ierce for the fight.

While these preparations were making, a very black cloud was seen
rising in the sky, until the whole heavens were darkened by it. The
wind blew, and immense flocks of crows flew screaming through the air,
over the heads of the army. Presently it began to rain. The rain
increased rapidly, until it fell in torrents, and every body was
drenched. There was, however, no possibility of shelter or escape from
it, and the preparations for the fight accordingly still went on.

At length, about five o'clock, it cleared up, just as the battle was
about to begin. The Genoese archers were in front with the horsemen,
but the English, who had all this time remained calm and quiet at
their posts, poured such a volley of arrows into their ranks that they
were soon broken and began to be thrown into confusion. Other English
soldiers ran out from their ranks armed with knives set into the ends
of long poles, and they thrust these knives into the horses of the
troop. The horses, terrified and maddened with the pain, turned round
and ran in among the Genoese archers, and trampled many of them under
foot. This made the whole body of archers waver and begin to fall
back. Then Philip, who was coming on behind at the head of other
bodies of troops, fell into a great rage, and shouted out in a
thundering voice,

"Kill me those scoundrels, for they only stop our way without doing
any good."

Of course, this made the confusion worse than ever. In the mean time,
the English soldiers, under the command of Prince Edward and the other
leaders, pressed slowly and steadily forward, and poured in such an
incessant and deadly fire of darts and arrows upon the confused and
entangled masses of their enemies, that they could not rally or get
into order again. Some of the French generals made desperate efforts
in other parts of the field to turn the tide, but in vain.

At one time, when the battle was very hot in the part of the field
where the young English prince was fighting, messengers went up the
hill to the place where the king was stationed, near a wind-mill,
whence he was watching the progress of the fight, to ask him to send
some succor to the troops that were fighting with the prince.

"Is my son killed?" asked the king.

"No, sire," said the messenger.

"Is he unhorsed or wounded?" asked the king.

"No, sire," replied the messenger. "He is safe thus far, and is
fighting with his troop, but he is very hard beset."