was borne down to the ground by four others of the enemy, and was bound and carried captive to the rear.
In the mean time the English archers kept up their incessant hail of arrows upon the band under the French marshals. The English men-at-arms passed through the gaps purposely left in the line of archers and drove back the front rank of the enemy upon those following, chasing them headlong down the hollow road again. The few survivors of the French force, galloping back, carried confusion into the advancing division of the dauphin. Before order was restored the Captal de Buch with his six hundred men issued forth from his place of concealment and charged impetuously down on the left flank of the dauphin.
The French, shaken in front by the retreat of their advance-guard, were thrown into extreme confusion by this sudden and unexpected charge. The horse archers with the captal poured their arrows into the mass, while the shafts of the main body of the archers on the hill hailed upon them without ceasing.
The rumor spread among those in the French rear, who were unable to see what was going forward, that the day was already lost, and many began to fly. Sir John Chandos marked the confusion which had set in, and he exclaimed to the prince:
'Now, sir, ride forward, and the day is yours. Let us charge right over upon your adversary, the King of France, for there lies the labor and the feat of the day. Well do I know that his great courage will never let him fly, but, God willing, he shall be well encountered.'
'Forward, then, John Chandos,' replied the prince. 'You shall not see me tread one step back, but ever in advance. Bear on my banner. God and St. George be with us!'
The horses of the English force were all held in readiness by their attendants close in their rear. Every man sprang into his saddle, and with leveled lances the army bore down the hill against the enemy, while the Captal de Buch forced his way through the struggling ranks of the French to join them.
To these two parties were opposed the whole of the German cavalry, the division of the dauphin, now thinned by flight, and a strong force under the Constable de Brienne, Duke of Athens. The first charge of the English was directed against the Germans, the remains of the marshal's forces, and that commanded by the constable. The two bodies of cavalry met with a tremendous shock, raising their respective war-cries, 'Denis Mount Joye!' and 'St. George Guyenne!' Lances were shivered, and horses and men rolled over, but the German horse were borne down in every direction by the charge of the English chivalry. The Counts of Nassau and Saarbruck were taken, and the rest driven down the hill in utter confusion. The division of the Duke of Orleans, a little further down the hill to the right, were seized with a sudden panic, and sixteen thousand men-at-arms, together with their commander, fled without striking a blow.
Having routed the French and German cavalry in advance, the English now fell upon the dauphin's division. This had been already confused by the attacks of the Captal de Buch, and when its leaders beheld the complete rout of the marshals and the Germans, and saw the victorious force galloping down upon them, the responsibility attached to the charge of the three young princes overcame their firmness. The Lords of Landas, Vaudenay, and St. Venant, thinking the battle lost, hurried the princes from the field, surrounded by eight hundred lances, determined to place them at a secure distance, and then to return and fight beside the king.
The retreat of the princes at once disorganized the force, but though many fled a number of the nobles remained scattered over the field fighting in separate bodies with their own retainers gathered under their banners. Gradually these fell back and took post on the left of the French king's division. The constable and the Duke of Bourbon with a large body of knights and men-at-arms also opposed a firm front to the advance of the English.
The king saw with indignation one of his divisions defeated and the other in coward flight, but his forces were still vastly superior to those of the English, and ordering his men to dismount, he prepared to receive their onset. The English now gathered their forces, which had been scattered in combat, and again advanced to the fight. The archers as usual heralded this advance with showers of arrows, which shook the ranks of the French and opened the way for the cavalry. These dashed in, and the ranks of the two armies became mixed, and each man fought hand to hand. The French king fought on foot with immense valor and bravery, as did his nobles. The Dukes of Bourbon and Athens, the Lords of Landas, Argenton, Chambery, Joinville, and many others stood and died near the king.
Gradually the English drove back their foes. The French forces became cut up into groups or confined into narrow spaces. Knight after knight fell around the king. De Ribaumont fell near him. Jeffrey de Charny, who, as one of the most valiant knights in the army, had been chosen to bear the French standard, the oriflamme, never left his sovereign's side, and as long as the sacred banner floated over his head John would not believe the day was lost. At length, however, Jeffrey de Charny was killed, and the oriflamme fell. John, surrounded on every side by foes who pressed forward to make him prisoner, still kept clear the space immediately around himself and his little son with his battle-ax; but at last he saw that further resistance would only entail the death of both, and he then surrendered to Denis de Montbec, a knight of Artois.
The battle was now virtually over. The French banners and pennons had disappeared, and nothing was seen save the dead and dying, groups of prisoners, and parties of fugitives flying over the country. Chandos now advised the prince to halt. His banner was pitched on the summit of a little mound. The trumpets blew to recall the army from the pursuit, and the prince, taking off his helmet, drank with the little body of knights who accompanied him some wine brought from his former encampment.
The two marshals of the English army, the Earls of Warwick and Suffolk, were among the first to return at the call of the trumpet. Hearing that King John had certainly not left the field of battle, though they knew not whether he was dead or taken, the prince at once dispatched the Earl of Warwick and Lord Cobham to find and protect him if still alive. They soon came upon a mass of men-at-arms, seemingly engaged in an angry quarrel. On riding up they found that the object of strife was the King of France, who had been snatched from the hands of Montbec, and was being claimed by a score of men as his prisoner. The Earl of Warwick and Lord Cobham instantly made their way through the mass, and dismounting, saluted the captive monarch with the deepest reverence, and keeping back the multitude led him to the Prince of Wales. The latter bent his knee before the king, and calling for wine, presented the cup with his own hands to the unfortunate monarch.
The battle was over by noon, but it was evening before all the pursuing parties returned, and the result of the victory was then fully known. With less than eight thousand men the English had conquered far more than sixty thousand. On the English side two thousand men-at-arms and fifteen hundred archers had fallen. Upon the French side eleven thousand men-at-arms, besides an immense number of footmen, had been killed. A king, a prince, an archbishop, thirteen counts, sixty-six barons, and more than two thousand knights were prisoners in the hands of the English, with a number of other soldiers, who raised the number of captives to double that of their conquerors. All the baggage of the French army was taken, and as the barons of France had marched to the field feeling certain of victory, and the rich armor of the prisoners became immediately the property of the captors, immense stores of valuable ornaments of all kinds, especially jeweled baldrics, enriched the meanest soldier among the conquerors.
The helmet which the French king had worn, which bore a small coronet of gold beneath the crest, was delivered to the Prince of Wales, who sent it off at once to his father as the best trophy of the battle he could offer him.
Its receipt was the first intimation which Edward III. received of the great victory.
As the prince had no means of providing for the immense number of prisoners, the greater portion were set at liberty upon their taking an oath to present themselves at Bordeaux by the ensuing Christmas in order either to pay the ransom appointed or to again yield themselves as prisoners.
Immediately the battle was over Edward sent for the gallant Sir James Audley, who was brought to him on his litter by his esquires, and the prince, after warmly congratulating him on the honor that he had that day won as the bravest knight in the army, assigned him an annuity of five hundred marks a year.
No sooner was Audley taken to his own tent than he called round him several of his nearest relations and friends, and then and there made over to his four gallant attendants, without power of recall, the gift which the prince had bestowed upon him. The prince was not to be outdone, however, in liberality, and on hearing that Audley had assigned his present to the brave men who had so gallantly supported him in the fight, he presented Sir James with another annuity of six hundred marks a year.
CHAPTER XXI.
