"Tomorrow, good comrades in arms, we will show yon laggard King of what
stuff English chivalry is made!" cried the young Prince of Wales, as he
rose to his feet and held a bumper of wine high above his head. "We have
our spurs to win, and tomorrow shall be our chance. Here is to the
victory of the English arms! May the mighty St. George fight upon our
side, and bring us with glory and honour through the day!"
Every guest at the Prince's table had leaped to his feet. Swords were
unsheathed and waved in wild enthusiasm, and a shout went up that was
like one of triumph, as with one voice the guests around the Prince's
table drained their cups to the victory of the English cause, shouting
with one voice, as if formulating a battle cry:
"St. George and the Prince! St. George and the Prince!"
In the English camp that night there were elation and revelry; not the
wild carousing that too often in those days preceded a battle and left
the soldiers unfit for duty, but a cheerful partaking of good and
sufficient food before the night's rest and ease which the King had
resolved upon for his whole army, in preparation for the battle that
could scarce be delayed longer than the morrow.
It was early on Thursday morning, the twenty-fourth day of August, that
the ford of the Blanche Tache had been crossed. Thursday and Friday had
been spent by the English in skirmishing about in search of provisions,
of which great abundance had been found, and in deciding upon the
disposition of their troops in a favourable position for meeting the
advance of the French.
The King had selected some wooded and rising ground in the vicinity of
the then obscure little village of Crecy. Then having made all his
arrangements with skill and foresight, and having ordered that his men
should be provided with ample cheer, and should rest quietly during the
night, he himself gave a grand banquet to the leaders of his army; and
the young Prince of Wales followed his father's example by inviting to
his own quarters some score of bold and congenial spirits amongst the
youthful gentlemen who followed his father's banner, to pass the time
with them in joyous feasting, and to lay plans for the glory of the
coming day.
It is difficult in these modern days to realize how young were some
amongst those who took part in the great battles of the past. The Black
Prince, as he was afterwards called from the sombre hue of the armour he
wore, was not yet fifteen when the Battle of Crecy was fought; and when
the King had summoned his bold subjects to follow him to the war, he had
called upon all knights and gentlemen between the ages of sixteen and
twenty to join themselves to him for this campaign in France. Lads who
would now be reckoned as mere schoolboys were then doughty warriors
winning their spurs in battle; and some of the most brilliant charges of
those chivalrous days were led and carried through mainly by striplings
scarce twenty years old. Inured from infancy to hardy sports, and
trained to arms to the exclusion almost of all other training, these
bold sons of England certainly proved equal to the demands made upon
them. True, they were often skilfully generalled by older men, but the
young ones held their own in prowess in the field; and child as the
Prince of Wales would now be considered, the right flank of the army was
to be led by him upon the morrow; and though the Earls of Warwick and
Hereford and other trusty veterans were with him, his was the command,
and to him were they to look.
No wonder then that the comrades who had marched with him through these
last hazardous days, and who had been with and about him for many months
-- some of them for years -- should rally round him now with the keenest
enthusiasm. The De Brocas brothers were there -- Oliver and Bernard
(John had not left England to follow the fortunes of the war) -- as well
as Gaston and his brother, whose return had been warmly welcomed by the
Prince. He had heard about the rescue of the woodman's son, and had been
greatly interested and taken by Raymond and his story. Student though he
might be by nature, Raymond was as eager as any for the fight that was
to come. He had caught the spirit of the warlike King's camp, and his
blood was on fire to strike a blow at the foe who had so long harassed
and thwarted them.
And it was not all rioting and feasting in the camp that night. The
soldiers supped well and settled to rest; but the King, when his guests
had departed, went to his oratory and spent the night upon his knees,
his prayer being less for himself than for his gallant boy; less for
victory than that England's honour might be upheld, and that whatever
was the issue of the day, this might be preserved stainless in the sight
of God and man.
Then very early in the morning, whilst almost all the camp slept, the
King was joined by his son, the Prince being followed by Raymond, who
had also kept vigil upon his knees that night, and they, with some half
score of devout spirits, heard mass and received the Sacrament; whilst a
little later on the monks and priests were busy hearing the confessions
of the greater part of the soldiers, who after receiving the priestly
absolution went into battle with a loftier courage than before.
When this had been done and still the French army appeared not, the King
gave orders that the men should be served with something to eat and
drink, after which they might sit down at their ease to wait till their
adversaries appeared.
Meantime the French were having anything but a comfortable time of it.
They had remained inactive in Abbeville for the whole of Friday as well
as the preceding Thursday, after they had retreated thither from the
ford where the English had given them the slip; and on Saturday they
were marched off none too well fed, to meet their English foes.
Philip was so confident that his immense superiority in numbers was
certain to give him the victory, that he thought little of the comfort
of his men, the consequence being that they grew jaded and weary with
the long hot march taken in an ill-fed state; and his own marshals at
last very earnestly entreated their lord to call a halt for rest and
refreshment before the troops engaged in battle, or else the men would
fight at a terrible disadvantage.
Philip consented to this, and a halt was called, which was obeyed by the
ranks in front; but those behind, eager to fall upon the English, and
confident of easy victory, declined to wait, and went steadily forward,
shouting "Kill! kill!" as they went, till all the alleys became filled
up and choked. The press from behind urged forward the men in front, and
the army moved on perforce once again, though now no longer in order,
but in a confused and unmanageable mass.
Just as they came in sight of the English line of battle a heavy tempest
of thunder and rain came upon them. The clouds seemed to discharge
themselves upon the French host, and those birds of evil omen, the
ravens, flew screaming overhead, throwing many men into paroxysms of
terror who would never have blenched before the drawn blade of an armed foe.
Worse than this, the rain wet and slackened the strings of the Genoese
crossbowmen, who marched in the foremost rank; and hungry and weary as
they were, this last misfortune seemed to put the finishing touch to
their discomfiture. Hireling soldiers, whose hearts are not in the
cause, have been the curse of many a battlefield; and though these
Genoese advanced with a great shouting against the foe, as though hoping
to affright them by their noise, they did little enough except shout,
till their cries were changed to those of agony and terror as their
ineffectual shower of bolts was answered by a perfect hail of shafts
from the English archers' dreaded longbows, whilst the sun shining full
into their dazzled eyes rendered ineffectual any farther attempt on
their part to shoot straight at the foe. The hired archers turned and
fled, and throwing into confusion the horsemen behind who were eager to
charge and break the ranks of the English archers, the luckless men were
mown down ruthlessly by their infuriated allies, whose wrath was burning
against them now that they had proved not only useless but a serious
hindrance.
This was by no means a promising beginning for the French; but still,
with their overwhelming superiority of numbers, they had plenty of
confidence left; and the English, though greatly encouraged by the
breaking and havoc in the ranks of the foe, were by no means recklessly
confident that the day was theirs.
Presumably the English King, who with the reserves was posted upon the
highest ground at some distance behind the two wings, had the best view
of the battle. The left wing, commanded by the Earls of Northampton and
Arundel, occupied the stronger position, being protected on their left
by the little river Maye. The young Prince was in the position of the
greatest danger; and as he and his companions stood in their ranks,
watching the onset of the battle with parted lips, and breath that came
and went with excitement, they began to see that upon them and their men
the brunt of the day would fall.
It had been the King's command that the battle should be fought on foot
by the English, probably owing to the wooded and uncertain nature of the
ground, else his far-famed cavalry would hardly have been dismounted.
The Prince then stood still in his place, gazing with kindling eyes at
the confusion in the ranks of the foe, till the glint of a blood-red
banner in their ranks caught his eye, and he cried aloud to his men,
"The oriflamme! the oriflamme, good comrades! See ye that, and know ye
what it means when the King of France unfurls it? It is a signal that no
lives will be spared, no quarter granted to the foe. If we go not on to
victory, we march every man to his death!"
A shout that was like a cheer was the response of the gallant little
band who stood shoulder to shoulder with the Prince, and the word being
passed from mouth to mouth was received everywhere with like courageous
enthusiasm, so that the cheer went ringing down from line to line, and
hearts beat high and hand grasped sword ever harder and faster as the
tide of battle rolled onward, until the word was given and the trumpets
sounded the advance.
"Keep by my side and the Prince's, Raymond," breathed Gaston, as slowly
and steadily they pressed down the hill towards the spot where the
French horse under the Count of Alencon were charging splendidly into
the ranks of the archers and splitting the harrow into which they had
been formed by Edward's order into two divisions. The Count of Flanders
likewise, knowing that the King's son was in this half of the battle,
called on his men to follow him, and with a fine company of Germans and
Savoyards made for the spot where the young Prince was gallantly
fighting, and cheering on his men to stand firm for the honour of England.
Shoulder to shoulder, fearless and dauntless, stood the little band of
gallant knights and gentlemen who formed the bodyguard of the Prince.
Again and again had the horsemen charged them; but the soldiers threw
themselves beneath the horses of the foe and stabbed them through the
body, so that hundreds of gallant French knights were overthrown and
slain ere they well knew what had befallen them. But in the press and
the heat of battle it was hard to say how the tide would turn. The
commanders of the left wing of the English, the Earls of Northampton and
Arundel, were forcing their way inch by inch to reach the Prince's side
and divert from his immediate neighbourhood the whole stress of the
opposing force now concentred there. They could see that the Prince was
still unharmed, fighting with the gallantry of his soldier race. But the
odds for the moment were heavily against him; and they despatched a
messenger to the King, who remained with the reserves, begging him to go
to the assistance of the Prince. Ere the messenger returned, they had
fought their own way into the melee, and had joined issue with the
gallant youth, who, fearless and full of spirit, was encouraging his men
alike by the boldness of his demeanour and by his shouts of
encouragement and praise, though his breath was coming thick and fast,
and the drops of exhaustion stood upon his brow.
"Fear not, sweet Prince," cried Arundel, raising his voice so that all
who were near could hear: "we have sent word to your Royal Sire of the
stress of the battle round you, and he will soon be here himself with
the help that shall enable us to rout this rebel host;" and he turned
his eyes somewhat anxiously towards the height where the King and his
company still remained motionless.
But a messenger was spurring back through the open ground which lay
between the reserves and the right wing where such hot work was going
on. He made straight for the spot where the Prince was fighting, and
both the Earls turned eagerly towards him.
"What said the King?" they asked quickly. "When will he be with us?"
"He asked," replied the messenger, "whether the Prince were killed or
wounded; and when I told him nay, but in a hard passage of arms wherein
he needed his Sire's help, the King folded his arms and turned away,
saying, 'Let the boy win his spurs; for I will that the glory of this
day be his, and not mine.'"
As those words were spoken it seemed as if new life were infused into
the young Prince himself and all those who surrounded him. A ringing
cheer rose from all their throats. They formed once again under their
young leader, and charged the enemy with a fury that nothing was able to
resist. The horsemen were forced hack the way they had come. The Counts
who had led them boldly and well were unhorsed and slain. Dismay and
terror fell upon the breaking ranks of the French, and they turned and
fled; whilst the excited and triumphant young Prince pursued them with
shouts of exultation and triumph, till he found himself with his few
most faithful followers in the midst of the flying but hostile ranks
some little distance away from the English army.
"Sweet Prince, beware! have a care how you adventure your life thus in
the enemy's ranks," whispered Raymond in his ear, he alone keeping a
cool head in the midst of so much that was exciting. "See, here come
some score of horsemen who know thee and would fain cut off thy retreat.
Let us here make a stand and receive the charge, else shall we all be
overthrown together."
This cautious counsel came only just in time. Young Edward looked round
to see that his reckless bravery had placed him for the moment in
imminent peril; but he had all the courage of his race, and his heart
quailed not for an instant. Giving the word to his comrades to form a
compact square, he placed himself where the onset was like to be the
fiercest; nor was there time for his companions to interfere to place
him in a position of greater safety.
With a great shout of rage and triumph the band of horsemen, who had
recognized the person of the Prince, now rushed upon him, resolved
either to carry him off a prisoner or leave him lying dead upon the
field, so that the English might have little joy in their victory. So
fierce was the attack that the Prince was borne to the ground; and the
Battle of Crecy might have been a dark instead of a bright page in
England's history, but for the gallantry of a little band of Welshmen
headed by Richard de Beaumont, the bearer of the banner portraying the
great red dragon of Merlin, which had floated all day over the bold
Welsh contingent.
Flinging this banner over the prostrate form of the Prince, the brave
soldier called on his men to charge the horses and cut them down. This
they did in the way before mentioned -- throwing themselves underneath
and stabbing them through the heart. So their riders, finding even this
last effort futile, joined in the headlong flight of their compatriots;
and the Prince's faithful attendants crowded round him to raise him up
again, greatly rejoicing to find that though breathless and confused by
the shock of his fall, he was none the worse for his overthrow, and was
quickly able to thank the brave Welshmen who had so opportunely come to
the rescue of him and his comrades.
"Now, we will back to the ranks and find my father," said the Prince,
when he had spoken his courteous thanks and looked round about to see if
his comrades had suffered more than himself.
One or two had received slight wounds, and Raymond was leaning upon
Gaston's shoulder looking white and shaken; but he quickly recovered,
and declared himself only bruised and breathless, and still holding fast
to Gaston's arm, followed the Prince up the hill amongst the heaps of
dying and dead.
Gaston was flushed with his exertions, and in his heart was room for
nothing but pride and joy in the glorious victory just achieved. But
whilst Raymond looked around him as he slowly moved, suffering more
bodily pain than he wished his brother to know, his heart felt bruised
and crushed like his body, and a sudden sense of the vanity of human
life and ambition came suddenly upon him, so much so that he scarce knew
whether he was in the flesh or in the spirit as he moved slowly and
quietly onwards.
Everywhere he saw before him the bodies of men who but a few short hours
ago had been full of strong vitality, instinct with the same passions of
hatred and loyalty as had animated their own ranks that day. How strange
it seemed to look into those dead faces now, and wonder what those freed
spirits thought of those same passions that had been raging within them
but a few short hours before! Did it seem to them, as it almost seemed
to him, that in all the world around there was nothing of moment enough
to arouse such tumult of passion and strife; that only the things
eternal the things that pass not away were worthy to be greatly sought
after and longed for?
But his reverie was quickly interrupted by an exclamation from Gaston.
"See, Brother, the King! the King He is coming to meet his son, and his
nobles with him!"
It was a sight not soon to be forgotten, that meeting between the
warlike Edward and his bold young son, after the splendid triumph just
achieved by the gallant boy. The King embraced the Prince with tears of
joyful pride in his eyes, whilst the nobles standing round the King
shouted aloud at the sight, and the soldiers made the welkin ring with
their lusty English cheers.
Young Edward had received knighthood at his father's hand upon landing
on the shores of France, though truly it was this day's fighting which
had won him his spurs. But as the King was resolved to mark the occasion
by some rewards to those who had stood by his gallant boy in the thick
of the press, he quickly picked out from the cluster of noble youths who
stood behind their young leader some six of gentle blood and known
bravery, and thereupon dubbed them knights upon the bloody battlefield.
Amongst those thus singled out for such honourable notice were the two
sons of the King's Master of the Horse, Oliver and Bernard de Brocas,
the latter of whom was destined to be the Prince's chosen and trusted
comrade through many another warlike campaign.
Gladly and proudly did the royal boy stand by and see the reward of
valour thus bestowed upon his chosen comrades of the day; but he seemed
scarce satisfied by all that was done. His eye wandered quickly over the
little knot grouped upon the knoll around the King, and then his glance
travelling yet farther to the remoter outskirts, he suddenly detached
himself from the centre group, and ran quickly down the hillside till he
reached the spot where the twin brothers were standing watching the
scene with vivid interest, Raymond still leaning rather heavily upon his
brother's arm.
"Nay now, why tarry ye here?" eagerly questioned the Prince. "Sure ye
were amongst the most steadfast and fearless in the fight today.
"Good Raymond, but for thy quick eye and timely word of warning, we had
been fallen upon and scattered unawares, and perhaps had been cut to
pieces, ere we knew that we were vanquished rather than victors. My
father is even now bestowing upon my gallant comrades the reward their
good swords have won for them. Come, and let me present you twain to
him; for sure in all the gallant band that fought by my side none were
more worthy of knighthood than you. Come, and that quickly!"
A quick flush crossed Gaston's cheek as the guerdon so dear to the heart
of the soldier was thus thrust upon him; but a whisper in his ear held
him back.
"Gaston, we have no name; we cannot receive knighthood without revealing
all. Has the time yet come to speak? Of that thou shalt be the judge. I
will follow thy wishes in this as in all else."
For a moment Gaston stood debating with himself. Then the counsel of
prudence prevailed over that of youthful ambition. How were he and his
brother worthily to support the offered rank? Even did they make known
their true parentage, that would not put money in their purses; and to
be poor dependents upon the bounty of relatives who had rejected their
mother and driven forth their father to seek his fortune as he could,
was as repugnant to Gaston's pride now as it had been two years before.
"Sweet Prince," he answered, after this brief pause for thought, "we
have but done our duty today, and knighthood is far too great a reward
for our poor merits. Sure it has been honour and glory enough to fight
by your side, and win this gallant day. We are but poor youths, without
home or friends. How could we receive a reward which we could not
worthily wear? A penniless knight without servant or esquire would cut
but a sorry figure. Nay then, sweet Prince, let it be enough for us this
day to have won these gracious words at your lips. It may be when fair
fortune has smiled upon us, and we are no longer poor and nameless, that
we will come to you to crave the boon you have graciously offered this
day. We will remain for the nonce in our present state, but will ever
look forward to the day when some other glorious victory may be won, and
when we may come to our Prince for that reward which today we may not
receive at his hands."
"So be it," answered the Prince, his face, which had clouded over with
regret a few moments earlier, lighting up again at these latter words.
"Be assured I will not forget you, nor the services ye have done me this
day. I too in days to come shall have knighthood to bestow upon those
who have earned the right to wear it. Fear not that Edward ever will
forget. Whenever the day comes that shall bring you thus to me for the
reward so nobly earned today, that reward shall be yours. The King's son
has promised it."