Henry V

by Teresa Cole

  20–25 OCTOBER 1415

  Had it been left to d’Albret and Boucicaut it is likely there would have been no battle at Agincourt or anywhere else. The constable and marshal would have been quite happy to shepherd Henry to Calais and send him home. Alternatively, since they were guarding the crossings of the Somme, the plan may simply have been to exhaust and starve his small force until they were brought to surrender. Either way the risk would be minimal, Harfleur could be besieged and retaken and there would be very little damage done.

  The fall of Harfleur, however, had produced a sudden and violent surge of patriotism in those who had stood by and let it happen. At a meeting of the royal council, called by Charles VI when he arrived at Rouen on 12 October, a decision was taken that the loss of the town must be avenged by bringing the English to battle. This not only overrode the advice of d’Albret and Boucicaut but also that of the old Duke of Berry, who was now in his seventies and who argued strongly against such a policy. He had seen his own father, King John, captured at Poitiers and knew how these things could turn out, but the only concession he won was that the king and the Dauphin should remain at Rouen well away from the action. ‘Better to lose a battle than the king and a battle,’ he is said to have remarked grudgingly.

  In truth neither Charles nor his son would be much loss on a battlefield. The king’s fragile mental state rendered him useless (in the same way as his grandson would be useless at St Albans some fifty years later). The Dauphin by all accounts was fat and lazy and more interested in clothes and jewels than martial matters. Both would, instead, be represented by members of their households.

  Without them, however, there was no one decisive voice who could unite the different factions that made up the French army. Indeed, although John the Fearless of Burgundy and Charles of Orleans had each been ordered to send forces for the defence of their liege the king, there was some suggestion that they should not come in person since, as sworn enemies, they would be as likely to attack each other as the English.

  Not only was a decision taken at Rouen to fight but a detailed battle plan was prepared, and it seems to be here that the first mention is made of tactics to deal with the English archers. While the plan envisaged a traditional formation of vanguard, main battle and rearguard, one behind the other, and even named the commanders for each, it was proposed that there would also be an elite cavalry force to ride down the unmounted and lightly armoured archers. If this was intended as a ‘secret weapon’ the surprise element was lost when it was spilled to the English king a week before the battle.

  Simple and elegant though it was, the plan was rewritten twice before the actual battle and the most glaring omission was the Duke of Burgundy. Among the named commanders and their duties Charles of Orleans was included but John the Fearless was not. Though he had by this time finally signed the Peace of Arras, there was still a strong suspicion that he might suddenly appear on the side of the English, or, worse still, choose this moment to make a renewed attack on Paris. The area into which Henry was marching was also strongly Burgundian in sympathy, and this was another reason for leaving king and Dauphin safely in Rouen.

  Nor would all the commanders listed on the plan eventually make it to the battle. The Duke of Brittany was listed as a commander of the main battle. Mindful of his treaty with Henry, he had eventually set out with a force after several promptings, but proceeded very slowly and never reached the area at all. Philippe, Count of Charolais, listed as one of those in command of the rearguard, was the son and heir of John the Fearless. Despite the Burgundian leader forbidding any of his people to join the French army, most of them, including his two brothers, did eventually answer the king’s summons. Philippe, too, was eager to serve, but was apparently locked up by his father to prevent him doing so.

  If Henry had anticipated provoking a battle when he left Harfleur, he had clearly not expected the change in circumstance that had come about before the French challenge was actually received. His small but disciplined force had already marched several days more than they had planned for. Their rations were exhausted and the land through which they travelled was quite incapable of feeding some six thousand men, together with their horses and supporters. The accounts tell us that by now they were reduced to eating what nuts and berries they could find on their way. Many of them would be still recovering from the dysentery that attacked them at Harfleur, and to top it all they had just spent a day forcing their way through sodden marshy land bordering the Somme and wading across that river, swollen by the autumn rains, belly deep on their horses.

  Nor had Henry anticipated fighting more than the advanced guard of roughly equivalent numbers to his own. He knew by now, though, that a much larger force was gathering, and the names of the dukes of Orleans and Bourbon announced by the heralds suggested that a substantial part of it was already assembled.

  Nevertheless he seems to have received the challenge very calmly. If the French wished to fight him, he told the heralds courteously, it was not necessary to pick a day and a time. He was on his way to England and they might find him on the road or in the open fields any day without difficulty.

  The king seems to have anticipated that an attack would be made at once. His men were now told to cover the armour they had been wearing since they left Harfleur with whatever coat of arms they were entitled to. This was a surcoat worn over plate armour and bearing the heraldic device of the man wearing it. On a battlefield it was an essential identifier of friend from foe – and also indicated those most worth ransoming and who should, therefore, be captured rather than killed. It was thus both a target and a defence, and the wearing of it signified a readiness to engage at once in battle.

  In fact, though, no attack came, and it is a little puzzling as to why the challenge was delivered at just that time if there was to be no immediate follow-up. Henry’s army was probably at its weakest and most vulnerable then, and with the Somme at their backs there would be no possibility of retreat.

  A second battle plan seems to have been drawn up by the French at this time, and by a fortunate chance it has been preserved to this day. Similar to the first, it envisages a much smaller force, even deploying valets and servants to make up the numbers. This time there were to be just two battles, side by side, one commanded by d’Albret and Boucicaut and the other by the Duke of Alençon and the Count of Vendome. At each side a large wing of foot soldiers would have in front of them the crossbowmen and other archers. Once again an elite cavalry force of a thousand men would be responsible for dealing with the English archers, and a smaller mounted group would attack the rear of the English and their baggage train.

  It may well be that the constable had intended to strike at Henry at his weakest, deploying the troops then available to him. It is likely that the bulk of the French forces did not leave Rouen until the 14 or 15 October, and although it was once thought that these shadowed the English army in their long diversion to cross the Somme, it is now clear that they passed instead through Amiens, probably around 17 October. Nor did they join the advanced guard at Peronne, marching instead to the more centrally positioned Bapaume, so as to be well placed to cut off Henry’s route to Calais by whatever road he took.

  No doubt d’Albret knew they were coming but he may not have known exactly when or where. Then, as he became aware of the forces pouring in from all parts of the realm, it would have made sense to postpone the encounter for a few days, while his army became daily stronger and Henry’s daily weaker.

  Throughout 20 October, a Sunday, the English army rested around Athies, possibly expecting an attack at any moment. When it did not come they moved on again the next day, carefully skirting round Peronne where they may have believed the French to be. A short way beyond this, however, they came upon a sight that left them in little doubt as to what awaited them. Just as the French forces had crossed the tracks left by the English near Amiens, so the English now crossed the tracks left by the French, and saw, by the churning of the ground, that many, m
any thousands had passed that way not long before. A chaplain in Henry’s retinue wrote later that they ‘raised … eyes and thoughts to heaven, crying out with voices that expressed our inmost thoughts, that God would … turn away from us the violence of the French’.

  Still, though, no attack came, and for the next three days it seems the armies marched more or less side by side, though far enough apart to be hidden from each other by the lie of the land. Then, on 24 October as the English were preparing to cross the River Ternoise near Blangy, news was brought that the French army was only three miles away on the other side of the river. Crossing as quickly as possible, they climbed the hill on the far side and there, about a mile away, saw, in the words of the chaplain, ‘hateful swarms of Frenchmen’, ‘an incomparable multitude in their columns, lines and divisions … filling a broad field like an innumerable swarm of locusts’.

  The king immediately marshalled his forces as if they were to give battle at once and the chaplains were put to work hearing the confessions of those who thought they faced imminent death. It is at this point that the famous line of Sir Walter Hungerford is recorded, wishing for ten thousand of the archers then in England who would have been glad to join them. The king’s riposte was immediate. ‘I would not have one more than I have, even if I could … Dost thou not believe,’ he demanded, ‘that the Almighty can through this humble little band overcome the pride of these Frenchmen, who boast of their numbers and their strength?’

  Once again, though, there was to be no immediate action. After a little the French moved on, skirting a wood and placing themselves squarely across the road to Calais to the left of the English lines, which were now turned to face them. This, then, was the chosen ground, selected not by King Henry but by the French, and, in accordance with all the laws of chivalry, giving no advantage to either side. Had it been earlier in the day it is possible the battle would have been fought at once. Instead the two armies faced each other solidly in full battle array until the dusk of the October evening closed in around them.

  It was a cold, wet, hungry night for the English. Eventually stood down when it was fully dark, they sought what shelter they could find in the gardens and orchards of the hamlet of Maisoncelles close by. Although some French accounts say they played music, it is generally accepted that the king enforced a strict and eerie silence on his men, to such an effect that the French feared they were trying to slip away in the night and posted fires and watchmen around to prevent them doing so.

  By contrast the French, less than a mile away and spread across the field and neighbouring hamlets of Agincourt and Tramecourt, seem to have been noisily confident throughout the night. It would, of course, be difficult to keep so large a host silent, especially when they had pavilions, food, wine and all manner of luxuries that the English lacked. It should also be remembered that many of the accounts that spoke of drinking and boasting through the night and gambling for prisoners not yet won were written later, when French pride and overconfidence was seen as a major contribution to the outcome of the battle.

  Shakespeare made much play of an incognito visit by Henry to his troops during the night. There is no record of such an occurrence, but on the other hand it is clearly recorded that during the siege of Harfleur the king was everywhere, night and day, encouraging his men and seeing every detail for himself. On the march, too, when spirits flagged it was Henry who inspired them to keep going. So it would be entirely in character for him to make such a visit, though hardly incognito – after a fortnight’s march with such a small force he must have been known to all – and maybe it was simply too common an occurrence for it to be recorded.

  Through most of the night it rained steadily, and it is more than likely that at some point Henry sent out a scouting party to discover more precisely the lie of the land and the forces he would be facing the next day. On the basis of this he drew up his battle plan.

  Despite the fact that the French had selected this site, if anything it favoured the English. It was a large, open field, the common field of the three hamlets that bordered it, newly ploughed and sown with corn. Of course in the six centuries since then the physical surroundings have changed enormously, but the accounts make clear that it was well over a mile in length, something over half a mile wide, and flanked with woodlands whose size and density we can only guess at. It was these woodlands that afforded the greatest advantage to the English. Without them the small force could have been attacked on all sides and quickly massacred or forced to surrender. In particular the cavalry aimed at wiping out the archers would have had full opportunity to do so. The protection on their flanks meant that, although Henry’s line would be stretched, it could fill the available space across one end of the field and meet its enemies head-on.

  Whatever his activities in the night the king was about before dawn, attending to his usual religious devotions, first lauds, the pre-dawn service of psalms and prayers, and then the hearing of three Masses. At this time too, we are told, all French prisoners were set free on parole, to surrender themselves again if victory went to the English or otherwise to remain free.

  By now the English army would already be forming up according to the plan the king had devised. We have a number of eyewitnesses for the battle, including one of the king’s chaplains mentioned earlier, who wrote a full account quite soon afterwards. Like most eyewitnesses they fail to agree on the details but read together they give a generally good impression of the action.

  Unlike the traditional formation, Henry’s three battles would fight side by side. Even so they would be spread thinly across the field, each having no more than three hundred men. The king himself would lead the centre battle. The former vanguard, now on his left, would be commanded by Edward, Duke of York, and the former rearguard on his right by Lord Camoys, both solid and reliable veterans of many campaigns. Our witnesses differ as to the placing of the English archers. The chaplain declares that at least some formed ‘wedges’ between the three battles, implying a triangular formation projecting in front of the line. The other witness, a herald on the English side, declares that the archers formed wings at each side of one solid line of men-at-arms, curving forward so as to allow flanking fire into the body of an attack. It is not out of the question that both are correct. With some five thousand archers at his disposal it would be possible to deploy the bulk on the flanks while still having some hundreds to place between the battles, and there would be some logic in doing so. If indeed they were in wedges and behind the stakes they had been carrying for some days now, they would be able to fire at close quarters into the sides of an attacking force. Again some support is given to this idea by the chaplain’s statement that the French attacked in three places where there were banners, implying that there was some division at least between these places.

  It is a military cliché that battles are won and lost on intelligence, and certainly the information gained from the prisoners at Corbie would be of great help to Henry. The idea of the sharpened stakes, however, was not his own. John the Fearless was not the only Frenchman at the Battle of Nicopolis. Marshal Boucicaut had also seen the reckless cavalry charge come to grief on the field of stakes protecting the infantry, and moreover had written about it later. Though some have suggested it was Edward, Duke of York, who put forward the idea of stakes to the king, either way it is likely that one or both of them had read the Marshal’s account, and it seems ironic that this should have contributed so much to his own downfall at Agincourt.

  There are no reliable figures for the size of the army the French put into the field on that day. Estimates vary from thirty thousand to a wildly over-the-top 150,000. They outnumbered the English, however, by at the very least three to one, and possibly six to one. There are even stories of men being turned away. One account details six thousand men from Paris being rejected as being ‘of little value’, though, given the loyalty of Parisians to the Burgundian cause, it seems more likely that it was their reliability more than their usefulness that was
called into question.

  Once again the French battle plan had to be altered, and it was here that the lack of a single decisive leader was most felt. By now there were so many leaders present, of differing ranks, regions and loyalties, that it would have taken a very firm hand to override their individual quarrels and jealousies. The two appointed professional commanders, d’Albret and Boucicaut, had not the rank to overrule princes of the royal blood such as the dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, while competing Armagnacs and Burgundians (who had been fighting each other not so long before) equally pressed their claims for prominence.

  Confidence in victory caused even more problems. The French were to fight in two battles, a vanguard and a main battle, one before the other, but such was the eagerness to kill or capture the English king and to take prisoners for ransom that everyone wanted to be in the vanguard – and in the end almost everyone of note was. Among many others the constable and marshal, the dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, the counts of Eu and Richemont, one of the two admirals of France and the grand master of the king’s household all took their places in the front rank. The main battle was led by the dukes of Alençon and Bar, and a considerable number of counts including Philippe, Count of Nevers, younger brother of John the Fearless.

  Both these battles fought on foot, as probably did the wings at each side of the vanguard. One of these, led by the Count of Vendome, largely consisted of officers of the royal household, including Guillaume Martel, sire de Bacqueville, the bearer of the precious oriflamme. The makeup of these two wings and their functions is generally less certain than the rest of the force, but what seems to be clear is that they were either placed in front of – or, pulling rank, placed themselves in front of – the crossbowmen, archers and cannon that on the previous plan had been positioned before them. By doing so, of course, they basically removed all these ‘missile men’ from the battle entirely. It is recorded that the crossbowmen got off one shot (though their target must have been obscured behind their own forces) and that one unlucky person was killed ‘by a gun’.