menu_book Chapter 34

CHAPTER XX. THE HUNDRED YEARS WAR. Philip the Sixth and John the Second. PART VI. It was a great loss for King Edward.

Under Van Arteveld's bold dominance, and in consequence of his alliance with England, the warlike renown of Flanders had made some noise in Europe, to such an extent that Petrarch exclaimed, Lest to the sounds, still indistinct, That reach us from the world of the West. Flanders is plunged in ceaseless war, All the country stretching from the restless

ocean to the Latin Alps is rushing forth to arms. But to heaven that there might come to us some gleams of salvation from thence. O Italy, poor fatherland, thou pray'd to sufferings without relief. Thou who wast want, with thy deeds of arms, to trouble the peace of the world, now art thou motionless when the fate of the world hangs on the chances of battle.

The Fleming's spared no effort to reassure the King of England. Their envoys went to Westminster to deplore the murder of Van Arteveld, and tried to persuade his policy would be perpetuated throughout their cities, and to such a purpose, says Freussart, that in the end the King was fairly content with the Fleming's, and they with him, and between them the death of James Van Arteveld was little by little forgotten.

Edward, however, was so much affected by it that he required a whole year before he could resume with any confidence his project of the war. And it was not until the 2nd of July, 1346, that he embarked to Southampton, taking with his son the Prince of Wales, hardly sixteen years of age, an army which comprised, according to Freussart, seven earls, more than thirty-five barons, a great number of knights, four thousand

men at arms, ten thousand English archers, six thousand Irish, and twelve thousand Welsh infantry, in all something more than thirty-two thousand men, troops even more formidable for their discipline and experience of war than for their numbers. When they were out at sea none knew, not even the King himself, for what point of the continent they were to make, for the south or the north, for Aquitaine or Normandy.

"'Sir,' said Godfrey Darcourt, who had become one of the King's most trusted counsellors, "'the country of Normandy is one of the fattest in the world, and I promise you at the risk of my head that if you put in there you shall take possession of land at your good pleasure, for the folk there never were armed, and all the flower of their chivalry is now at Aguillon with their duke. For certain we shall find there gold, silver, victual, and other good

things in great abundance.' Edward adopted this advice, and on the 12th of July 1346 his fleet anchored before the peninsula of Cotentin at Cape La Hogue. Whilst disembarking, at the very first step he made on shore, the King fell so roughly, says Freussart, that bloods birded from his nose. "'Sir,' said his knights to him, "'go back to your ship, and come not now to land, for

here is an ill sign for you.' Nay, verily,' quoth the King, full roundly, "'it is a right good sign for me, since the land doth desire me.' Caesar did and said much the same on disembarking in Africa, and William the Conqueror on landing in England. In spite of contemporary accounts, there is a doubt about the authenticity of these striking expressions, which become favourites and crop up again on all similar occasions.'

For a month Edward marched his army over Normandy. Finding on his road, says Freussart, the country fat and plenteous in everything, the garners full of corn, the houses full of all manner of riches, carriages, wagons and horses, swine, ews, weathers, and the finest oxen in the world. He took and plundered on his way Barfleur, Cherbourg, Bologna, Carinthane, and Saint-Lô. When on the 26th of July he arrived before Cain, a city bigger than any in England,

and full of all kinds of merchandise, of rich burgers, of noble dames, and of fine churches, the population attempted to resist. Philip had sent to them the constable Raoul D'Au and the Count of Tancarville, but after three days of petty fighting around the city and even in the streets themselves, Edward became master of it, and on the entreaty, it is said, of Godfrey Darcourt, exempted it from pillage.

During his march he occupied Louvier, Vernon, Vernouil, Montt, Milan, and Poissy, where he took up his quarters in the old residence of King Robert, and thence his troops advanced and spread themselves as far as Roull, Newly, Bologna, Saint-Cloud, Borglarenne, and almost to the gates of Paris, whence could be seen the fire and smoke from burning villages. We ourselves, says a contemporary chronicler, saw these things, and it was a great dishonour

that in the midst of the kingdom of France the King of England should squander, spoil, and consume the king's wines and other goods. Great was the consternation at Paris. And it was redoubled when Philip gave orders for the demolition of the houses built along by the walls of circumvallation, on the grounds that they embarrassed the defence. The people believed that they were on the eve of a siege. The order was revoked, but the feeling became

even more intense when it was known that the king was getting ready to start for Saint-Denis, where his principal allies, the King of Bohemia, the Dukes of Henault and of Lorraine, the Council of Flanders and of Blois, and a very great array of baronry and chivalry were already assembled. "'Ah, dear sir, and noble king,' cried the burghers of Paris, as they came to Philip

and threw themselves on their knees before him, "'what would you do? Would you thus leave your good city of Paris? Your enemies are already within two leagues, and will soon be in our city, when they know that you are gone, and we have and shall have none to defend us against them. Sir, may it please you to remain and watch over your good city.' "'My good people,' answered the king, "'have no fear. The English shall come no nigher

to you. I am away to send Denis to my men-at-arms, for I mean to ride against these English and fight them in such a fashion as I may.' Philip recalled in all haste his troops from Aquitaine, commanded the burghers forces to assemble, and gave them, as he had given all his allies, Saint-Denis for their rallying point. At sight of so many great lords and all sorts of men of war flocking together from all points, the Parisians took fresh courage. For many

a long day there had not been seen at Saint-Denis a king of France in arms and fully prepared for battle. Edward began to be afraid of having pushed too far forward, and of finding himself endangered in the heart of France, confronted by an army which would soon be stronger than his own. Some chroniclers say that Philip, in his turn, sent a challenge either for single combat or for a battle on a fixed day, in a place assigned, and that Edward, in his

turn also, declined the proposition he had but lately made to his rival. It appears, further, that at the moment of commencing his retreat away from Paris he tried wringing the changes on Philip with respect to the line he intended to take, and that Philip was led to believe that the English army would fall back in a westerly direction, by Orleans and Tours, whereas it marched northward, where Edward flattered himself he would find

partisans, counting especially on the help of the Flemings, who in fulfilment of their promise had already advanced as far as Bethune to support him. Philip was soon better informed, and moved with all his army into Picardy in pursuit of the English army, which was in a hurry to reach and cross the Seau, and so continue its march northward. It was more than once forced to fight on its march with the people of the towns and country through

which it was passing. Provisions were beginning to fall short, and Edward sent his two marshals, the Earl of Warwick and Godfrey Darcourt, to discover where it was practicable to cross the river, which at this season of the year and so near its mouth was both broad and deep. They returned without having any satisfactory information to report, whereupon, says Freusart, the king was not more joyous or less pensive, and began to fall into a great melancholy.

He had halted three or four days at Arraigne, some few leagues from Amiens, whether the of France had arrived in pursuit with an army, it is said, more than a hundred thousand strong. Philip learned through his scouts that the king of England would evacuate Arraigne the next morning, and ride to Abbeville in hopes of finding some means of getting over the Somme. Philip immediately ordered a Norman baron, Gautamère Dufay, to go with a body

of troops and guard the ford of Blanche-Tache, below Abbeville, the only point at which, it was said, the English could cross the river, and on the same day he himself moved with the bulk of his army from Amiens on Arraigne. There he arrived about midday, some few hours after that the king of England had departed with such precipitation that the French found it in great store provisions, meat ready spitted, bread and pastry in the oven, wines in barrel,

and many tables which the English had left ready set and laid out. "'Sir,' said Philip's officers to him, as soon as he was at Arraigne, "'rest you here and wait for your barons and their folk, for the English cannot escape you.' It was concluded in point of fact that Edward and his troops, not being able to cross the Somme, would find themselves hemmed in between the French army and the strong places of Abbeville, St.

Valery, and Le Côté, in the most evil case and perilous position possible. But Edward, on arriving at the little town of Oismont, hard by the Somme, set out in person in quest of the ford he was so anxious to discover. He sent for some prisoners he had made in the country, and said to them, right courteously, according to Freussart, "'Is there here any man who knows of a passage below Abbeville, whereby we and our army might cross the river

without peril?' And a varlet from a neighbouring mill, whose name history has preserved as that of a trader, Guilbin Agues, said to the king, "'Sir, I do promise you, at the risk of my head, that I will guide you to such a spot, where you shall cross the river Somme without peril, you and your army.' "'Comrade,' said the king to him, "'if I find true that which thou tellest us, I will

set thee free from thy prison, thee and all thy fellows for love of thee, and I will cause to be given to thee a hundred golden nobles and a good stallion.' The varlet had told the truth. The ford was found at the spot called Blanche-Tache, whither Philip had sent Godamer du Fay with a few thousand men to guard it. A battle took place, but the two marshals of England, unfurling their banners in the name of God and St. George, and having

with them the most valiant and best mounted, threw themselves into the water at full gallop, and there in the river was done many a deed of battle, and many a man was laid low on one side and the other, for Sir Godamer and his comrades did valiantly defend the passage, but at last the English got across and moved forward into the fields as fast as ever they landed. When Sir Godamer saw the mishap he made off as quickly as he could, and so did

many of his comrades. The king of France, when he heard the news, was very wroth, for he had good hope of finding the English on the Somme and fighting them there. What is it right to do now?" asked Philip of his marshals. "'Sir,' answered they, "'you cannot now cross in pursuit of the English, for the tide is already up.' Philip went disconsolant to lie at Abbeville, whither all his men followed

him. Had he been as watchful as Edward was, and had he, instead of halting at Arraign's by the ready-set tables which the English had left, marched at once in pursuit of them, perhaps he would have caught and beaten them on the left bank of the Somme, before they could cross and take up position on the other side. This was the first striking instance of that extreme inequality between the two kings and point of ability and energy, which

was before long to produce results so fatal for Philip. When Edward, after passing the Somme, had arrived near Crecy, five leagues from Abbeville, in the Countship of Pont-Thau, which had formed part of his mother Isabel's dowry, halt we here,' he said to his marshals, "'I will go no farther till I have seen the enemy. I am on my mother's rightful inheritance, which was given her on her marriage. I will defend it against mine adversary Philip of

the Lois.' And he rested in the open fields, he and all his men, and made his marshals mark well the ground where they would set their battle in array. Philip, on his side, had moved to Abbeville, where all his men came and joined him, and whence he sent out scouts to learn the truth about the English. When he knew that they were resting in the open fields near Crecy, and showed that they were awaiting their enemies, the King of France

was very joyful, and said that, please God, they should fight him on the morrow, the day after Friday, August 25, 1346. He that day bade to supper all the high-born princes who were at Abbeville. They were all in great spirits and had great talk of arms, and after supper the King prayed all the lords to be all of them one toward another friendly and courteous, without envy, hatred, and pride, and every one made him a promise thereof.

On the same day of Friday the King of England also gave a supper to the earls and barons of his army, made them great cheer, and then sent them away to rest, which they did. When all the company had gone he entered into his oratory and fell on his knees before the altar, praying devoutly that God would permit him on the morrow, if he should fight, to come out of the business with honour, after which about midnight he went and lay down. On the

morrow he rose pretty early, for good reason, heard mass with the Prince of Wales, his son, and both of them communicated. The majority of his men confessed and put themselves in good ease. After mass the King commanded all to get on their arms and take their places in the field according as he had assigned them the day before. Edward had divided his army into three bodies. He had put the first, forming the van, under the orders of the young

Prince of Wales, having about him the best and most tried warriors. The second had for commanders earls and barons in whom the King had confidence, and the third, the reserve he commanded in person. Having thus made his arrangements, Edward mounted on a little palfrey, with a white staff in his hand and his marshals in his train, rode at a foot pace from rank to rank, exhorting all his men, officers and privates, to stoutly defend his right and

do their duty. "'And he said these words to them,' says Froyce Hart, with so bright a smile and so joyous a mean that whoso had before been disheartened felt re-heartened on seeing and hearing him. Having finished his ride, Edward went back to his own division, giving orders for all his folk to eat their fill and drink one draught, which they did. And then they sat down, all

of them on the ground, with their head-pieces and their bows in front of them, resting themselves in order to be more fresh and cool when the enemy should come. Philip also set himself in motion on Saturday, the 26th of August, and after having heard mass, marched out from Ambeville with all his barons. There was so great a throng of men at arms there, says Froyce Hart, that it were a marvel

to think on, and the king rode mighty gently to wait for all his folk. When they were two leagues from Ambeville, one of them that were with him said, Sir, it were well to put your lines in order of battle, and to send three or four of your knights to ride forward and observe the enemy in what condition they be. So four knights pushed forward to within sight of the English, and returning immediately to the king, whom they could not approach

without breaking the host that encompassed him, they said by the mouth of one of them, Know, sir, that the English be halted, well and regularly, in three lines of battle, and show no sign of meaning to fly but await your coming. For my part, my counsel is that you halt your men and rest them in the fields throughout this day. Before the hindermost can come up, and before your lines of battle are set in order, it will be late. Your men

will be tired and in disarray. You will find the enemy cool and fresh. By tomorrow morning you will be better able to dispose your men and determine in what quarter it will be expedient to attack the enemy. Sure may you be that they will await you. This counsel was well pleasing to the King of France, and he commanded that thus it should be. The two marshals rode one to the front and the other to the rear with orders

to the bannarats. Halt, banners, by command of the king, in the name of God and St. Dennis! At this order those who were foremost halted, but not those who were hindmost, continuing to ride forward, and saying that they would not halt until they were as much to the front as the foremost were. Neither the king nor his marshals could get the mastery of their men, for there was so goodly a number of great lords that each was minded to show his own

might. There was, besides, in the fields, so goodly a number of common people that all the roads between Abbeville and Cressy were covered with them, and when these folk thought themselves near the enemy they drew their swords, shouting, Death! Death! and not a soul did they see. When the English saw the French approaching, they rose up in fine order and ranged themselves in their lines of battle. That of the Prince of Wales, right in front,

and the earls of Northampton and Arendelle, who commanded the second, took up their place on the wing, right orderly and all ready to support the prince if need should be. Well, the lords, kings, dukes, counts, and barons of the French came up not altogether, but in front and another behind, without plan or orderliness. When King Philip arrived at the spot where the English were thus halted, and saw them, the blood boiled within him,

for he hated them, and he said to his marshals, Let our Genoese pass to the front and begin the battle, in the name of God and St. Denis. There were there fifteen thousand of these said Genoese bowmen, but they were sore tired with going afoot that day more than six leagues and fully armed, and they said to their commanders that they were not prepared to do any great feat of battle.

"'To be saddled with such a scum as this that fails you in the hour of need,' said the duke Dallin Caen on hearing those words. Whilst the Genoese were holding back, there fell from heaven a rain, heavy and thick, with thunder and lightning very mighty and terrible. Before long, however, the air began to clear and the sun to shine. The French had it right in their eyes and the English at their backs. When the Genoese had recovered themselves

and got together, they advanced upon the English with loud shouts, so as to strike dismay, but the English kept quite quiet and showed no sign of it. Then the Genoese bent their crossbows and began to shoot. The English, making one step forward, let fly their arrows, which came down so thick upon the Genoese that it looked like a fall of snow. The Genoese, galled and discomfited, began to fall back. Between them and the main body of the French

was a great hedge of men-at-arms who were watching their proceedings. When the King of France saw his bowmen thus in disorder he shouted to the men-at-arms, "'Up now and slay all this scum, for it blocks our way and hinders us from getting forward.' Then the French on every side struck out at the Genoese, at whom the English archers continued to shoot. Thus began the battle between the Broy and Cressy at the hour of Vespers. The

French as they came up were already tired and in great disorder, howbeit so many valiant men and good knights kept ever riding forward for their honor's sake, and preferred to die than that a base fight should be cast in their teeth. A fierce combat took place between them and the division of the Prince of Wales. Thither penetrated the Count d'Alencon and the Count of Flanders with their followers round the flank of the English archers, and

the King of France, who was foaming with displeasure and wrath, rode forward to join his brother d'Alencon. But there was so great a hedge of archers and men-at-arms mingled together that he could never get past. Thomas of Norwich, a knight serving under the Prince of Wales, was sent to the King of England to ask him for help. "'Sir Thomas,' said the King, "'is my son dead or unhorsed, or so wounded that he cannot

help himself?' "'Not so, my lord, please God, but he is fighting against great odds, and is like to have need of your help.' "'Sir Thomas,' replied the King, "'return to them who sent you, and tell them for me not to send for me whatever chance befall them so long as my son is alive, and tell

them that I bid them let the lad win his spurs, for I wish, if God so deem, that the day should be his, and the honour thereof remain to him and to those whom I have given him in charge.' The knight returned with this answer to his chiefs, and it encouraged them greatly, and they repented within themselves for that they had sent him to the King. Warlike ardour, if not ability and prudence, was the same on both sides. Philip's faithful ally, John

of Luxembourg, King of Bohemia, had come thither, blind as he was, with his son Charles and his knights, and when he knew that the battle had begun he asked those who were near him how it was going on. "'My lord,' they said, "'the Genoese are disconfitted, and the King has given orders to slay them all, and all the while between our folk and them there is so great disorder that they

stumble one over another and hinder us greatly.' "'Ha!' said the King. "'That is an ill sign for us. Where is Sir Charles, my son?' "'My lord, we know not. We have reason to believe that he is elsewhere in the fight.' "'Surs,' replied the old King, "'ye are my liegemen, my friends and my comrades. I pray you and require you to lead me so far to the front in the work of this day that I may strike

a blow with my sword. It shall not be said that I came hither to do not.' So his train, who loved his honour and their own advancement, says Freusart, did his bidding. For to acquit themselves of their duty, and that they might not lose him in the throng, they tied themselves altogether by the reins of their horses, and set the King, their lord, right in front, that he might the better accomplish his desire, and thus they bore down on the enemy. And

the King went so far forward that he struck a good blow, yea, three and four, and so did all those who were with him. And they served him so well and charged so well forward upon the English, that all fell there and were found next day on the spot around their lord, and their horses tied together. "'The King of France,' continues Freusart, "'had great anguish at heart when he saw his

men thus disconfitted and falling one after another before a handful of folk as the English were. He asked counsel of Sir John of Hennault, who was near him, and who said to him, "'Truly, sir, I can give you no better counsel than that you should withdraw and place yourself in safety, for I see no remedy here. It will soon be late, and then you would be as likely to ride upon your enemies as amongst your friends, and so be lost.'

Late in the evening, at nightfall, King Philip left the field with a heavy heart, and for good cause he had just five barons with him and no more. He rode, quite brokenhearted, to the castle of Broix. When he came to the gate he found it shut and the bridge drawn for it was fully night, and was very dark and thick. The king had the castellan summoned, who came forward on the battlements and cried aloud, "'Who's there? Who knocks at such an

hour?' "'Open, castellan,' said Philip, "'it is the unhappy King of France.' The castellan went out as soon as he recognized the voice of the King of France, and he well knew already that they had been disconfitted, from some fugitives who had passed at the foot of the He let down the bridge and opened up the gate. Then the king, with his following, went in

and remained there up to midnight, for the king did not care to stay and shut himself up therein. He drank a draught, and so did they who were with him. Then they mounted to horse, took guides to conduct them, and rode in such wise that at the break of day they entered the good city of Amiens. There the king halted, took up his quarters in an abbey, and said that he would go no farther until he knew the truth about his men, which

of them were left on the field, and which had escaped."