Incredibly inactive, the King of France made no effort to relieve the fortress that had held out so bravely and desperately for more than thirty days, and on Sunday, September 22, Gaucourt, accompanied by the principal knights and burgesses of Harfleur, delivered up the keys of the town.
On the following day Henry and his forces entered Harfleur with all the pomp and magnificence of a conqueror, but at the North Gate he removed his casque and shoes, and with impressive humility walked barefooted to the principal church of the town, where the Te Deum and Non Nobis were sung with the greatest fervour by hundreds of battle-worn English warriors.
Having done his spiritual duty Henry's next care was to secure the captured town against attacks from without, and to take steps to husband his resources. Accordingly the captured knights and men-at-arms were compelled to give up their arms and armour, and allowed to retain only those garments sufficient to cover them. Those who were willing to give their parole to surrender themselves at Calais at Martinmas were dismissed. A few who declined to give such assurances were sent to England with the booty.
The English had, by sheer valour and perseverance, secured the chief town and port in Normandy; but in so doing their losses by wounds and sickness were so great that the primary object of the invasion—the conquest of France—was for the time being out of the question.
Henry had three courses open to him: he could either remain within the walls of Harfleur till reinforcements arrived from England, or he could re-embark and give up the fruits of victory; or he could adopt the desperate step of marching along the coast to Calais, a distance of more than one hundred and seventy miles. Something had to be done; so, with the glorious record of his great grandfather, Edward III, to raise the enthusiasm of his men, Henry decided upon the third and most dangerous alternative.
His preparations were soon complete, for the massing of a huge French army hastened his actions. Five hundred and fifty men-at-arms and twelve hundred archers were to be left at Harfleur to hold the town at all costs; the sick and wounded, together with the artillery and heavy transport, were sent back to Southampton, and with a bare seven thousand men King Harry set out upon his desperate enterprise on the morning of October 8.
"By St. George, 'twill be a question of no little advancement or a glorious death," exclaimed Sir Thomas Carberry to his squire as from his position in the vanguard of the host he turned and saw the orderly lines of men breasting the hill beyond the town of Harfleur. "If we gain our end our deed will be sung as long as England remains a nation. Failing that, dulce et decorum est pro pâtria mori—what sayest thou, Geoffrey?"
"Fair lord, I am in accord with thee, though to speak plainly I would rather return to England victorious than lay my bones in the soil of France. What thinkest thou of our chance, Sir Thomas?"
"'Tis not a chance: our future lies in the hands of One above. Yet, speaking as a man well versed in war, our position is very little different from that of the worthy King Edward III before Crécy, and, certes, not worse than before Poictiers. Mark yon line of hungry men clad in rags and rusty armour: I'll warrant they'll fight as blithely and as well as did their forefathers. Times and manners change, in sooth, but the character of the English soldier will, I trow, ever remain the same."
Day after day the weary march was maintained, the troops sleeping in the open at night, in constant expectation of a sudden onfall by the overwhelming host that was known to be hovering in the vicinity. Yet without any serious opposition the English Army reached the mouth of the Somme, where Edward III had made a successful crossing on his march to Calais.