with equally perfidious France, his rejection was scornful indeed.  “Negotiate for me!  Arbitrate for me!  Is it I who wanted the French crown?  Leave me to make my own truce.  I will wait until you have been three months over sea.”  Among those who witnessed the scene were several Englishmen who sympathised with Charles—­if we may believe Commines.  “The Duke of Burgundy has said the truth,” declared the Duke of Gloucester, and many agreed with him.”  Having given vent to his sentiments, Charles hurried away from his disappointing ally and reached Namur on the 22d, where he spent the night.

Edward troubled himself little about his brother-in-law’s summary of his character.  He was tired of camp hardships, and both he and his men found it very refreshing to have Amiens open her gates to them at the order of Louis XI.  Food and wine were lavished upon all alike.  It was a delightful experience for the English soldiers to see tables groaning with good things spread in the very streets, and to be bidden to order what they would at the taverns with no consideration for the reckoning.  They enjoyed good French fare, free of charge, until their host intimated to King Edward that his men were very intoxicated and that there were limits in all things.  But Louis did not spare his money or his pains until he was sure that a bloodless victory had been won.  He fully realised the importance of extravagant expenditure in order to reach the goal he had set himself.

“We must have the whole sum at Amiens before Friday evening, besides what will be wanted for private gratifications to my Lord Howard, and others who have had part in the arrangement....  Do not fail in this that there may be no pretext for a rupture of what has been already settled.”

Though they had now no rood of land, the English returned richer than they came, and they eased their amour propre by calling the sums that had changed hands, “tribute money."[8]