CHAPTER LXII

THE PRINCE IN THE BATTLE

And now the word of command was passed from rank to rank, and the English men-at-arms who had hitherto remained inactive, hastened to mount their horses. Everything being in readiness, the Prince of Wales, in his black armour, sprang into the saddle, and, attended by his knights and squires, and by Sir John Chandos and Sir Walter Woodland, his standard-bearer, spurred his coal-black steed to the head of the men-at-arms, and receiving his helmet from Simon Burley, placed it on his head, and prepared to charge for victory and honour.

"Now, sir," said Sir John Chandos, addressing the prince, "already the day is almost ours, and God will put victory in your hands; and you have before said that you will prove yourself a hardy knight."

"Yes, John," replied the prince, smiling; "so let us get forward, and I promise that my friends will see more of my back than mine enemies, for I ever like to be among the foremost." And then turning to Sir Walter Woodland, he added, "Banner, advance in the name of God and St. George."

As the prince spoke the standard-bearer obeyed; and, with trumpets sounding, the young warrior led his men from the vineyard, and dashed into the plain to encounter the foes who, an hour earlier, had regarded him as if he had already been a captive or a corpse.

Issuing from the narrow lane, and charging across the moor to where the French were formed in large bodies, the prince and his riders assailed the division under the Duke of Athens, Constable of France; and, the constable and his knights standing firm, a sharp encounter took place.

"St. George for Guienne!" shouted the English.

"Montjoye, St. Denis!" replied the French.

But the conflict was soon over. The constable, after fighting bravely, fell, and most of his knights were slain around him.

Pursuing their career, the prince and his riders next came in contact with the German cavalry, under the Counts of Saltzburg, Nassau, and Neydo, and the Germans fared as ill as the French had done. The three counts were slain, and the Germans, seeing their leaders fall, took to flight.

Not stopping to make prisoners, the prince, with Chandos by his side, charged on--his friends rallying to his standard, and his enemies flying from his war-cry. What remained of the second division of the French was speedily dispersed; and the Duke of Orleans, who was in command of a body of reserve, fled from the field without an effort to stay the progress of the conqueror.

But, as Chandos had predicted, John of Valois did not fly. Even in the midst of panic and flight, he maintained, as a knight and a soldier, the character which he enjoyed throughout Christendom. Mounted on his white steed, arrayed in royal armour, and accompanied by Philip, his youngest son, John, at the head of his division, faced the English and Gascons under the Earl of Warwick, and fought dauntlessly and well. But his courage and prowess could not turn the fortune of the field. Around him his men fell in heaps; and when he, after receiving two wounds in the face, was beaten to the ground, the survivors lost hope, and began to escape towards Poictiers.

But still John of Valois was in no mood either to fly or to yield. Rising from the ground, and with his son still by his side, he rallied his broken ranks, and, with his battle-axe in his hand, advanced on foot to renew the conflict, not without the hope of Fortune declaring herself on his side.

By this time the battle had lasted about three hours, and it was nearly noon; and the Prince of Wales, seeing that his enemies were flying in all directions, had halted after one of his charges, and, with a few men-at-arms around him, was calculating the results of the engagement, when suddenly, on foot, with the fury of a lion, and battle-axe in hand, John made his last desperate effort to retrieve the day; and, as the prince turned to renew the conflict, his eye was lighted up with that joy which warriors feel in the prospect of a stern encounter with foemen worthy of their steel. But few around the prince shared his enthusiasm. In fact, it was a most critical moment, and one thrust with a spear, one blow with a battle-axe, might have changed the fate of the day. Fortunately, however, the Earl of Warwick, returning from the pursuit, charged the French in the flank, and they, giving way, fled, in utter confusion and despair, towards Poictiers, the pursuit continuing to the gates of the city.

And now the field was won, and the French were flying and the English pursuing on all hands, when the Prince of Wales suddenly perceived the body of Lord Robert de Duras lying near a bush; and as Lord Robert de Duras was nephew of the Cardinal of Perigord, and as the prince believed that the cardinal had played him false on the previous day, his ire kindled at the sight.

"Place this body on a shield," said he, addressing two squires, "and see it carried to Poictiers, and present it to the Cardinal of Perigord, and say I salute him by that token."

"My lord," remonstrated Sir John Chandos, "do not think of such things at this moment, when you have to look after others of such importance. Besides, the cardinal may, perhaps, convince you that he is not to blame."

"In truth," said the prince, "I lose all patience when I think of having been so trifled with. But be that as it may, John, it seems that the field is all our own, for I do not see any banners or pennons of the French, nor are there any bodies considerable enough to rally and molest us."

"However," continued Sir John Chandos, "it will be proper for you to halt here and plant your banner on this bush, that it may serve to rally your forces, which seem much scattered. And you may rest yourself a little, as you are much heated."

Accordingly the banner of the Prince of Wales was placed on the bush, and a small pavilion of red silk was pitched hard by, and the prince, taking off his helmet, entered; and the minstrels began to play, and the trumpets and clarions to sound; and the prince ordered liquor to be brought to him and the knights who were present; and they every moment increased in number, for each stopped there with his prisoners in returning from the pursuit; and at length came Lord Cobham and the Earl of Warwick.

"My lords," asked the prince, as they entered the pavilion, "do you know what has become of the King of France?"

"No, sir, not with certainty," replied they. "But we believe he must either be killed or made prisoner, since he never quitted his battalion."

The prince looked grave at this answer; for, naturally enough, he was anxious to hear of the captivity rather than the death of John of Valois, and his countenance expressed the feelings by which he was animated.

"My lords," said he, "I beg you to mount your horses and ride over the field, and bring me such intelligence of him as you can obtain."

"Sir," replied they, "we will most willingly do so;" and, leaving the pavilion, they mounted and went off to ascertain the fate of the vanquished Valois.