[CHAPTER LXI]
ROUT OF THE MARSHALS
It was now nine o'clock on the morning of Monday; and with trumpets sounding, and armour glancing in the sun, and banners waving in the wind, the French cavalry headed by the marshals came on, laying their lances in rest, and shouting their battle-cries. Their object was to break the archers who were drawn up in the form of a harrow in front of the men-at-arms; and, being unaware that the hedges were lined with bowmen, they advanced intrepidly into the lane, and prepared to charge. But as they little knew the peril they were incurring, so it speedily appeared that they were quite unprepared to meet any that might unexpectedly occur. No sooner were they fairly in the lane than Liulph of Windsor gave the signal, and forthwith from either hedge started hundreds of archers, with green jackets and white bows, as if they had emerged from the bowels of the earth, and straightway from the white bows barbed arrows flew like showers of hail. The movement was almost magical in its effect. In an instant the marshals were in consternation; and in another instant this consternation was turned into terror. Riders and horses were equally confounded, amazed, and startled. The men lost their presence of mind, and gazed round in horror; and their steeds, galled with the pain of their wounds, plunged, snorted, refused to advance, and wheeled round, carrying their riders to and fro.
In vain several knights and squires, with strong wills and strong arms, attempted to force their way forward to the point where the prince was stationed. All their efforts were vain. The confusion was too thorough; and while the French were still in panic and dismay, into the midst of them rode Lord Audley and Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt, with their squires, smiting to the ground all who opposed them; and forward on foot rushed the English men-at-arms, doing terrible execution, and capturing and slaying knights and squires at their pleasure. Resistance was useless under the circumstances. Men and horses sank to rise no more. Nor did the French marshals fare better than their comrades. While shrieks of dismay and pain rent the air, and intimated to the great army of France the fate that had befallen their van, the Lord d'Andreghen, after being roughly handled, was taken prisoner; and the Lord Clermont, after bravely fighting under his banner as long as he was able, was ultimately struck down and killed on the spot.
"Now, thanks to God and St. George," exclaimed the prince, joyfully, "the day promises to be ours; and ours it shall be, if courage can make up for want of numbers. But let us not delay in pursuing the advantage we have gained. Mount and ride," said he, turning round, "and lose not a moment in ordering the men-at-arms and archers on the hill to attack the second battalion of the enemy. Haste, haste! ride as if for your life."
Without a word I, Arthur Winram, sprang on my steed, and spurring through thorns and vines, and over hedge and dyke, carried the prince's order to the knights; and almost ere I had time to return the movement was executed. Descending the hill and making a circuit, the men-at-arms and mounted archers suddenly showed themselves on the flank and rear of that division of the French commanded by the Duke of Normandy, and the effect was such as can hardly be described. Aware that their first battalion was routed, the French knights and men-at-arms hastened to mount their horses, and panic seized the whole division. With vivid recollections of Cressy passing through their minds, the nobles around the Duke of Normandy detached eight hundred lances to escort the heir of France and his brother from the field; and their departure was taken as the signal for a general flight.
"All is lost, and it is time for every man to look to his own safety," was the cry; and leaving John of Valois and the third battalion to their fate, knights, and squires, and men-at-arms fled hurriedly and in disorder.
"By my faith," exclaimed I gaily as I watched the flight, "that is a pleasant sight to see. Our English archers never fail their country in the hour of need."
"Nevertheless," observed Sir John Chandos, who was tiring of inaction, "to me it seems not meet that the archers should have all the peril and all the honour of the day."