formed them in three or even four ranks, offering a frontage of 400 or 300 yards. In any event, when a portion of the French army, which may have been as much as 5,000-strong, appeared on 30 September and launched their usual successive charges of heavy cavalry, the horsemen could not negotiate the ditches and pits and the result was chaos and slaughter. At least fifty French knights were killed and perhaps 150 captured, and the rest fled the field. Wisely, given the small force under his command, Northampton did not pursue.15
Northampton was soon reinforced by the king himself, who landed at Brest in October with 5,000 men. Soon the castles and fortified places along the coast were in Anglo-Breton hands, but both John, duke of Normandy, and his father Philip VI, who had now arrived in the area with more troops, adopted delaying tactics and refused to give battle, playing for time until Edward ran out of money or patience or made a major mistake. Vannes was eventually betrayed to Edward, but not before a number of attempts to take it by assault had failed, including one led by Robert of Artois in which he was wounded and, while supposedly recovering, caught dysentery, which killed him. His body was brought back to England and buried in London. Vannes now became the Anglo-Breton administrative headquarters, but otherwise the stalemate lasted until January 1343, when a truce was brokered which allowed the status quo to remain and both kings to withdraw so that negotiations could begin in earnest under papal supervision. Now John de Montfort, no doubt exasperated by the lack of progress, broke his parole, escaped from imprisonment and fled to England, where he did homage to Edward – who had narrowly escaped shipwreck on the way home – as king of France. John then returned to Brittany in 1345, determined to galvanize the struggle, and promptly died in September of that year, the cause of death probably gangrene from what had been thought to be a minor wound. In any case, the Montfort hopes now rested in John’s five-year-old son. From now on it would be the English who kept the war of succession going, partly to ensure a friendly or client Brittany, but also to give Edward another point from which he could attack France when hostilities were resumed.
Meanwhile, in England, preparations for the next expeditionary force to France continued. While the army would attempt to live off the land in enemy territory and by local purchase in the country of an ally, the men would have to be fed while they waited to embark, while they were at sea, and on landing until other arrangements could be made. Royal commissaries would purchase the necessary rations in bulk and have them delivered to the muster stations or ports of embarkation, or this might be delegated to the admiral in command of a fleet. Meat would usually be salted beef, pork, bacon and mutton, although beef on the hoof could also be bought and transported, while vegetables would be peas, beans and oats. Wheat would be bought but ground into flour before delivery; cheese was bought by the ‘wey’, a wey being twenty-six stones; and large quantities of dried fish, mainly herring, were also supplied. The potato was, of course, unknown and its equivalent was bread, which was the staple for medieval man, who did not (unless he was very rich) eat from a plate but from a ‘trencher’, a flat, boat-shaped piece of bread. As wheat, which produced white flour, would only grow in ground that was well manured, white bread was restricted to the rich (the officers), while the lower ranks made do with black bread made from rye, or loaves made from barley or even from ground peas. Water was generally contaminated, unclean and the bearer of all sorts of diseases, and so was only drunk in extremis. Instead, people drank ale, which was brewed from barley.33 The barley was soaked until it germinated and produced malt, which was dried and ground and then mixed with hot water and allowed to ferment. The result was only very mildly alcoholic – certainly not of strength to have any effect – and the ration for a soldier or a sailor was one gallon per man per day. Many households brewed their own ale, and, although brewing was one of the few commercial activities open to women, there were very few brewers who could supply the quantities needed by an army or a fleet. In 1340, when Yarmouth contracted to supply thirty ships for forty days to ply between England and Flanders, the 60,400 gallons of ale for the 1,510 men of the ships’ crews came from just three suppliers at a cost to the treasury of one penny a gallon.34
From late 1345 and into the spring of 1346, soldiers were ordered to muster points and then to the ports of embarkation, while the king’s sergeants-at-arms were ordered to ‘arrest’ shipping and have it prepared to transport the army to France. The requisition of ships in this way was not popular with owners or merchants, as it interfered with trade. Nor could it be done quickly: the ship would have to unload its cargo, often in an unintended port, and then be moved to Portsmouth, Winchelsea or Sandwich, prepared for the transport of troops and horses, and then loaded with rations and equipment to await the arrival of the troops. Ships that were to become horse transports had to have extra-wide gangways installed and stalls built on board for the horses. In Hampshire alone, orders were placed for twenty gangways and 1,000 hurdles to make the partitions for the stalls, plus nails, rings to tie the horses to and rope for halters.
Soldiers conscripted by commissions of array were to be from the counties ‘citra Trent’ – south of the River Trent – only, as the Scottish threat could not be discounted. The men were ordered to muster points in their own localities and then, when enough had reported to justify detaching an officer or vintenar to command them, sent off to one of the embarkation ports. On 2 January 1346, thirty men from Salisbury were despatched to Sandwich and took six days to cover the 130 miles; men from Stafford took seven days to cover the 140 miles to the same port; and men from Shaftsbury took twelve days to get to Winchelsea via Southampton, a distance of 155 miles. Men were therefore expected to march up to twenty miles a day along rough roads and tracks while carrying their weapons and personal kit. In an age when the only means of locomotion was by horse or on foot, physical fitness was not a problem. When the arrayed soldiers arrived at a muster point and waited there, and again while they were on the march to a port, their wages were the responsibility of their counties, but, once they arrived at that port, they went onto ‘king’s wages’. As in some cases they had to wait for long periods until other contingents arrived or until the weather was suitable, their presence was no doubt welcomed by prostitutes and tavern-keepers, although perhaps not so enthusiastically by others. Modern-day Aldershot is not so very different.
The total numbers assembled by Edward for his 1346 invasion of France are not easy to come by: many original records, pay rolls and the like have been lost and chroniclers seem to have plucked a number out of the air, nearly always wildly exaggerated. The best guess is that Edward’s army totalled around 16,500 combatants,16 perhaps slightly more, plus specialists (standard-bearers, trumpeters, chaplains, physicians, farriers, miners, gunners, artisans various and the bishop of Durham, whose pay rate was six shillings and eight pence, or £0.33 a day). Of this figure, some 7,700 were men of retinues, either feudal or indentured or contracted companies, while around 8,600 were men raised by commissions of array. With eight earls, fifty-five bannerets, 599 knights and 1,821 esquires, it was somewhat over-officered by modern standards, but, as only the earls, bannerets and some of the senior knights would actually command sub-units of any size, the ratio of officers to soldiers is not too different from present-day arrangements. The army contained around 2,500 men-at-arms and 2,200 mounted archers, all in retinues or contracted, 5,000 foot archers, 3,000 Welsh spearmen and 1,200 hobelars, all arrayed. Each Welsh vintenary had an interpreter, as many of the men spoke no English. Given that in battle only the earls and the bannerets would be mounted (so that they could see what was happening) and that all others would fight on foot, then the army would field nearly 8,000 infantry and, with the royal bodyguard (of Cheshire bowmen), about the same number of archers.
Edward had originally ordered that ships and men be assembled at Portsmouth and the subsidiary embarkation points by 14 February 1346. However, when it became apparent that the ships would not be ready in time, this was extended to the midd
le of Lent (23 March in 1346), then to two weeks after Easter (30 April), when another, supposedly final delay of two weeks was ordered. Even then, high winds and foul weather meant that embarkation could not begin until July, and the process of loading something in the order of 20,000 horses and the last of the fresh rations took several days. As the king was responsible for replacing or paying for horses lost in battle, each horse as it was loaded had its description (height and markings such as star on forehead, white off-pastern, and so on), owner and value noted. This latter could vary from a hobelar’s hack at £1 to a knight’s warhorse at £10. Before the king embarked, the ceremony of handing over the Great Seal took place on the altar of the church in Fareham, Hampshire, and at last, on 5 July, the ships with their cargo of men, horses, equipment and stores set sail from their respective ports to rendezvous off the Isle of Wight. Once the entire fleet was assembled, messengers were sent to London, Dover, Winchelsea and Sandwich with the royal command that no one was to be permitted to leave the country for eight days – a measure intended to prevent French spies from reporting the movement of ships, something that could hardly be concealed from watchers on land. The fleet now headed for France. Edward III was about to earn his place as one of England’s greatest soldier kings.
The Battle of Crécy, 1346. A highly stylised version from the Chronicles of Froissart, where neither the ground nor the dress of the combatants has any similarity to reality. It does, however, show how the crossbowman winding his windlass could not approach the rate of discharge of the archer. The Oriflamme of St Denis, indicating no quarter, was present as shown.
4
CRÉCY
When Edward with his army and fleet left the Isle of Wight, he had a number of possible courses open to him. He could have landed in Flanders, where since the Battle of Sluys the inhabitants were firmly allied to the English; or in Aquitaine, where Henry, earl of Derby and Lancaster, was holding out against French depredations; or in Brittany to join Sir Walter Manny and the Montfort party. In all of those locations friendly troops could have ensured an unopposed landing and a secure base whence to advance inland, but in the event Edward chose none of these obvious courses but instead elected to land where there were no friendly troops in a province that was steadfastly French and whose ruler was Philip VI’s son. Edward would, of course, have been well aware that Philip would be expecting an invasion, but, like General Sir Frederick Morgan planning for his D-Day nearly 600 years later, it was imperative that he concealed the actual landing zone and so he headed for Normandy. To land in Normandy was certainly taking a chance, but not so much of a chance as might initially appear. For, while there would be no friendly troops to meet him, there would be no enemy ones either, as most had been sent off to Aquitaine, and, by opening up yet another front, he would force the French to disperse their forces even more and prevent them from concentrating. Added to that, there was the richness of the Norman countryside and of its cities. The former, with the harvest just in, would provide provisions in plenty, while the latter would yield rich pickings in plate, jewels, coin and ransom.
The sea-borne journey from England to Normandy in 1944 was highly unpleasant for the men involved, but it was far worse in 1346. In 1944, the journey took much less time, and, although the men had to try to avoid being sprayed by each other’s vomit – for just about everyone was sea-sick to a greater or lesser degree – at least they were not surrounded by ever larger piles of horse droppings, nor did they have to try to feed and groom the increasingly fractious animals. One consolation in 1346, however, was that horses have no facility to regurgitate. Bad weather blew Edward’s fleet back almost all the way to the coast of Cornwall before the winds changed, and, although the ships had left the English ports on 5 July, it was not until 12 July that they sighted the Norman coast and began to disembark in the bay of La Hougue (now Saint-Vaast la Hougue) on the eastern side of the Cotentin peninsula. It took three days to land the men, horses and stores, and, while unloading was going on, ships that had discharged their cargo moved to Barfleur, three miles up the coast. Here the sailors found and destroyed seven French warships, before setting fire to the town itself, having first removed all portable valuables.35 A few disaffected Norman knights appeared and threw in their lot with the English, and their local knowledge would be useful, for time was now of the essence.
Edward was intending to embark upon a chevauchée, literally a ‘mounted raid’, which involved moving rapidly through enemy territory doing as much damage as possible but avoiding pitched battle. The purpose was partly economic and partly to terrorize. The destruction of property, the levelling of buildings, the reduction of fortifications, the burning of crops, the removal of gold and silver, and the killing of people all damaged the economy by reducing the amount of tax that could be levied, while at the same time enriching the invading army. Terror could persuade the population to change its allegiance and spelled out a message to the enemy ruler: come to terms or this goes on and will be repeated. Particularly relevant too, at this period in history, was the damage to Philip’s honour and reputation if he could be shown to be incapable of defending his subjects. Leaders of such raids usually aimed to start from a secure base and slash and burn their way to another secure area, or to a port where they could re-embark, before an avenging army caught up with them. Edward would have been intending to sweep up from Normandy to the English county of Ponthieu, at the mouth of the River Somme, and then, depending upon the French reaction, either to return to England or to move into friendly Flanders. At the time, there was little distinction between enemy soldiers and enemy civilians – indeed, the line between them was blurred when most males had a military obligation – and, although there was still a vestige of chivalry present in the relations between the nobility of either side, this was rarely extended to their inferiors. The peasants were always the victims in these raids, and nobody, whether English or French, cared very much about them.
By 18 July, the English army was all ashore. That day it moved to Valognes, eleven miles away, and on the next day struck for Carentan, another twenty miles away, but was held up at the River Douvres, where the locals had destroyed the only bridge. Infantry and cavalry could, of course, cross the river without too much of a problem, bridge or no, but, for the baggage train of wheeled vehicles which carried the tentage, stores, rations and accumulated loot, a bridge was needed. Many of the Norman bridges were of stone, which would have taken time and energy to destroy, so many had one span in wood that could easily be demolished when necessary – and as easily repaired. Edward’s engineers rebuilt the bridge during the night, and on 20 July the English were in Carentan, where a large quantity of provisions and wine fell into their hands. They then burned the town, although Edward is said to have attempted to prevent it, and next day reached the River Vire, where again the bridges giving access to Saint-Lô had been torn down. Once more, the engineers repaired one of the bridges, and on 22 July Saint-Lô was in English hands and again was put to the torch, but not before 1,000 butts of wine had been confiscated. Edward made no attempt to save Saint-Lô, for he was particularly infuriated to find the heads of three Norman knights on pikes above the main gate – they had been captured fighting for Edward in Brittany and executed as traitors. Edward’s view was, of course, that they had been fighting for their rightful king – him – and in any event one just did not execute captured knights.
Bayeux escaped the fate of the other towns on the army’s route: its citizens had taken the precaution of sending emissaries pledging allegiance to Edward well before the army got anywhere near the town. By 25 July, the army was approaching Caen, a city bigger than any in England except London, having covered ninety miles in seven days – very fast going when the delays in bridging the rivers and plundering the towns and villages for miles either side of the route are considered. The advance would have been led entirely by mounted knights, men-at-arms and archers, while the foot-borne elements would have followed on, and if the engineers (carpenters
and masons) were on foot, as they probably were, then they had made excellent progress indeed. A portion of the dismounted troops had been left behind to support the fleet, which now sailed along the coast with the soldiers moving parallel to it, looting and burning every coastal village and farmstead until from Cherbourg to Ustrem (Ouistreham) there was not a house standing nor a farm animal alive, while any stores of grain or other provisions not loaded onto the ships were burned. The purported reason for this devastation was to destroy French naval power in the Channel, to which it undoubtedly contributed, but there was a personal profit motive too. Discipline in the navy was clearly not what it should have been, for, despite orders that all ships were to remain in Norman waters, some of the crews – some sources say as many as a hundred – loaded their ships to the gunwales with loot, then took off for England to realize their newfound wealth.
Caen was a much more formidable obstacle than the towns captured so far, which had been defended only lightly or not at all. The city itself was centred on William the Conqueror’s castle. This was an immensely strong fortification, but the town below it was not well suited to defence, as its eleventh-century walls were by now in disrepair and in some places falling down. To the north-east and south-west of the castle and about 800 yards from it were respectively the Abbaye aux Dames and the Abbaye aux Hommes, the latter the burial place of William the Conqueror. The commercial heart of the city and its most prosperous suburb lay 600 yards south-west of the castle on the Île Saint-Jean, centred round the church of Saint Jean, which is still there, and was unwalled but entirely surrounded by the waters of the Rivers Odon and Orne and their branches. Those rivers are still there too, but their courses have changed, particularly that of the Odon, which is now underground for much of its traverse of Caen, while the minor branches of both rivers have long dried out. Then the Odon ran from south-west to north-east along what is now the Rue des Alliés, with the church of Saint Pierre, which still survives, on the north side and a bridge, the Porte Saint-Pierre, crossing the river beside the church. The axis of the Île was the road now named the Rue Saint-Jean, which runs, as it did then, south-east to north-west. On the southern side, the Orne ran pretty much as it does now, although the Bassin Saint-Pierre was not built until 1845.
A Great and Glorious Adventure Page 10