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[Illustration:

  "HE DEALT A CRASHING BLOW AT THE RECREANT KNIGHT."

  _Frontispiece._
]




                           UNDER KING HENRY'S
                                BANNERS

                    A STORY OF THE DAYS OF AGINCOURT


                                   By
                           PERCY F. WESTERMAN

                               Author of
                   "The Winning of the Golden Spurs,"
                                  etc.

                  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JOHN CAMPBELL


                                 LONDON
                           THE PILGRIM PRESS
                        16, PILGRIM STREET, E.C.




                    _Fair stood the wind for France
                    When we our sails advance,
                    Nor now to prove our chance
                      Longer will tarry;
                    But putting to the main
                    At Kaux, the mouth of Seine,
                    With all his martial train,
                      Landed King Harry._

                    _And taking many a fort
                    Furnish'd in warlike sort
                    March'd towards Agincourt
                      In happy hour;
                    Skirmishing day by day
                    With those that stop'd his way,
                    Where the French Gen'ral lay
                      With all his power._

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      _Upon Saint Crispin's day
                      Fought was this noble fray,
                      Which fame did not delay
                        To England to carry;
                      O when shall Englishmen
                      With such acts fill a pen,
                      Or England breed again
                        Such a King Harry?_

                                            MICHAEL DRAYTON (1563-1631.)




                                CONTENTS


    CHAP.                                                      PAGE

    I        HOW NEWS CAME TO WARBLINGTON CASTLE                  1

    II       THE RETURN OF THE "GRÂCE À DIEU"                    12

    III      HOW A FRIAR AND A LOLLARD MET ON THE HIGHWAY        20

    IV       HOW GEOFFREY LYSLE CROSSED THE CHANNEL              30

    V        HOW THE MERCHANTS TRIED CONCLUSIONS WITH LA
             BARRE                                               41

    VI       THE AFFRAY BY THE RIVER                             51

    VII      HOW GEOFFREY CAME TO TAILLEMARTEL                   61

    VIII     OF THE AMBUSH LAID BY THE MEN OF TAILLEMARTEL       71

    IX       CONCERNING GEOFFREY'S DESPERATE RESOLVE             85

    X        THE EVE OF ST. SILVESTER                            91

    XI       HOW SIR OLIVER GAINED HIS FREEDOM                  101

    XII      IN WHICH GEOFFREY IS LAID BY THE HEELS             106

    XIII     THE POSTERN FACED WITH POINTS OF STEEL             116

    XIV      HOW ARNOLD GRIPWELL WAS FREED FROM HIS BONDS       130

    XV       HOW THE THREE COMRADES SEIZED THE FISHING
             BOAT                                               143

    XVI      THE WRECK OF "L'ETOILE"                            153

    XVII     OF THE COMPANY AT THE "SIGN OF THE BUCKLE"         161

    XVIII    SQUIRE GEOFFREY                                    168

    XIX      TREASON                                            176

    XX       THE TRAITORS' DOOM                                 189

    XXI      HOW GEOFFREY FARED AT THE SIEGE OF HARFLEUR        198

    XXII     THE MARCH OF THE FORLORN SEVEN THOUSAND            214

    XXIII    THE EVE OF AGINCOURT                               224

    XXIV     THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT                            240

    XXV      THE MASSACRE                                       254

    XXVI     AT THE CASTLE OF SIR RAOUL D'AULX                  267

    XXVII    THE SIEGE OF ROUEN                                 280

    XXVIII   THE FATE OF MALEVEREUX                             288

    XXIX     THE GOLDEN SPURS                                   303




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


   MACE IN HAND, HE DEALT A CRUSHING BLOW AT THE     _Frontispiece in
   RECREANT KNIGHT                                           Colours_

   IT DID NOT TAKE LONG FOR THE ENGLISHMEN TO
   GRASP THE SITUATION                                             48

   "THROW ME YON ROPE!" HE SHOUTED                                144

   "SIRE, WERE THERE ANY WHO DWELT IN FEAR OF
   THE ISSUE OF THE BATTLE, WOULD THEY SLEEP SO
   QUIETLY?"                                                      224

   WITH SPEAR THRUST AND SWEEP OF AXE THEY FELL
   UPON THE STORMERS                                              288

------------------------------------------------------------------------




[Illustration]




                           UNDER KING HENRY'S
                                BANNERS




                               CHAPTER I

                  HOW NEWS CAME TO WARBLINGTON CASTLE


It was shortly after dawn, on the morning of March 21, 1413, that a
grizzled man-at-arms climbed the spiral staircase in the south-west
angle of the keep of Warblington Castle.

He was dressed in a leathern suit, much soiled and frayed by the
frequent wearing of armour, while on his head was a close-fitting cap,
quilted and padded to ease the weight of a steel headpiece. He was
unarmed, save for a long knife that was counterbalanced by a horn slung
from a shoulder-strap of undressed hide.

Under his left arm he bore a flag, its folds gathered closely to his
side, as if he feared to injure the cherished fabric by contact with the
rough stone walls of the staircase; for the flag he had charge of was
the banner of the renowned knight, Sir Oliver Lysle, of the Castle of
Warblington, in the county of Southampton, and of the Château of
Taillemartel, in the Duchy of Normandy.

At the one hundred and eleventh step the man-at-arms paused, and,
raising his arm, thrust with all his might against an oaken trap-door,
sheeted on the outside with lead. With a dull thud the door was flung
backwards, and the old soldier gained the summit of the turret, which
stood ten feet above the rest of the battlemented keep.

Sheltering from the strong north-westerly breeze that whistled over the
machicolated battlements, the man-at-arms gazed steadily—not in a
landward direction, where an almost uninterrupted view extends as far as
the rolling South Downs, neither to the east, where the tall,
needle-like shaft of Chichester Cathedral spire was gradually rearing
itself heavenwards, nor to the west, where the sea and land blended in
the dreary mud banks of Langstone Harbour—but southwards, where,
partially hidden in wreaths of fleecy vapour, the almost landlocked
waters of Chichester Harbour met the open expanse of the English
Channel.

The sound of footsteps on the stone stairs caused the watcher to turn
his attention to the newcomer.

"Good morning, fair sir," he exclaimed, as a lad of about fourteen years
of age climbed actively through the trap-door.

"And to thee, Arnold Gripwell. But how goes it? Dost see aught of the
ship?"

"Nay, Master Geoffrey; this wind, which is most unseasonable for the
time o' year, hath stirred up much mist, so that the sea cannot be
clearly discerned."

"'Tis passing strange. Sir Oliver, my father, hath sent word that, God
willing, he would cross the seas from Harfleur on the eve of the Feast
of St. Perpetua. Already fourteen days are spent, and yet he cometh
not."

"The reason is not far to seek," replied Gripwell, pointing towards the
distant Portsdown Hills. "So long as this wind holdeth the ship is bound
to tarry."

"But how long, think you, will it blow thus? Thou art a man skilled in
such matters."

"Nay, I cannot forecast, fair sir. For now, when the husbandman looketh
for the east wind to break the ground, this most unwholesome air doth
hold. Mark my words, Master Geoffrey, when it turneth we shall have
another winter. But the sun is rising. I must display my lord's banner."

So saying, he bent the flag to the halyards, and soon the emblem of the
Lysles was fluttering bravely in the breeze—azure, a turbot argent,
surmounted by an estoile of the last—in other words, a silver turbot,
with a silver star above, both on a field of blue.

Geoffrey knew well the meaning of this device. The first denoted that
the Lord of Warblington was one of the coastwise guardians of the
Channel; the star was in recognition of a former Lysle's service under
Edward I, on the occasion of a desperate night attack upon the Scots.

Always ready on the first summons, the Lysles placed duty to their king
as the highest of their earthly devoirs, and it was their proud boast
that no important expedition had crossed the Channel without the head of
the Manor of Warblington in its ranks.

Like many an English knight of that period, Sir Oliver Lysle had
interests in France. Through his mother he inherited the seigneurie of
Taillemartel in Normandy.

France was in a deplorable condition. The country was torn by a fierce
strife betwixt the Orleanists—or Armagnacs, as they were oft-times
termed—and the Burgundians. Every baron and knight did as he might,
trade was paralyzed, the poor were oppressed, and from