Agincourt Part 54

CHAPTER XLIV.

THE ORDERING OF THE BATTLE.

We must follow, for a short s.p.a.ce, 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 s.h.i.+ning 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, pa.s.sing 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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce, 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, impa.s.sable 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 G.o.d 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 n.o.ble 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 princ.i.p.ally 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 a.s.sailed 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, pa.s.s 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, n.o.ble 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 G.o.d 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 n.o.ble 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 G.o.d s.h.i.+eld 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.

CHAPTER XLV.

THE BATTLE.

The morning of the twenty-fifth of October, St. Crispin's day, dawned bright, but not altogether clear. There was a slight hazy mist in the air, sufficient to soften the distant objects; but neither to prevent the eye from ranging to a great distance, nor the sun, which was s.h.i.+ning warm above, from pouring his beams through the air, and tinging the whole vapour with a golden hue. Early in the morning, both armies were on foot; but more bustle and eagerness were observable in the French camp, than amongst the English, who showed a calmer and less excited spirit, weighing well the hazards of the day, and though little doubting of victory, still feeling that no light and joyful task lay before them.

The French, however, were all bustle and activity. Men-at-arms were seen hurrying from place to place, gathering around their innumerable banners, ranging themselves under their various leaders, or kneeling and taking vows to do this or that, of which inexorable fate forbade, in most cases, the accomplishment. Nothing was heard on any side but accents of triumph and satisfaction, prognostications of a speedy and almost bloodless victory over an enemy, to whom they were superior by at least six times the number of the whole English host,--and b.l.o.o.d.y resolutions of avenging the invasion of France, and the capture of Harfleur, by putting to death all prisoners except the King and other princes, from whom large ransoms might be expected; for a vain people is almost always a sanguinary one. A proud nation can better afford to forgive. Nothing was heard, I have said, but such foolish boastings, and idle resolutions: but I ought to have excepted some less jocund observations, which were made here and there in a low tone, amongst the older, but not wiser of the French n.o.bility, prompted by the superst.i.tious spirit of the times, which was apt to draw auguries from very trifling indications.

"Heard you how the music of these islanders made the whole air ring throughout the night?" said one.

"And ours was quite silent," said another.

"We have no instruments," rejoined a third. "This King of theirs is fond of such toys, and plays himself like a minstrel, I am told: but I remarked a thing which is more serious; their horses neighed all night, as if eager for a course, and ours uttered not a sound."

"That looks bad, indeed," observed one of the others.

"Perhaps their horses, as well as their men, are frightened," answered another.

"I have seen no sign of fear," replied one of the first speakers, with a shake of the head.

"Why the rumour goes," said the first, "that Henry of England sent on Wednesday, to announce that he would give up Harfleur, and pay for all the damage he has done, if we would but grant him a free pa.s.sage to his town of Calais."

"It is false," replied the first speaker. "I asked the Constable last night myself, and he said that there is not a word of truth in the whole tale, and that Henry will fight like a boar at bay: so every Frenchman must do his devoir; for if, with six times his numbers, we let the Englishmen win the day, it must be by our folly or our own fault."

As he spoke, the Constable D'Albret, followed by a gallant train of knights and n.o.blemen, rode past on a splendid charger, horse and man completely armed; and, turning his head as he pa.s.sed each group, he snouted, "To the standard, to the standard, gentlemen! Under your banners, men of France! You will want shade, for the sun s.h.i.+nes, and we have a hot day before us."

Thus saying, he rode on, and the French lines were speedily formed in three divisions, like the English. The first, or vanguard, comprised eight thousand men-at-arms, all knights or squires, four thousand archers, and fifteen hundred crossbowmen, and was led by the Constable, the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, with some twenty other high lords of France, while upon either wing appeared a large body of chosen cavalry. The whole line was glittering with gilded armour, and gay with a thousand banners of embroidered arms; and, as the sun shone upon it, no courtly pageant was ever more bright and beautiful to see.

The main body consisted of a still larger force, under the Dukes of Bar and Alencon, with six counts, each a great va.s.sal of the crown of France. The rear guard was more numerous still; but in it were comprised the light armed and irregular troops, and a mixed mult.i.tude upon whom little dependence could be placed.

When all were arranged in order, on the side of the hill, the Constable addressed the troops, in words of high and manly courage, tinged perhaps with a little bombast; and when he had done, the whole of that vast force remained gazing towards the opposite slope, and expecting every moment to see the English army appear, and endeavour to force its way onward towards Calais. As yet, but a few scattered bodies of the invaders were apparent upon the ground, and some time pa.s.sed, ere the heads of the different corps were descried issuing forth in perfect order to the sound of martial music, and taking up their position on the field, marked out by Henry during the night before. Their appearance, as compared with that of the French host, was poor and insignificant in the extreme. Traces of travel and of strife were evident in their arms and in their banners; and their numbers seemed but as a handful opposed to the long line which covered the hill before them. Yet there was something in the firm array, the calm and measured step, the triumphant sound of their trumpets and their clarions, the regular lines of their archers and of their cavalry, the want of all haste, confusion, or agitation, apparent through the whole of that small host, which was not without its effect upon their enemies, who began to feel that there would be indeed a battle, fierce, b.l.o.o.d.y, and determined, before the day, so fondly counted theirs, was really won.

Prompt and well-disciplined, with their bows on their shoulders, their quivers and their swords at their sides, and their heavy axes in their hands, the English archers at once took up the position a.s.signed to them, with as much precision as if at some pageant or muster. Each instantly planted in the earth a heavy iron-shod stake, which he carried in his left hand, and drove it in with blows from the back of his axe; and then each strung his bow, and drew an arrow from the quiver. Behind, at a short distance, came the battle of the King, consisting of heavy armed infantry, princ.i.p.ally billmen, with a strong force of cavalry on either hand. The rearward, under the Duke of Exeter, appeared shortly after on the hill above; and each of the two last divisions occupied its appointed ground with the same regularity and tranquil order which had been displayed by the van.

The preparations which they perceived, the pitching of the stakes, the marshalling of the English forces, and the position which they had taken up, showed the French commanders that the King of England was determined his battle should be a defensive one; and the appearance of some bodies of the enemy in the neighbourhood of the village of Agincourt, with the burning of a mill and house upon the same side, led them to believe that some stratagem was meditated, which must be met by prompt action with the princ.i.p.al corps of Henry's army.

That there were difficulties in attacking a veteran force in such a position, the Constable D'Albret clearly saw, but he was naturally of a bold and rash disposition; his enemies of the Burgundian party had more than once accused him of his irresolution and incapacity; and he resolved that no obstacle should daunt, or induce him to avoid a battle, with such an overpowering force at his command. He gave the order then to move forward at a slow pace, and probably did not perceive the full perils of his undertaking, till his troops had advanced too far, between the two woods, to retreat with either honour or safety. When he discovered this, it would seem an order was given to halt, and for some minutes the two armies paused, observing each other, the English determined not to quit their ground, the French hesitating to attack.