Early in August the English fleet sailed from Southampton, and sixteen hundred ships entered the Seine, passed up between Honfleur and Harfleur, and landed the troops, who proceeded to invest the latter town, which was an important commercial place and the key of Normandy, being a strong fortress surrounded with deep moats and massive walls and towers.[254] It was bravely defended, but as no help came from the French army which was slowly gathering at Vernon, the town surrendered on September 22nd.
King Henry repaired, provisioned, and garrisoned the place, and then began his victorious march through France. Charles, who just then was in his right mind, came to Rouen with the Duc d’Aquitaine and the rest of the princes in October, and at a hurried council it was decided that a battle must be fought, but that the King and his son should not be present for fear of a calamity such as befel King Jean at Poitiers. All over France the nobles were summoned to join the royal standard with their vassals, but the princes were stupid enough to refuse a body of six thousand armed men offered by the city of Paris whose services they disdained.
The Comte de Charolais, who knew there was going to be a battle but did not know when, was wild to get away and join the army. His tutors, however, had been warned by the terrible Duke of Burgundy that he made them responsible for his not doing so, and they were at their wits’ end what to do. They did not like to tell the young Philippe, lest he should find some way of circumventing them, and when a summons arrived for him from the Constable d’Albret, he declared he would go. He was then at Arras, and in much perplexity they pretended to consent, and leaving that city got him to the castle of Aire, where the Constable again sent several seigneurs and Montjoye, King-at-arms, to fetch him. As long as they could the distracted tutors put off his departure, carefully concealing from him the time when the battle was to take place, but most of his people kept escaping secretly to go to the front, and at last they were obliged to tell him, to appease his anger, of his father’s orders, which he dared not disobey but retired to his room in despair and shut himself up there crying. (“Moult fort pleurant.”)[255]
MAN IN ARMOUR, FIFTEENTH CENTURY.
The King of England desired to cross by the ford of Blanchetache, where his great-grandfather, Edward III., had passed over the river seventy years ago, but the place was too strongly guarded, so he marched along the bank for some distance and came up with the French army which was waiting for him at a place enclosed with little woods between the villages of Rousseauville and Azincourt. It was Thursday, October 24th, about the hour of vespers, when the two armies confronted each other. Philippe, Comte de Nevers, and several young nobles had just been knighted by the hand of Boucicault, Marshal of France. The Constable had arrived with the royal banner, the Oriflamme.[256] Around it rose the banners of the princes, barons, and chevaliers with their followers who had flocked to the standard of France. Great fires were lighted, for the night was cold; a drizzling rain had begun to fall, and they were waiting for the English army which must pass on its way to Calais.
The English were hungry and tired with their long march, but they came up with the sound of trumpets and martial music, and the heavy tramp of horses and armed men, so that the earth seemed to tremble with the echo. Silently and composedly they took up their perilous position, well aware of the danger which lay before them, for the French host outnumbered them by at least three to one, and had a much larger proportion of cavalry. But they thought of Crécy and Poitiers, passed the night in attending to their horses, bows, and armour, and prepared for death by confessing their sins, and receiving the Sacrament of the Body of Christ.[257]
The French had scarcely any musical instruments to rejoice their spirits, and their horses did not neigh, but made scarcely a sound all night, which many considered an evil omen. The rain and mud and cold depressed their spirits which sank lower as they, too, remembered Crécy and Poitiers. All night they were calling to each other in the darkness, and many who had been at enmity made friends again, forgave each other, embraced, and drank out of the same cup, as they thought that perhaps they were about to see the dawn of their last day.[258]
Still, when morning broke and they saw their own great superiority in numbers and strength, they gathered confidence, and thought indeed that the English army could not escape them. And between nine and ten they advanced to battle, bending their heads so that the arrows might not pierce through their visors.
King Henry had heard mass at the break of day, and then mounting his grey charger had arranged his troops for the battle, the archers forming the right and left wings. He rode through the ranks and harangued the soldiers, pointing out the danger of their position, from which the only escape was victory. He reminded them of those other battles in which their fathers and grandfathers, wearied and outnumbered, had fought and conquered, and then dismounting from his horse he placed himself at the head of the infantry and led the attack. Twice they halted to take breath, and twice they came on with a great shout, while a shower of arrows rushed through the air into the vanguard of the French army. The English archers were slightly armed and poorly dressed, but strong and active; they wore an axe or sword at their girdle and carried a pike to force their way through the thickest of the fight. In the French army there was neither order nor discipline. The King and his sons were not present as at Crécy and Poitiers, and the princes would obey no other leader. Those who were not placed in the vanguard refused to stay with their men but pressed forward to join the line of cavaliers in heavy armour who bore the noblest names in France, and stood in the front of the battle.