The Winning of the Golden Spurs Part 29

At length a dull hum of excitement ran along the ranks. The voices of the company-commanders could be heard ordering their men to stand to their arms, and in a few moments, mounted on a white palfrey and bearing a white rod in his hand, the King rode slowly along the front of those rigid lines of warriors.

At intervals he reined in his steed in order to address the troops, bidding them stand stoutly to their arms and take heed to his honour in the fight. A roar of cheering greeted the monarch as he left the first division to inspect the second, and the men were told to stand at ease, and again refresh themselves with food and rest.

Although awaiting an attack is one of the worst ordeals that can be undergone, Raymond was amazed at the coolness of the soldiers, as with merry laugh and jest they sat or sprawled on the ground. Many were busily engaged in fixing new strings to their bows, smoothing out the feathers of their arrows, or waxing or greasing the heads of their deadly shafts to enable them to pierce an obstacle with greater ease, while others crowded round the master-bowmen, asking advice or information on the coming struggle.

Redward had shaken off his depression, and greeted his son with a cheerfulness that was all the more remarkable by reason of his confession on the eve of battle.

"A goodly sight," he exclaimed, "and never can I hope to be in better company. Look at the lads! One would think they were about to try their turn at the b.u.t.ts."

"And think'st thou that the French will fight?"

"a.s.suredly; they seek to overwhelm and crush us with the weight of numbers. Can the archers but hold the ridge for one hour the day will go with us."

"But 'twill be eventide ere the enemy come to blows?"

"Ay; but if mine eyes do not deceive me, there they are, right on the skyline."

Raymond looked, and in the distance he saw the cloud of dust that invariably envelops an army on the march. Others had detected the sight, and there was a general stir amongst the troops. Exclamations of satisfaction burst from all lips at the prospect of the approach of the French host.

"'Twill be six or seven hours ere they draw nigh," remarked Redward, "and footsore and weary will they be after a three leagues' march in battle array. But, see, Raymond, there is thine uncle, Sir Maurice Revyngton, at the head of the men of Totnes, and, mark you, Sir Reginald Scarsdale is in close converse with him. What doth it mean, I wonder?"

A little later in the day the sun, which had been shining brightly in the eyes of the English host, disappeared behind a thick bank of clouds. The air was close and sultry, and at midday the gloom was so intense that it seemed as if night was drawing nigh. With raucous cries a vast number of crows, ever regarded as birds of ill-omen, flew across the front of the army and alighted on the plain beneath; then resuming their flight they disappeared in the direction of the advancing Frenchmen.

"It will go ill with the King of France," remarked Sir John Hacket to his squire. "If he reads the sign aright methinks he will stay his hand. But see, a thunder-storm approaches rapidly!"

"Pa.s.s the word for the archers to protect their bow-strings,"

exclaimed the Earl of Warwick to the nearest Constable, and in obedience to the order the bowmen either drew waterproof cases over their bows or, if unprovided with these, unstrung their weapons and placed the cords under their quilted coats.

Hardly were these preparations completed than the rain descended in a torrential downpour, blotting out the horizon in a mirky blur, then, as suddenly as it came, the cloud pa.s.sed over on its way towards Abbeville, and the sun again shone brilliantly, its warmth soon drying the sodden clothing of the soldiers.

Nearer and nearer came the dark ma.s.ses of Frenchmen, till within a league of their enemies they halted. Shortly afterwards a group of hors.e.m.e.n could be seen riding towards the English position, and, amid breathless excitement, it was observed that four French knights were approaching.

Either from absolute contempt for their enemies or relying on the chivalrous instincts that frequently show themselves between opposing enemies, the Frenchmen rode within a bow-shot of the English lines, then, calmly trotting along the whole front of the army, they appeared to be making careful observations of the dispositions of their foe.

Several knights besought the Prince of Wales to be allowed to have their chargers brought them, so that they might earn a slight advancement by engaging the intrepid Frenchmen; others requested that the archers should shoot them down; but to all entreaties the Prince firmly but courteously returned a refusal, and in perfect silence the English allowed the French knights to complete their reconnaissance, and to retire in safety to their own host.

Slowly the hours pa.s.sed, and still the French army showed no signs of advancing. The sun was now shining well behind the English, and would serve to dazzle the eyes of their attackers. Meanwhile the archers had planted their pointed stakes, and the men-at-arms in charge of the bombards had loaded these c.u.mbersome engines and trained them on the plain across which the enemy must advance.

Once again the wearisome monotony was broken by the appearance of a man who was observed to make his way steadily and rapidly towards the English lines. When within bowshot he waved his arms in token of friendship, and four archers were sent out to escort him to the Prince. The new-comer was a tall, lightly-built man, with long, spider-like legs and arms, and sharp, projecting elbow-joints and knees. He was attired in a close-fitting dress of blue cloth that served to increase his angularities, and from his belt hung an ink-horn counterbalanced by a short knife.

"Mark ye," quoth Sir John Hacket to his squire, "yonder sly fox is on no lawful errand, and, certes, 'twill go hard with him if he plays the traitor with our Prince. Look at his protruding forehead and his shifty, blinking eyes. A creature like that would fawn to one's face and plunge a dagger into one's back! Hark to what he has to say."

The man spoke in a deep yet quavering voice, yet so loudly that Raymond could hear every word.

"My name, fair sir, is Alexandre Gourdain, and I am clerk in the household of King Philip."

"Forbear to trouble me with thy name and calling," replied the Prince curtly, "but deliver thy message."

"Message, fair sir? Nay, I bear no message, but have come to tell thee that, though counselled to tarry till to-morrow, my master has decided to begin the fight----"

"One moment! Thou bring'st this news on thy own behalf?"

"Yea, fair sir."

"And seekest a guerdon?"

"Yea, fair sir; I do but ask----"

"Enough, thou recreant! Think'st thou that I would list to a double-faced rogue to learn the movements of a gallant foe? Hence with ye! Ho, archers! Strip this coward's coat from off his back, and give him a score l.u.s.ty stripes with your bow-cords. Then turn him loose, and if he go not back to his master, feather him with shafts.

Get thee gone, knave."

"Is it not as I said?" remarked the Constable of Portchester in an undertone. "See, the archers take a delight in their task."

The twenty strokes were laid on with all the force of the soldiers'

sinewy arms, then, threatened by a hundred drawn bows, the miserable wretch was pushed out of the lines and sent on his way towards the army he had stooped to betray.

Signs of animation were now observed in the dense ma.s.ses of the enemy. The heavily-armed cavalry rode forth in a disorderly mob, brandishing their arms and shouting; then, retiring on the main body, their places were taken by a body of archers, nearly two thousand strong, who slowly advanced towards the foot of the rising ground, where the English were posted in firm array.

"'Tis the crossbowmen of Genoa. Steady, my lads; their bolts will be singing over our heads anon," shouted Sir John, and at the same moment the Prince of Wales gave the signal for the archers to stand and make ready.

Silently yet swiftly the white-surcoated lines of bow-men sprang to their feet and took up their allotted stations in the formation of a harrow. With feet planted firmly, and with arrows notched to their six-foot bows, they stood ready for action.

At length the Genoese came within bowshot, the clicking of their windlacs as they drew the cords of their crossbows sounding like the chirping of myriad crickets. Then with a loud shout they leaped from the ground. Another shout, and the leap was repeated.

"Do they take us for a crowd of yokels at a country fair?" asked one archer of his fellow. "They prance for all the world like a dog-baited bear."

"They'll dance higher ere long, I'll warrant," replied his comrade grimly.

Once more the Genoese leapt, then levelling their crossbows, they let fly a volley of short bolts.

A shout of derision greeted this discharge, for, without exception, the bolts fell far short of the proper distance, sticking in the ground at a sharp angle and rendering the advance of the French cavalry, when it should take place, full of additional peril.

"That shows what the rain did for the strings of their crossbows,"

said Sir John Hacket to the Constable of Lewes, who had joined him at the beginning of the advance. "Steady, men. At the word, loose wholly together."

The long-drawn tension was broken by the voice of the great Lord Chandos. "In the name of G.o.d and St. George--shoot!"

The tw.a.n.g of two thousand longbows reverberated along the line. The intervening s.p.a.ce between the armies was white with a sleet of arrows. Looking towards the Genoese, Raymond saw a dense ma.s.s of men bending over their crossbows and working their windlacs in desperate haste to reload their c.u.mbersome weapons. The next moment the Genoese were literally swept away. Hardly an arrow failed to find a mark; heads, b.r.e.a.s.t.s, arms, and legs were transfixed by stinging shafts.

Dead, wounded, and unscathed were mixed in a writhing, struggling ma.s.s, and the confusion was increased by the unwounded striving to fall back upon the main body of the French host.

All the while the English archers shot straight and true at the disorganised Genoese. The squire, though unable to see the faces of the bowmen in front of him, was astonished at the quiet, collected manner in which they loosed their bows.

Then, as he glanced towards the panic-stricken foemen, the squire observed a strong body of French mounted troops charging down, as he supposed, to the support of the ill-fated crossbowmen. The ground trembled beneath the feet of the cavalry, as with loose rein and wildly brandished weapons their riders pressed forward in a headlong charge.

But to Raymond's surprise, instead of deploying right and left of the fugitives, the Frenchmen cut right through their Genoese mercenaries, slashing at the miserable men with sword and axe.

In this tangled web hors.e.m.e.n fell in scores. Genoese and Frenchmen fought each other with the madness of fury and self-preservation, and all the time the hail of English arrows swept down knight and crossbow-man in indiscriminate slaughter.

To add to the confusion, the bombards on the right of the Prince's division opened fire, and amid clouds of thick, suffocating smoke the heavy stone b.a.l.l.s went crashing through the dense ma.s.ses of the foe, and, for the first time in warfare, it was seen that thrice-tempered armour was useless before the power of artillery.