Calais was a petty fishing village in the tenth century, and its first appearance in the annals of history was when Baldwin the Fourth, Count of Flanders, took it under his fostering care and its earliest fortifications were built.

Perceiving its natural advantages, Philip of France, Count of Boulogne, took serious steps for its defence. A citadel was built, forts were erected, a lofty watch-tower was constructed on the bastion fronting the sea, which for centuries was the chief light-house of Calais. The town was encircled by strong walls, deep moats were constructed, every art known to the engineers of that age was employed, and the town was thought to be impregnable.

King Edward the Third captured it after the great battle of CrÉcy, and it took that warlike monarch eleven months ere he became master of the town, chiefly aided by the grim necessities of famine. It became an English town, and for two hundred years it had resisted the repeated efforts of France to reconquer it. The English rebuilt the cathedral of Notre Dame, whose lofty tower served as a landmark for sailors. When the sovereigns of England and France met on the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," much money was spent on the town by the English.

Wolsey's keen eye marked the decrepitude of its walls, and he spent twenty thousand crowns in strengthening them. Yet vague rumours had lately gone abroad that its fortifications were tottering to a fall, undermined by the action of the sea; that the ancient artillery which defended its walls was but a vain show, and that its garrison of eight hundred men was not only inadequate, but it was untrustworthy from a military point of view. It had become a kind of depÔt for old soldiers, ill watch was kept, and loose discipline was maintained.

Alarmed by the reports which the Bishop of Acqs had conveyed to the French Government (all of which were known by him), Philip took serious alarm. In hot haste he laid these matters before the English Government, only to find his reports to be received with the utmost incredulity. The two hundred years of almost quiet possession had begotten a fatal sense of security on the part of the English.

Again Philip sent to Cardinal Pole, who was the Queen's chief adviser, offering to garrison Calais with Spaniards at his own expense; but this offer was received coldly by the English Government, whose suspicion of the Spaniard, and of Philip himself especially, reigned supreme. Then Philip suggested a greatly increased garrison, of which one half should be English and the other Spanish. The offer was refused.

It was under these circumstances that the King had sent Geoffrey, William and Ralph to make a secret inspection of the town and its garrison. Their report was to be given to Cardinal Pole himself. Philip knew that these three young Englishmen were favourably known to the Cardinal, and that his eminence would feel sure that their testimony would be disinterested and reliable.

It was under these circumstances that Geoffrey and his companions landed at Calais on a fine September evening in the year 1557. The approach of their boat had been perceived from the watch-tower, and as it grated on the shore a company of armed men waited to receive them. The uniforms of the young men gave assurance to the captain of the guard, he recognized the blue accoutrements of the English contingent, now serving with King Philip. It was therefore with the utmost courtesy and with military salute that Captain Lascelles advanced towards the visitors and asked to be allowed to inspect their papers.

"We come from St. Quentin as direct envoys from the King to Lord Wentworth, the Governor of Calais," replied Geoffrey. "May we ask you to conduct us to him?" he continued.

"Whom have I the honour to address?" inquired the Captain.

"Geoffrey de Fynes, William Jefferay, Ralph Jefferay, aides-de-camp to Lord Clinton, second in command of the English contingent serving in France," replied Geoffrey.

Captain Lascelles bowed low.

"I will conduct you to the Governor's lodgings in the citadel forthwith," he replied; "but I fear you will not see Lord Wentworth to-night, he is entertaining the officers of the garrison to supper."

"We thank you for your courtesy, sir," replied Geoffrey; and the Captain leading the way the party ascended to the citadel which overlooked the little town.

Through narrow, ill-paved streets, dimly lit, they proceeded in silence till the plateau was reached which fronted the gloomy old citadel.

The Captain gave the password at the gates, then he called for Lord Wentworth's major-domo, with whom he held a brief consultation apart. Then turning to Geoffrey, he said—

"The Castle is very full of guests to-night, yet the major-domo can give you 'soldiers' quarters' if you will deign to accept so humble a lodging."

"We are soldiers," replied Geoffrey cheerfully, "we ask for nothing better."

Forthwith the official led them through a long vaulted passage, lit with oil lamps, from which they emerged into a large low vaulted room, roughly but sufficiently furnished with tables and wooden benches. A great fire-place occupied one end of the room, and a quantity of firewood lay on the hearth waiting to be kindled.

Three stone-mullioned windows gave light and air, and from them the twinkling lights of the town could be perceived as it stretched itself out below them. Cressets hung from the walls, and into one of them the major-domo thrust the blazing torch he had been carrying.

"By my faith I am sorry to give you so poor a lodging," said Captain Lascelles; "but to-morrow the major-domo will be able to do something better for you. Beyond this room there lies another exactly like it, but furnished with truckle-beds, which shall be provided with fresh and clean linen and blankets for you. And now, gentlemen," he continued, "may I suggest that you come to my quarters in the Castle, which, poor as they are, present a few more comforts than this cold stone room. Meanwhile, your varlets can light your fires and help the major-domo to lay your supper—what say you?"

The offer was so kindly made and evidently so well meant, that Geoffrey at once answered—

"Most willingly, sir, and we are greatly your debtors. Meanwhile," he added, "I have a letter from Lord Clinton to the Governor, will you kindly see that it reaches his hand to-night; the royal mandate from King Philip I must deliver to his Lordship myself."

"It shall be done," said Captain Lascelles; "and now, if it please you, I beg you to follow me."

A few steps brought them to the courtyard, and crossing it the Captain led the way to a flight of stone steps on the southern side. Ascending these the party found themselves in front of a strong, heavy door, on which Captain Lascelles rapped loudly.

A soldier speedily answered the summons and led the way to his master's quarters, holding aloft a flaming torch. It was a stone-built room, even the floor was stone, like every other chamber in that ancient citadel, but in every other respect it was luxuriously furnished. Glittering designs in daggers and poniards of every age adorned the walls, which were covered with rich tapestries, soft couches and divans invited to repose, curiously carved tables and chairs testified to the taste and elegance of the young Captain of the guard.

"Be seated, gentlemen," cried Lascelles, as he sounded a gong and bade his servants bring wine and refreshment.

"But are we not keeping you from the Governor's hospitable table?" said Geoffrey, as the sounds of arriving guests ascended from the courtyard.

"Nay," said the Captain, with a laugh; "I am on duty to-night."

"Then, in that case, I pray that you will not let us burden you with our company," replied Geoffrey.

"I am free for an hour," replied Lascelles; "De Courcy, my lieutenant, takes my place."

So they sat down while rich wines were being poured into silver goblets and toasts were drunk. Lascelles would fain know all the recent military news from St. Quentin, of which the world knew little as yet. He was eager to hear of the King's present position and his schemes for the future. On many such points Geoffrey was able and willing to give information; on others he preserved a discreet silence, as became a King's envoy sent on a secret mission.

Thus an hour flew rapidly by, and then Geoffrey, pleading fatigue, obtained his host's permission to withdraw to the quarters assigned to them. There they found bright fires burning, and a substantial meal had been provided by the major-domo, with wines for the gentlemen and small-beer for the varlets.

The evening was speeding on, and the Englishmen were about to retire to their truckle-beds, when an unlooked-for intervention occurred. There was a knock at the door, then it was thrown open and a young aide-de-camp, richly dressed, stepped into the room with the words—

"May it please you, gentlemen, his Excellency the Governor!" and therewith the Earl of Wentworth appeared on the threshold.

He was splendidly dressed, as became a great noble. He had left his guests for a brief space, and so was in all the rich attire of the banqueting-room. Bowing courteously to the young men, he besought them to take their seats, as he sat down on one of the rough chairs of the guard-room. Turning to his aide-de-camp the Governor said—

"Descend to the courtyard and wait there for me, take with you the three grooms, and let no man disturb us."

The envoys were left alone with the Earl.

Lord Wentworth was an elderly man of grave and even majestic mien. As "Lord of the Marches" he had seen much service in the Border warfare between England and Scotland; he had only recently been appointed to the Governorship of Calais. In quiet and easy tones he addressed the envoys.

"Lord Clinton's letter has just reached my hands," he said, "and in it he tells me that you are the bearers of a royal mandate for me from King Philip. He tells me that the matter is urgent, and that must be my excuse for disturbing you at this late hour of the night. I crave your pardon therein. I shall be glad to read the mandate ere I retire to rest."

Geoffrey at once arose, bowed low, and presented the royal document.

"I thank you, young sir," said the Earl. "To-morrow morning at nine o'clock I ask your company to breakfast, there is much that you can tell me which I am very desirous to hear, for Lord Clinton tells me that you come direct from St. Quentin. And now I will not detain you from your rest, you have travelled far and must needs be fatigued. And so good-night, gentlemen!"

And therewith the Earl, attended by Geoffrey, who carried a torch, descended to the courtyard. Ere the Governor quitted his young companion, he said—

"I gather from Lord Clinton's letter that one of you three gentlemen is Geoffrey de Fynes—are you he?"

"Yes, your Lordship," replied Geoffrey.

"Then you are of the family of the 'Dacres of the South,' I presume," said the Earl. "I have known the 'Dacres of the North' all my life and I have been honoured by their friendship."

Then the Earl shook hands warmly with Geoffrey.

"I am glad to know you, sir, and to welcome you to this town of Calais, of which your grandfather was Governor in the famous year of 'The Field of the Cloth of Gold,' unless I err?"

Geoffrey bowed acquiescence, and the interview came to an end.

Soon the six weary travellers sought their truckle-beds and found solace in sleep.

The morning had come, the Earl and his three young guests had breakfasted in the great hall of the Castle. The servants had been dismissed and the gentlemen sat alone.

"Last night," said the Earl to them, "I read King Philip's letter, and I gather from it that he wishes me to allow you three gentlemen to make a thorough, but informal, inspection of the fortifications and the garrison of Calais. You will carry your report to Cardinal Pole, and the King earnestly hopes that the English Government will remedy whatsoever may be lacking here. His Majesty's wishes are commands to me, and they shall be willingly obeyed. Indeed, I am heartily glad to have this new opportunity of laying our needs before the Government, to whom I have written many letters and sent many messengers in vain. The King is rightly informed respecting the condition of matters here; it is true we need more men, more guns, and a greater supply of ammunition, and our walls are crumbling into ruin in many important points. Yet I do not fear any foe, nor do I believe that Calais can fall. I held Berwick Castle against all the power of Scotland, with a smaller garrison and with poorer means of defence!

"But now we will go forth and you shall see for yourselves how matters stand with us. First, we will inspect the Castle itself, and I will show you our magazines. And we go unattended, remembering that your mission is a secret one. The garrison is being drilled in the great courtyard at this moment. You shall see the men under arms."

The Governor had ordered a full muster this morning, and the courtyard presented a scene full of life and animation when the whole garrison presented arms as the Earl and his guests made their appearance.

The envoys passed between the lines and closely inspected the men and their equipment. The review was soon completed, and the men went to their quarters with a great beating of drums and blowing of trumpets.

"What think you of them?" asked the Governor, as he and his guests moved on to the bastions.

The envoys consulted together for a brief space, and then Geoffrey, as spokesman, gave their opinion.

"The men were gallant English soldiers, but they were chiefly old men, some of them surely past the usual age for men on service. Their weapons were older still, and the arquebusiers were astonishingly few in number," such was their verdict.

The Governor sighed as he admitted that the criticism was just, and he now proceeded to lead the party to the Castle wall.

Many of the great guns were so old that it would be dangerous to use them; one wondrous piece of artillery dated back to the days of CrÉcy.

"But others are on their way hither," the Governor explained. "They were at Dover waiting for shipment," according to his latest information.

Then a circuit of the fortifications was made, and it was all too evident that many towers were crumbling to ruin.

Later in the day the Governor took his guests to the outer walls of the town, the bulwarks of Froyton and NeslÉ were visited, Newhaven Bridge (as it was somewhat curiously named) was traversed, and they inspected the Risbank and the great moats. These moats formed a vital point in the defence of Calais, should the day of trial come, yet were so ill cared for that some were dry, and in others the water was so shallow that great mudbanks displayed themselves in their midst.

It was with saddened hearts that the envoys returned to the Castle, having inspected the sea walls and the surrounding country as far as Guisnes and Hames.

The night had fallen, the great gates of the Castle were closed and the watches were set.

The envoys were the guests of the Governor, and they sat at supper in the great hall. This was the noblest room in the Castle, it had been built by King Henry the Fifth, and it was a worthy trophy of the Warrior King. Its lofty roof towered above them, dimly seen by the light of the great lanterns which hung upon the walls. On festive nights the iron cressets, suspended at intervals between the lanterns, were filled with blazing torches, and over the "high table" hung handsome candelabra, which on rare occasions glittered with the light of hundreds of wax candles. But this was a "low night," and the daÏs was illuminated by lanterns only.

"So to-morrow you leave us," said the Governor, as the supper being finished they sat over their wine. "I am sorry that you cannot prolong your stay, for I would fain have seen more of you, but I know it is impossible. I will not ask you aught respecting your report to the Cardinal, but I can divine what it will be. You tell me that the English contingent are clamouring for their return home: ask him to send me but a thousand of those gallant men and I will pledge my honour that in Calais the flag of St. George will never give place to the lilies of France! But above all things let the help, whatever it may be, come quickly. I have forgotten what little Latin I ever knew, but there is an old tag which I learnt at Carlisle Grammar School which dwells in my memory: Bis dat qui cito dat!"

The young men were much moved as the veteran soldier talked.

"God grant that the Cardinal may listen to us, and that the Government will heed him," said Ralph.

"But the Cardinal is the Government, for at this moment he rules supreme in the council, and the Queen relies implicitly upon his advice," replied the Governor. "Persuade him and the thing is accomplished. Calais will stand for another two hundred years as the brightest gem in the English crown—Heaven grant it!"

"But meanwhile," interposed Ralph again, "meanwhile, if Guise come?"

"Our latest advice is that Guise will not come," answered the Governor; "he has joined De Nevers and their combined armies are moving into Picardy: all men say that France will make a desperate effort to reconquer St. Quentin—and will make it soon."

"It is the unexpected which happens," said Geoffrey.

So they talked till the hour grew late and it was time to retire. This night they were to occupy the "Guest chamber" in the Governor's lodging.

"To-morrow, then," said the Earl, as he bade them a good-night, "to-morrow the tide serves at ten in the morning, and I have ordered a swift fly-boat to be ready for you at the quay at that hour. And now good-night, good-night!"