any news; but, at the beginning of December, there were seen arriving in
France some poor creatures, half naked, dying of hunger, cold, and
weariness, and giving deplorable accounts of the destruction of the
French army. The people would not believe them: "They ought to be thrown
into the water," they said, "these scoundrels who propagate such lies."
But, on the 23th of December, there arrived at Paris James de Helly, a
knight of Artois, who, booted and spurred, strode into the hostel of
St. Paul, threw himself on his knees before the king in the midst of the
princes, and reported that he had come straight from Turkey; that on the
28th of the preceding September the Christian army had been destroyed at
the battle of Nicopolis; that most of the lords had been either slain in
battle or afterwards massacred by the sultan's order; and that the Count
of Nevers had sent him to the king and to his father the duke, to get
negotiations entered into for his release. There was no exaggeration
about the knight's story. The battle had been terrible, the slaughter
awful. For the latter, the French, who were for a moment victorious, had
set a cruel example with their prisoners; and Bajazet had surpassed them
in cool ferocity. After the first explosion of the father's and the
people's grief, the ransom of the prisoners became the topic. It was a
large sum, and rather difficult to raise; and, whilst it was being sought
for, James de Helly returned to report as much to Bajazet, and to place
himself once more in his power. "Thou art welcome," said the sultan;
"thou hast loyally kept thy word; I give thee thy liberty; thou canst go
whither thou wiliest."

Terms of ransom were concluded; and the sum total was paid through the
hands of Bartholomew Pellegrini, a Genoese trader. Before the Count of
Nevers and his comrades set out, Bajazet sent for them. "John," said he
to the count through an interpreter, "I know that thou art a great lord
in thy country, and the son of a great lord. Thou art young. It may be