The bishop was eloquent, and fear and hope more eloquent yet; and ere, long after midnight, the council closed, all minds but those of three, Sir Yves de Tresiquidi, Sir Waleran de Landreman, and the governor of Guincamp, were won over to yield up the city to Sir Hervè; and even those three doubted. None so hopeful but to trust that to-morrow’s conference would be final; none so strong in courage as to dare support one other day’s assault.
All passed the night in doubt and fear; the countess alone in brave hope, and earnest prayer.
The day dawned, and—as men crowded to the ramparts, gazing toward the camp and the plain where Sir Hervè might be seen approaching with his Genoese, closing up to the town to receive possession—the countess arose from her knees, and she alone, of all in Hennebon, turned her eyes toward the sea; for she alone, of all to Hennebon, had faith in her God.
The sea! the sea! it was white with sails, from the mouth almost of the haven, to the dark line of the horizon, flashing to the new-risen sun with lanceheads and clear armor, fluttering with pennoncolles and banners, blazing with embroidered surcoats and emblazoned shields.
And the lady flung her casement wide, and gazed out on her people, in the market-place, along the ramparts, in the tumultuous streets, with disheveled hair, and disordered raiment, and clasped hands and flushed cheeks, and eyes streaming with tears of joy—“God and St. George!” she cried, in tones that rang to every heart like the notes of a silver trumpet—“God and St. George! an English fleet! an English fleet! It _is_ the aid of God!”
And, as the people crowded to the seaward bastions, and saw the great ships rushing in before a leading wind, with their sails all emblazoned with Edward’s triple leopards; and the banners and shields of the English Manny, and of their own Amauri de Clisson, displayed from the yard-arms, and the immortal red cross blazing, above all, on its argent field, they, too, took up the cry.
“God and St. George! God and St. George! It _is_ the aid of England! it is the aid of God!”
“Thereafter,” adds my author, whom I quote once more, for the last time, “when the Governor of Guincamp, Sir Yves de Tresiquidi, Sir Waleran de Landreman, and the other knights, perceived this succor coming to them, they told the bishop that he might break up his conference, for they were not now inclined to follow his advice. The bishop, Sir Guy de Léon, replied, ‘My lords, then our company shall separate; for I will go to him who seems to me to have the clearest right.’ Upon which he sent his defiance to the lady, and to all her party, and left the town to inform Sir Hervè de Léon how matters stood. Sir Hervè was much vexed at it, and immediately ordered the largest machine that was with the army to be placed as near the castle as possible, strictly commanding that it should never cease working day nor night. He then presented his uncle to the Lord Lewis of Spain, and to the Lord Charles of Blois, who both received him most courteously. The countess, in the meantime, prepared, and hung with tapestry, halls and chambers, to lodge handsomely the lords and barons of England whom she saw coming, and sent out a noble company to meet them. When they were landed, she went herself to give them welcome, respectfully thanking each knight and squire, and led them into the town and castle, that they might have convenient lodging: on the morrow she gave them a magnificent entertainment. All that night, and the following day, the large machine never ceased from casting stones into the town.