It is but one more
effort, and all will be well. Warwick, Oxford, Salisbury,
Suffolk, every man to the front! My banner to the front also!
Your horses, fair sirs! The archers are spent, and our own good
lances must win the field this day. Advance, Walter, and may God
and Saint George be with England!"
Sir Walter Woodland, riding a high black horse, took station by
the Prince, with the royal banner resting in a socket by his
saddle. From all sides the knights and squires crowded in upon
it, until they formed a great squadron containing the survivors of
the battalions of Warwick and Salisbury as well as those of the
Prince. Four hundred men-at-arms who had been held in reserve
were brought up and thickened the array, but even so Chandos' face
was grave as he scanned it and then turned his eyes upon the
masses of the Frenchmen.
"I like it not, fair sir. The weight is overgreat," he whispered
to the Prince.
"How would you order it, John? Speak what is in your mind."
"We should attempt something upon their flank whilst we hold them
in front. How say you, Jean?" He turned to the Captal de Buch,
whose dark, resolute face reflected the same misgivings.
"Indeed, John, I think as you do," said he. "The French King is a
very valiant man, and so are those who are about him, and I know
not how we may drive them back unless we can do as you advise.
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