"The enemy, sir," he shouted as he passed the leader of the Hampshire companies.
Already the vanguard was observed to be at a standstill, while the supporting troops extending right and left were taking up their position on the flanks. The spirit of battle was in the air.
Massing in close order the five thousand men of the main body moved to the support of their van. Cold, fatigue, hunger—all were forgotten.
It was a stirring sight that met the gaze of Geoffrey and his comrades as they gained the brow of a low hill overlooking the woods of Maisoncelles. Before them lay a gently-sloping plain, flanked on either side by dense masses of trees, while across the open ground could be traced the narrow lane that passed through the village of Agincourt and joined the broader road from Abbeville to Calais, just beyond the cluster of thatched and mud-walled houses.
But to the observers' eyes the lane was lost to view in the serried ranks of the mighty host representing the chivalry and power of France. Three bowshots off, at the very least, the enemy stood, barring the advance of the slender English force.
Swiftly, yet in an orderly manner, the archers and men-at-arms of the invading army took up their positions. The men-at-arms, barely four thousand in number, were placed in the centre, the bowmen being massed on either flank; but by mutual consent, for the night was beginning to draw on, there was no inclination to engage in battle.
"The King's orders are that ye rest yourselves," announced Sir Thomas Carberry, as he rode up to his company. "'Tis nearly certain that the foe will not attack us this night, yet to guard against surprise let each man sleep in his ranks, with his arms ready at his side. 'Tis a sorry night, men, for rest, yet be assured I and my squires will share the discomforts with you."
"I heed not the rain, fair sir," exclaimed an archer boldly, "though I be powerful hungry."
Good-humoured laughter from his fellows greeted these words. Geoffrey recognized the voice as that of one of the Warblington archers, who in times of peace was a wild-fowler of the marches of Thorney.
"Have no fear on that score, archer," replied the Constable. "Already the sutlers are abroad, and many wains of provisions are on their way from yonder village. I do perceive, also, that on our right flank the men are lighting fires. Gripwell, do thou send ten men into the woods and bring back faggots sufficient to last us the night."