They had remained inactive in Abbeville for the whole of Friday as well
as the preceding Thursday, after they had retreated thither from the
ford where the English had given them the slip; and on Saturday they
were marched off none too well fed, to meet their English foes.

Philip was so confident that his immense superiority in numbers was
certain to give him the victory, that he thought little of the comfort
of his men, the consequence being that they grew jaded and weary with
the long hot march taken in an ill-fed state; and his own marshals at
last very earnestly entreated their lord to call a halt for rest and
refreshment before the troops engaged in battle, or else the men would
fight at a terrible disadvantage.

Philip consented to this, and a halt was called, which was obeyed by the
ranks in front; but those behind, eager to fall upon the English, and
confident of easy victory, declined to wait, and went steadily forward,
shouting "Kill! kill!" as they went, till all the alleys became filled
up and choked. The press from behind urged forward the men in front, and
the army moved on perforce once again, though now no longer in order,
but in a confused and unmanageable mass.

Just as they came in sight of the English line of battle a heavy tempest
of thunder and rain came upon them. The clouds seemed to discharge
themselves upon the French host, and those birds of evil omen, the
ravens, flew screaming overhead, throwing many men into paroxysms of
terror who would never have blenched before the drawn blade of an armed foe.

Worse than this, the rain wet and slackened the strings of the Genoese
crossbowmen, who marched in the foremost rank; and hungry and weary as
they were, this last misfortune seemed to put the finishing touch to