Book details:
Book Title: The Agincourt King
Series: The Plantagenet Legacy
Author: Mercedes Rochelle
Publication Date:April 8, 2024
Publisher:Sergeant Press
Pages:260 pages
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From the day he was crowned, Henry V was determined to prove the legitimacy of his house. His father's usurpation weighed heavily on his mind. Only a grand gesture would capture the respect of his own countrymen and the rest of Europe. He would follow in his great-grandfather Edward III's footsteps, and recover lost territory in France.
Better yet, why not go for the crown? Poor, deranged Charles VI couldn't manage his own barons. The civil war between the Burgundians and Armagnacs was more of a threat to his country than the English, even after Henry laid siege to Harfleur. But once Harfleur had fallen, the French came to their senses and determined to block his path to Calais and destroy him.
By the time the English reached Agincourt, they were starving, exhausted, and easy pickings. Or so the French thought. Little did they reckon on Henry's leadership and the stout-hearted English archers who proved, once again, that numbers didn't matter when God was on their side.
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THE BATTLE BEGINS
While the French cavalry lost precious time gathering their missing warriors, the English moved forward as fast as they could in the sucking mud. Men-at-arms paused to tighten their ranks, then moved again, staying together. They were amazed that the French just stood there and watched. The archers, unencumbered by heavy armour, surged ahead of the footmen until the closest were within extreme bowshot—about two hundred fifty yards from the enemy. At that point, the trumpets signalled a halt.
On both sides of the plateau, where the forests narrowed the field, the flanks of the English army were well protected. Many of the archers on the edge melted into the trees, finding even more shelter against the enemy. The rest renewed their checkerboard alignment, taking advantage of the French inaction to pound their stakes into the mud once again. They had to expose themselves for as long as it took, but it didn't seem to matter; the enemy still hadn't moved. Slanted toward the front, the stakes created a formidable barrier. The archers took a moment to resharpen the points with their axes while waiting for the men-at-arms to catch up. Then they stepped back behind their protective staves and lined up the arrows in the mud for easy access while the armoured knights stopped and caught their breath. The English shouted and taunted the enemy while they waited for movement from the other side.
The wait wasn't long. Finally, the French cavalry lurched forward in an incongruous imitation of a charge, though the danger was clear enough. They passed their own waiting men-at-arms, who started forward with a war cry that echoed across the field. Released from inaction the French army was ready to make its mark on history. In the centre, the Oriflamme stood out from the other banners, higher and grander on its golden lance. To onlookers, the whole front of the army shimmered as their shortened lances were brought down. Then the vanguard moved slowly forward, finding it difficult to pull their plate-clad feet from the mud. The combined weight of man and armour was taking its toll, and it didn't help that the horses had churned up the muck as they lumbered toward the waiting English.
The cavalry came on, struggling to stay in a cohesive formation as they stumbled and tried to set a pace. Side by side, they finally picked up speed, shouting Montjoie! Montjoie! though their diminished numbers failed to create the overwhelming impact planned by their leaders.
The English archers watched and waited for a command. Thomas Erpingham stepped forward, looked to his right and left, then threw his white baton in the air so it spun end over end. "Now Strike!" he shouted.
Drawing their bows, seven thousand archers released at once, and four clouds of wooden shafts flew unerringly at the cavalry. The arrows hissed through the air like a heavy wind, and even before they hit their mark a second wave followed, just as terrifying. The English men-at-arms held their breath and watched as the arrows struck, some bouncing off the riders' armour, some sticking into their surcoats. But many hit their mounts in undefended legs and sides. These animals had never been trained to resist an arrow shower—that was impossible. Before the horses knew what was happening, they were struck again and again by these terrible missiles. They panicked, shrieking and rearing and bucking; many threw off their armoured riders. Some horses fell to the ground, others trampled their own knights, driving them into the mud. And still, the shafts whistled through the air, bringing terrible pain.
The frantic horses needed to get away from this unexpected bombardment. A few fled into the woods. But for most of them, the only way to escape this horror was to turn and run straight back. They charged directly into their own advancing troops while arrows plunged into their unprotected rumps. Uncontrolled, frenzied, their hooves flailing, they trampled unlucky soldiers, reared and slammed into distraught footmen. Trying to get out of the way, knights stumbled into each other, setting up a ripple of armoured men that went many deep. None of them could stop the stampeding horses that pushed their way to the rear. Clutching for support, trying to keep their balance, men knocked each other down into the cloying mud and had great difficulty getting to their feet. Already packed together, the advancing soldiers stumbled over the prone men in front of them. The line fell into total disarray. Those behind kept pushing, unable to stop.
And still, the arrows kept flying, thousands upon thousands. Even with all these distractions, many of the horsemen advanced quickly enough to threaten the archers. Some of the knights even succeeded in driving their mounts as far as the pointed stakes, though most of the animals refused to cooperate. Nonetheless, one of the cavalry leaders insisted that the stakes would fall over in the mud and he drove his horse relentlessly, impaling the poor animal. He flew over his mount's head and into the waiting archers, who promptly dispatched him.
Once the cavalry threat had passed, the archers turned their arrows on the advancing men-at-arms. Anyone on the flanks naturally shied away from the threat, pushing the French even more tightly together. The footmen slogged forward, struck again and again by arrows. Some bounced off, leaving behind a stinging thump. Many of the arrows stuck into the armour, making the knight look like a walking pincushion. Lucky shots found weak chinks—armpits, eye slots—and at that distance the punctures were lethal.
Mercedes Rochelle is an ardent lover of medieval history, and has channeled this interest into fiction writing. Her first four books cover eleventh-century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest of England. The next series is called “The Plantagenet Legacy” and begins with the reign of Richard II.
She also writes a blog: www.HistoricalBritainBlog.comto explore the history behind the story. Born in St. Louis, MO, she received by BA in Literature at the Univ. of Missouri St.Louis in 1979 then moved to New York in 1982 while in her mid-20s to "see the world". The search hasn't ended!
Today she lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves.
Author Links:
Website:https://mercedesrochelle.com/
Twitter / X: https://x.com/authorrochelle
Amazon Author Page:https://www.amazon.com/stores/Mercedes-Rochelle/author/B001KMG5P6
Tour hosted by: The Coffee Pot Book Club
Thank you very much for hosting Mercedes Rochelle today, with a fabulous excerpt from The Agincourt King. Take care, Cathie xx The Coffee Pot Book Club