"The Castle of Agincourt, sire."
"Then let this battle be called the battle of Agincourt," announced the King in a loud voice. "Herald, thy request is granted. Five hundred peasants can see to the burial of thy master's dead; Sir John Crofton will give thee further directions."
As soon as Mountjoye had taken his departure the King removed his helmet, which bore eloquent testimony to its wearer's prowess, and in obedience to an order, knight, squire and common soldier followed his example. Then, led by Henry in person, the psalm Non nobis, Domine, was chanted by the English army in order to acknowledge, in the midst of triumph, the only Giver of victory.
The French losses were enormous. Ten thousand fell on the field of battle, and of these only fifteen hundred were common soldiers. The Constable of France, the Counts of Nevers and Marle, the Dukes of Brabant, Alençon and Barre, and the Archbishop of Sens were amongst those who laid down their life for France; while the Dukes of Bourbon and Orleans were amongst the prisoners.
The losses on the victorious side were proportionately small. The Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, four knights, seven squires, and about fifteen hundred men-at-arms and archers died in battle, or, roughly, one in every four men engaged. Had the remnant of the French army rallied and made another attack in the open, the shattered English force might never have reached Calais, but so disheartened were the defeated troops that any attempt at a renewal of the fray was impossible.
Deeming himself secure from further molestation Henry withdrew his forces to the camp at Maisoncelles, a short distance from the scene of action, to allow his wearied men a good night's rest ere resuming their coastward march.
The shades of evening were falling upon the ghastly field of Agincourt as the Constable of Portchester returned from audience with the King. He had gone alone, thinking it wiser to leave the two culprits in their quarters during the fateful interview with his royal master.
During his absence Geoffrey and Oswald had not been unmindful of their lord's comfort. Tents there were now in abundance, for the fugitive host had left the whole of the camp equipment standing.
"What think ye of our condition, Arnold?" asked Geoffrey of the old man-at-arms, pausing in the midst of arranging Sir Thomas's couch.
"Faith! many a man has been hanged for less," replied Gripwell, bluntly outspoken in his sorrow. "E'en though the order was unnecessary, as it seems, yet 'twas thy place to obey it. Yet likely thy youth and thy previous good service being taken into consideration, thou mayest save thy neck. But here comes our master. Methinks I read good tidings on his face."