THE ORDERING OF THE BATTLE.
We must follow, for a short space, the steps of Sir John Grey, who
hurried after the messenger, to the quarters of the King, which lay at
about half a mile's distance from his own. As I have shown, he
intended to speak with the monarch upon the intelligence regarding the
young knight, which he had received that night; but an opportunity for
so doing was not so easily found as he had expected.
The moon was shining bright and unclouded; not a vapour was in the
sky; and, as he approached the guards, which were stationed round
Henry's temporary residence, he could hear the sound of voices, and
see distinctly a small party walking slowly up the road. One was half
a step in advance of the rest; and there was something in the air and
tread which told the knight at once that there was the King. Hurrying
after, he soon overtook the group, and joined in their conversation in
a low voice: but far more weighty thoughts than the fate of any
individual, now occupied all. Their speech was of the morrow's battle,
their minds fixed upon that which was to decide the destiny of thrones
and empires,--which was to deal life and death to thousands; and
Richard of Woodville seemed forgotten by all but Sir John Grey
himself.
The King, too, walked on before in silence, with his eyes bent upon
the ground, and his look grave and thoughtful; and it was not till,
passing out of the village, he came upon the brow of a small
acclivity, from which the whole of the enemy's line of watch-fires
could be descried, that he paused or spoke. The moment that he
stopped, the distinguished soldiers who followed him gathered round;
and, turning towards them with a countenance now all smiles, the
monarch said, "Somewhere near this spot must be the place--I marked it
this afternoon. Ha! Sir John Grey, I hardly thought you would have
time to come."
"A little more in advance, Sire," replied Sir Thomas of Erpingham,
answering the former part of the King's speech. "If you take your
stand here, the Frenchmen will have space to spread out their men
beyond the edge of the two woods; but, if you plant your van within a
half-bowshot of the edge of those trees, they must coop themselves up
in the narrow space, where their numbers will be little good."
"You are right, renowned knight," said the King, laying his hand
familiarly upon Erpingham's shoulder. "I did not mean just here. The
standard shall be pitched where yon low tree rises; the vanward a
hundred paces farther down, the rearward where we now stand."
"Does your Grace mark that meadow there, upon the right?" asked Sir
John Grey; "close upon the edge of the wood."
"I do, good friend," answered Henry; "and will use it as I know you
would have. But, go down first, and see how it is defended; for we
must not expose our foot-men to the French horse."
Sir John Grey and the Earl of Suffolk hurried on, while Henry examined
the rest of the field; but they soon returned with information that
the meadow was defended by a deep and broad ditch, impassable for
heavy horses; and Henry replied, "Well, then, we will secure it for
ourselves by our good bowmen. Though we be so few, we can spare two
hundred archers to gall the Frenchmen's flank as they come up."
"Ay! would to Heaven," cried one of the gentlemen present, "that all
the brave men, who are now idle in England, could know that such a
field as this lies before their King, and they had time to join us."
"Ha! what is that?" cried Henry. "No, by my life! I would not have one
man more. If we lose the day, which God forbid we should, we are too
many already; and if we win this battle, as I trust in Heaven we
shall, I would not share the glory of the field with any more than
needful. Come, my good lords and noble knights, let us go on and view
the ground farther, and when all is decided we will place guards and
light fires to insure that the enemy be not beforehand with us." Thus
saying, he walked on, conversing principally with Sir Thomas of
Erpingham upon the array of his men; while the other gentlemen
followed talking together, or listening to the consultation between
the King and his old and experienced knight. As they went on, various
broken sentences were thus overheard--as, "Ay, that copse of brushwood
will guard our left right well--and the hedges and ditches on the
right, will secure us from the charge of men-at-arms. Their bowmen we
need not fear, my Liege."
"I have bethought me, my old friend, of a defence, too, for our
archers in the front. We have all heard how at Bannockburn, in the
time of good King Edward, pitfalls were dug to break the charging
horse. We have no time for that; but I think, if we should plant
before our archers, long stakes pointed with iron, a little leaning
forward towards the foe, the British bows would be secure against the
chivalry of France; or, if they were assailed and the enemy did break
through, 'twould be in wild disorder and rash disarray, as was the
case at Cressy."
"A marvellous good thought, my Liege; but every battle has a change.
Those who were once attacked, become the attackers, and should such be
our case, how will you clear the way for our own men from the stakes
that were planted against the enemy?"
"That must be provided against, Sir Thomas. Each man must pull up the
stake near him."
"Nay, my Liege," said Sir John Grey, joining in. "Let a hundred
billmen be ranged with the second line of archers; and, at a word
given, pass through and root up the stakes."
"Right, right, Sir John," answered the King. "Then the fury of our
charge, when charge we may, will not be checked by our own defences.
Our van must be all archers, with the exception of the brown
bills--and I think to give the command----"
"I do beseech you, my lord the King," said the Duke of York, advancing
from behind, "to let me have that post, and lead the van of your
battle. Words have been spoken, and rumours have been spread, which
make me eager for a place of danger. You must not refuse me, royal
prince."
"Nor will I, cousin," answered Henry. "On your honour and good faith,
I have as much reliance, as on your skill and courage, which no man
dares to doubt. Are you not a Plantagenet?"
The Duke caught his hand and kissed it; and if he had taken any share,
as some suspected, in the conspiracy of Southampton, he expiated his
fault on the succeeding day, by glorious actions and a hero's death.
"Now," said the King, after some further examination of the field,
"you understand our disposition, noble knights; and to you I entrust
it to secure the ground during the night, and to make the arrangements
for to-morrow. Cousin of York, you lead the van. I myself, with my
young brother, Humphrey of Gloucester, will command the main battle.
Oxford and Suffolk, you and the Lord Marshal shall give us counsel. My
uncle of Exeter shall lead our rearward line, and this good knight of
Erpingham shall be our marshal of the field. Let all men in the centre
fight on foot: and let the cavalry be ranged on either wing to improve
the victory I hope to win. When all is ready, back to your beds and
sleep, first praying God for good success to-morrow. Then, in the
morning early, feed your men. Let them consume whatever meat is left;
for if we gain the day, they shall find plenty on before; and if we
lose it, few methinks will want provisions."
Thus saying, the King turned and walked back towards the village; and
Sir John Grey choosing that moment, advanced and addressed him in a
low tone in regard to Richard of Woodville. Henry soon stopped him,
however--"We cannot speak on that to-night, my noble friend," he said.
"It grieves me much, I own, to debar a gallant gentleman from sharing
in a field like this. I know that it will grieve him more than death;
but yet--Nay, no more. We will not speak of this. Set watch upon
him;--but not too strict. You understand me; and you who taught my
infant hands first to draw a bow, shall fight by my side to-morrow.
Now, good night--I will tell you my belief; it is, that this youth is
guiltless. I do not often rashly judge men's characters; and I formed
my estimate of his, long, long ago. Farewell, and God shield us all
to-morrow."
Sir John Grey hurried home, and found, that, during his long absence,
all in the house where he was quartered, except one or two of his own
personal attendants and the necessary guard, had retired to rest. Ere
he sought his pillow also, however, he sat down and wrote some hurried
lines, which he signed and sealed; and then, with a silent step
seeking the chamber where Richard of Woodville slept, with two or
three yeomen across the door, he went in, and gazed for a moment at
the young knight, as he lay upon his little pallet, with his arm under
his head, and a well-pleased smile upon his slumbering face.
"That is not the sleep of guilt," said Sir John in a low murmur to
himself. "There, that gives him my Mary, if I fall to-morrow;" and
thus saying, he laid the paper he had written upon Woodville's bosom,
and retired to his own chamber.