The Hundred Years War - Desmond Seward [66]
King Henry heard three Masses and took communion before addressing his men. He told them ‘he was come into France to recover his lawful inheritance’, and that the French had promised to cut three fingers off every English archer’s right hand so ‘they might never presume again to shoot at man or horse’. Although he rode only a little grey pony he must have been an impressive figure, in his gold-plated helmet with its golden crown of pearls, rubies and sapphires. His army shouted to him, ‘Sir, we pray God give you a good life and the victory over your enemies.’ Undoubtedly they admired him and believed in his genius, and were confident that he would rescue them from this terrifying situation.
The King must have prayed for the French to attack so that he could use his bowmen. But for several hours the French stayed calmly in their positions. At about nine o‘clock Henry therefore told Sir Thomas Erpingham, ‘a grey-headed old knight‘, to take the archers on the wings forward within range of the enemy. When this had been done the King gave the order for the rest of his little army to move forward—‘Banners advance ! In the name of Jesus, Mary and St George !’ After making the sign of the Cross and kissing the earth, the English marched forward solidly over the dirty ground in good order. Most of the bowmen ‘had no armour but were only wearing doublets, their hose rolled up to their knees, with hatchets and axes or in some cases large swords hanging from their belts ; some of them went barefoot and had nothing on their heads, while others wore caps of boiled leather’. They halted at a little less than 300 yards from the enemy and, after sticking their pointed stakes in the ground in front of them, began to shoot. The French put their heads down, the English arrows falling so thick and fast that no one dared look up. In desperation the mounted French men-at-arms on the wings charged the archers. As always the horses suffered most from the arrows, becoming unmanageable or bolting, while those that did reach the English lines were impaled on the six-foot stakes which were set a horse’s breast high.
The first line of the enemy’s dismounted men-at-arms then formed themselves into a column, hoping fewer would be hit by arrows, and toiled slowly forward towards the English through the thick mud which had been churned up still further by the horses. The English on the wings shot steadily into the sides of the column, inflicting many casualties, their arrows making a terrifying hiss and clatter. When the French at last reached the English lines they were in no coherent formation and too tightly packed, while the deep mud had slowed them almost to a halt. This combination of disorder and immobility would cost them the battle.
Nevertheless at the first impact the French threw back the front line of English men-at-arms at Henry’s centre, almost knocking them off their feet. The King quickly ordered his archers to drop their bows and go to the men-at-arms’ assistance, whereupon seizing ‘swords, hatchets, mallets, axes, falcon-beaks and other weapons’ they hurled themselves on the enemy. The liquid mud of the battlefield gave the advantage to the bowmen who were able to dance round the ponderous Frenchmen, whom they stabbed through the joints of their armour or bowled over. Some of the latter lay writhing on their backs like capsized crabs until their visors were knocked open and daggers thrust into their faces ; most drowned in the mud or died of suffocation, pressed down by the bodies of their comrades on top of them.
The enemy’s second line of men-at-arms, also in column, came on in equal disorder to meet with the same reception from the English, who were now standing on piles of French corpses. Their leader, the Duke of Alençon, fought like a lion, striking down the Duke of Gloucester and beating the King to his knees—he actually hacked a fleuret from his crown—but was eventually overwhelmed. He surrendered to Henry, taking off his helmet,