ROUT OF THE MARSHALS
It was now nine o'clock on the morning of Monday; and with trumpets
sounding, and armour glancing in the sun, and banners waving in the
wind, the French cavalry headed by the marshals came on, laying their
lances in rest, and shouting their battle-cries. Their object was to
break the archers who were drawn up in the form of a harrow in front
of the men-at-arms; and, being unaware that the hedges were lined
with bowmen, they advanced intrepidly into the lane, and prepared to
charge. But as they little knew the peril they were incurring, so it
speedily appeared that they were quite unprepared to meet any that
might unexpectedly occur. No sooner were they fairly in the lane than
Liulph of Windsor gave the signal, and forthwith from either hedge
started hundreds of archers, with green jackets and white bows, as if
they had emerged from the bowels of the earth, and straightway from
the white bows barbed arrows flew like showers of hail. The movement
was almost magical in its effect. In an instant the marshals were in
consternation; and in another instant this consternation was turned
into terror. Riders and horses were equally confounded, amazed,
and startled. The men lost their presence of mind, and gazed round
in horror; and their steeds, galled with the pain of their wounds,
plunged, snorted, refused to advance, and wheeled round, carrying their
riders to and fro.
In vain several knights and squires, with strong wills and strong arms,
attempted to force their way forward to the point where the prince
was stationed. All their efforts were vain. The confusion was too
thorough; and while the French were still in panic and dismay, into the
midst of them rode Lord Audley and Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt, with
their squires, smiting to the ground all who opposed them; and forward
on foot rushed the English men-at-arms, doing terrible execution,
and capturing and slaying knights and squires at their pleasure.
Resistance was useless under the circumstances. Men and horses sank
to rise no more. Nor did the French marshals fare better than their
comrades. While shrieks of dismay and pain rent the air, and intimated
to the great army of France the fate that had befallen their van, the
Lord d'Andreghen, after being roughly handled, was taken prisoner; and
the Lord Clermont, after bravely fighting under his banner as long as
he was able, was ultimately struck down and killed on the spot.
"Now, thanks to God and St. George," exclaimed the prince, joyfully,
"the day promises to be ours; and ours it shall be, if courage can make
up for want of numbers. But let us not delay in pursuing the advantage
we have gained. Mount and ride," said he, turning round, "and lose not
a moment in ordering the men-at-arms and archers on the hill to attack
the second battalion of the enemy. Haste, haste! ride as if for your
life."
Without a word I, Arthur Winram, sprang on my steed, and spurring
through thorns and vines, and over hedge and dyke, carried the prince's
order to the knights; and almost ere I had time to return the movement
was executed. Descending the hill and making a circuit, the men-at-arms
and mounted archers suddenly showed themselves on the flank and rear
of that division of the French commanded by the Duke of Normandy, and
the effect was such as can hardly be described. Aware that their first
battalion was routed, the French knights and men-at-arms hastened to
mount their horses, and panic seized the whole division. With vivid
recollections of Cressy passing through their minds, the nobles around
the Duke of Normandy detached eight hundred lances to escort the heir
of France and his brother from the field; and their departure was taken
as the signal for a general flight.
"All is lost, and it is time for every man to look to his own safety,"
was the cry; and leaving John of Valois and the third battalion to
their fate, knights, and squires, and men-at-arms fled hurriedly and in
disorder.
"By my faith," exclaimed I gaily as I watched the flight, "that is a
pleasant sight to see. Our English archers never fail their country in
the hour of need."
"Nevertheless," observed Sir John Chandos, who was tiring of inaction,
"to me it seems not meet that the archers should have all the peril and
all the honour of the day."
"In truth," said the prince, musingly, "these archers have been of
infinite service; for had they not shot so thickly and so well that our
enemies knew not on which side to turn, our position would have been
forced. But now methinks it is full time to mount our horses and charge
upon our enemies, to complete the work so well begun."
"Sir," said Sir John Chandos, "you speak truly: it is time to mount and
make for your adversary, who calls himself King of France; for where he
is, there will be the main stress of the business. I know well that he
has too much valour to fly, and, if it please God and St. George, he
must remain with us as our prisoner."
"Meanwhile," said the prince, "he must be well fought with; wherefore
let us mount with all speed, and advance to the encounter."