THE ARRAY OF THE ENGLISH
The night of Sunday passed without any incident worthy of record; and
cold and clear dawned the morning of Monday, the 19th of September,
1356--a day likely to be long remembered by one nation with pride, by
the other with mortification.
From the moment that the Cardinal of Perigord took his departure,
without being able to bring John of Valois to any reasonable terms,
the Prince of Wales perceived that an engagement was inevitable, and
lost no time in regrets for what could not be remedied. Nor was it
the prince's interest to encourage further delay; for, as regarded
provisions, the hostile armies were very differently situated. The
French, who had plenty, were living at their ease; the English, who
had hardly any, and who had not the means of procuring either food or
forage, were in danger of perishing from want, or of being starved
into submission. Nothing but a battle and a victory could relieve the
English from their perplexities; and to fight a battle and obtain a
victory the prince bent all his energy and all his intelligence.
I have stated that, on halting at Mapertuis, the Prince of Wales
posted himself in a vineyard that could only be entered by a narrow
lane; and that, having fortified the weak places with his bombards and
baggage-waggons, and lined the hedges of the narrow lane with archers
to harass the approaching foe, he skilfully posted his men-at-arms in
the vineyard among vines and thorns, and in front of them placed a body
of archers, drawn up in the form of a portcullis, or harrow, and dug
ditches and threw up mounds to defend the archers against the attack
of cavalry. On Monday morning the prince did not see reason to make
any alterations in his order of battle; but he ordered some knights of
skill and valour to remain on horseback, and with six hundred archers
on horseback post themselves on a little hill to the right, and, by
passing over the summit, to get round that wing of the French which,
under the Duke of Normandy, was posted at the base of the hill. Having
seen that his order was obeyed, the prince returned to the middle
of the vineyard, and there remained on foot with the knights and
men-at-arms, all of them being completely armed, with their horses
near, to be mounted in case of need.
And now, having given his standard to be borne in the battle by Sir
Walter Woodland, the Prince of Wales, attended by James, Lord Audley,
and Sir John Chandos, with his black armour braced on, save the helmet,
which was carried by Simon Burley, his favourite squire, stood forth,
and, raising his hand to command attention--agreeably to the custom
observed on the previous day by John of Valois--addressed himself to
those who shared the dangers of his situation.
"Sirs," said the prince, elevating his voice to make his words heard
as far as possible, "it seems evident to me, after all that has passed
within the last twenty-four hours, that this man, who calls himself
King of France, and usurps my father's rights and dignity, holds me and
my army in great contempt. Nor, considering how small a body we are
compared to our enemies, should I marvel at their confidence if I did
not remember how a host of men were overthrown by a handful on that day
when Philip of Valois came to give battle to my lord and father on the
plains of Cressy. Wherefore, sirs, what though we be a small body of
men compared to our foes? Do not let us be cast down on that account;
for the battle is not always to the strong, nor does victory always
follow numbers; but where the Almighty pleases to bestow it, there does
it fall. If, through good fortune, the day be ours, we shall gain the
greatest honour and glory in this world; and if the contrary should
happen, and we fall, I have a father and brothers, and you also have
friends and kinsmen, by whom our fall will surely be avenged. For my
part, I have already said, and I now repeat, that I will not fall into
the hands of our enemies alive, and that England shall never have to
pay a ransom for me. Therefore, sirs, I entreat all of you to do your
devoirs bravely, like freemen and Englishmen; and, come what may, you
shall see me this day prove myself a good and hardy knight, so help me
God and good St. George!"
Almost as the prince concluded, and reverentially kissed the cross
on his sword, the trumpets of the French marshals sounded, and the
army of John of Valois, which had been for some time forming in the
plain of Beauvoir, began to advance; and, ere the loud cheer caused
by the prince's spirited harangue died away, the marshals, at the
head of their men-at-arms, were spurring forward, with the object of
penetrating through the narrow lane into the vineyard.
At that moment Lord Audley turned to the prince.
"Sir," said he, "I have ever most loyally served my lord your father
and yourself, and shall, so long as I have life, continue to do so. But
I must now acquaint you that formerly I made a vow, if ever I should be
in battle with your father or any of his sons, that I would be foremost
in the attack, and either prove myself the best combatant on his side
or die in the attempt. I therefore beg most earnestly, as a reward for
any services I may have rendered, that you will grant me permission
honourably to quit you, that I may post myself in such wise as to
accomplish my vow."
"Sir James," replied the prince, graciously holding out his hand, "I
readily grant your request; and may God ordain that this day you shine
in valour above all other knights!"
And Lord Audley, setting off and riding forward with only four squires,
whom he had retained to guard his person, placed himself in front
of the English to fight with the battalion of the marshals; and Sir
Eustace d'Ambreticourt pushed forward to a similar position, hoping
also to be the first to engage. But Sir John Chandos remained at the
right hand of the prince to aid and advise him, and intimated his
determination never during the day, on any account, to leave his post.
And then began the battle of Poictiers.