not all, for if he had not taken some action more would have died. He saw that there was only one course to be taken and that was to send back to England those who were growing too weak to be of use.
Thus it seemed that success was turning to disaster for the army was by this time only half the strength it had been when it set out.
'We must return to England,' said Bedford. 'We must raise more men.'
But Henry shook his head. 'Return to England with only the capture of Harfleur to our credit! Nay, good brother, that will not do. The people of England have given me their men and their treasure. I will not return without something more than Harfleur to offer them. They would say I was over-timid and no man shall ever have reason to call me that/
'Then where next?'
Henry was thoughtful for a while. Then he said: 'I intend to march through Normandy, Picardy and Artois on my way to Calais. This is my fair land of France and it is fitting that I should see more of it.'
'My lord,' cried Bedford aghast. 'We have lost so many men and many of those who remain have been weakened by illness. You will have to leave a garrison in Harfleur. How many will you take on this march?'
'There will be some six thousand.'
*Six thousand, my lord, against the French army!'
'It may be that we shall not meet the French army.'
'They will resent the capture of Harfleur. What if they come against us? And what food shall we be able to commandeer during this march of ... why it must be some hundred and fifty miles.'
'All you say may well be true, brother, but I shall not return to England without a victory to present to my people and that victory must be as joyful in their eyes as those of Crecy and Poitiers.'
Bedford shook his head. He thought his brother was courting disaster. But there was no gainsaying the orders of the King and the march began.
They went through Fecamp to Argues, Criel, Eu and St Valery until they reached the Somme. Now the French were on the march.
It was the twenty-fourth of October and the enemy were
encamped in the villages of Ruisseauville and Agincourt.
No lodging could be found for Henry and he slept in a hut. In the morning he released the prisoners he had brought with him, exacting a promise from them that if they were caught up in battle they should return and surrender themselves.
'If I am defeated/ he said, 'then you are released. If not, you will return to me.'
He laughed to himself. How many would obey him? He could not say, but he could not afford to have enemies in his camp. Some might have executed them. It was not Henry's way. He prided himself on his justice. He was hard but not deliberately cruel.
Now there could be no putting off the battle. The enemies were face to face and the next day must see the start of hostilities.
There was great confidence in the French camp because they so greatly outnumbered the English. The French knew what had happened at Harfleur. The English had w^on that victory but at what cost. Their army, so the French understood, W'as decimated by dysentery.
It rained heavily during that long night and as they listened to it rattling on their tents the French were confidently gambling on how many prisoners they would take in the battle and boasting that they would go for those who would bring in the highest ransoms. They were certain of victory. It w^as not possible, they reasoned, for such a decimated band of men, exhausted by a long march and sickness, to stand up against them. Harry of England was a braggart who boasted of his claim to the throne of France. It would be their pleasure on the following day to teach him a lesson.
Henry, strangely enough, ^vas filled with a quiet confidence. He forbade any to speak of the smallness of his army. The men must not be reminded of it, he told his generals. He must imbue them with this sense of certain victory which he himself felt.
In the quiet of the night he walked about the camp. He talked with his men, without proclaiming his identity. But they knew him; and with the rain glistening on his face and soaking his cloak they were aware of some divine power within him and they forgot their fears and knew—as well as he did—that he could not fail.
The King heard mass at dawn. Then he was dressed in his
cote d'armes on which were the arms of both France and England. On his basinet he wore his crown that all might know who he was when he led his men in battle. He mounted his small grey horse and summoned his men from their quarters and when they were drawn up he addressed them. He told them that their cause was just, that they would succeed with God's help and God would not deny that help to those whose cause was right. They were going to show the French that no army in the world could stand up against English bowmen. They were going in to win. This spot was called Agincourt and in years to come its name should be celebrated, because it was one which should stand beside that of Crecy and Poitiers.
Such was his conviction and so did he glow with this shining confidence which seemed imbued with a touch of divinity that his men believed him. They ceased to think of the opposing number of Frenchmen who must be fresher and doubtless better equipped than they were. They only knew that they would follow Harry of England to victory.
Henry himself led the main host of the army; the Duke of York was in the vanguard and the rear was commanded by Lord Camoys. Each of the archers carried a billhook, a hatchet and a hammer and a stake sharp at both ends in order to defend himself against a cavalry charge.
The French stood firm as the English advanced, and from the archers came a shower of arrows which wrought fearful havoc among the French forces. The French cavalry attempted to attack but they could not stand up against the streams of arrows and it was brought home to them that the reputation of the invincibility of English archers was well founded. The horses were unable to advance because as they approached the English held the pointed stakes before them and the French horses, maddened by the wounds they had received from the arrows, ran amok and it was quite impossible for their riders to control them.
The battle waged for three hours. A wild fury had seized the English. The manner in which the archers had repulsed the cavalry even after they had shot all their arrows seemed a miracle. They were certain that God was on their side and they knew that with His help they could not fail.
It was victory for the English archers. As at Crecy and Poitiers they were invincible.
The French losses were enormous, those of the English minimal. This resounding and miraculous success was due to the archers, but it owed a great deal to the military genius of the King.
He it was who had chosen that the battle should be fought on that spot where the French could not use all their forces but were obliged to attack in one space which considerably reduced the advantage of numbers.
So the field was won, and men were saying that never had there been a battle so glorious, never one won against such desperate odds.
The French were defeated, the English gloriously victorious and the name of Harry of England would live for ever as the greatest warrior of them all.
Coeur de Lion, two great Edwards, the Black Prince himself —Henry towered above them.
So it was back to Calais and across to England.
There his loyal subjects awaited their hero. All over the country there was rejoicing. Bonfires were lighted. Pageants were enacted; and when the King arrived in his capital city he was going to be given such a welcome as no king had ever enjoyed before.
Profligate Prince Hal had become great Harry of England.