The battles of the world

by J. Douglas Borthwick

“And now,” says Froissart, “the whole army of the Prince, including every one, did not amount to more than 8000; while the French had upwards of 60,000 combatants, among whom were more than 3000 knights. The Prince, seeing all hope of an accommodation at an end, addressed his captains and men, saying:—

“Now, my gallant follows! what though we be but a small body when compared with our enemies; let us not be cast down on that account; for victory is not always with the greater numbers, but God gives it to whom he pleases. If the day shall be ours, great will be the honour of it: if not, I have a father, and you all have friends, who will be sure to avenge our deaths. Stand fast, therefore, and fight like men; and if it please God, you shall see me play the part of a true knight.”

And now came on the French, and soon it was seen that here, as in many other battles of the time, the English bow was a most formidable weapon. The battalion of the French marshals entered the lane by which the English position must be approached; and now the archers began to ply their weapons “in such sort that the horses, smarting under the pain of their wounds, would not advance, but turned about, threw their masters, and created a general confusion. And if a few of the French struggled through and came in sight of the Prince’s battalion, a small party or two of English knights, who waited for them, instantly attacked them and slew them, or made them prisoners.

Thus, in a short time, this battalion of the marshals was defeated. The front line was driven back in confusion on the division immediately behind it. This, unable to advance, began to give ground, impelled by the crowd of fugitives pressing back upon it. But in retreating, this battalion fell back upon the Duke of Normandy’s and soon confusion and terror spread through the whole army. The detachment which the Prince had placed over-night on the flank and rear of the Duke of Normandy’s battalion, now came forth from their ambuscade, and fell vehemently upon the already disordered ranks of the French; “and, in truth,” says Froissart, “the English archers shot so thickly and so well, that the French did not know which way to turn themselves to avoid the arrows.” And now, this battalion, which was broad enough in the front, grew thin and scanty in the rear, for the news of the repulse of the marshals had spread, and the men began to escape in crowds. Meanwhile the English on the hill, perceiving that the first battalion was beaten, and that the Duke of Normandy’s was in great disorder, gave the word, and the knights and men-at-arms were in a moment in their saddles.

“The day is ours,” said Sir John Chandos, and, giving a shout, the 2000 horse pushed down the hill, charging with vehemence the disordered battalion.

“Let us make for the King himself,” said Sir John to the Prince, “for I know that he will not fly, and we shall have him—if it please God.”

And now the battle grew hot; the French were so numerous, and in such disorder, that it was an arduous task that still remained. Edward charged the division of the Duke of Athens, broke it, and drove it before him;—then the battalion of Germans, under the Count of Salzburg, which was soon overthrown and put to flight. Meanwhile “the English archers, advancing with the cavalry, shot so well that none dared to stay within their reach.”

And now three of the King’s sons, the Duke of Normandy, the Earl of Poictiers, and the Earl of Touraine, with 800 lances which had never put spear in rest, took flight and rode off the field.

The King himself stood firm. “If one-fourth of his soldiers,” says Froissart, “had behaved as well as he did, the day would have been his own.” Again he says, “King John himself did wonders, he fought with a battle-axe, with which he defended himself bravely.” The English knew the value of such a prize, and they directed their chief efforts to his capture. The Earl of Tancarville was made prisoner close to him, as were the Earl of Ponthieu, and the Earl of Eu. A little further on, the Lord Charles d’Artois and many other knights were captured by the flank attack. “The English and Gascons poured so fast upon the King’s division that they broke all its ranks,” and now the last show of order was lost, and the whole field was one confused mass. Every one was pressing forwards, eager to seize the King; at last a young French knight, who had been banished and had entered the English service, entreated the king to surrender or he would lose his life. “To whom am I to surrender?” said John, “where is my cousin the Prince of Wales? Who are you?” “I am Denis de Morbeque, knight of Artois,” said the Frenchman, “surrender yourself to me and I will lead you to the Prince.” “Well,” said the King, giving him his glove, “I surrender myself to you.”

Sir John Chandos, who had remained by the Prince’s side all the day, had now advised him to raise his banner on an elevated point, and to pitch his tent, for there was no longer any French army in sight. Accordingly, the banner was raised, a small pavilion was pitched, wine was brought, the Prince took off his helmet, and the trumpets began to sound. But now the Prince addressed the Earl of Warwick and Lord Cobham, saying. “I pray you to mount your horses, and ride over the field, that I may know, if possible, what has become of the King.” These two lords immediately rode forth, and they soon perceived a great crowd of knights and men-at-arms, all striving with a great noise. More than ten knights were loudly claiming the honour of having taken the King. “The two lords then pushed through the crowd by main force, and ordered all to stand aside. They commanded, in the Prince’s name, all to keep their distance, on pain of death. They then, dismounting, approached the King with profound reverence, and conducted him peaceably to the Prince of Wales.” Edward received the King with a low obeisance, and comforted him as well as he was able, ordering wines and refreshments to be brought, which he presented to the King with his own hand. “In the evening a supper was spread in the Prince’s pavilion; and the King, his son Philip, with Bourbon, Artois, the Earl of Tancarville, Estampes, Granville, and others, were seated at an elevated table, while the Prince served the King with his own hands. The French princes, struck with Edward’s courtesy, declared that he would be one of the most gallant knights in Christendom, if it please God to grant him life.”