And still the French came to the far hill. They were a horde, they had come to Crecy, and they had come for revenge.
The English waited. Two of Skeat's archers played straw flutes, while the hobelars, who were helping to protect the guns on the army's flanks, sang songs of green woods and running streams. Some men danced the steps they would have used on a village green back home, others slept, many played dice, and all but the sleepers continually looked across the valley to the far hill crest that was thickening with men.
Jake had a linen-wrapped lump of beeswax that he handed round the archers so they could coat their bows. It was not necessary, just something to do. Where did you get the wax?“ Thomas asked him. Stole it, of course, off some daft man-at-arms. Saddle polish, I reckon.”
An argument developed over which wood made the best arrows. It was an old discussion, but it passed the time. Everyone knew ash made the best shafts, but some men liked to claim that birch or hornbeam, even oak, flew just as well. Alder, though heavy, was good for killing deer, but needed a heavy head and did not have the distance for battle.
Sam took one of his new arrows from his bag and showed everyone how warped the shaft was. Must be made of bloody blackthorn,“ he complained bitterly. You could shoot that round a corner.”
They don't make arrows like they used to ? Will Skeat said, and his archers jeered for it was an old complaint. It's true,“ Skeat said. It's all hurry up and no craftsmanship these days. Who cares? The bastards get paid by the sheaf and the sheaves are sent to London and no one looks at them till they reach us, and what are we going to do? Just look at it!” He took the arrow from Sam and twisted it in his fingers. That's not a bloody goose feather! It's a goddamn sparrow feather. No bloody use for anything except scratching your arse.' He tossed the arrow back to Sam. No, a proper archer makes his own arrows.
I used to,' Thomas said.
But you're a lazy bastard now, eh, Tom?“ Skeat grinned, but the grin faded as he stared across the valley. Enough of the goddamn bastards,” he grumbled, looking at the gathering French, then he grimaced as a solitary raindrop splashed on his worn boots. I wish it would damn well rain and get it over with. It wants to. If it pisses on us when the bastards are attacking then we might as well run for home because the bows won't shoot.'
Eleanor sat beside Thomas and watched the far hill. There were at least as many men there as were in the English army now, and the French main battle was only just arriving. Mounted men-at-arms were spreading across the hill, organizing themselves into conrois. A conroi was the basic fighting unit for a knight or man-at-arms, and most had between a dozen and twenty men, but those who formed the bodyguards of the great lords were much larger. There were now so many horsemen on the far hilltop that some had to spill down the slope, which was turning into a spread of colour, for the men-at-arms were wearing surcoats embroidered with their lords' badges and the horses had gaudy trappers, while the French banners added more blue and red and yellow and green. Yet, despite the colours, the dull grey of steel and mail still predomi-nated. In front of the horsemen were the first green and red jackets of the Genoese crossbowmen. There was only a handful of those bowmen, but more and more were streaming over the hill to join their comrades.
A cheer sounded from the English centre and Thomas leaned forward to see that archers were scrambling to their feet. His first thought was that the French must have attacked, but there were no enemy horsemen and no arrows flew.
Up!“ Will Skeat shouted suddenly. On your feet!” What is it?' Jake asked.
Thomas saw the horsemen then. Not Frenchmen, but a dozen Englishmen who rode along the face of the waiting battleline, care-fully keeping their horses away from the archers“ pits. Three of the horsemen were carrying banners, and one of those flags was a huge standard showing the hues and the leopards framed in gold. It's the King,” a man said, and Skeat's archers began to cheer. The King stopped and spoke with the men in the centre of the line, then trotted on towards the English right. His escort was mounted on big destriers, but the King rode a grey mare. He wore his bright surcoat, but had hung his crowned helmet from his saddle pommel and so was bare- headed. His royal standard, all red, gold and blue, led the flags, while behind it was the King's personal badge of the flaming sun rising, while the third, which provoked the loudest cheer, was an extravagantly long pennant which showed the fire-spewing dragon of Wessex. It was the flag of England, of the men who had fought the Conqueror, and the Conqueror's descendant now flew it to show that he was of England like the men who cheered him as he rode the grey horse. He stopped close to Will Skeat's men and raised a white staff to silence the cheers. The archers had pulled off their helmets and some had gone on one knee. The King still looked young, and his hair and beard were as gold as the rising sun on his standard. I am grateful,“ he began in a voice so hoarse that he paused and started again. I am grateful that you are here.” That started the cheering again and Thomas, who was cheering with the others, did not even reflect on what choice they had been given. The King raised the white staff for silence. The French, as you see, have decided to join us! Perhaps they are lonely.“ It was not a great joke, but it prompted roars of laughter that turned to jeers for the enemy. The King smiled as he waited for the shouts to subside. We came here,” he then called, only to procure the rights and lands and privileges that are ours by the laws of man and of God. My cousin of France challenges us, and in so doing he defies God.“ The men were silent now, listening carefully. The destriers of the King's escort were pawing the ground, but not a man moved. God will not endure Philip of France's impudence,” the King went on. He will punish France, and you,“ he cast a hand to indicate the archers, will be His instrument. God is with you, and I promise you, I swear to you before God and on my own life, that I will not leave this field till the last man of my army has marched from here. We stay on this hill together and we fight here together and we shall win together for God, for Saint George and for England!” The cheers began again and the King smiled and nodded, then turned as the Earl of Northampton strode from the line. The King leaned down in his saddle and listened to the Earl for a moment, then straightened and smiled again. Is there a Master Skeat here?“ Skeat immediately reddened, but did not confess his presence. The Earl was grinning, the King waited, then a score of archers pointed at their leader. He's here!”
Come here!' the King commanded sternly.
Will Skeat looked embarrassed as he threaded through the bow-men and approached the King's horse where he went on one knee. The King drew his ruby-hilted sword and touched it on Skeat's shoulder. We are told you are one of our best soldiers, so from henceforth you will be Sir William Skeat.'
The archers shouted even louder. Will Skeat, Sir William now, stayed on his knees as the King spurred on to give the same speech to the last men in the line and to those who manned the guns in the circle of farm carts. The Earl of Northampton, who had plainly been responsible for Skeat's knighthood, raised him up and led him back to his cheering men, and Skeat was still blushing as his archers clapped him on the back.
Bloody nonsense, he said to Thomas.
You deserve it, Will,“ Thomas said, then grinned, Sir William.” Just have to pay more bloody tax, won't I?“ Skeat said, but he looked pleased anyway. Then he frowned as a drop of rain splashed on his bare forehead. Bowstrings!” he shouted. Most of the men were still sheltering their strings, but a handful had to coil the cords as the rain began to fall more heavily. One of the Earl's men-at-arms came to the archers, shouting that the women were to go back beyond the crest. You heard him!“ Will Skeat called. Women to the baggage!”
Some of the women wept, but Eleanor just clung to Thomas for a moment. Live,' she said simply, then walked away through the rain, passing the Prince of Wales who, with six other mounted men, was riding to his place among the men-at-arms behind Will Skeat's archers. The Prince had decided to fight on horseback so he could see over the heads of the dismounted men and, to mark his arrival, his banner which was bigger than any other on the right of the field was loosed to the heavy downpour.
Thomas could no longer see across the valley because wide curtains of heavy grey rain were sweeping from the north and obscuring the air. There was nothing to do but sit and wait while the leather backing of his mail became cold and clammy. He hunched miserably, staring into the greyness, knowing that no bow could draw properly till this downpour ended.
What they should do,' said Father Hobbe, who sat beside Thomas, is charge now.
They couldn't find their way in this muck, father,“ Thomas said. He saw the priest had a bow and an arrow bag, but no other battle equipment. You should get some mail,” he said, or at least a padded jacket.'
I'm armoured by the faith, my son.
Where's your bowstrings?' Thomas asked, for the priest had neither helmet nor cap.
I looped them round my . well, never mind. It has to be good for something other than pissing, eh? And it's
