Then the king sent forward his dear son, Edward the Black Prince, who was only sixteen years old, to begin the fight. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon, on a hot summer’s day, when the battle began, and they fought till dark. At one time, some of the gentlemen near the prince were afraid he would be overcome, and sent to his father to beg him to come and help him. The king asked if his son was killed or hurt. “No,” said the messenger. “Then,” said the king, “he will do well, and I choose him to have the honour of the day himself.” Soon after this the French began to run away, and it is dreadful to think how many of them were killed. Two kings who had come to help the King of France, one of the king’s brothers, and more French barons, gentlemen, and common soldiers than I can tell you, were killed. But very few English indeed were slain. When the King of England met his son at night, after the great battle of Crecy was won, he took him in his arms and cried, “My brave son! Go on as you have begun! You are indeed my son, for you have behaved bravely to-day! You have shown that you are worthy to be a king.” And I believe that it made King Edward happier to see his son behave so bravely in the battle, and so modestly afterwards, than even the winning of that great victory. A year after the battle of Crecy, the city of Calais, which you know is in France, on the coast just opposite to Dover, in England, was taken by Edward. The people of Calais, who did not wish their town to belong to the King of England, had defended it almost a year, and would not have given it up to him at last, if they could have got anything to eat. But Edward’s soldiers prevented the market people from carrying bread, or meat, or vegetables, into the city, and many people died of hunger before the captain would give it up. I am sorry to tell you that Edward, instead of admiring the citizens for defending their town so well, was so enraged at them, that he wanted to have them all hanged; and when his chief officers begged him not to be cruel to those who had been so faithful to their own king, he said he would only spare them on condition that six of their best men should bring him the keys of the city gates, that they must come bare-headed and bare-footed, with nothing but their shirts on, and with ropes round their necks, as he meant to hang them at least. When the people of Calais heard this, the men and women, and even the children, thought it would almost be better to die of hunger, than to give up the brave men who had been their companions in all their misery. Nobody could speak.