by Griff Hosker
The rain suddenly stopped and the clouds behind us broke. Shafts of sunlight shone into the eyes of the Genoese and nature was on our side! The forty-one bows of my men were the tautest of any and when Captain William commanded us to draw then the creak from our bows was louder. Some of the Genoese had launched their bolts early but I think it was in response to the eight guns which had belched flames again. The bolts were sent at the fearsome sounding cannons. They fell well short.
“Loose arrows!”
Every archer in the army sent their arrows high into the air as the Genoese gave their first half-hearted attempt to shift us. Normally the Genoese carried a pavise which they set up before them. It allowed them to reload without fear of being struck but they had none that day, and our arrows punctured and tore into flesh. Fifteen arrows were sent by every archer in the time it takes to count to fifty. The Genoese would be lucky to send three bolts back in that time. Some, myself and my men included, sent more. A few archers were down but they were the unlucky ones and we kept sending arrows while fewer and fewer bolts came in reply. It was too much for they were losing men and we were not. The Genoese broke. We did not stop our arrow storm and many Genoese died as they turned and ran. Before we could even cheer our victory, a French horn sounded and the huge line of men at arms rode towards us. I was dumbstruck for they made no attempt to evade the Genoese. The mercenaries were simply trampled under the hooves of the mailed men.
I shouted, “Bodkins!” These were mailed men.
Captain William and all the other captains were experienced, and no order was given to draw. The reasons were simple. The French were so keen to get at us that they were not in a straight line and as horses stumbled over bodies the disjointed line became even more ragged. The blind King of Bohemia was led into battle by six knights and honour dictated that no Bohemian rode before him. That section of the battle was behind Count Charles of Alençon. The last reason was that the closer they were to us the better chance we had of piercing mail. The French were one hundred and fifty paces from us when we were ordered to release, and we managed to send twenty arrows each before the order came to fall back to the flanks of our men at arms.
We each had an arrow nocked and, as we turned, sent it on a flat trajectory towards the first French battle. I saw my arrow slam into the chest of one of the King of Bohemia’s bodyguards and he was thrown from his saddle. As I nocked another arrow, I saw that we had slaughtered many knights. Some riderless horses meandered around the battlefield. I even saw one drinking from the river. More Bohemians guarding their king died as they drew closer to us. We kept up a withering rate for we knew that soon only those actually next to the river would be able to use their bows for the French men at arms would be fighting with our own men at arms.
“Be ready to drop your bows and attack them with your swords!”
They cheered. That was their sort of fight for if you could kill a knight or man at arms then his armour, mail, weapons and purse could make you a man rich beyond his wildest dreams. While Captain William and the archers who were closest to the river continued to slam arrows into the sides of horses and men at arms, we dropped our bows behind the stakes and ran to our position next to the men at arms. After thinning the ranks of the French men at arms my men and I ran, and we found ourselves to the right of Prince Edward and his dismounted knights and men at arms. We were nimble and we managed to avoid the holes and the stakes. The French horses were not so lucky, and I saw several knights thrown from their mounts as they caught their hooves in the holes or were impaled on the stakes. King John of Bohemia was a brave man, but he had fewer wits than Rafe the Dull. He was down to one of his men leading him forward and he swashed his sword at invisible enemies. When his last protector was struck by an arrow the King rode directly towards us. He could not see us, but his horse took him in the same direction as the men led by Count Charles of Alençon. The horse did not run into the stakes, it was too well trained for that but when a Welshman, he must have been incredibly strong, hurled his spear at the blind king, then fate took over and the spear struck him in the face. He fell backwards over his horse. If he was not dead, then he soon would be as more mailed men on huge horses were charging towards us and they would not be able to avoid trampling the King.
The French knights, for the men at arms from the first battle had begun to withdraw, were fanatical as they urged their horses over dead, dying and soon to be dying men. Perhaps they could not believe that they were being slaughtered by peasants for, in their eyes, that is what we were. They forced their horses between stakes and they tried to skewer us with their lances. I had long ago worked out how to defeat them; an archer had to get close to negate the lance and to use daggers and swords to find spaces in mail and plate armour! I ran, not away, but towards the nearest man at arms. He was a knight and he pulled back his arm to skewer me with his lance. I almost laughed as I danced under his horse’s head and hacked my sword into the side of his mailed leg. My sword was sharp, and my arm was strong. I felt my sword hit bone and, beneath his great helm, the man screamed. I used my dagger to slice through his girth and the knight slid from his horse. Harold of Sussex smashed his axe into the side of the horse’s head, guaranteeing meat for my men that night! I jumped on to the knight who lay spread-eagled. I rammed my dagger up into his throat and, as horses rode to the left and right of me, I reached into his tunic and took his purse. Sheathing my own I grabbed his sword which was a hand and a half sword. I was strong enough to wield it one handed. His plate armour was also valuable but that would have to wait until the battle was fought and won.
I ran back towards our lines. I saw Michael standing where I had left him, sheltering behind the shield. He looked terrified but he had obeyed me and that was a good sign. It was then I saw a French knight on a horse careering out of control towards Prince Edward. The Prince bravely slashed across the horse’s throat, which killed it, but the momentum carried it forward and after it hit him then Prince Edward fell. I was amongst the French and I heard their shouts of joy as they saw the heir to the English throne knocked from his feet. The knights around Prince Edward seemed frozen with fear and, indeed, Count Godfrey ran! I was not a knight, I was an archer and I used the dead horse to spring into the air and knock from his saddle the knight who had his arm pulled back to skewer the young Prince. As we landed, I forced my dagger up under his helmet and into his throat. The richly decorated knight would have to wait until after the battle for me to strip him of his treasures.
I leapt to my feet and shouted, “Hawkwood! To me!”
Just three knights were standing close to the Prince and the French were heading for him. I needed men who could fight! I hacked my newly acquired sword into the side of the horse whose knight had filtered into the gap left by the knight I had killed. The horse reared in pain as my sword bit through to the bone. As the knight began to tumble backwards, I pulled at him to accelerate his fall and when he landed, I used my sword to hack through his neck.
The Prince was still on the ground. I reached down and hauled him to his feet, “Come, Prince Edward, it is easier to fight on your feet.”
He grinned, “Impertinent as ever.”
Sir Richard Fitzsimon, the standard-bearer who had also been knocked to the ground, picked up the Prince’s standard and waved it high above his head to show the division that he was still alive.
Sir Thomas of Norwich ran to us, “Prince Edward, the King says he cannot send men to help you!”
The Prince shouted, “I asked for no help!”
Sir Thomas said, “Count Godfrey sent me.”
He glared at the Frenchman who had fallen back a little. “We need no help! Lock shields and hold them! This storm will pass.”
He might have been right for the Frenchmen from the first battle who survived began to head back but I saw the second wave ready to strike. “Prince Edward, I must lead my men and use our bows. Are you safe now?”
“I am!”
“Hawkwood, back to your bows
!”
I stuck my new sword into my belt and leapt through the bodies towards the stake where I had left my bow. Four of my men were missing although I hoped that they would return. In the heat of the battle, it was easy to lose your place. They might be with other companies. I nocked a bodkin and looked over my shoulder. Michael was there but he had blood on his shield and his sword. He also looked a little pale. He had killed his first man!
I bellowed, for the blood was in my head, “Hawkwood, we can beat them! Aim true and trust in your skill. Our dead comrades’ souls are just a little way above our heads. Make them proud!” It was rhetoric but it worked, and my men all cheered. “Michael, if you can get a spear or a lance it will give you better protection!”
“At the moment I am happy enough with the sword, Captain!”
Our cannons still cracked and whilst they killed few, I liked the way they upset the enemy horses. The second battle led by the Duke of Lorraine charged towards us, but they had an even harder task for the ground before us was littered with dead men and animals.
“Choose your targets well and go for the kill!” I had never seen so many knights and men at arms and, briefly, I wondered if we would survive. I had but thirty arrows left, and I saw a third battle preparing to charge. I drew back and aimed at the knight with the red surcoat and the gryphon on his shield. I aimed at a point just below the knight’s neck. When a knight charged at you on a horse then even if you were incredibly accurate with your flight the movement of the horse could vary the strike dramatically. The arrow hit his chest and the arrow was well made and well struck. It pierced the plate and hit flesh. The lance dropped and only the cantle kept the rider in the saddle. My men were excelling themselves and men at arms and knights were hit, not all died but all were wounded, and a wounded horseman was easy prey to an archer. When the battle was just one hundred paces from us, I shouted, “Hawkwood! Fall back!” The battle had become smaller somehow. I knew not how the King or the Earl of Northampton fared. My battle was by the river and involved Prince Edward’s division! As I dropped my bow, I drew my new sword and ran, following Michael! My apprentice was learning and the fact that he had survived filled me with hope!
The French battle almost stopped as it neared the bodies and the stakes. Prince Edward had recovered and was organising his men. We were better prepared this time and the French were beaten back, helped by the archers at the river’s side who sent arrow after arrow into the flanks of the French! I slipped my dagger into my belt and used my hand and a half sword two handed. I was amazed when I sliced through the skull of a horse! The man at arms flew over my head to be butchered by the archers behind me. As I hacked at the next man at arms a third’s horse knocked me to the ground. Michael stepped up and sliced through the man at arms’ leg. He held out his hand to help me up. The apprentice was learning.
The combat was becoming confusing, but I could see that we had already killed many more Frenchmen and Bohemians than in the first charge and we appeared to have lost few if any! We had lost men but not as many as I would have expected. Our men at arms were no longer in neat lines and some spearmen and archers were intermingled. Michael, Ned and I found ourselves close to the Prince’s standard. I knew that was always a dangerous place to be. The man who had led the first charge was still on the battlefield. Count Charles of Alençon, along with some of his household knights was looking where they ought to charge. Perhaps they had been resting blown horses or they had just returned to gain honour, I knew not the reason but they rode at the standard. The lances and spears the Prince and the men at arms had used at the start of the battle were now shattered and so they held their shields before them. The French, too, had to rely on swords, maces and axes for they had shattered their spears. They came at the trot, negotiating the pits and the stakes.
“Michael, stand behind the standard!”
Prince Edward was as brave a man as I had ever known and despite his youth, for he was only sixteen, he had skill and as Count Charles of Alençon rode at him, his courser snapping and biting, the Prince of Wales swung his sword around to hack, not at the sword but the horse’s leg. Ned also used his axe to hack at the horse. Neither action would be considered chivalrous, but this was real combat and not the pretty war of tournament such as we had witnessed in Brussels. The Count flew from the dying horse and landed at the side of the standard. The household knights, enraged that their leader was lost, doubled their efforts to get at us. Robin had also run with us, but he had brought his bow. He found combat with a sword hard, especially when fighting horsemen because of his size. He sent an arrow into the chest of the nearest knight and he was so close that the arrow bit deeply. His fast hands sent another four arrows to kill the others too. Perhaps we would have all been better to bring our bows.
There was a hiatus and I was about to congratulate Robin when Michael shouted, “Captain! Behind you!” I whipped my head around and saw Count Charles of Alençon running on foot, not at me but Prince Edward. Prince Edward blocked the flailing sword of the Count and, with great precision pushed his own sword up into the mouth and skull of the Count.
Leaning on his sword, the Prince grinned, “I thank your foundling, Hawkwood, but it seems he values you above me.”
I bowed, “I am not sure he knows how to address a prince, my lord.”
Prince Edward looked up at the sky which was darkening as dusk approached, “Will they keep fighting do you think, my Lord Warwick?”
The Earl was also leaning on his sword and he looked south. The King of France was about to charge with the third battle. “I think so, Prince Edward.”
Just then the Bishop of Durham and some men at arms arrived from the King. Prince Edward said, “My lord, it is good that you came but we are coping well enough here. How goes the fighting near to my father?”
“Much as here, Prince Edward, but we are helped by the slope.”
I shouted, “Hawkwood, let us return to our bows! We have rested long enough!”
The Prince sounded sincere as he shouted, “Thank you, archer, I shall not forget the service you have done me this day!”
I sent four men for more arrows and we returned to our bows. I took a new string from under my hat and restrung my bow. I was tiring now, and I wondered if the French would simply use their weight of numbers to overwhelm us. As the Oriflamme standard came towards us I saw that this time all of the peasants and spearmen were joining in the attack. If the battle went on into the night, then the range at which we could use our bows would shorten. Would that affect us? King Philip was no coward and he rode at the head of his men. He was not making for Prince Edward but his father, the King. It gave us a better chance both to survive and to hit the royal household knights. I saw the King of France hit in the jaw by one arrow as another killed his horse. Would the battle end? A second horse was brought up and the King remounted. They charged on up the slope and we faced another wall of horsemen intermingled with spearmen and French farmers. I wondered, as I sent an arrow to hit a knight in the shoulder if we had enough arrows? The sun set and still the French came. This time we did not fall back when the horsemen closed with us for with the horsemen were men on foot and they could negotiate the stakes and the pits far easier than the horses. I used a war arrow to kill the first spearman and then dropped my bow and drew my two swords.
The stakes meant that the French could only approach one man at a time. That day taught me that I had more skill than most of the men that I was fighting. The spearmen held their long weapons in two hands and thrust them at my head. My left arm was strong enough to knock aside the spear and then slash down at the unprotected neck of the first Frenchman. In that way I slew eight spearmen and two peasants with billhooks. Now that it was dark the battlefield became a smaller place and ours shrank to the thirty or so paces that we could see before us. As I slew yet another spearman, I saw that there were no more men approaching. Were the French men at arms preparing another charge? I sheathed my swords and picked up my bow. Nocking a bodkin
arrow, I listened for the thundering hooves of the French cavalry. There was none but I heard shouts from our front and the rattle of metal. The French men at arms were advancing, but this time on foot.
I shouted, “They come again but on foot!” The warning was for Prince Edward behind us. If mailed and plated men at arms were coming then, like the spearmen, they would be able to negotiate the stakes. The spearmen and the peasants had shown the French men at arms another way to fight.
I half drew my bow and stared into the dark. I was reassured by Michael behind me for he had shown that he had good eyes and sharp wits already. I was watching for the French to loom up out of the dark. When they did, I saw that it was the Count of Blois and his knights who were making this attack. I sent an arrow into his standard-bearer as Ned and Robin slew the Count himself. Rather than dismaying the knights, it made them more determined than ever to get at us. I think they felt that their pride had been hurt for we were just archers. Another picked up the standard and exhorted the others to avenge their lord. We were just thirty paces from our enemies and a bodkin could penetrate plate and mail at that range. We sent arrow after arrow into them yet still they came, and they threatened to overwhelm us.