"On, for your country and your King!" cried the Constable D'Albret; but his archers and cross-bowmen would not move; and, plunging their horses through them, the French men-at-arms spurred on in terrible disarray, while still amongst them fell that terrible shower of arrows, seeming to seek out with unerring aim every weak point of their armour, piercing their visors, entering between the gorget and the breast-plate, transfixing the hand to the lance. Of eight hundred chosen men-at-arms, if we may believe the accounts of the French themselves, not more than a hundred and forty could reach the stakes by which the archers stood. This new impediment produced still more confusion: many of the heavy-armed horses of the French goring themselves upon the iron pikes, and one of the leaders, who cast himself gallantly forward before the rest, being instantly pulled from his horse, and slain by the axes of the English infantry; whilst still against those that were following were aimed the deadly shafts, till, seized with terror, they drew the bridle and fled, tearing their way through the mingled mass behind them, and increasing the consternation and confusion which already reigned.
At the same moment, the arrows of the English archers being expended, the stakes were drawn up; and encouraged by the evident discomfiture of the French van, the first line of the English host rushed upon the struggling crowd before them, sword in hand, rendering the disarray and panic irremediable, slaughtering immense numbers with their swords and axes, and changing terror into precipitate flight.
Up to this period, Henry, surrounded by some of his principal knights, stood immoveable upon the slope of the hill, but seeing his archers engaged hand to hand with the enemy, he pointed out with his truncheon a knight in black armour with lines of gold, about a hundred yards distant upon his left, saying, "Tell Sir Henry Dacre to move down with his company to support the van. The enemy may rally yet." A squire galloped off to bear the order; and instantly the band to which he addressed himself swept down in firm array, while the King, with the whole of the main body, moved slowly on to insure the victory.
No further resistance, indeed, was made by the advanced guard of the French. Happy was the man who could save himself by flight; the archers and the cross-bowmen, separating from each other, plunged into the wood; many of the men-at-arms dismounting from their horses, and casting off their heavy armour, followed their example; and others, flying in small parties, rallied upon the immense body led by the Dukes of Bar and Alençon, which was now advancing, in the hope of retrieving the day. It was known that the Duke of Alençon had sworn to take the King of England, alive or dead, and the contest now became more fierce and more regular. Pouring on in thunder upon the English line, the French men-at-arms seemed to bear all before them; but though shaken by the charge, the English cavalry gallantly maintained their ground; and, as calm as if sitting at the council-table, the English King, from the midst of the battle, even where it was fiercest around him, issued his commands, rallied his men, and marked with an approving eye, and often with words of high commendation, the conduct of the foremost in the fight.
"Wheel your men, Sir John Grey," he cried, "and take that party in the green upon the flank. Bravely done, upon my life; Sir Harry Dacre seems resolved to outdo us all. Give him support, my Lord of Hungerford. See you not that he is surrounded by a score of lances! By the holy rood, he has cleared the way. Aid him, aid him, and they are routed there!"
"That is not Sir Harry Dacre, my Lord the King," said a gentleman near. "He is in plain steel armour. I spoke with him but a minute ago."
"On, on," cried Henry, little heeding him. "Restore the array on the right, Sir Hugh Basset. They have bent back a little. On your guard, on your guard, knights and gentlemen! Down with your lances. Here they come!" and at the same moment, a large body of French, at the full gallop, dashed towards the spot where the King stood. In an instant, the Duke of Gloucester, but a few yards from the monarch, was encountered by a knight of great height and strength, and cast headlong to the ground. Henry spurred up to his brother's defence, and covering him with his shield, rained a thousand blows, with his large, heavy sword, upon the armour of his adversary, while two of the Duke's squires drew the young Prince from beneath his horse.
"Beware, beware, my Lord the King!" cried a voice upon his left; and turning round, Henry beheld the knight in the black armour, pointing with his mace to the right, where the Duke of Alençon, some fifty yards before a large party of the French chivalry, was galloping forward, with his battle-axe in his hand, direct towards the King. Henry turned to meet him; but that movement had nearly proved fatal to the English monarch; for as he wheeled his horse, he saw the black knight cover him with his shield, receive upon it a tremendous blow from the gigantic adversary who had overthrown the Duke of Gloucester, and, swinging high his mace, strike the other on the crest a stroke that brought his head to his horse's neck. A second dashed him to the ground; but Henry had time to remark no more, for Alençon was already upon him, and he had now to fight hand to hand for life. Few men, however, could stand before the English monarch's arm; and in an instant, the Duke was rolling in the dust. A dozen of the foot soldiers were upon him at once.
"Spare him, spare him!" cried the King; but, ere his voice could be heard, a dagger was in the unhappy prince's throat.
When Henry looked round, the main body of the French were flying in confusion, the rear guard had already fled; and all that remained upon the field of Agincourt of the magnificent host of France, were the prisoners, the dying, or the dead, except where here and there, scattered over the ground, were seen small parties of twenty or thirty, separated from the rest, and fighting with the courage of despair.