Only they, it seems, stand between the might of France and the English Crown. But, despite their grisley appearance, the dishevelled and uncouth ruffians in the English ranks actually hold the key to the battle which will ensue. In their wake come many thousands of foot soldiers, running as fast as they are able to. Five hundred yards away now, yet still the Englishmen stand in silence. Yet still there is no hint of movement in the English lines, nor any response.
Nobody even flinches.
And then there will be a stampede, a flight of panic. Still nobody speaks. But there is a flutter of movement in the English ranks. Arm muscles and sinews strain as rods of English yew are bent taut, almost to breaking-point. A loud twang followed by a faint but deadly hiss is heard above the pounding of hooves.