Category: Henry V

Much of the distress surrounding the French court in the early 15th century can be laid directly at the door of John the Fearless. What a slippery character! He was uncle of the schizophrenic King Charles VI and sought to control the ailing king but was frustrated by Louis Duke of Orléans, the king’s brother. However, Louis was not popular among the Parisians because of the taxes he raised (and was accused of squandering). So John made it his business to woo the people with promises: he would reform the administration and lower taxes. It worked. On the night of 23 November, 1407, Louis was murdered in cold blood in the streets of Paris. In a rare moment of weakness, John admitted his guilt then fled the city. But not for long; he figured out a way to clear his name. Labelling the murder as tyrannicide, John staged an elaborate apologia that persuaded the befuddled king to absolve him—though he never entirely escaped condemnation from his peers.

Needless to say, Louis’ son, the fourteen year-old Charles (and his mother) denounced the murderer, though ultimately they just didn’t have enough support for their cause and were forced to go home in humiliation. However, there were plenty of men who formed a faction around him—mostly southerners, like himself. They came to be known as the Armagnacs, named after Charles’s father in-law. The Count of Armagnac was a force of nature—brutal, efficient, and bull-headed. He was one of the few men who could stand up to Duke John.

The two factions clashed continually; both parties wanted possession of Paris and, of course, the king, who blithely went along with whoever got a hold of him. Paris was simmering with discontent, and in January of 1413 grievances broke into rioting, directed by agents of Burgundy but led by the powerful butcher’s guild. Under their ringleader, Simon Caboche, the Cabochiens sported white hoods, laid siege to the Bastille—sound familiar?—then turned their attentions to the Hôtel Saint-Pol where the Louis the Dauphin was staying. John turned up to save the day, so to speak, and shrugged when the teenaged Dauphin bitterly blamed him for the uproar while his supporters were seized and dragged away. The Dauphin himself was detained and confined to the palace with his incapacitated father and helpless mother. It only took a day or so before Burgundy lost control of the mob, and he watched helplessly while Caboche produced a list of victims to be hauled to prison. Personal vendettas were carried out, and a reign of terror gripped Paris while suspected Armagnacs were arrested, impris- oned, and murdered. This went on for four months.

But insurrections are bad for business, and eventually the Parisians had had enough. When the time was ripe, the Armagnacs gathered their forces and converged on the city, inspiring the anti-Cabochiens to rise up against their oppressors. It all happened very quickly. Caboche and hundreds of his followers slipped out of Paris, taking refuge with the Duke of Burgundy who was one of the first to leave. The Armagnacs moved in, arrested anyone suspected of misconduct, and launched their own reign of terror. They kept a strangle-hold on Paris for the next five years, though Burgundy periodically laid siege to neighboring towns and the city itself in an attempt to push them out.

Since the King of France was off limits, John turned his attention to the King of England. Although Henry V put on a good front and pretended to negotiate with Charles VI, he was undoubtedly planning an invasion, and John hoped to benefit. He could jointly invade any of the Armagnac’s territories, offer troops to supplement the English army as long as Henry offered troops to him when he needed them. As long as he wasn’t obliged to attack his own king directly, he was ready and willing to partner with England. By the time Henry launched his first invasion, Burgundy may have signed something resembling a non-interference agreement, though no one knew for sure.

The Armagnacs maintained their uneasy grip on Paris, and Burgundy’s threat was immediate enough that they dared not spare troops to confront the English. Once Henry landed at Harfleur, the king and Dauphin sent out orders commanding his nobles to assemble at Rouen, which was about fifty miles up the Seine. It was already too late! The Duke of Burgundy was requested to send five hundred men but not to come himself; the same request was made to Orléans. Both dukes were insulted, but John took the matter to its extreme and ordered that his lords in Picardy do nothing without his direct orders. No one dared disobey, and they all stayed home. On the day Harfleur surrendered, Burgundy was hunting in the forests of the Côte d’Or and making plans to travel to Dijon, where he would attend the christening of his nephew.

As we know, a huge army gathered to crush the English, after Harfleur shamefully capitulated following a six-week siege. The bulk of the French combatants were Armagnacs, since John’s restrictions were honoured by most of his captains. Even John’s nineteen-year-old son Philip, Count of Charolais, was removed to the castle of Aire, where his guardians— under pain of death—locked him in his room. Two of John’s brothers ignored his wishes and both were killed at Agincourt. One of them was Count of Nevers; it was his son who was christened that very day.

At least the Duke of Burgundy could console himself that Agincourt was an Armagnac defeat, for almost all the leading nobles killed and imprisoned were his enemies.

Did the French come to their senses after Agincourt? The short answer is no. The civil war was too ingrained for either side to budge. So while Henry V reinvaded in 1417 and took town after town throughout Normandy, the Armagnacs and Burgundians continued to fight over Paris. In 1418, an even greater, more vicious insurrection took place, this time against the Armagnacs. The Count himself was one of the victims, and his government was totally wiped out, along with leading citizens, merchants, and anyone who was suspected to be an ally. But the next Dauphin was whisked away to safety (Charles, this time. Louis died in 1415.), and all the Armagnacs gathered around him. Same faction, but they were now called Dauphinists. And once again, both Burgundy and the Dauphin negotiated with Henry V.

At the same time Paris was in crisis, King Henry was busy laying siege to Rouen, the capital of Normandy. This put John the Fearless in a predicament. Up until this point, his non-interference conduct played to his advantage. But now, he was the champion of France, and the king. He could no longer ally with Henry; their “understanding” was over.

Ultimately, he and the Dauphin decided to join forces, and after much negotiating they agreed to meet on a bridge at Montereau. A wooden enclosure was built around their meeting, but it didn’t help John! As soon as he knelt before the Dauphin, one of the participants stepped forward and drove an axe into his skull!

I can’t think of a worse idea. John’s son Philip (later Philip the Good) immediately went over to the English and swore to avenge his father’s death. He was almost single-handedly responsible for the English’s successful occupation of Normandy from then on. As a monk would later say when showing John’s skull to King Francis I: “Sire, this is the hole through which the English entered France.”

When Henry V landed on the shore of Normandy in 1415, he was relatively sure the French were in no position to offer him much resistance. Already in his father’s reign, both factions of a budding civil war had already approached the English for assistance against the other. Henry IV had responded with an invasion force in support of the Armagnacs against the Burgundians. The Armagnacs—the party of Charles, Duke of Orléans—had made a better offer. However, Prince Henry was in favour of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, and this antagonism against his father’s policy placed him on the wrong side of the political fence. Henry IV’s death a year later put an end to that!

So what was this all about? Since 1392, poor France was afflicted by a schizophrenic king, Charles VI, who slipped in and out of madness with unpredictable frequency. He was sane often enough to negate removing him from the throne permanently, though the older he got, the less he was able to rule rationally even when cognizant. His illness created a political firestorm, as his nobles fought to control his presence; whoever possessed the king ran the country. In the early years of the king’s “absences” (as his schizophrenic episodes were called), the government was ruled by his brother, Louis, Duke of Orléans along with the queen. Orléans was bitterly opposed by John the Fearless, the king’s cousin, who was the popular favorite. In 1407, John had Louis murdered one night in the streets of Paris, but he was such a manipulator that he got away with it. Of course, Louis’s son Charles did all he could to condemn the Duke of Burgundy, but he was too young and inexperienced to pull it off. He eventually formed an opposing faction led by his father in-law, the brutal and effective Count of Armagnac, who carried on after Charles was captured at the Battle of Agincourt.

In 1412, when Henry IV sent an invasion force to France under his second son the Duke of Clarence, King Charles managed to patch up a peace between his warring factions. Clarence was bought off and returned home, but the temporary truce soon failed and matters came to a head just after Henry IV died. Paris had become a proverbial powder keg, and simmering grievances broke into rioting, directed by agents of Burgundy but led by the powerful butcher’s guild. Under their ringleader, Simon Caboche, the Cabochiens sported white hoods, laid siege to the Bastille—sound familiar?—then turned their attentions to the Hôtel Saint-Pol where the Dauphin was staying. The insurgents seized and imprisoned many of the Dauphin’s supporters and detained the teenaged heir, confining him in the palace with his incapacitated father and helpless mother. Thus began a reign of terror where any suspected Armagnacs were arrested, imprisoned, and murdered. This went on for four months.

But insurrections are bad for business, and eventually the Parisians had had enough. When the time was ripe, the Armagnacs gathered their forces and converged on the city, inspiring the anti-Cabochiens to rise up against their oppressors. It all happened very quickly. Caboche and hundreds of his followers slipped out of Paris, taking refuge with the Duke of Burgundy who was one of the first to leave. The Armagnacs moved in, arrested anyone suspected of misconduct, and launched their own reign of terror. They kept a strangle-hold on Paris for the next five years, though Burgundy periodically laid siege to neighboring towns and the city itself in an attempt to push them out.

Duke John was not one to take matters sitting down, so to speak. There was always King Henry of England, ready to discuss terms. Just like his father back in 1412, Henry negotiated with both sides while he prepared to invade. He hoped that John would offer to swear fealty to him, but Burgundy was not willing to go against his own king. So the best Henry could manage was something resembling a non-interference agreement; no one knew for sure what they came up with. But by all indications, Burgundy cooperated. He concentrated his efforts against the Armagnacs, throwing the government into such a panic that they dared not commit troops to the English invasion while Paris was threatened.

Harfleur was the first to experience the might of the English army. Henry laid siege to the city, blockading it both by land and sea. Repeated calls for help generated nothing but excuses: the king was working on it. They hadn’t gathered enough troops yet to confront the English. King Charles and the Dauphin both made their way toward Harfleur, but didn’t travel any further than Vernon, about eighty miles upriver, while the army slowly gathered at Rouen, thirty miles closer. Before he left Paris, the Dauphin sent messages in the king’s name to both the Duke of Burgundy and the Duke of Orléans, requesting them to send five hundred men each—but not to come themselves. This gave John the excuse he needed to pretend that he had been insulted, and he ordered all his lords in Picardy to stay put until he ordered otherwise. Neither he nor his men—with few exceptions—showed up at Agincourt. Too bad for the French; Burgundy’s leadership skills were sorely needed. Orléans belatedly decided to go. But he was an inexperienced twenty-one year old, and when he took command of the army—as was his right—he fatally ignored the advice of both the Constable and Marshal of France. He survived the battle, only to spend the next twenty-five years an English prisoner.

Because Burgundy stayed away, a disproportionate number of Armagnacs met their deaths on the battlefield of Agincourt. Once again, John the Fearless attempted to take advantage of the situation by laying siege to Paris. But once again, he was foiled. His day would come, but not for another three years, and when a new insurrection broke out in 1418, it made the Cabochien revolt look like a dress rehearsal. I’ll explore the Paris massacres in my next book, HENRY, SCOURGE OF NORMANDY.

The early fifteenth century would see a mix of weapons and armour and mail depending upon who was wearing it. Let’s start with the archers (the battle winners, no matter what anyone says!)

Archers

The archers would be a mix of hired on Yeomanry who would supply their own kit and archers who were on a Lord’s payroll and who would have some equipment supplied. The archers helmet was usually of two basic types (if they had one, the poorer ones may only have had waxed leather/cloth hoods) Anyway, the helmets – the “Kettle hat” as it is called is shaped just like a first world war British/American soldiers, it is almost identical with a bowl for the head and a rim all the way around. Check out the first world war soldiers for a look. The second helmet is still basic, shaped to the head and covers it and the neck to the collar, the front is plain leaving the eyes, cheeks and mouth open and fits down the side of the face, there is no nasal bar, there would be cut outs for the ears enabling the archer to hear well.

The Captains or leader of an archer band may have a mail shirt and possibly some shoulder plates and elbow plates but not much more than this. Some archers would just have a padded jacket (gambeson?) this would be stuffed/padded with wool or fabric shreds and stitched in long seams down the garment. This stitching bunches the wool/fabric and helps to deflect or at least slow down incoming arrows or crossbow bolts, it would also deflect bladed weapons to some degree. Archers would start off the campaign with boots or at least shoes, by Agincourt many would be barefoot and even fighting trouserless! (owing to the dysentry that was rife in the army) All would carry a dagger, a “poniard” or a “ballock dagger” and/or a knife, many had small hand axes used as both a tool and weapon. Don’t forget the large wooden mallets the archers would have for driving in their wooden stakes (their anti horse device) this could also double as a weapon to bludgeon a Knight to death. The Captains may carry a short sword (badge of rank).

Men at Arms (Under a Lord)

These men are usually in a Lord’s retinue and liveried via a gambeson or shirt over their mail shirt to show their association. Not many of these would have plate armour, however some would have picked up pieces from previous battles and again the Captains would be better armed/protected than the ordinary soldier. So, usually dressed in a mail coat with a fabric or leather shirt etc over it to show their Lord’s colours. All would have a helmet but usually a basic one covering the head and neck but open faced, under this would be a mail coif that covered the back of the neck and top of the shoulders as well. Again, the veterans would likely have plate on the shoulder, elbows and knees too that they had taken from the dead in previous battles. Weapons would be axes, war hammers, halberds (pole arm with an axe one side and a spike on the other) or variations of this – axe/spike/hook etc. The hook is used to haul a Knight from his horse. Maces would be another common weapon. Short swords would be used and carried by most men at arms, all would carry a “poniard” or a “ballock dagger” both had long slim blades for slipping through helmet visors to kill quickly. All would have boots.

Knights/Lords/King

These lads are mainly in complete plate armour made to fit them personally like a modern day ‘made to measure suit’. Helmets would be visored, however I have read that many would lift their visor to enable better vision during battle (it must have been terrifying and claustrophobic in a battle when trying to look through slits? Your hearing would also be reduced) Hence archers being trained to hit a turnip at 200 yards! (see the similarities?) and thus Henry suffering an arrow wound in the face. Popular helmets were ‘Pig faced bascinets’ where the front of the helmet is shaped like a long snout with only two narrow slits for the eyes and small perforations in the snout to help breathe. They would have plate armour that was well articulated for all movement. Weapons would be maces, battle axes, shortened lances, war hammers and some would carry a shield if the weapon they were using was one handed (mace/hammer etc), if they had shortened lances they would need two hands and abandon the shield. They would have plate shoes and plate gauntlets. All would carry a sword as a badge of rank, again a dagger would be compulsory.

In this age when a Knight was so well protected the best and quickest way to kill him was; arrows to the face/bludgeoning to death/stabbing through the visor or under the armpit or groin which was hard to protect.

Archers would aim for horses as a larger target and had special shaped arrows designed to cut arteries or bury deep in unprotected areas. Once a knight was unhorsed he would likely be concussed at the least, and an easier target to beat/bludgeon/stab to death. From what I have read of Agincourt after each French charge the archers would slip out to recover arrows and dispatch wounded and concussed knights via axes/daggers/mallets etc.

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Garrett Pearson is an author of historical fiction:  4 Books about Hannibal and one on Stamford Bridge.

Visit Garrett on Twitter:  https://twitter.com/Garrett13853937

Put simply, an indenture was a contract written in two identical parts and divided irregularly—or indented—so that both halves could be joined together in the future. This post is mainly concerned with indentures made between King Henry V and his nobles for the invasion of France.

Funding an army was an intricate operation.  An astonishing amount of paperwork has survived from the reign of Henry V, informing us of the exactitude practiced by the exchequer clerks. Several steps along the way guaranteed that every soldier was accounted for. But how were they paid?

For the most part, the king did not pay the soldiers directly. He would be responsible for his own household, as well as recruiting specialists such as gunners, 119 miners, 100 stonecutters, 120 carpenters and turners, 40 smiths, 60 waggoners, and the like (Anne Curry, 1415 Agincourt, p.71). For the rest, the nobles indented to bring a certain number of men-at-arms and archers with them. By now, the old feudal system had mutated into what many historians now call Bastard Feudalism, more of a fee-based agreement between the king and noble, or noble (I’ll call him the Captain) and his retainers (or retinue). For military service, the indenture might be drawn up for one year or less, depending on the plan of campaign. For the Agincourt campaign, the indentures were for twelve months.

So when the Captain applied his seal to the indenture, he was paid, up front, one half of the first quarter’s wages (the king having raised the money through taxes and loans). The second half of the first quarter would be paid at the muster, when the Exchequer’s officials actually counted the men to determine that everyone showed up. For the second quarter, because funds were short, the Captain was given jewels or some equivalent collateral to be redeemed at a future point (some were still outstanding in the reign of Henry VI). He was expected to pay the second quarter’s wages out of his pocket. The third quarter’s wages were supposed to be paid after six weeks of that quarter, and so on, though as the months progressed, things got a little messy.

But, as everyone knew, the real fortunes to be made would come from booty and, especially, ransoms. This, too, had a very specific breakdown. For anything worth more than ten marks, the Captain was entitled to a third share from every man in his retinue, regardless of rank. The king took a third part of the Captain’s gains, and a third of a third from each soldier and archer. Prisoners of certain rank, like dukes, would automatically get turned over to the king, and the soldier would expect some sort of compensation.

Men were recruited in a three-to-one ratio: three archers to each man-at-arms. The latter included earls, bannerets, and knights. The earls, knights, etc. that were recruited by the great dukes would in turn recruit the men-at-arms and archers. From what I can gather, many servants doubled as archers, but not all. Some household servants were directly paid by their masters, and were not in receipt of military wages. Those numbers are unknown. The greater the noble, the larger his contribution. The Duke of Clarence, Henry’s brother, indented for one earl, two barons, 14 knights, 222 esquires, and 720 mounted archers. The Duke of Gloucester, the next brother, brought 800 men total. After that, the numbers fell considerably; York and Arundel brought 400 each, Suffolk 160 and Oxford 140. Many of the knights indented directly with the Exchequer for somewhere between 40 and 120. So there were many small indentures, all of which had to be accounted for. The men were counted on their return, as well, including those invalided home after Harfleur.

Wages were calculated on a daily basis. A duke earned 13s 4d, an earl would get 6s 8d, a baron 4s, a knight 2s. an esquire 12d, and an archer 6d—this at a time when a skilled craftsman earned between 3d and 5d per day. So the incentive for archers was high. The king was responsible for shipping to and from France, including horses, harnesses, and supplies—another huge expense, when it is calculated that over 25,000 horses were needed for this campaign.

Each of the king’s copies of the indentures was kept in a drawstring pouch at the Exchequer with the Captain’s name on it. Any documentation that accrued during the campaign was added to the bag, such as muster rolls and wage claims. What a pile that must have been! Interestingly, since the Agincourt campaign ended before the third quarter began and many had been invalided home, the accounting was considerably complex. Some men were left behind to garrison Harfleur, and of course, there were those who had died during the siege or had been killed in the battle. Ultimately, the king decided to fix the start and end dates of the campaign, and even determined to pay the men who had been killed the full amount. This generosity was not forgotten, at least by the yeomen. The nobles, on the other hand, who had paid the second quarter in full, were shortchanged by the king’s decision to end the campaign forty-eight days early.  It was left to them to petition Parliament for their loss. For some of the nobles, it was easier to compensate them with castles and land, and in some cases, admission to the Order of the Garter. Not everyone was happy, but who was going to complain to the hero of Agincourt?