Agincourt: Ungrateful Courage

The Battle of Agincourt:

Ungrateful Courage

By Tony Smith

The English have been fighting the French for a hundred years and don't tire of it. They have wanted revenge ever since we defeated them at the battle of Hastings. When the French king went insane and attacked his own troops at Le Mans, the English seized the opportunity to attack.

Our spies reported that Henry is raising an army and assembling a fleet of ships at Dover. I was instructed by my master the Duke of Burgundy to patrol the coast of Normandy. I watched the flotilla of ships head towards the port of Harfleur, I was amazed to see King Henry himself disembark. I sent a group of my scouts post haste to inform the Duke. I guessed they would advance on Paris but for some strange reason they attacked Harfleur, it took them five-week to break the siege. With winter closing in and his forces depleted Henry withdrew to English-held Calais.

They regrouped and made their way along the coast until Henry was obliged to lead his army inland in order to cross the River Somme. We destroyed bridges, heavily guarded others and scorched the countryside to deny them food. They were a sorry looking bunch, few were armoured. our troops wore helmets, chest plate, leg guards and our horses were protected with steel plate.

The stench from their loose bowels was so strong my scouts trailed a kilometre behind the English. We don't take prisoners, when stragglers fell out we amputated their arrow fingers. They were a raggle-taggle army of peasants carrying pathetic wooden staves, subsisting on the nuts and berries they collected in the woods. The French army was made-up of trained cavalry and we outnumbered the English four-to-one.

Last night they camped near the village of Agincourt. My Lord Agincourt told us it is imperative we stop the English before they reach Paris. So we prepared for battle. There were a thousand metres of ploughed land between the two armies with forests on either side; their oaths and malodorous smell arrived on the breeze. We had full bellies, and they ate what they could find in the woods. They have about six thousand archers and a thousand men at arms. We were more than twenty thousand strong, safe in our armour and confident of victory

It was the morning of the attack. Their front was so short we could throw three lines of cavalry at them, and were confident we could charge right through this pathetic army of peasants with their wooden sticks. We had no fear. We drew lots for the honour of riding in the first rank of horsemen: and I won.

The order was given to charge. My horse Escalibar was enjoying the outing. The thunder of hooves in my ears, the wild snort of horses, their arrows clattered harmlessly, bouncing off steel plate. But the horses faired less well. Only armoured at the chest and head they were maddened like bulls by the barbs of picadors. Our blood was flying wild as our mounts. We charged on. It was exhilarating. We cheered as we saw the English retreat. Then we saw why. Mon Dieu! The peasants had retreated to reveal a barrier of sharpened sticks. I was at the end of the line. My horse instinctively veered away. The rest tried to leap the palisade and were speared like chickens on skewers. Riders were thrown forward and the following horses fell into the maelstrom of writhing horses and riders. Escalibar sped on at full gallop and met the edge of the forest which flanked the English army. The stallion braked. Thrown over its head I landed on my steel chest. The breath knocked from my body, Escalibar disappeared into the dark wood. My head in the dirt I could see insects scurrying in the grass. I divested myself of my chest armour and crawled into the safety of long grass. I looked back to see an attack on the English baggage train by a bunch of our servants The baggage was unprotected. Even at this moment of danger I had to smile, one of them stole the King of England's gold crown and ran with it on his head into the forest.

English knights realising what was happening rode back. I heard fierce cries. Orders shouted. Then I saw English peasants thrusting knives between joints in the armour of those who had fallen. In France war is a battle fought between proud knights: it is not not fought by murderers.

Fearfully. stealthily I dragged my body through the grass to the safety of the forest. Divesting myself of the clanking armour I stood up and ran blindly, deep into the forest. The noise of battle faded and kinder sounds entered my ears, birds, insects buzzing, and the gentle rustle of leaves. I followed a path. It led to a pond fed by a stream. I remembered my thirst, knelt down and drank deep from the clear sparkling water.

As I raised my head, I noticed a depression in the grass, it led my eyes to a body clothed in green. An English bowman, clearly a straggler, because his bow fingers had been severed. I grasped my dagger, ready to plunge it in his heart. Perhaps I could in the heat of battle, but not in this peaceful place. He looked up at me and put a bloody hand to his mouth. I cupped water in my hands and dribbled water into his mouth.. He seemed grateful: but I didn't think he was long for this world.

I rested on my back because my chest hurt. I opened my eyes to see the green dwarf staggering towards me holding a knife. I spun away. He fell. The knife hit a stone and I watched blood drain from him. I didn't see that one coming. I took the knife from his lifeless hand and turned him over. He was dead. I placed a pillow of grass under his head.

That is how the English won the battle of Agincourt with guile and ungrateful courage.

The End