at supper the princes his
uncles, the Count of Flanders, the constable, Oliver de Clisson, the
marshals, &c. They were arranging the order of battle for the morrow.
Many folks blamed the Duke of Burgundy for having brought so young a
king, the hope of the realm, into the perils of war. It was resolved to
confide the care of him to the constable de Clisson, whilst conferring
upon Sire de Coucy, for that day only, the command of the army. "Most
dear lord," said the constable to the king, "I know that there is no
greater honor than to have the care of your person; but it would be great
grief to my comrades not to have me with them. I say not that they could
not do without me; but for a fortnight now I have been getting everything
ready for bringing most honor to you and yours. They would be much
surprised if I should now withdraw." The king was somewhat embarrassed.
"Constable," said he, "I would fain have you in my company to-day; you
know well that my lord my father loved you and trusted you more than any
other; in the name of God and St. Denis do whatever you think best. You
have a clearer insight into the matter than I and those who have advised
me. Only attend my mass to-morrow." The battle began with spirit the
next morning, in the midst of a thick fog. According to the monk of
St. Denis, Van Artevelde was not without disquietude. He had bidden one
of his people go and observe the French army; and, "You bring me bad
news," said he to the man in a whisper, "when you tell me there are so
many French with the king: I was far from expecting it. . . . This is
a hard war; it requires discreet management. I think the best thing for
me is to go and hurry up ten thousand of our comrades who are due." "Why
leave thy host without a head?" said they who were about him: "it was to
obey thy orders that we engaged in this enterprise; thou must run the
risks of battle with us." The French were more confident than Van
Artevelde. "Sir," said the constable, addressing the king, cap in hand,
"be of good cheer; these fellows are ours; our very varlets might beat
them." These words were far too presumptuous; for the Flemings fought
with great bravery. Drawn up in a compact body, they drove back for a
moment the French who were opposed to them; but Clisson had made
everything ready for hemming them in; attacked on all sides they tried,
but in vain, to fly; a few, with difficulty, succeeded in escaping and
casting, as th