Alan of Ockham

Within the last decade we have witnessed what one must hope is the final act in a long drama of agony for the English nation. With the overthrow of Richard at Bosworth and the establishment of Henry Tudor on the throne, peace may come at last to that troubled land. Perhaps the evil legacy of Edward III can be buried at last.

The Hundred Years' War was an appalling disaster for England. When it began, Edward had a prosperous country, the lands of Aquitaine arid Gascony in France by an obscure irony, Eleanor's dowry lands from 200 years earlier were still in English hands, while her husband Henry's Angevin lands had been lost to the French long since), and a plausible but foolish claim to the job of being King of France. Resolving to pursue that claim with force of arias, Edward brought abundant suffering to both countries.

When the war ground to its exhausted end, England was left with nothing in France except the city of Calais. Eleanor's Aquitaine was gone for good. The monarchy had acquired an enormous debt. English mercenaries, out of work, roamed the continent, bringing misery and strife in return for pay. And when they came home, they brought with them the bane of every settled land: civil war.

From the end of hostilities in France down to the battle of Bosworth Field, England has hardly known a peaceful year. Henry VI; his son and heir Edward IV's father; Edward's two sons, one of them, Edward V; Richard III; and his brother George all died by violence (at the hands of others. What a melancholy record for a civilized kingdom!

Perhaps to compensate for this excess of woe, a legend has grown up about one of the great English victories of the Hundred Years' War: the battle of Agincourt. We have all heard the official version: the sturdy English yeoman with his longbow, cutting down the fatuous pride of French nobility, putting the feudal system out of business for good. It did not quite happen that way.

First, at the range they were firing, an arrow from a longbow will not penetrate a good suit of chainmail. The missile barrage did little damage to the French knights.

The horses they were riding were a different matter. Many of them went down with severe wounds. However, most of the French men at arms had foreseen this and were advancing on foot.

Second, the honest English yeoman manning his bow was largely a myth. The bowmen were mainly unsavory characters, convicted criminals given the choice Of punishment or service in the army. For most of them, it was not a difficult decision. But the average English peasant was home tilling the fields to grow the food to supply the army.

Third, some of the French cavalry did in fact manage to get in among the English archers. This should have brought them victory except for a strategem which is little mentioned in the accounts of the battle, since it is a product of cunning and not glory. The archers planted sharpened stakes in the ground, facing the direction of the French charge. The horses ran upon these stakes, were impaled, and threw their riders.

And here is where most of the casualties in this battle were inflicted upon fallen French men at arms. They were wearing up to 60 pounds of armor; it was no easy task to regain one's feet with that sort of load. And the English archers were immediately out among their fallen foes, slaying by pushing knives and daggers through the visors of the knights. Injured riderless horses recoiled upon the advancing French dismounted knights, knocking more of them off their feet and leaving m ore of them defenseless. A goodly number of them were captured by the English.

And this brings us to the low point of this entire lamentable story. King Henry V, one of the most idolized kings of England, the flower of chivalry and honorable behavior, ordered that the French prisoners be massacred.

Excuses and explanations have been advanced to justify this appalling command. Nevertheless, the fact remains that the English men at arms refused a direct order from their king to kill unmarried men. Henry eventually found men who would do it. The valiant English yeomen of fable arid myth shot them down with arrows from their native longbows. There seems to be more than ample reason to consign this sorry episode to the dustbin of history. Agincourt settled nothing; it reflected glory on nobody; it was a meaningless slaughter of human beings.

It is clear to all perceptive observers that the era of the armored feudal knight has drawn to a close. but it is riot the longbow which is turning armor from a necessity into an ornament. Rather, it is the crossbow and powder driven shot.

England has produced many great men: Roger Bacon, Geoffry Chaucer, Edward I, Nicholas Brakespear, Henry II, and John Wycliffe. Let us better recall their deeds and accomplishments and let the sorrow and shame of that day in 1415 fade into well deserved oblivion.