If the praise of Edward's clemency seems overdrawn to those who remember the story of the citizens of Calais, we must bear in mind that the chronicler compares him here with other sovereigns of the time--with his rival Philippe de Valois, who was scarcely dissuaded from executing Sir Walter de Mauny in cold blood, despite his safe conduct from the Dauphin; with Gaston de Foix, who with a penknife in his hand struck at his only son and killed him; with Richard II., who smote the Earl of Arundel in the face during the Queen's funeral, and "polluted Westminster Abbey with his blood"; with Charles the Bad of Navarre, and Pedro the Cruel of Spain. What even the cleric Murimuth saw, and what Chaucer and his friend Hoccleve saw still more intimately, was the Haroun al-Raschid who went about "in simple array alone" to hear what his people said of him; the "mighty victor, mighty lord" of Sluys, Crécy and Calais; the King who in war would freely hazard his own person, "raging like a wild boar, and crying 'Ha Saint Edward! Ha Saint George!'"[170] and who in peace would lead the revels at Windsor, clad in white and silver, and embroidered with his motto--
Hay, hay, the whitë swan! By Goddës soul I am thy man!
If Edward and his sons were renowned for their uniform success in battle, it was not because they had feared to look defeat in the face. Every one knows how much was risked and all but lost at Crécy and Poitiers; the great sea-fight of "Les Espagnols sur Mer" is less known. Froissart excels himself in this story.[171] We see Edward sailing out gaily, in spite of the superior numbers of the Spaniards, and bidding his minstrels pipe the brand-new air which Sir John Chandos had brought back from Germany, while Chandos himself sang the words. Then, when the enemy came sailing down upon him with their great embattled ships, the King bade his steersman tilt straight at the first Spanish vessel, in spite of the disparity of weight. The English boat cracked under the shock; her seams opened; and, by the time that Edward had captured the next ship, his own was beginning to sink. The Black Prince had even a narrower escape; it became evident that his ship would go down before he could board the enemy; only the timely arrival of the Earl of Derby saved him; the deck sank almost under his feet as he climbed the sides of the Spaniard; "and all the enemy were put overboard without taking any to mercy." The Queen prayed all day at some abbey--probably Battle--in anguish of heart for the news which came from time to time through watchers on the far-off Downs. Although Edward and his sons took horse at once upon their landing, not until two o'clock in the morning did they find her, apparently in her own castle at Pevensey: "so the lords and ladies passed that night in great revel, speaking of war and of love."