King John sent Sir Eustace de Ribeaumont to reconnoitre the English. He brought back an account of the way in which they were posted, which has been preserved to us.
There were 2,000 men-at-arms, 6,000 archers, and about 1,000 camp followers quartered on a small hill which did not contain 2,000 square feet of ground. This hill was surrounded by very thick hedges, and was divided in the middle by a road, a little crooked and so narrow that hardly three men could go up it abreast. The road was covered on both sides with high hedges, behind which were encamped the archers, who were still at work making a new ditch. At the end of these hedges were the men-at-arms on foot, each holding his horse by his bridle; they were standing amidst vines and thorns, where it was impossible to march in any regular order. Before them were drawn up the archers, arranged in the manner of a harrow. On the left, where the hedges and the avenue were not so thick, the waggons were piled one upon another to make a barrier. Some cavalry were collected on a little eminence to the right, that they might attack the enemy on the flanks.
On Sunday morning, September 18, King John was ready and impatient for the attack. He ordered a solemn mass to be sung in his tent, and he and his four sons partook of the communion. After some debate with his chief nobles, it was ordered that the whole army should push into the plain, and that each lord should display his banner, and advance in the name of God and St. Denis. The trumpets sounded, and every one mounted his horse, and made for that part of the plain where the King's banner was planted and fluttering in the wind. "There," says Froissart, "might be seen all the nobility of France, richly dressed in brilliant armour, with banners and pennons gallantly displayed; for all the flower of the French nobility was there: no knight nor squire, for fear of dishonour, dared to remain at home." And all this mighty force was going to attack a small body of 8,000 men, mostly simple archers, men of the people, standing at bay amidst the hedges and vineyards on the little hill.
When the French were on the point of marching against their enemies, the Cardinal of Perigord, who had left Poitiers that morning early, came at full gallop to the King, and making a deep reverence, begged him for the love of God to stay a minute. "Most dear sire," he said, with uplifted hands, "you have here all the flower of knighthood of your kingdom against a handful of people such as the English are. You may have them upon other terms than by a battle. I beseech you by the love of God let me go to the Prince and remonstrate with him on the dangerous situation he is in." Then the King answered, "It is agreeable to us, but make haste back again." The Cardinal found the Prince on foot in the thickest part of the vineyard, and when he asked him for permission to make up matters between him and the King of France, the Prince replied, "Sir, my own honour and that of my army saved, I am ready to listen to reasonable terms." The Cardinal then returned to John, and after much eloquent pleading succeeded in persuading him to consent to a truce till the next day at sunrise. The King ordered a very handsome and rich pavilion of red silk to be pitched on the spot where he stood, and dismissed his army to their quarters for the present.
All Sunday the Cardinal rode from one army to another, and did his utmost to bring about a peaceful agreement. But the King of France would listen to nothing unless the Prince of Wales and one hundred of his knights surrendered themselves prisoners. To these terms the Prince could not be expected to consent. On Monday morning the French almost angrily bade the Cardinal begone and trouble them no more with his entreaties. Then he went to the Prince of Wales, and said, "Fair son, exert yourself as much as possible, for there must be a battle." The Prince replied that such were his intentions, and those of his army, "and God defend the right." On the whole the Cardinal did not meet with much gratitude from either side for his endeavours, and he went sadly back to Poitiers.
Sunday had been spent by the Prince's men in making many mounds and ditches round the ground where the archers stood, to secure their position. They were much straitened for want of provisions, as they could not without danger move from their place to seek them. The French, on the other hand, were well supplied, and spent the day in the midst of plenty. When the Prince saw on Monday morning that the battle was inevitable, and knew with what contempt the French regarded him and his men, he spoke thus to his army: "Now, my gallant fellows, what though we be a small body when compared to the army of our enemies, do not let us be cast down on that account, for victory does not always follow numbers, but where the Almighty God pleases to bestow it. If through good fortune the day shall be ours, we shall gain the greatest honour and glory in this world; if the contrary should happen, and we be slain, I have a father and beloved brethren alive, and you all have some relations or good friends, who will be sure to revenge our deaths. I therefore beg you exert yourselves and fight manfully, for if it please God and St. George you shall see me this day act like a true knight." With these and other words the Prince and his marshals encouraged the men, so that they were all in high spirits.