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| Welcome to my Blog! Wander through worlds real and fictional, meet interesting people, visit exciting places and find good books to enjoy along the way! |
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| About the Book |
Book Title: The Agincourt King
Series: The Plantagenet Legacy
Author: Mercedes Rochelle
Publication Date: April 8, 2024
Publisher: Sergeant Press
Pages: 260 pages
Genre: Historical Fiction
From the day he was crowned, Henry V was determined to prove the legitimacy of his house. His father's usurpation weighed heavily on his mind. Only a grand gesture would capture the respect of his own countrymen and the rest of Europe. He would follow in his great-grandfather Edward III's footsteps, and recover lost territory in France.
Better yet, why not go for the crown? Poor, deranged Charles VI couldn't manage his own barons. The civil war between the Burgundians and Armagnacs was more of a threat to his country than the English, even after Henry laid siege to Harfleur. But once Harfleur had fallen, the French came to their senses and determined to block his path to Calais and destroy him.
By the time the English reached Agincourt, they were starving, exhausted, and easy pickings. Or so the French thought. Little did they reckon on Henry's leadership and the stout-hearted English archers who proved, once again, that numbers didn't matter when God was on their side.
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This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mq70Ze
Author Bio:
Mercedes Rochelle is an ardent lover of medieval history, and has channeled this interest into fiction writing. Her first four books cover eleventh-century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest of England. The next series is called “The Plantagenet Legacy” and begins with the reign of Richard II.
She also writes a blog: www.HistoricalBritainBlog.com to explore the history behind the story. Born in St. Louis, MO, she received by BA in Literature at the Univ. of Missouri St.Louis in 1979 then moved to New York in 1982 while in her mid-20s to "see the world". The search hasn't ended!
Today she lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves.
Author Links:
Website: https://mercedesrochelle.com/
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| Read An Excerpt |
THE AGINCOURT KING
THE FRENCH PREPARE FOR THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT
It rained the rest of the night, and in the morning the freshly ploughed field was a quagmire. This region was famous for its thick, clingy mud that held its moisture, and on the French side of the field the constant back and forth of horses and wagons churned up the soil even further. The sun emitted a pale light through the clouds, giving the field a ghostly hue, and the chill air permeated the skin.
Even though most of the French army spent just as miserable a night as the English, their spirits remained high. The ones lucky enough to sleep in a pavilion pushed against the roof, sending sheets of water down the sides of their tent. Servants brought horses to the rear by the baggage train; squires rubbed the last of the rust from their knight's armour. Knights were served a welcome breakfast while they joked amongst themselves, calling the enemy all sorts of names and bragging about their upcoming triumph.
The leaders—already fully armoured—made their way to the marshal's pavilion to sort out a final strategy. For the moment, old arguments were forgotten. Former enemies were friends, at least for one day. No one wanted to miss the chance to prove their skill in this most decisive of battles. Opportunities like this sometimes came only once in a lifetime.
Marshal Boucicaut and Constable d'Albret stood silently as the great nobles of France filled the pavilion. And what a collection of peers! There were four royal dukes, twelve counts, both admirals, the grand-master of the king's household, and lords beyond count. Most of the men had little battlefield experience, but they outdid each other with grandiosity. Their armour sparkled, their coats of arms were stitched with the finest silk threads; their swords were studded with jewels.
Of course, many others were conspicuous by their absence. Neither the king nor the Dauphin were present, though in reality they weren't particularly missed. The same couldn't be said about John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, who had kept promising that he would come. In the end, it was all pretence. Then there was the Duke of Brittany, who had also promised to come but was taking so long he would never make it in time. The Duke de Berry was missing; at seventy-five he was too old to fight, but his counsel would have been appreciated. And the Duke of Anjou had stayed in Rouen to protect the king. Well, Boucicaut thought, at least they had enough men—somewhere around twenty thousand or so.
The marshal cleared his throat and the murmuring died down. "I see we are still missing some troops," he said, straining his neck to look around. "I do not see the Duke of Brittany, the Count of Charolais, or the Duke of Brabant." He waited as the others spoke amongst themselves, but nobody was able to offer any explanation. No one knew that Brittany had intentionally delayed, having signed a secret pact with King Henry not to interfere. Nor did they know that Charolais was held prisoner on orders of his father, the Duke of Burgundy. Brabant had been told by his brother John the Fearless not to fight, a development that would have surprised no one. Still, Burgundy's other brother the Count of Nevers was present, so all was not lost.
"I would advise we wait upon their arrival," Boucicaut continued, as d'Albret nodded his agreement. But this statement was met with a chorus of opposition.
"We have more than enough men to crush the English dogs," declared the Duke of Alençon. "Why waste precious time?" Others shouted their support, and Boucicaut raised his hand in defeat.
"All right, all right. As you know, we have a preliminary battle plan. We will draw up the army in three divisions, one behind the other. The vanguard shall be commanded by myself, the Duke of Bourbon, and the grand-master Guichard Dauphin. The main battle will be led by the Duke of Orléans along with the dukes of Brittany—if he gets here—and Alençon, as well as constable d'Albret. The rearguard is to be commanded by the Duke of Bar and the counts of Nevers, Charolais, and Vaudémont. I will position six hundred cavalry on both wings specifically to attack the archers—"
"Wait, wait," interrupted the Duke of Orléans. He stepped forward, holding up an arm. "I am the commander of this army. Of course I belong in the vanguard."
"And I should be in the vanguard, too," cried Arthur, Count of Richemont. "As brother to the Duke of Brittany, I'm the one who represents our contingent."
"And I represent Burgundy," shouted Nevers. "I must win my spurs! I also belong in the vanguard."
"No one is going to push me back into the second battle," blasted Alençon, "while they get all the glory."
Once again the tent was filled with clamour, each man trying to outshout the other. Old antagonisms quickly resurfaced, and there was the danger that these uneasy allies would come to blows. Frustrated, Boucicaut tapped his trumpeter on the arm. A shrill note blasted through the arguments.
Startled, the men quieted down, glaring at each other.
"All right," the marshal said wearily. "If it must be so, you shall all join the vanguard. Assign your second in command in your place. The varlets shall take their lords' horses to the rearguard and mount them fully armoured so that they will ride down the fleeing English as the battle progresses. Now, let us put ourselves in battle array."
Satisfied, the nobles streamed out of the tent, each intent on finding the most auspicious place in the front row of the vanguard. Already the men-at-arms were lining up across the field, though it was soon obvious they were going to have to stand many ranks deep. Boucicaut leaned toward d'Albret as they observed the battlefield.
"I don't like it," said the marshal. "This field is too small. And look at all that standing water."
Orléans came up behind them, following Boucicaut's gaze. "Surely you don't suggest we move to another location," he said. "It's too late for that. Besides, look how few of them there are against so many of us."
"It's never too late," the marshal began, but caught himself. He knew there was no point in arguing. "Have the men shorten their lances, my lord. It'll be easier to wield them in this confined space."
Orléans nodded in understanding. "It looks like we won't need the crossbowmen, either," he added. "With the cavalry riding down the English archers, our men-at-arms can be advancing at the same time. Let's send the crossbows to the rear."
"Well…"
"We don't need them. They will just be in the way."
Boucicaut shrugged. "As you wish, your Grace." His carefully constructed battle plan had already fallen apart. What difference did one more change make?
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(note: Helen has not yet read the book herself)
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Thanks very much for hosting Mercedes Rochelle today, with an enticing excerpt from The Agincourt King.
ReplyDeleteTake care,
Cathie xx
The Coffee Pot Book Club