Now, their King relied strongly upon a great body of cross-bowmen from
Genoa; and these he ordered to the front to begin the battle, on finding
that he could not stop it. They shouted once, they shouted twice, they
shouted three times, to alarm the English archers; but, the English would
have heard them shout three thousand times and would have never moved. At
last the cross-bowmen went forward a little, and began to discharge their
bolts; upon which, the English let fly such a hail of arrows, that the
Genoese speedily made off--for their cross-bows, besides being heavy to
carry, required to be wound up with a handle, and consequently took time
to re-load; the English, on the other hand, could discharge their arrows
almost as fast as the arrows could fly.

When the French King saw the Genoese turning, he cried out to his men to
kill those scoundrels, who were doing harm instead of service. This
increased the confusion. Meanwhile the English archers, continuing to
shoot as fast as ever, shot down great numbers of the French soldiers and
knights; whom certain sly Cornish-men and Welshmen, from the English
army, creeping along the ground, despatched with great knives.

The Prince and his division were at this time so hard-pressed, that the
Earl of Warwick sent a message to the King, who was overlooking the
battle from a windmill, beseeching him to send more aid.

'Is my son killed?' said the King.

'No, sire, please God,' returned the messenger.

'Is he wounded?' said the King.

'No, sire.'

'Is he thrown to the ground?' said the King.

'No, sire, not so; but, he is very hard-pressed.'

'Then,' said the King, 'go back to those who sent you, and tell them I
shall send no aid; because I set my heart upon my son proving himself
this day a brave knight, and because I am resolved, please God, that the
honour of a great victory shall be his!'

These bold words, being reported to the Prince and his division, so
raised their spirits, that they fought better than ever. The King of
France charged gallantly with his men many times; but it was of no use.
Night closing in, his horse was killed under him by an English arrow, and
the knights and nobles who had clustered thick about him early in the
day, were now completely scattered. At last, some of his few remaining
followers led him off the field by force since he would not retire of
himself, and they journeyed away to Amiens. The victorious English,
lighting their w