Two days later the conspiracy came to a head, and the people, assembling round the countess's house, clamoured for surrender. The breaches were open, and the enemy might pour in at any time and put all to the sword. The countess begged for a little further delay, but in vain, and withdrew to the turret where she had for so many weary weeks watched the horizon, in hopes of seeing the sails of the approaching fleet. Walter was at the time with Sir John Powis on the walls.

Presently a large body of French were seen approaching headed by Henry de Leon, who summoned the town to surrender. Many standing on the walls shouted that the gates should be thrown open; but Sir John returned for answer that he must consult the countess, and that upon her answer must depend whether he and his men would defend the breach until the last.

"Come with me, Walter," he said, "we must fain persuade the countess. If she says no, we Englishmen will die in the breach; but though ready to give my life for so brave a lady, I own that it is useless to fight longer. Save our own little band not one in the town will lift a sword again. Such resistance as we can offer will but inflame them to fury, and all the horrors of a sack will be inflicted upon the inhabitants. There she is, poor lady, on the turret, gazing, as usual, seaward."