When he heard from messengers of the cardinal that the leader of the French wanted no peace at all, except that achieved by force of arms, the prince of Wales called his soldiers together, and made an oration to them ... and turning to the body of archers, he comforted them by this speech: “Your courage and your loyalty have been sufficiently proved to me. You have shown yourselves, in many and great dangers, not degenerate sons and kinsmen of those who under my father’s dukedom and that of my forebears, kings of England, found no labour impossible, no place impassable, nor the steepest hill inaccessible, no tower unscalable, no army impenetrable, nor armed host formidable. Their lively courage tamed the French, the Cyprians, the Syracusans, the Calabrians and Palestinians, and subdued the stiff-necked Scots and Irish, and even the Welsh, most patient in all labours. Occasion, time, and dangers make the timid brave, and the stupid clever; honour also, and love of country, and the rich spoil of the Frenchmen, more than my words, exhort you to follow your fathers’ footsteps. Follow your standards, obeying the commands of your leaders fully, both in mind and in body, so that if victory comes with life, we may still continue in firm friendship, always of one mind and will. But if envious fortune, which God forbid, should, in this present struggle, make us run the final race of all flesh, the infamous punishment of hanging will not profane your names, but these noble companions of mine and I will drink the same cup together with you. For us, to vanquish the nobility of France will be glorious, but to be vanquished, which God forbid, not a shameful danger, but a courageous one.”
As he was saying these words, the prince saw that there was a hill near by, covered with ditches and hedges on the outside, but of a different sort within. On one side was a pasture, thickly covered with bushes, and on the other side it was planted with vines, and the rest was sown land. On the top of this, he believed, the French army lay. Between our army and the hill there was a large low valley, marshy, and watered by a stream. One company of the prince crossed the stream with baggage-wagons to a narrow path, entered the valley across the hedges and ditches, and took the hill. They hid themselves among the bushes, taking advantage of the place, which lay higher than the enemy. The field, in which the first and second divisions of our army were, was divided from the plain occupied by the French army by a long hedge and ditch, one end of which stretched down into the marsh mentioned above. The slope going down to the marsh was held by the earl of Warwick, leader and commander of the vanguard. In the upper part of the hedge, at a distance from the slope of the hill, there was an open place or gap, made by the teams in the autumn, and a stone’s throw from this stood our rear guard, commanded by the earl of Salisbury.
The enemy, seeing the prince’s standard displayed, and moved from place to place, and sometimes quite hidden by the hill, thought that the prince had fled, although Douglas the Scot and Marshal de Clermont said that this was not so. But Marshal d‘Audrehem, deceived by his own opinion, thought to pursue the fleeing prince, and with him went Douglas, in order to advance the splendid name of his new warfare. And de Clermont, to clear himself of the suspicion concerning his loyalty, vehemently urged them forward. For to these men the command of the vanguard was entrusted. There advanced before them, as was the custom, certain soldiers to chase and to joust, and against them came our horsemen especially assigned to jousting, from our first division lying under the hill. In order to see the outcome of the jousting, Marshal d’Audrehem held up his attack. Meanwhile, de Clermont, hoping to pass through the gap in the hedge, and to surround our vanguard from behind, encountered the earl of Salisbury who, perceiving the approach of de Clermont, was prudently forewarned of his purpose. And so those who commanded our rear guard, swiftly taking the gap and preventing the passage of the enemy through it, sustained the first charge of the battle.
Then there began a terrible encounter between the armed men, with lances, spears, and battle-axes. Nor did our archers neglect their duties, but rising from their places of safety shot their arrows over the tops of ditches and hedges, to prevail over the armed soldiers, and their arrows flew more swiftly and more profusely than the weapons of those who fought in arms. Then our rear guard, above, meeting the enemy at the gap, and our vanguard, below on the slope of the hill next to the marsh, and commanded by the earl of Warwick, beat down the opposing Frenchmen. Our bowmen of the vanguard stood safely in the marsh, lest the horsemen should attack them, yet even so those did prevail there somewhat. For the horsemen, as has been said, had the special purpose of overrunning the archers, and of protecting their army from the arrows. Standing near their own men they faced the archers with their chests so solidly protected with plated mail and leather shields, that the arrows were either fended off directly or broken in pieces by the hard objects or were diverted upwards, to fall down for the indifferent destruction of friend or enemy.
Perceiving this, the earl of Oxford left the prince, and leading the archers with him to one side, ordered them to shoot at the hind parts of the horses. When this was done, the wounded horses kicked and reared, and threw their riders, and then turning back upon them, wrought great slaughter on their own masters, who had thought to have another end. Since the horsemen were thus beaten back, the archers, retiring to the place from which they had come, pierced the fighting flanks of the French with direct shots. The dreadful fury of battle continued, as the earls of Warwick and Salisbury fought like lions, to see which of them might pour forth more French blood upon the soil of Poitiers, and each gloried in staining his own arms with warm blood. Nor did Thomas Dufford, deservedly duke of Suffolk, neglect his duty, who from youth to advanced age was distinguished by strenuous deeds in every field of military science. Running through every line of battle, comforting the soldiers and inspiring each one to do well, he took care that the furious courage of the young men should not carry them too far or that the bowmen should not direct their arrows uselessly, and, with much-respected words, he fired their ardent spirits. De Clermont, bravely fighting in the battle, not deigning to surrender or flee, was snatched by death, nor was he unavenged. But the prevailing valour of the English forced d’Audrehem to surrender; the wounded Douglas fled, taking with him his brother Archibald and a few Scots of his band. For the fearful fury of war had slain almost all of them, and had compelled the rest of that company to die honourably, to flee, or to be taken prisoner and held for ransom. But our leaders took care that the victors should not pursue those who had fled too far, because, undeceived by that fortunate beginning of the battle, they believed that a more difficult struggle would take place when later armies attacked. Therefore our men put themselves in good array, and the first and second divisions were joined together.
And without delay another army of the French advanced, led by the dauphin of Vienne, the eldest son of the French king. The splendour of this army was more terrible and more fierce than that of the army which had just been beaten back. Yet it could not frighten our men who were avid for honour and most eager to avenge themselves and their comrades who had been wounded in the first struggle. So, boldly, they go at it on both sides, shouting and calling on St. George or St. Denis to favour them in the battle. Soon they are fighting man to man, and each one, ready to die, fights for his life. Nor does the pregnant lioness make the wolf more afraid, nor the tiger seem more terrifying, than did our noblemen, as they threw the enemy into disorder and put them to flight. And although this army withstood ours longer than the first, nevertheless after a great slaughter of their men, they used a device which the invincible French are wont to call not flight, but a fair retreat. But our men, judging that the outcome of the battle was doubtful, so long as the French king could get there with his forces which were half-concealed in a neighbouring valley, refused to leave the field to pursue the fleeing French.
Sir Maurice Berkeley, son of Sir Thomas, and a hero worthy of illustrious stock, had no regard for this. Through the whole six-months’ expedition of the prince, he had led his men, and, among the first and most distinguished, he had never willin
gly left the front line of battle. In this hour, he was among the first attacking the enemy, and against them he struck blows worthy of eternal praise. In the midst of the dauphin’s guard, raging among them with armed hand, he did not think of fleeing from the French so long as he saw them standing erect, and wholly intent on those in front of him, never looking behind or upwards, all alone he pursued the fearless army of the great dauphin, against whom, with savage strength, he fought with lance and sword and other weapons. Finally, alone and surrounded by a multitude, frightfully wounded, he was taken alive and held for ransom.
Meanwhile, our men laid those who were wounded under bushes and hedges. Others, having lost their own weapons, took lances and swords from those who were overcome, and the archers hastened to draw out the arrows from the poor wretches who were half dead. There was not one who was not wounded or worn out in the great struggle, excepting only four hundred, who kept the chief standard, and were being held in reserve to meet the French king and his army.
After the dauphin was thus put to flight, a witness of the battle came to the French king, and said: “My lord, the field has fallen to the English, and my lord your son has retreated.” Answering him, the king swore an inviolable oath that he would not desert the field that day, unless he were captured or slain or taken by force. Then the standard-bearers were ordered to advance, and they were followed by a very numerous armed force from the valley into the spacious field, where they showed themselves to our men. And they inspired such despair of victory that a man of great worth standing near the prince, cried out to him: “Alas, we are overcome!” But the prince, trusting in Christ and the Virgin Mother Mary, upbraided him thus: “You lie, you silly fool, if you blasphemously say that we shall be beaten while I am alive.” Not only did the multitude of the enemy strike terror in our men, but also the thought of our notable inferiority in numbers. For many of our wounded had by necessity left the battle, almost all the rest were terribly fatigued, and the archers had used up all their arrows.
Meanwhile, Captain de la Buche, a most worthy man, as soon as he saw the army of the French march forth from their camp, got permission from the prince, and withdrew with sixty knights and a hundred archers, and many of our men thought they had fled. Because our men, except for the leaders, despaired of victory, they commended themselves wholly to God, and as if they valued life as nothing, considered only how they might not die alone and unavenged.
Then the prince ordered his standard-bearer, Sir Walter de Wodelonde, to advance against the enemy, and with a few fresh soldiers he went to meet the great army of the French king. Immediately the trumpets sound, one answering another, and the stone walls of Poitiers sound the echo to the woods, so that you would think that the hills had called out to the valleys, and that it had thundered in the clouds. Such great thunder did not lack terrible lightning, when the light shown on armour shining like gold.... Then the menacing company of crossbowmen brought the darkness of night on the field with a dense mass of arrows, which was beaten back by a deadly rain of arrows from the English phalanx, driven to fury by desperation. Out fly darts of ash, which greet the enemy from afar, but the French army, full of troops, their breasts protected by shields, turn away their faces from the missiles. Then the English archers, their quivers emptied in vain, armed only with swords and light shields, try to attack the heavily armed French, fervently desiring to yield themselves to death, which they think will end that day for them. Then the prince of Wales instantly rages, hewing the Frenchmen down with a sharp sword, and he breaks lances, parries blows, annihilates space, lifts up the fallen, and teaches the enemy how furious the desperation of battle can be.
In the meantime, Captain de la Buche marched around on one side, under the slope of the hill which, with the prince, he had left a little while before, and secretly going around the field, he came to the place where the French army lay. Then he ascended to the top of the hill by the path trodden by the French. So, breaking forth suddenly and unexpectedly, he showed by the venerated standards of St. George that he was one of ours. Then the courage of the prince fights to break the ranks of the French, before the captain should have attacked their flanks, which protected the French rear.
So ... laying about him on every side, the prince, fighting in the midst of the French, breaks the enemy line.... The poor wretches, whom those fighting with de la Buche cut to pieces from behind, are attacked on every side, and our archers, placed for that purpose, wound them most cruelly. The whole battle order of the French is then broken.... But thrusting swiftly through their broken lines, and pushing aside the few soldiers still engaged in combat with the victors, Prince Edward directs fearful assaults on the king’s guard, which still surrounded him, crowded together in a mighty wedge. Then the standards totter, the standard-bearers fall to the ground, some, eviscerated, tread on their own entrails, others vomit forth their teeth, some still standing have their arms cut off. The dying roll about in the blood of strangers, the fallen bodies groan, many are transfixed to the earth, and the proud spirits, abandoning their inert bodies, moan horribly. Servile blood and royal ran together in one stream, and near-by rivers ran red with the delicate nectar, so that the fishes were frightened. So the boar of Cornwall rages who “rejoices to have no other path but through streams of blood” to the French king’s guard. Here is met the savage resistance of most courageous men. The English fight and the French strike back at them, and although their leader is of premature age, nevertheless, with the youthful fury of the beginner, he fights admirably, with the strength of two, cleaving the heads of some, and putting others to flight. He cuts off the heads of some, or beats in their faces, some he eviscerates, others he detruncates, showing in everything that he is no degenerate son of the royal line of France. But at length, as Fortune hastens to turn her wheel, the prince of Wales presses forward upon the enemy, and striking down the proud, as if with the savage generosity of a lion, he spares the beaten, and receives the surrender of the French king.
Meanwhile, the French, scattered through the broad fields of Poitiers and seeing their standard, the fleur-de-lys, beaten down, fled with all swiftness to the near-by city. But the English, however badly wounded or worn out from heavy labour, did not think first of the joy of life and victory, but pursued the fleeing French even to the walls of Poitiers. There, in a very great and dangerous skirmish, they slew many of the beaten French, and they would have killed many more, if they had not been more eager to seize the price of their ransom, than to obtain this chiefest triumph.
At last, when our men had been called back together by the sound of the trumpet, pavilions and tents were set up in the fields, and the whole company was quick to give its attention to the care of the wounded, rest for the weary, the safekeeping of prisoners, and the refreshment of the famished. Then, seeing that from their company men were absent because of the fighting, many were chosen to seek out the living, or dutifully to bring back the dead to the camp....
From Chronicon Galfridi le Baker, E. M. Thompson, ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1889); trans. M.M.M.
A Knight-Errant of the Fifteenth Century
JÖRG VON EHINGEN
Fifteenth century
I, JÖRG VON EHINGEN [b. 1428], knight, was sent in my youth as page to the Court at Innsbruck. At that time a young prince of Austria, Duke Sigismund, held his court there. He had married a queen of Scotland, and I was ordered to serve her. After a time I became carver and server of the dishes to this queen. But when I grew older and came to man’s estate, and began to be conscious of my strength, I thought myself too lowly employed, and proposed to attach myself to some active prince, so that I might exercise myself in knightly matters and learn all the practices of knighthood, rather than remain in peace and pleasure at Innsbruck. Now, at that time, Duke Albert of Austria, brother of the Roman Emperor Frederick [III], had returned from the Eastern countries to Swabia and Upper Germany, and my late father assisted me with three horses to enter his service. This same Duke Albert had many worthy
people about him, and kept a costly, princelike, and, indeed, a royal court....
In that year it fell out that King Ladislaus, who was a prince of Austria and at the same time king of Hungary and Bohemia, caused himself to be crowned at Prague as king of Bohemia. Then my gracious master, Duke Albert, caused five hundred horses to be equipped, and the Margrave Albert of Brandenburg prepared himself also to accompany my master with three hundred horses. I reported these matters to my late father, and acquainted him with the course I had followed in accordance with his counsel, and of my present position. At this he was much pleased and said: “Dear son, I will fit you out well and honourably for this expedition in such a manner as becomes a knightly man, so that you may exercise yourself in all knightly matters and tournaments, and be prepared to take your place among your equals and superiors who have been dubbed knights, and so you shall return to your place.” Accordingly I was provided with armour and cuirass, with stallions, horses, pages, clothes, and other things, and fitted out as a knight, and my gracious master was much pleased with what had been done. His grace was attended by a well-equipped train of many distinguished people. So the two princes rode with each other to Vienna in Austria, where they found King Ladislaus, who received them honourably. From Vienna the princes travelled with the king, who was attended by many powerful men from Hungary, Austria, and other lands thereto belonging, with a train of ten thousand horses, and thus he rode into Prague. But it would take too long to describe all the knightly sports and royal and costly displays which were seen at Vienna and on the road between that place and Prague. But King Ladislaus rode into Prague with many princes and lords, and his ten thousand horses, and was crowned king, and many counts, lords, and nobles were dubbed knights. Five members of my gracious master Duke Albert’s train were knighted and accepted into the ranks of chivalry: Lord Jörg, Truchsess of Waldsee, Lord Bernhart of Bach, Lord Conrad of Ramstein, Lord Sigismund of Thun, and I, Jörg von Ehingen, knight....
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