CRESSY.
The surprise of the French army at finding themselves in the presence of
the English was so great that the first line recoiled in confusion.
Those marching up from behind imagined that they had been already
engaged and repulsed by the English, and the disorder spread through the
whole army, and was increased by the common people, who had crowded to
the field in immense numbers from the whole country round to see the
battle and share in the plunder of the English camp.
From King Edward's position on the rising ground he could see the
confusion which prevailed in the French ranks, and small as were his
forces, he would probably have obtained an easy victory by ordering a
sudden charge upon them. The English, however, being dismounted, but
small results would have followed the scattering of the great host of
the French. The English army therefore remained immovable, except that
the soldiers rose from the ground, and taking their places in the ranks,
awaited the onslaught of the enemy.
King Philip himself now arrived on the field, and his hatred for the
English led him at once to disregard the advice which had been given him
and to order the battle to commence as soon as possible.
The army was divided into four bodies, of which Philip commanded one,
the Count D'Alencon the second, the King of Bohemia the third, and the
Count of Savoy the fourth. Besides these were a band of fifteen thousand
mercenaries, Genoese cross-bowmen, who were now ordered to pass between
the ranks of cavalry and to clear the ground of the English archers, who
were drawn up in the usual form in which they fought--namely, in very
open order, line behind line, the men standing alternately, so that each
had ample room to use his bow and to fire over the heads of those in
front. The formation was something that of a harrow, and, indeed,
exactly resembled that in which the Roman archers fought, and was called
by them a quincunx.
The Genoese had marched four leagues beneath a hot sun loaded with their
armor and heavy cross-bows, and they remonstrated against the order,
urging that they were in no condition to do good service without some
repose. The Count D'Alencon, furious at their hesitation, ordered them
up, but as they advanced a terrible thunderstorm, with torrents of rain,
broke over the armies, and wetting the cords of the cross-bows rendered
many of them unserviceable. At length the cross-bowmen were arranged in
front, while behind them were the vast body of French cavalry, and the
order was given for the battle to begin.
The Genoese advanced with loud shouts, but the English archers paid no
attention to the noise, but waited calmly for the attack. At this moment
the sun, now approaching the west, shone out brightly between the clouds
behind the English, its rays streaming full in the faces of the French.
The Genoese were now within distance, and began to discharge their
quarrels at their impassive enemies, but as they opened fire the English
archers drew their bows from the cases which had protected them from the
rain, and stepping forward poured their arrows among the Genoese. The
cross-bowmen were smitten as with a storm, numbers were struck in the
face and other unprotected parts, and they were instantly thrown into
confusion, and casting away their cross-bows they recoiled in disorder
among the horsemen behind them.
Philip, passionate and cruel as ever, instead of trying to rally the
Genoese, ordered the cavalry behind them to fall upon them, and the
men-at-arms at once plunged in among the disordered mass of the
cross-bowmen, and a wild scene of carnage and confusion ensued, the
English archers continuing to pour their unerring arrows into the midst.
The Count D'Alencon, who was behind, separated his division into two
bodies, and swept round on one side himself, while the Count of Flanders
did the same on the other to attack the Prince of Wales in more regular
array. Taking a circuitous route, D'Alencon appeared upon a rising
ground on the flank of the archers of the Black Prince, and thus,
avoiding their arrows, charged down with his cavalry upon the eight
hundred men-at-arms gathered round the Black Prince, while the Count of
Flanders attacked on the other flank.
Nobly did the flower of English chivalry withstand the shock of the
French, and the prince himself and the highest nobles and simple
men-at-arms fought side by side. None gave way a foot.
In vain the French, with impetuous charges, strove to break through the
mass of steel. The spear-heads were cleft off with sword and battle-ax,
and again and again men and horses recoiled from the unbroken line. Each
time the French retired the English ranks were formed anew, and as
attack followed attack a pile of dead rose around them. The Count
D'Alencon and the Duke of Lorraine were among the first who fell. The
young Count of Blois, finding that he could not ride through the wall of
steel, dismounted with his knights and fought his way on foot toward the
banner of the Prince of Wales. For a time the struggle was desperate,
and the young prince, with his household knights, was for a time
well-nigh beaten back.
Walter, fighting close beside the prince, parried more than one blow
intended for him, and the prince himself slew the Count of Blois, whose
followers all fell around him. The Count of Flanders was also slain, and
confusion began to reign among the assailants, whose leaders had now
all fallen. Philip himself strove to advance with his division into the
fight, but the struggle between the Genoese and the men-at-arms was
still continuing, and the very multitude of his troops in the narrow and
difficult field which the English had chosen for the battle embarrassed
his movements.
Charles of Luxembourg, King of the Romans, and afterward Emperor of
Germany, son of the old King of Bohemia, with a large body of German and
French cavalry, now assailed the English archers, and in spite of their
flights of arrows came to close quarters, and cutting their way through
them joined in the assault upon the men-at-arms of the Black Prince.
Nearly forty thousand men were now pressing round the little body, and
the Earls of Northampton and Arundel moved forward with their divisions
to his support, while the Earl of Warwick, who was with the prince,
dispatched Sir Thomas of Norwich to the king, who still remained with
his powerful reserve, to ask for aid.
"Sir Thomas," demanded the king, "is my son killed, overthrown, or
wounded beyond help?"
"Not so, sire," replied the knight, "but he is in a rude fight, and much
needs your aid."
"Go back, Sir Thomas, to those who sent you, and tell them from me that
whatsoever happens they require no aid from me so long as my son is in
life. Tell them also that I command them to let the boy win his spurs,
for, God willing, the day shall be his, and the honor shall rest with
him and those into whose charge I have given him."
The prince and those around him were filled with fresh ardor when they
received this message. Each man redoubled his efforts to repel the
forces that were incessantly poured down upon them by the French. On all
sides these pressed around them, striving desperately, but ever in vain,
to break through the solid ranks of the English. The French men-at-arms
suffered, moreover, terribly from the attacks of the Welsh infantry.
These men, clad in thick leather jerkins, nimble of foot, accustomed to
a life of activity, were armed with shortened lances and knives, and
mingled fearlessly among the confused mass of French cavalry, creeping
beneath the horses' bellies, standing up when they got a chance, and
stabbing horses and men with their knives and pikes. Many were trampled
upon or struck down, but numbering, as they did, six thousand, they
pervaded the whole mass of the enemy, and did terrible execution, adding
in no small degree to the confusion caused by the shower of arrows from
the archers within the circle of the men-at-arms. The instant a French
knight fell, struck from his horse with a battle-ax or arrow, or by the
fall of a wounded steed, the half-wild Welsh were upon him and slew him
before he could regain his feet.
The slaughter was immense. The Count of Harcourt, with his nephew the
Count D'Aumale and his two gallant sons, fell together, and at last
Charles of Luxembourg, seeing his banner down, his troops routed, his
friends slain, and the day irreparably lost, and being himself severely
wounded in three places, turned his horse and fled, casting off his rich
emblazoned surcoat to avoid recognition. In the mean time Prince
Charles' father, the veteran King of Bohemia, once one of the most
famous warriors of Europe, but now old and blind, sat on horseback at a
little distance from the fight; the knights around him told him the
events as they happened, and the old monarch soon saw that the day was
lost. He asked them for tidings of his son Charles of Luxembourg, but
they were forced to reply that the banner of the King of the Romans was
no longer in sight, but that, doubtless, he was somewhere engaged in the
_melee_.
"Lords," said the old man, "you are my vassals, my friends, and my
companions, and on this day I command and beseech you to lead me forward
so far that I may deal one blow of my sword in the battle."
His faithful friends obeyed him, a number of knights arranged themselves
around him, and lest they should lose him in the fight they tied their
horses together by the bridles and charged down into the fray. Advancing
directly against the banner of the Prince of Wales, the blind monarch
was carried into the midst of the thickest strife. There the little
group of knights fought gallantly, and after the battle was over the
bodies of the king and his friends were found lying together, their dead
horses still linked by the bridles.
During this terrible battle, which had been raging since three o'clock,
Philip had made strenuous efforts to aid his troops engaged in the front
by continually sending fresh bodies to the assault. It was now growing
dark, terror and confusion had already spread among the French, and many
were flying in all directions, and the unremitting showers of English
arrows still flew like hail among their ranks. As the king made his way
forward, surrounded by his personal attendants, to take part himself in
the fight, his followers fell thick around him, and his horse was slain
by an arrow. John of Hainault, who had remained by his side during the
whole day, mounted him upon a fresh horse and urged him to fly, as the
day was lost. Philip, however, persisted, and made his way into the
_melee_, where he fought for some time with extreme courage, until
almost all around him were slain, the royal standard-bearer killed, and
himself wounded in two places. John of Hainault then seized his bridle,
exclaiming, "Come away, sire, it is full time; do not throw your life
away foolishly; if you have lost this day you will win another," and so
almost forced the unwilling king from the field. Philip, accompanied by
the lords of Montmorency, Beaujeu, Aubigny, and Mansault, with John of
Hainault and sixty men-at-arms, rode to the Castle of Broye, and there
halted for a few hours. At midnight he again set out, and in the morning
arrived safely at Amiens.
The Black Prince held his station until night without yielding a single
step to all the efforts of the French. Gradually, however, the
assailants became less and less numerous, the banners disappeared, and
the shouts of the leaders and the clang of arms died away, and the
silence which prevailed over the field at once announced that the
victory was complete and the enemy in full flight. An immense number of
torches were now lighted through the English lines, and the king,
quitting for the first time his station on the hill, came down to
embrace his gallant son. Edward and his host rejoiced in a spirit of
humility over the victory. No songs of triumph, no feastings or
merriment were permitted, but a solemn service of the Church was held,
and the king and his soldiers offered their thanks to God for the
victory he had given them. The English army lay all night under arms,
and a number of scattered parties of the French wandering about in the
darkness entered the lines and were slain or taken prisoners.
The dawn of the next morning was thick and foggy, and intelligence
coming in that a large body of the enemy were advancing upon them, the
Earls of Northampton, Warwick, and Norfolk, with five hundred
men-at-arms and two thousand archers, went out to reconnoiter, and came
in the misty twilight upon an immense force composed of the citizens of
Beauvais, Rouen, and some other towns, led by the Grand Prior of France
and the Archbishop of Rouen, who were approaching the field.
By some extraordinary accident they had not met any of the fugitives
flying from Cressy, and were ignorant that a battle had been fought.
The English charged them at once. Their advance-guard, consisting of
burghers, was easily overthrown. The second division, which was composed
of men-at-arms, fought bravely, but was unable to withstand the charge
of the triumphant English, and was completely broken and defeated. The
grand prior was killed and a vast number of his followers slain or
captured. During the whole of the morning detached parties from Edward's
army scoured the country, dispersing and slaughtering bands of French
who still remained together, and toward night the Earl of Northampton
returned to the camp with the news that no enemy remained in the
vicinity that could offer a show of resistance to the English force.
It is said that a far greater number of French were killed upon the
second day than upon the first. This can be accounted for by the fact
that on the first day but a small portion of the English army were
engaged, and that upon the second the English were fresh and vigorous,
and their enemies exhausted and dispirited.
The greater number of the French nobles and knights who fell died in
their attempt to break through the Black Prince's array. Besides the
King of Bohemia, nine sovereign princes and eighty great nobles were
killed, with twelve hundred knights, fifteen hundred men-at-arms, and
thirty thousand foot; while on the English side only three knights and a
small number of men-at-arms and infantry were killed. The body of the
King of Bohemia and those of the other great leaders were carried in
solemn pomp to the Abbey of Maintenay. Edward himself and his son
accompanied them as mourners.
On the Monday following Edward marched with his army against Calais, and
summoned the town to surrender. John of Vienne, who commanded the
garrison, refused to comply with the demand. The fortifications of the
town were extremely strong and the garrison numerous, and Edward
perceived that an assault would be very unlikely to succeed, and would
entail great loss, while a repulse would have dimmed the luster of the
success which he had gained. He therefore determined to reduce it by
famine, and the troops were set to work to build huts. So permanently
and strongly were these constructed that it seemed to the enemy that
King Edward was determined to remain before Calais even should he have
to stay there for ten years.
Proclamations were issued in England and Flanders inviting traders to
establish stores and to bring articles of trade of all kinds, and in a
short time a complete town sprang up which was named by Edward New-Town
the Bold. The English fleet held complete possession of the sea, cutting
off the besieged from all succor by ship, and enabling abundant supplies
for the army to be brought from England and Flanders. Strong parties
were sent out in all directions. The northern provinces of France were
scoured, and the army was amply provided with necessaries and even
luxuries.
After the first terrible shock caused by the crushing defeat of Cressy,
King Philip began at once to take measures for the relief of Calais, and
made immense efforts again to put a great army in the field. He
endeavored by all means in his power to gain fresh allies. The young
Count of Flanders, who at the death of his father at Cressy was sixteen
years of age, was naturally even more hostile to the English than the
late prince had been, and he strove to win over his subjects to the
French alliance, while Philip made them magnificent offers if they would
join him. The Flemings, however, remained stanch to the English
alliance, and held their prince in duress until he at last consented to
marry the daughter of Edward. A week before the date fixed for the
nuptials, however, he managed to escape from the vigilance of his guards
when out hawking, and fled to the court of France.
In Scotland, Philip was more successful, and David Bruce, instead of
employing the time given him by the absence of Edward with his armies in
driving out the English garrisons from the strong places they still held
in Scotland, raised an army of fifty thousand men and marched across the
border into England plundering and ravaging. Queen Philippa, however,
raising an army, marched against him, and the Scotch were completely
defeated at Neville's Cross, fifteen thousand being killed and their
king himself taken prisoner.
Walter's conduct at the battle of Cressy gained him still further the
favor of the Black Prince. The valor with which he had fought was
conspicuous even on a field where all fought gallantly, and the prince
felt that more than once he would have been smitten down had not
Walter's sword interposed. Ralph too had fought with reckless bravery,
and many French knights and gentlemen had gone down before the
tremendous blows of his heavy mace, against which the stoutest armor
availed nothing. After the battle the prince offered to make him an
esquire in spite of the absence of gentle blood in his veins, but Ralph
declined the honor.
"An it please you, Sir Prince," he said, "but I should feel more
comfortable among the men-at-arms, my fellows. In the day of battle I
trust that I should do no discredit to my squirehood, but at other times
I should feel woefully out of my element, and should find naught for my
hands to do; therefore, if it so pleases your royal highness, I would
far rather remain a simple man-at-arms."
Ralph did not, however, refuse the heavy purse which the prince gave
him, although indeed he, as well as all the soldiers, was well supplied
with money, so great were the spoils which the army had gathered in its
march before Cressy, and which they now swept off in their raids among
the northern provinces of France.
One evening Walter was returning from a banquet at the pavilion of the
Prince of Wales, with Ralph as usual following at a little distance,
when from a corner of the street a man darted suddenly out and struck a
dagger with all his force between his shoulders. Well was it for Walter
that he had taken Geoffrey's advice, and had never laid aside the shirt
of mail, night or day. Fine as was its temper, two or three links of the
outer fold were broken, but the point did not penetrate the second fold,
and the dagger snapped in the hand of the striker. The force of the
sudden blow, however, hurled Walter to the ground. With a loud cry Ralph
rushed forward. The man instantly fled. Ralph pursued him but a short
distance and then hastened back to Walter.
"Are you hurt, Sir Walter?" he exclaimed.
"In no way, Ralph, thanks to my shirt of mail. Well, indeed, was it for
me that I was wearing it or I should assuredly have been a dead man. I
had almost begun to forget that I was a threatened man; but I shall be
on guard for the future."
"I wish I had followed the fellow," Ralph said. "I would not have slain
him could I have helped it, but would have left it for the hangman to
extort from him the name of his employer; but, in truth, he struck so
hard, and you fell so straight before the blow, that I feared the mail
had given way, and that you were sorely wounded if not killed. You have
oft told me that I was over-careful of you, but you see that I was not
careful enough; however, you may be assured that if another attempt be
made those who attempt it shall not get off scot-free. Do you think of
laying a complaint before the provost against him you suspect?"
"It would be useless, Ralph. We may have suspicion of the man from whom
the blow came, but have no manner of proof. It might have been done by
any ruffian camp-follower, who struck the blow only with the hope of
carrying off my chain and purse. The camp swarms with such fellows, and
we have no clew which could lead to his detection, unless," he added,
stooping and picking up a piece of steel which lay at his feet, "this
broken dagger may some day furnish us with one. No; we will say naught
about it. Sir James Carnegie is not now in camp, having left a week
since on business in England. We exchange no words when we meet, but I
heard that he had been called away. Fortunately the young prince likes
him not, and I therefore have seldom occasion to meet him. I have no
doubt that he credits me with the disfavor in which he is held by the
prince; but I have never even mentioned his name before him, and the
prince's misliking is but the feeling which a noble and generous heart
has, as though by instinct, against one who is false and treacherous. At
the same time we must grant that this traitor knight is a bold and
fearless man-at-arms; he fought well at La Blanche Tache and Cressy, and
he is much liked and trusted by my Lord of Northampton, in whose
following he mostly rides; 'tis a pity that one so brave should have so
foul and treacherous a heart. Here we are at my hut, and you can sleep
soundly to-night, Ralph, for there is little fear that the fellow, who
has failed to-night, will repeat his attempt for some time. He thinks,
no doubt, that he has killed me, for with a blow so strongly struck he
would scarce have felt the snapping of the weapon, and is likely enough
already on board one of the ships which ply to and fro from England on
his way to acquaint his employer that I am removed from his path."
The next morning Walter mentioned to the Black Prince the venture which
had befallen him, and the narrow escape he had had of his life. The
prince was extremely exasperated, and gave orders that an inquisition
should be made through the camp, and that all men found there not being
able to give a good account of themselves as having reasonable and
lawful calling there should be forthwith put on board ship and sent to
England. He questioned Walter closely whether he deemed that this attack
was for the purpose of plunder only, or whether he had any reason to
believe that he had private enemies.
"There is a knight who is evilly disposed toward me, your highness,"
Walter said; "but seeing that I have no proof whatever that he had a
hand in this affair, however strongly I may suspect it, I would fain,
with your leave, avoid mentioning his name."
"But think you that there is any knight in this camp capable of so foul
an action?"
"I have had proofs, your highness, that he is capable of such an act;
but in this matter my tongue is tied, as the wrong he attempted was not
against myself, but against others who have so far forgiven him that
they would fain the matter should drop. He owes me ill-will, seeing that
I am aware of his conduct, and that it was my intervention which caused
his schemes to fail. Should this attempt against me be repeated it can
scarce be the effect of chance, but would show premeditated design, and
I would then, both in defense of my own life, and because I think that
such deeds should not go unpunished, not hesitate to name him to you,
and if proof be wanting to defy him to open combat."
"I regret, Sir Walter, that your scruples should hinder you from at once
denouncing him; but seeing how grave a matter it is to charge a knight
with so foul a crime, I will not lay stress upon you; but be assured
that should any repetition of the attempt be made I shall take the
matter in hand, and will see that this caitiff knight receives his
deserts."
A short time afterward Walter accompanied the prince in an excursion
which he made with a portion of the army, sweeping the French provinces
as far as the river Somme. Upon their way back they passed through the
village of Pres, hard by which stood a small castle. It was situate some
forty miles from Calais, and standing upon rising ground it commanded a
very extensive view over the country.
"What say you, Sir Walter?" the prince said to the young knight who was
riding near him. "That castle would make a good advanced post, and a
messenger riding in could bring news of any large movements of the
enemy." Walter assented.
"Then, Sir Walter, I name you its chatelain. I shall be sorry to lose
your good company; but the post is one of peril, and I know that you are
ever longing to distinguish yourself. Take forty men-at-arms and sixty
archers. With that force you may make shift to resist any attack until
help reaches you from camp. You may be sure that I shall not be slack in
spurring to your rescue should you be assailed."
Walter received the proposal with delight. He was weary of the monotony
of life in New Town, and this post, in which vigilance and activity
would be required, was just to his taste; so, taking the force named by
the prince, with a store of provision, he drew off from the column and
entered the castle.