"'Tis no time for single combats," replied Henry sternly. "Hence, lest I lose patience with thee. Also go tell thy countrymen to prepare for battle at once."
"Sire," exclaimed de Helly, his swarthy features livid with anger, "I shall receive no order from you; Charles is our liege lord; him we obey, and for him we'll fight when the time comes."
"Away, then," replied the King. "Take care that we are not before you," and as the haughty Frenchmen turned and rode beyond the English front, Henry shouted in a loud and ringing voice, "Advance banners in the name of God and St. George!"
Standing in his stirrups the grey-haired Sir Thomas Erpyingham threw his warder in the air—the signal for the advance. Instantly the little English host was electrified into activity, and with shouts of "St. George for Merrie England," the foremost division began to close upon the seemingly overwhelming masses of the enemy.
Still the Frenchmen showed no signs of advancing. Something must be done to goad them to move to meet the attack, otherwise the handful of Englishmen would be thrown away upon the solid phalanx of French steel.
From his position on the right of the men-at-arms of the Hampshire division, Geoffrey saw the Frenchmen standing in close ranks, regarding their on-coming foe with looks of disdain. Now, the foremost division was on the edge of the intervening belt of bog-land. A few more steps and the natural defence on which the king had placed so much hope would be turned from an advantage into a hindrance, then——
"Halt," shouted the young Duke of Kent in a voice that was borne high above the subdued hum of the ranks. "Archers! Loose wholly together!"
There was very little of nervous haste on the part of the bowmen. Even the comparatively raw recruits were as steady as the most exacting leader could desire. Hardly had the words of command ceased when the air was torn by the sharp swish of the speeding arrows, and at less than half a bow-shot the French received the death-dealing blast.
In the twinkling of an eye their foremost ranks were thrown into the utmost disorder. 'Gainst the deadly cloth-yard shaft, plate armour, leathern coat, and iron buckler alike were useless. Knights and men-at-arms rolled on the ground, transfixed, not once but many times, by the goose-wing-tipped arrows.
But amongst the struggling press of Frenchmen brave men were to be found in plenty. Disentangling themselves from the disorderly mass, the mounted men with lance at rest spurred towards the archers.