Azincourt by Bernard Cornwell

Author:Bernard Cornwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2011-03-27T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

"You won't die here," Saint Crispinian said.

Hook hardly heard the voice because he was screaming a battle cry that was part terror and part exhilaration.

Hook and Sir John had reached the top of the barbican where the remnants of the fighting platform lay. The English bombardment had shattered the barbican's face so that the earth and rubble filling had spilled out and what had once been the fighting platform was now a crude lumpy space. The rearward wall, looking toward the city's Leure Gate, was much less damaged and served as a screen to hide what happened on the broken, rough summit from the defenders of Harfleur's walls. That summit was now a treacherous heap of earth, stones, and burning timbers, which was crammed with crossbowmen and men-at-arms. Hook and Sir John had come from their left flank, and now Sir John attacked the enemy like the avenging angel.

He was fast. That was why he was the most feared tournament fighter in Christendom. In the time it took a man to strike a blow, Sir John gave two. Hook saw it because, once again, it seemed to him that time itself had slowed. He was moving to Sir John's right, aware suddenly that Saint Crispinian had broken his silence and feeling a great surge of relief that the saint was still his patron. Hook lunged with his poleaxe as Sir John used his double-bladed battle-axe in short brutal strokes. The first smashed the roundel protecting a man-at-arms's knee, the second, a rising slash, gutted a crossbowman, and the third felled the man-at-arms whose knee had been broken. Another man-at-arms turned to drive a sword at Sir John, but Hook's poleaxe sliced into his side, piercing the edge of his breastplate and throwing him back on the men behind. Hook just kept ramming, driving the man back, crushing him into his comrades, and Sir John was making a whooping noise, a sound of pure joy. Hook was screaming, though he was not aware of it, and using his huge archer's strength to push the enemy back while Sir John was taking advantage of their confusion to chop, wound, and kill.

Hook wrenched the poleaxe back, but the spear point was trapped in the man's armour. "Take this!" Sir John said sharply, thrusting the axe at Hook, and later, much later when the fight was over, Hook marvelled at Sir John's utter calm in the middle of a fight. Sir John had seen Hook's predicament and solved it, even though he was under attack himself. He gave Hook the axe and, in the time it took Hook to take it, Sir John drew his sword. It was Sir John's favourite sword, the one he called Darling, and it was a heavier blade than most, strong enough to survive hard lunges into steel plate. Sir John used it to keep the enemy off balance, letting Hook do the killing now. Hook's first blow drove the axe into a helmet, wrenching the whole visor loose so it hung askew.

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