The morning came, but there were clouds in the sky and the air was sultry. It was Saturday, the 26th of August, 1346.
Edward the king posted himself at the windmill. On the slope and below it were a third of his men-at-arms and a strong body of footmen. This was the reserve. In front thereof, the remainder of the army was placed in the form of a great harrow, with its point--a blunt one enough--toward the hill, and its beams marked by the ditch lines.
The right beam of this English harrow was commanded by the Black Prince in person, and with him were the Earls of Warwick and Hereford, Geoffrey of Harcourt, and Sir John Chandos, with many another famous knight. Their force was less than a thousand men-at-arms, with many Irish and Welsh, but they were especially strong in bowmen, for the king retained few archers with him.
But little less was the strength of the left beam of the harrow, commanded by the earls of Northampton and Arundel.
"Fortune hath favored us!" exclaimed one of the men-at-arms to his young commander; "we are well placed here at the right. We shall be among the first to face the French!"
"Here cometh the prince," responded Richard, "with his Red Dragon banner of Wales. The royal standard is with the king at the mill."
Reviewing the lines with care, and giving many orders as he came, the prince rode up, clad in his plain black armor and wearing the helmet of a simple esquire.
"Richard Neville," he said, as he drew near, "see that thou dost thy devoir this day."
Richard's head bowed low as the prince wheeled away. As he again sat erect upon his war horse a voice near him muttered:
Richard looked, and in the distance he could see a glittering and a flag, but after a long gaze he replied:
"It is too soon. Those are but a band of skirmishers."
So it proved; and the long, hot hours went slowly by. At length the king ordered that every man should be supplied with food and drink, that they might not fight fasting.
Darker grew the clouds until they hung low over all the sky. Blue flashes of lightning were followed by deafening thunder peals, and then there fell a deluge of warm rain.
The English archers were posted in the front ranks along the harrow beams, but the rain harmed not their bows. Every bowstring was as yet in its case, with its hard spun silk securely dry.
