The Maid and the Queen (11 page)

Popular legend as encouraged again by Shakespeare records that the French reaction to this threat was one of scorn: the dauphin (the duke of Guyenne) reportedly sent Henry a box of tennis balls, implying that he should grow up. However, since the duke of Guyenne was only eighteen
years old in 1415, while Henry himself was twenty-eight, this seems unlikely. Moreover, the duke of Guyenne was not involved in any of the negotiations preceding Henry’s invasion. The whole tennis ball anecdote “simply did not happen,” a noted expert on English medieval history stated flatly.

What did happen was that both the Burgundians and the Armagnacs took Henry’s militarist stance very seriously, so much so that each side did its best to buy him off by proposing marriage alliances and other monetary and territorial inducements. The duke of Burgundy began the bidding by offering the hand of his daughter Catherine (now conveniently available, having been returned by the king and queen of Sicily), together with the suggestion that he and Henry together launch a campaign to seize the estates and fiefs currently held by the Armagnacs and split the spoils between them. The Armagnacs countered with the proposal that Henry instead marry the French king’s youngest daughter, also named Catherine, and threw in the lordship of Aquitaine, together with a whopping dowry of 800,000 crowns. Here the Armagnacs had the upper hand even without the financial and territorial incentives, as Henry was given an enthusiastic report of the princess Catherine’s looks by his brother, who had seen her, whereas the duke of Burgundy’s Catherine and her older sister (who was married to the duke of Guyenne) were unfortunately described by a fellow Burgundian as “looking like a couple of baby owls without feathers.”

But far from forestalling the English king, these negotiations only reinforced Henry’s opinion of the weakness and division that existed among his enemies, and convinced him that he could achieve even more concessions by a show of strength. Although he took a sizable force with him, it is unlikely that he was intending a full-scale invasion; it is far more probable that he was simply hoping to make a reconnaissance for future attacks and to take home a quick spoil or two in the process. Whatever his true intent, on August 11, 1415, the king of England, in the company of an army of about twelve thousand men, of whom approximately six thousand were archers, set sail from Southampton, and by August 14 had landed in France near the town of Harfleur.

On the French side, the great council meeting was slow to materialize. By the time the English had landed, the constable of France had managed to assemble a decent-sized army at nearby Rouen, enough to lend Harfleur an additional garrison of three hundred soldiers. But none of the other great lords of France and their respective men-at-arms had yet arrived. The
constable took one look at the size of Henry’s battalion and sent back urgently to Paris for reinforcements.

Charles VI was well enough to sign another summons on August 28, ordering up fresh troops. The question of the role the duke of Burgundy would play in the conflict was handled with some delicacy. The French army needed as many men as possible, but no one on the Armagnac side trusted the duke of Burgundy to lead his own soldiers into battle. There was too great a temptation, it was felt, that he would fight
with
the English rather than against them. In the end, the duke of Guyenne sent one of his own household to John the Fearless with the polite request that the duke supply five hundred knights and three hundred bowmen to aid the king’s effort against the English, but that it was quite unnecessary for the duke himself to put in an appearance.

Despite the increasingly desperate messages from the constable asking for help in defending Harfleur, none of the major participants on the French side managed to get to Rouen with their forces until the middle of October. By that time, Henry V had taken the city, although at a significant cost: during the long siege of Harfleur his army had been decimated by dysentery. Approximately two thousand soldiers had succumbed outright to the disease, and thousands of others had either deserted or were too weak to be of use and had to be sent home. Harfleur fell on September 22, 1415, but by that time all that remained of the English army were nine hundred knights and about five thousand longbowmen.

The French—or rather the Armagnacs, for the duke of Burgundy’s forces did not get to Rouen in time—were finally in place, with the duke of Orléans and his troops arriving at the very last minute, around October 21. This left not much time for strategizing, but with the English army so reduced, and the French army so enhanced, there did not seem much need for a coordinated policy. They did decide, however, that for obvious reasons it was unwise for the king himself to participate, and they also insisted that the duke of Guyenne, as the heir to the throne, remain safely behind in Rouen. The only other high-ranking members of the French aristocracy excused from battle were the old duke of Berry, who was seventy-five, and Louis II, king of Sicily, who had contracted a bladder infection that prevented him from remaining for any extended period on his horse.

The constable had scouts in place, watching the enemy’s movements. He knew that Henry and what was left of his army had left Harfleur the first
week in October and set out for the safety of Calais, then in English hands, in preparation for returning to England. He had reports that the English soldiers were weary, ill, and hungry, and that their supplies were running out. Anxious that the king of England should not get away while the Armagnacs possessed such an overwhelming numerical advantage—there is no accurate estimate of the size of the French force, but the chaplain accompanying the English reported that “their numbers were so great as not to be even comparable with ours”—the French left Rouen as soon as the duke of Orléans arrived, and shadowed Henry’s troops, attempting to intercept him. On October 24, they caught up with him in a narrow field near the town of Agincourt, and the next morning advanced into battle.

Much has been made of the fact that neither Charles VI nor his eldest son was present at this historic contest, implying that what was missing from the French performance was an inspiring commander. “There is no doubt that knights and men-at-arms and the whole army would have greater courage in fighting, seeing their lord in his place, ready to live and die with them,” Christine de Pizan would later write. But in reality, the presence or lack thereof of a member of the royal family was irrelevant; the French army was in no need of inspiration. The knights and men-at-arms displayed great courage in fighting and were certainly ready to die for their cause, as is proven by the fact that thousands of them did die. What they lacked was cohesion, the ability to adapt to changing combat conditions, and, above all, discipline.

And they were facing the very definition of cohesion and discipline. This core unit of Henry and his men had been fighting together for months. They knew what they were supposed to do and when they were supposed to do it. They waited for signals, and when those signals were given, they acted.

And they had a technological advantage in the longbow. The French had never taken to archery. No nobleman in France hunted with a bow and arrow. In England, the longbow was akin to the national sport. Henry had only six thousand men, but five thousand of them were expert archers. The king of England was aware from personal experience of the destructive potential of a rain of arrows, and he used this knowledge to devastating effect.

The field at Agincourt was muddy and narrow. The French cavalry was not in formation in time and the English were able to stake out an advantageous position that placed the French knights within range of their archers. When the French finally advanced, the English longbowmen just stood there and let fly. They never had to move. Their superiority was akin to
having automatic long-range assault weapons. Thousands of arrows rained down on the French; the horses and knights fell in the mud; the advancing men-at-arms fell down on top of them; the next wave of knights, followed by their men-at-arms, rushed in to help and fell victim themselves to the arrows. This process was repeated for hours. Those French who did not die outright from their wounds perished from loss of blood, or, unable to extricate themselves from the growing pile of corpses, they simply suffocated in the mud. The main theater of operation soon turned into a ghastly morass, reminiscent of a huge open-air communal gravesite. Few battles in history compare with Agincourt for the sickening waste of human life. At the end of the day, a nobleman who fought on the side of France reported that ten thousand of his compatriots lay dead in the field at Agincourt, although it is not at all clear that this number included members of the lower classes. By contrast, the English lost a total of 112 men.

Henry V’s assessment of the opposition—and of his own countrymen—had been correct. After Agincourt, no one in England ever doubted his right to the throne. The only question was, did he now also rule France?

The battle of Agincourt.

C
HAPTER
5

A
New Dauphin

OLANDE WAS IN ANGERS
with the children when she received the news of the annihilation of the French army at Agincourt. Although she must have been relieved to hear that her husband was safe, the number of knights who perished or were taken prisoner that day was stunning. Almost no family of noble French origin was unaffected by this tragedy. The Armagnac ruling faction, in particular, was decimated. The constable had died in the fray, as had the count of Alençon, one of the founding members of the anti-Burgundian league. The dukes of Orléans and Bourbon had survived the fight only to be captured and held for ransom. Yolande herself had two uncles killed in the battle, one of whom was the duke of Bar. Even the duke of Burgundy sacrificed two brothers to the English longbows at Agincourt.

In the aftermath of the defeat, Charles VI and his eldest son, uncertain of Henry’s next move, stayed at Rouen, and Louis II remained with them. It soon became clear that the English king intended to continue on to Calais as he had originally planned, and from there to England. Despite his great victory, his men were too tired and sick to press on toward Paris. On November 16, 1415, Henry V and his army sailed from Calais for home, taking with them hundreds of captive French noblemen, including their most important prisoner, the twenty-year-old duke of Orléans.

Those who remained at Rouen understood that the respite from their
English aggressors was only temporary. In the spring, Henry would return, probably with an even larger army, to claim his rights to France. The French crown would have to make deep concessions to prevent the loss of the kingdom altogether. Charles VI, once again on the verge of a psychotic episode, returned to Paris at the end of November, as did the duke of Guyenne, to confer with the surviving members of the royal council. Louis II, still suffering from illness, accompanied them. But before they arrived, a more immediate danger threatened. Messengers reported that the duke of Burgundy was marching toward Paris at the head of a large contingent of men-at-arms.