Philip Augustus; or, The Brothers in Arms

by G. P. R. James

To the left of the imperial army appeared Ferrand, Count of Flanders, with an immense host of hardy Flemings, together with the Count de Boulogne and several other of the minor confederates; while, opposed to him, was the young Duke of Champagne, the Duke of Burgundy, and the men of the commune of Soissons. To the right of the imperial army was a small body of English, with the Duke of Brabant and his forces in face of the Comte de Dreux, the Bishop of Beauvais, and a body of the troops of the clergy; while in the centre of each host, and conspicuous to both, were Otho, Emperor of Germany, and Philip Augustus of France, commanding in person the chosen knights of either monarchy.

In the midst of the dark square of lances that surrounded the emperor was to be seen a splendid car, from the centre of which rose a tall pole, bearing on the top the imperial standard, a golden eagle hovering above a dragon; while, beside Philip Augustus, was borne the royal banner of France,[^[29]] consisting of an azure field embroidered with fleurs de lis of gold. On either hand of the king were ranged the knights selected to attend his person, whom we find named as William des Barres, Barthelmy de Roye, Peter de Malvoisin, Gerard Scropha, Steven of Longchamp, William of Mortemar, John of Rouvrai, William de Garlande, and Henry, Count de Bar, all men distinguished in arms, and chosen for their high and chivalrous qualities.

A dead silence pervaded the field. Each host, as we have said, gazed upon the other, still and motionless, waiting in awful expectation the first movement which should begin the horrid scene of carnage about to follow. It wanted but a word--a sign--the levelling of a lance--the sounding of a trumpet, to cast the whole dark mass of bloodthirsty insects there assembled into strife and mutual destruction: but yet there was a pause; as if each monarch felt the dreadful responsibility which that signal would bring upon his head, and hesitated to give it. Some reflections of the kind certainly passed through the mind of Philip Augustus; for, turning to William de Mortemar, he said, "We must begin the fight--I seek not their blood, but God gives us a right to defend ourselves. They have leagued to crush me, and the carnage of this day be upon their head. Where is the oriflamme?" he continued, looking round for the consecrated banner of St. Denis.

"It has not yet repassed the river, sire," replied Gerard Scropha. "I heard the tramp of the communes still coming over the bridge, and filling up the ranks behind. The oriflamme was the first banner that passed, and therefore of course will be the last that returns.

"We must not wait for it then," said the king. "Henry de Bar, speed to Guerin, who is on the right, with the Count de St. Paul; bid them begin the battle by throwing in a few men-at-arms to shake that heavy line of the Flemings. Then let the knights charge."

The young count bowed low, and set spurs to his horse; but his very passage along the line was a signal for the confederates to commence the fight. A flight of arrows and quarrels instantly darkened the sky, and fell thick as hail amongst the ranks of the French; the trumpets sounded, the lances were levelled, and two of the king's chaplains, who were placed at a little distance behind him, began to sing the hundred and forty-third Psalm, while the tears rolled plentifully from their eyes, from the effects of mingled fear, agitation, and devotion.

In the meanwhile, an hundred and fifty sergeants of arms charged the whole force of the Count of Flanders, according to the order of the king. His intention was completely fulfilled.[^[30]] Dropping the points of their lances, the French men-at-arms cast themselves into the midst of the Flemish knights, who, indignant at being attacked by men who had not received the honours of chivalry, fell upon them furiously, with little regard to their own good order.

In an instant, the horses of the French men-at-arms were all slain; but being men of the commune of Soissons, trained to fight on foot as well as on horseback, they prolonged the fight hand to hand with the enemy's knights, and completely succeeded in throwing the centre of the imperial left wing into disarray. At that moment, the battalion of knights, under the Count de St. Paul, charged in support of the men-at-arms, and with their long lances levelled in line swept all before them, cleaving through the host of Flemings, and scattering them abroad upon the plain, as a thunderbolt strikes a pine, and rends it into atoms.

The strife, thus begun upon the right wing of the royal army, soon communicated itself to the centre; where, on a small mound sat Philip Augustus, viewing with a calm observing eye the progress of the battle, though gradually the dust and steam of the fight, and the confused groups of the combatants, falling every moment into greater disorder, would have confounded a less keen and experienced glance than his.

Though the left was now also engaged, the monarch's eye principally rested upon the right wing of his forces, where the Count of St. Paul, the Dukes of Burgundy and Champagne, were still struggling hard with the Flemings, whose second and third line, having come up, had turned the fortune of the day, and were driving back the French towards the river.