The Bow Read Online Free PDF Page B

rain had eased again, the sun shone pale through the
grey drifting sky, and the muddy field was lit once more with the
twinkling of arms and armour. Splashes of bright colour marked a
thousand noble tabards, and though men were falling like wheat, it
seemed that there were two to replace every one that fell.
    On they came, just like the first Battle, with shouts of
anger and defiance, heads bowed to the storm that broke about them.
Slowly they ate the yards that spanned the field; slowly they reached
out for the English lines.
    At seventy paces the archers about the king’s banners
began to glance at one another. One or two missed their shots, broke
their rhythm and hurried on the return.
    Yevan raised his voice and cursed them: ‘Hold you
whore-sons! Hold! I’ll kill the first man who takes a step back!’
    Nearby, Sir Thomas Erpingham, mace in hand, nodded his
approval:
    ‘ Let them come lads! Let them come! When you hear the
king’s trumpet call it’s draw sword and every man upon them!’
    James felt sick. It might be the fever, it might be his
guts, it might be simple fear, but no matter – there was nothing to
do but fight.
    He would sooner be at home than standing here. Better to
be in the long grass meadow calling in the cows, and bringing home a
fat pigeon for the pot. And sitting watching the cooking fire, and
stretching out his boots to feel the warmth, while Hettie . . . his
Hettie . . .
    ‘ Thirty paces, boyo! Two more flights should do it!’
    It was John ap Meredith. He must have come up with the
other six. Well, John was a good man to have at your side if it came
to trading blows with the French again. He fought with nothing but
his bow stave, but he used it like a club, and could bring any knight
to his knees with one hit.
    James loosed two more arrows, hesitated then looked to a
third. Before he could nock it a trumpet sounded.
    ‘ Ahah!’ laughed John. ‘See! What did I tell you?
Yon Harry our king knows how to fight!’
    With bows unstrung, and bowstrings made safe under cap
and casque, the archers snatched up what weapons they had, gave a
great cheer and once again rushed out at the French.
    The English men-at-arms and dismounted knights who were
gathered about the king, also advanced but heavier in the stride
because of their armour. As he ran, James could hear the king call as
though he were almost at his shoulder.
    ‘ Here’s steel, lads! For God and king! Swing hard!’
    The French knights stopped, and stood to meet the
charge. Some were so exhausted by the long march across the field
that they could scarcely lift their arms to defend themselves. Others
could fight well enough, but were slow to move, or even keep their
footing as the English rushed upon them.
    Two French noblemen, bearing the arms of Bourbon and
Vendome cried out ‘Montjoie!’ and ‘Dieu aide!’ Both carried
poleaxes, and though their armour was battered and bloody, and they
were half-stooped with weariness, they struck down three archers with
the same number of blows.
    But they stood like islands in a sea of slaughter. All
about them their countrymen fell, butchered by flailing axes,
short-swords and mauls. Some cried out for mercy, and were snatched
to ransom by eager hands. Most fought on, but were hammered to their
knees and left to die in the mud. The ground itself was soon lost to
sight beneath the bodies of the slain, and even the archers became
breathless and uncertain with the killing. Prisoners were shoved
hastily to the rear, while the sergeants and captains roared against
and beat any man they saw who paused to strip the dead.
    Still, and yet, Vendome and Bourbon would not go down.
Soon a remnant of the Battle, mostly squires and coated knights,
gathered about them in support.
    With a shout, Henry himself hurled against them, sword
at parry and the banner of St George held high by Sir Thomas
Strickland. James went with his king. Shoulder to shoulder they
collided with the French.
    The shock of the charge