Chinon ... The Race is On

Commanding the Plateau

Chinon Castle stands in medieval glory on a raised planteau overlooking the picturesque Vienne River. It was built in the 11th century on a Gallo-Roman site by Theobald I, Count of Blois but over time became the property of the Counts of Anjou.

Imposing Walls.

It had been a favorite residence, not only because of its central location within Henry's lands but also, I imagine, for the view and balmier weather it offered.  During excavation for the visitor center, archeologists discovered a buried wing, including a chapel, that was determined to have been the rooms built for, and occupied by Eleanor during the early, happy years of her marriage to Henry.

La Vienne River

Even though we arrived a day late, the staff was gracious in accommodating our request for an English tour guide. She reminded us that after Henry fell ill, he was brought to Chinon by William Marshal where Henry died shortly thereafter, heartbroken at his son's renewed rebellion and betrayal.

With little time to explore, I skipped down at least four flights of stairs to a cold, dark, wet dungeon-like area and enroute came across what I think was the garderobe.  I've read about them but don't think I've ever seen one before.  For those unfamiliar with the term, this was a medieval toilet.

Garderobe?

I wanted to capture the spirit of the castle so that when I wrote I might describe what life was like living in a stone fortress similar to this one, obviously improved by the 1300s but still lacking in many creature comforts.

I doubt my camera did justice to any of it but let's hope the photos will jog my memory, and creative juices, when tackling the keyboard.

The climb back up to the towers and ramparts took considerably more effort than my 'skip' down the circular stairwells.  But time was ticking and we had to leave.

Looking down from turret.

It had taken four hours to drive from Caen to Fontevraud and I estimated we had six to make it to Cherbourg to catch our 6:30 ferry back to England. I programmed the GPS to take us to the town where we would pick up our chevauchee route and Mary at the wheel, we headed down the road.  I had maps tucked in my lap to navigate along with our GPS genie.

Pretty quickly I realized that I couldn't find the route number nor the towns were were traveling through on the regional Atlas map I was utilzing. My atennae went up. Worry gnawed at my gut. Were we heading north as we should be? With the overcast, it was inpossible to tell and I couldn't locate the compass on the unfamiliar dashboard.

My suspicions high, we pulled over. I reprogrammed the GPS for St. Lo, a larger town along our route.  The GPS directed us to turn right at the next intersection. Finally, I located the next signposted town on the map. OMG!  We had been traveling southwest instead of north!  About 30 minutes later we made it back to about the position of our original starting point in Chinon.  We had lost a full hour!

We pressed on along country backroads losing precious minutes as we slowed for each village along the route. As bad luck would have it, we encountered another 'barre' and lost even more time trying to find a way around it. When I saw the sign stating that Caen was stilll 75 kilometers away, I knew we were in deep doo-doo. At the next town, we stopped to reevalute. Our final destination, Cherbourg, was still 203 kilometers north, two hours of travel time remained, and the average distance traveled per hour was about 60 kilometers. I did the math. There was no way to pick up the chevauchee route and visit the landing beach at St Vaast la Hougue. With so much distance still to travel, even making the ferry was questionable! No kidding. We were out luck and out of time!

I can't begin to tell you how crushed I was.  St Vaast had been the starting point of the entire campaign and I was going to miss seeing it, walking it, imagining the ships being unloaded and the the horses swimming to shore.

My heart pounded like this rabbit!

With great regret,  I reprogrammed the GPS for Cherbourg eliminating the 'no toll roads' directive hoping that might shorten the distance.

It didn't.

Without much hope of making it on time, I jumped behind the wheel and took off.  I imagined the 'spinners' laughing at us once again.  What entertainment we must provide!

The overcast gave way to drizzle and the intermittant swish of the windshield wipers whisked the rain and miles away. Traveling a major highway, ecstatically with no tolls yet, the speedomter read 130 kph.  My adrenaline pulsed matching our speed.

I fiinally located the compass direction on the video screen and sighed with relief - we were headed north. The highway signs indicated we were on the road to Caen, which I knew was southeast of Chebourg but I recalled from the map that the highway split somewhere ahead - part east to Caen and part north to Cherbourg.

The topography began to change and the land gently rose. From  my research I knew the western portion of the Cotentin Peninsula climbed a plateau similar to the Massif Central in southern France. I watched with dismay as the exits for the towns along the chevauchee route whizzed by.

Rain drummed and the sky lowered still further.  With this weather, what might the four-hour Channel crossing be like?  Similar to the storms the English experienced for two weeks prior to finally setting sail for Normandy?  I would soon find out ... that's if we made it.

This is close but not quite -
imagine a scarlet-colored elliptical hole surrounded
by an ominious lead-gray sky.

The speed limit lowered to 110 kph but thankfully, still no tolls!  I prayed to Edward's Trinity as we raced through increasingly congested roads and Cherbourg's rush hour traffic. There was no time to stop and replenish the fuel tank. Illuminated signs indicated the road to the ferry launch but our route took us directly into town.

The leaden sky luminesced scarlet as one of the squalls the Channel is famous for bore down upon us. I had promised myself to memorize the sunsets and this one was definitely for the record books.

Just ahead on the right the Hertz sign glowed yellow and black. Tailights winked. Cars parked nose to tail lined both sides of the busy street. We inched forward. Miracles do happen. A  parking spot materialized just steps from the agency door.  As I hopped out and grabbed my luggage from the hatch, the skies opened up and, there's no other way to describe it, we got dumped on!  Oh, how the spinners cackled! 

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. 

The more than accommodating agent called a taxi and before I had handed her the car keys our taxi pulled up! Less than five minutes and we were checking in at Brittany Ferries. I handed the driver the last of my euros along with a grin-inducing tip!

The sun had set completely and the sky was now a midnight blue-black. As the ferry powered away from the dock, I glanced to my right, which I believed was west. It was by now about 7 pm and the moon had risen. From my experience, the moon rises in the east, like the sun, or so I believed. But this moon, hung just above the western horizon. Are there times of year and phases of the moon when this occurs?  I don't know.
The roll of the ship and the moon's faint reflection on the water moved me. I thought about sixteen-year old Edward and the knightly adventure that awaited him in Normandy, a mixture of excitement and fear flooding his veins.
.

"Destiny is All"

Alexander Dreymon as Uhtred

The title of this post is a quote by Uhtred, a character in Bernard Cornwell's "The Last Kingdom". Uhtred was a pagan and believed that destiny was sealed at birth and the gods played with humans for their own entertainment.

In the case of our Hertz rental car, I felt similarly.

At 8:00 a.m. on Thursday morning, the verdict was in ... a replacement vehicle would not be available until 3:30 p.m.  That put our entire day's itinerary at risk ... the plan had been to arrive in Fontevraud (three hours south) by 11 a.m. to visit Fontevraud Abbey, the resting place for the Plantagenet founders, and visit Chinon Castle in the afternoon, Henry's favorite residence in the heart of the Angevin empire.

Fontevraud Abbey Chapel 

What to do? I figured we'd have more luck 'negotiating' a replacement vehicle in person than on the phone so we packed up, bid au revoir to our hostess, and caught a taxi to the rental office.  The unhappy-to-see-us-agent reiterated a vehicle wouldn't be available until 3:30 and that was only if we accepted a manual transmission ... an automatic would take two weeks!  My heart sank.  Fontevraud was the highlight of the trip for my traveling companion, Mary.

Seriously disappointed, we stowed our luggage and opted to tour the parts of Caen we had not yet explored. As we trudged to the door, the agent called out.  "Wait!" We turned. "A car just came in."  What? "And it's an automatic!"

The co-ed Abbey was ahead of its tiime -
under the authority of Abbess not a monk!

We had so far experienced a 'white knight', a 'black knight', two lady-rescuers, and incredible parking karma.  Now this ... we hopped in and sped off, feeling blessed to be  on the road albeit 3+ hours behind schedule. Our estimated 3-hour junket took 4 hours and we arrived at the Abbey just as it reopened after lunch.

The Abbey was founded in 1101 and in its early years, the Plantagenets were great benefactors; Eleanor was Abbess there in her declining years.  Henry II, Eleanor, Richard I (Lionheart) and Isabella of Angouleme, queen to King John, were all buried there although their tombs were destroyed during the French Revolution.

Fontevraud Cloister

It's interesting to note that Henry II blamed Eleanor for their sons' rebellion against him and imprisoned her.  Although Eleanor was 11 years his senior, she outlived Henry ... by almost the exact the number of years he had imprisoned her! 


Our day at Fontevraud also happened to be Thanksgiving Day - and we had much to be thankful for on this trip!  Although the Abbey does boast a hotel and restaurant for guests, when I attempted to make reservations for both, I learned that neither was available.  In November? 

I booked us at the St Croix hotel just across the plaza and we enjoyed our Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel restaurant, Les Plantagenets. 

Les Plantagenets Restaurant far right of photo.

No, the French do not celebrate our American holiday so turkey was not on the menu.  And given how loathe I've been to post food photos, here's one of my dessert.

Heart of Anjou Creme

It has three basic ingredients: whipping cream, egg whites and local Anjou cheese.  It is topped with seasonal fruit.  You can see I've already sampled it!  Quite yummy but the fresh bread & butter I consumed (how can one not devour fresh-baked French bread?) made it impossible to finish this unique dessert.

One last decision before my bed claimed me ... visit Chinon Castle or not?  It wouldn't open until 9:30 a.m. and visiting there meant cutting short the last leg of the Prince's chevaucee route.

I had traveled this part of France in 2012 but had not visited Chinon, a truly medieval fortress vs. a Loire Valley chateau that might add to my personal knowledge of life during medieval times. In my head, I reasoned that if we left Chinon by 11 a.m. that would still allow six hours to drive back north and visit at least the landing beach at St. Vaast la Hougue. While I hated to jettison St. Lo and Carantan, two towns devasted by the English early in their march, I believed the drive itself would provide a knowledge of the topography (scenic descriptions for my novel) and viewing the beach where the English made their landing would have to suffice.

Decision made, my pillow cried my name.

Caen and Bayeux

Caen fortress walls. 

After several days on the road, I welcomed a leisurely morning to explore old town and the remains of the medieval fortress. In 1346, Caen was second only in size to Rouen, founded by William the Conqueror.

As I strolled, I imagined the town officials in panic mode having heard the English army was bearing down upon them and witnessing the caravan of carts, wagons and people fleeing into town for safety.
The town's strong-walled fortress loomed ahead of me to the north. To the west stands the Abbaye aux Hommes; to the east, the Abbaye aux Dames, their ancient spires dominating the skyline.

Imagine scaling these walls! 

So much has changed, I had a harder time imagining the rest of the town that had been surrounded by low, poorly-reinforced walls.

Ramparts to the south were protected by the River Odon with a bridge guarded by towers on both sides. A bridge led to the Ile St-Jean, unwalled but completely surrounded by the River Orne, where the town's illustrious lived.

As the English approached, both Abbayes were abandoned in favor of rallying what few French forces there were to protect the town. Inside the town were the Count of Eu, the constable of France, and the Lord of Tancarville, with perhaps 1,500 men and 300 Genoese crossbowmen.

Looking down into
the Ditch now surrounding the fortress. 

King Edward's forces approached town from the south while the prince's vanguard approached from the north. Forces led by the earls of Warwick and Northhampton, of the prince's division, spread out along the river banks, set fire to several boats, and defenders found themselves under attack by lowbowmen and surrounded by men-at-arms. It was the beinning of the end for the French. Although sporadic fighting continued, the town surrendered.
In his wisdom, the Count of Eu surrended to a fellow crusader whom he recognized, Sir Thomas Holland. Tancarville surrendered to Sir Thomas Daniel, a retainer of the Black Prince. Some 2,500 bodies were said to have been found in the streets after the fighting while only one English man-at-arms is known to have been killed.

Count d'Eu's surrender to Thomas Holland changed the knight's life. Up until this time, while he was appreciated by the king for his military prowess, he still suffered under the cloud of his father's betrayal of the Earl of Lancaster many years before and his only means of survival was through his military endeavors.

Town well inside the fortress.

If you recall, Thomas Holland was the knight Joan of Kent secretly married when she was just twelve. The promise of Count d'Eu's ransom made it financially possible for Holland to consider court proceedings to have his marriage to Joan legitimized by the Church.

Keep in mind that for six years Joan had been in limbo 'married' to two different men but living with neither. She would not become aware of this change in Holland's circumstances, nor of his intentions toward her after their long separation, until months later when she traveled with Queen Philippa to celebrate Christmas in Calais with the king.

After Caen's surrender, officials of Bayeux, a prosperous town to the north, hearing of the assault and fearing they were next, sent peace emmissaries to Edward. Bayeux was spared and the English moved off east towards Rouen where King Philippe's army was assemblinig.

Bayeux Cathedral consecrated in 1077

You may or may not have heard of the Bayeux Tapestry, created just after William the Bastard's Norman victory over Harold at Hastings in 1066.  The Tapestry commemorates what led up to William's invasion, depicts the battle itself, and William's crowning as king afterwards. 

Visiting Bayeux was straying off course but I am truly delighted I made that decision. I had always envisioned the 'tapestry' as a needlepoint-style wall hanging similar to those adorning the walls in royal palaces. The real item couldn't be more dissimilar.  

The Bayeux Tapestry is actually an embroidery only about 18" tall on a light-colored linen backing ... and is amazingly more than 200 feet long, about 2/3 the length of a football field! The tapestry survives in its orginal state and is displayed in one piece in a very long, light- and climate-controlled, u-shaped case designed specifically to house this ancient work of art.

Medieval knights greet visitors.

Like most every town I visited, Bayeux is dominated by its catheral built upon the site of Roman sanctuaries and where Harold originally swore his oath of allegiance to William and then broke it.
The town has a population of about 15,000 and of all the places I visited, I felt more at home here than anywhere else on my travels.  It's obvious the townspeople take great pride in Duke William's history.

I had no trouble locating the Bayeux Museum.  Everywhere you turn there are reminders of this communitu's ties to William and influence in the region.

Modern day version of a portion of the Tapestry?

 Needless to say, photographs of the Tapestry are not allowed but I here is one of my favorites sections lifted from the internet.

The heat of the Battle. Note the dead lying on the ground.

Note the archers in front and movement of the horses from trot to gallop!

I left the museum quite in awe of what the women of Bayeux had accomplished with this art form and astounded that it survived two world wars in one piece; at one time wrapped around a barrell and stored away for protection!   

The town is so picturesque, it is quite easily my favorite of all the towns and villages we visited.  In this photo, on the far left in the distance you might just be able to make out the water wheel on the side of this restaurant just down the cobblestone walkway from the museum and adjacent to the parking area. 

Once again I wanted to get to Caen before dark and commute hour traffic.  However, much to my horror, our trustry 'steed' wouldn't start.  As I was unable to reach the Hertz emergency road service number from my cell phone, the two women staffing the gift shop provided their assistance.  In broken French I explained and in broken English they relayed what Hertz was proposing.  A 'mechanique' would be sent and would we wait with the car?  Only an hour later our second 'white knight' arrived on his 'white steed' (aka white van) to rescue us.  

2nd White Knight

He discovered the battery was drained, most likely due to the hatch not closing and locking properly.  Our second 'white knight' looked a great deal like the guy is this picture.  He spoke even less English than the ladies in gift shop but he pointed to the repair shop just on the other side of the roundabout and, once in the now-revived car, where I headed. 

It was now 5 pm and the repair shop was closed. After another call to Hertz (with help from the Peugot dealer staff) it seemed there were no available replacement cars in the vicinity - so a cab was sent to haul us back to Caen.  Although I was happy to sit back and let someone else naviate the city traffic, I was seriously concerned about plans for the next day as we had a three hour drive ahead of us ... to Fontevraud Abbey and Chinon Castle. We had planned a 7 a.m. departure to arrive there by 11:00 and I now knew those plans were in jeopardy.  The rental agency didn't even open until 8 a.m. 

The itineary for that Thursday and Friday was tight and timing crucial ... the rental car had to be dropped off in Cherbourg by 5 PM on Friday in order to catch the 6:30 p.m. ferry back to England.

Crossing the Seine - Poissy

In retracing the English chevauchee route, there was a specific reason why we overnighted at Poissy.  It was a crucial point in the English march and a drama unfolded there.

Edward III's invasion caught Philippe VI off guard and he was ill-prepared to defend his country. Each day's march brought the English closer to Paris and heightened the threat on Philippe's capital.  Little did he know that King Edward had no intention of a direct assault on Paris; his goal was to draw the French into a pitched battle on ground of his choosing.

Before leaving England, King Edward had arranged for additional forces from Flanders. To make the rendezvous, King Edward's army needed to march north and he needed to cross the Seine. Heavy rains made the fords impassible and King Philippe had ordered all the bridges destroyed. At Poissy, the bridge had been wrecked but the timbers were still intact and tossed below.  English carpenters worked quickly to replace the timbers but before they finished the reconstruction French troops appeared on the other side of the river. Balancing along a foot-wide timber a small, and incredibly brave, contingent of archers and men-at-arms went ahead to successfully secure the bridgehead.

Poissy Bridge Footings --
 Originally 30+ pilings.

When I read about this feat of daring, I could only imagine what those men must have felt.  One wrong step and down they'd plunge into the swift-running currents below with no chance of rescue.

That bridge at Poissy remained intact until WWII.  After the war, a replacement was built about 1000 feet upriver from the original footings.  My picture (right) doesn'd do justice to the width of the river. So I searched online and found another that might provide better perspective.

This is more like it! 

I think it does.  It shows the width of the river and the many arches constituting the ancient bridge.  I'm still amazed at the courage of the men who made that crossing possible!

From Poissy we headed west following the Seine. When planning this day's itinerary, we thought we'd make good time and there might be a lot of 'drive-by' visits. But we soon discovered we were no longer traveling backroads and had to contend with commute traffic. Think of the Seine as a freeway in the States with each communter town burgeoning along its route.

In spite of the congestion, we managed to find Epone, situated on a steep hillside above the bank of the Seine. Located in the town center, the church was built in the 11th-12th centuries. I managed to get a peek inside although it was in the midst of a furneral sevice.

It looks like a upside down ship's hull. 

Epone St. Beat

Summer in Giverny 

Our trek wound through one congested town after another and I have to admit it was beginning to wear on me. Once again, we encountered a 'barre' and had to find an alternate route even though our GPS genie was insistent. By fortunate accident we found ourselves driving through the village of Giverny. This is the town made famous by the paintings of Claude Monet.  Had we a more flexible travel schedule, this would have been a wonderful place to stop, especially at this time of year when the crowds were minimal. Alas! 

Next we stopped at Verronet, a small village on the Seine where Henry II (Plantagenet) situated one of his more elegant fortresses. It came as a bit of a surprise to find it not atop a cliff but right on the river.  Although I don't know for certain, I suspect this fortress at one time must have guarded a ford here.

Verronet 

And I just had to take a picture of the building adjacent to it (to the right of the arch in the picture) for no other reason than it was so uniquely charming and bowed. It was perched atop the end of the old bridge pier. Might it have been a way station in its lifetime?



One of the places I most wanted to visit on this stretch of our journey was Chateau de Harcourt. Godfrey de Harcourt supported Edward III's claim to the French throne and his familiarity with Normandy may have been why Edward III chose to land in Normandy rather than invading through Gascony and Aquitaine.  I knew in advance the chateau closed on November 15 but had hoped to catch at least a distant glimpse of it.  I didn't ... but you can since I swiped this photo from the internet.

Chateau d'Harcourt

The Harcourt brothers were clever - while Godfrey played nice with Edward, his brother supported Philippe.

I was surprised to discover how close the d'Harcourt estate was to the Cotentin Peninsula where the English army landed. For some reason, I imagined it would be much farther east.  Given how beautiful and rich the surrounding land seemed to be, I can understand why the brothers played both sides - who would want to risk all this weath? Next to the Vexin, this area is something truly special.

Traveling through this part of Normandy, we  discovered that it abounds with thatched roof cottages much like the Cotswolds in England.

Harcout Village Cottage

It's the only region in which we've seen them. How fascinating!
(Also, John, if you're reading this, we passed through a small village call Pommereux.)

It was now quite late in the afternoon and I had no desire to try to find our Caen 'old town' Air BNB in the dark during rush hour. Caen is a modern metropolitan city with a population of about 100, 000 crammed into very narrow streets.  We arrived while it was still light and parking karma was with us. We found a spot outside a boulangerie just across from where we were to meet our hostess, Christine.

Caen was another significant location on Edward's invasion route.  It was the first major fortified town that prepared to defend itself and the first test of the prince's military prowess.  More later. Bon soir and abientot!

Abbeville and Beyond

A bit of background ... Edward III's invasion of France was intended to demonstrate that King Philippe VI was incapable of protecting his domain and its people. Edward III claimed he was the legitimate heir to the French throne, the grandson of Philippe IV, descended through a direct line rather than through a cadet line like that of Philippe VI, only a nephew of Philippe IV. 

Several weeks into the invasion, Edward III requisitioned supplies from England intending to replenish his army at the port of Le Crotoy, just north of where the Somme flows into the sea. Advance scouts reported all of the bridges across the Somme had been destroyed or were heavily guarded and the French were closing in on the English position. 

The Somme flowed through a wide, marshy flood plain and in a tidal portion of the river, near the town of Abbeville, Edward had knowledge of the existence of a ford that could be crossed at low tide. When his army found the crossing, it was guarded by a French force and a skirmish ensued. With the English longbowmen's superior range providing cover, English men-at-arms beat back the French and the English forces crossed just before the tide waters flooded the ford once again. St. George, the patron saint of soldiers, smiled down on Edward that day.  

We arrived at Abbeville at dusk and checked into Hotel Mercure.  

Hotel Mercure - Abbeville

We struck up a conversation with our congenial hotel manager who thought we were quite mad in our quest to find the ancient ford given the manmade tidal control canals that had been built since the 14th century. However, like any good forward scout, she located an environmental map noting the location of the wetlands management office mentioned in our guidebook, noted as a landmark for the ford. 

Just after 8 a.m. we headed out. Without her help I doubt we would ever have located the isolated railroad levee behind which lay the muddy, dirt track we needed to travel. When we saw the condition of the track cum road, we seriously questionned our own sanity but forged aghead nonetheless. 

The track to Blanctaque

After a few kilomters, we turned left and much to our delight spotted the wetlands management building. We parked and half-waded our way alongside it. My heart pounded as certainly as King Edward's must have when he 'found' the ford. I had less to lose than he had but you can tell by the smile on my face how elated I felt at that moment. The Somme itself was nowhere in sight ... only the surrounding wetland ponds aflutter with quacking ducks and the pristine morning air alive with birdsong. Pausing, I thanked the sirens for their aid.

   

Victory!

Our day's adventure had only begun and if I thought the route to Blanctaque was 'iffy' it was a 5-lane highway compared to the next leg of our journey.  Sometimes the GPS genie plays games with us mortals ... (see below)

First sighting of the Somme
We dared not stop on this track for fear of getting
bogged down in the flooded sections.

Retracing our route south toward Abbeville, we hoped to circle around town centre to our next destination but encountered a 'barre' (road closure). Rather than argue with our GPS, we omitted the next village and moved on heading south toward Poissy, just 17 miles west of Paris.

The fortress at Picquiny.

Our travels took us through fertile agricultural fields toward the town of Picquiny and its medieval castle fortress. In each village we encountered, we found another ancient church with narrow stone streets and clusters of buildings radiating out from the church environs making it obvious that worship was then and is now of high importance in the residents of these quaint French towns.

Late in the day, in the middle of nowhere, I realized that I had misread the petrol gauge and we were seriously lacking. Thanks to our GPS genie, we discovered a town only 13 km away that might have a petrol station ... and the race was on!  We both breathed a sigh of relief when we pulled into the station but soon discovered the automatic, unmanned pumps would not accept any of our credit cards!

But like ealier in the day, the sirens were watching over us and a 'white knight' pulled in on his motorcycle.  After we explained our dilemma in broken French and his aid in trying our card in the pump one last time, he offered to charge the petrol to his card if we had Euros to reimburse him.  Due to my frazzled nerves, I didn't think to get a picture of him but this one below is close enough.

Our White Knight

 Nerves settled, we tooled on down the country road ... light was fading but that sign we just passed said we were in the Vexin.  OMG!  When young Henry was 'courting' Eleanor, (remember the founders of the Plantagenet dynasty) Henry's father Geoffrey and King Louis were arguing over ownership of The Vexin.  Knowing he had Eleanor's lands on the horizon and not wanting to piss off Louis, Henry convinced his father to 'let it go'.  And here we were. 

Our awe faded with the light and as the traffic heading toward Poissy swelled. We arrived in the peak of rush hour, found our hotel right where I remembered it would be, on the right after we crossed the Seine.  Once again the sirens watched over us providing a parking space adjacent to the hotel that offered no guest

L'Esturgeon Hotel sur la Seine

parking!

We checked in but it was too dark to explore the park along the Seine marking the spot where the old bridge had stood. From this photo, the area seems idylic but on the side of the hotel you can't see, stood the Poissy train station and traffic, traffic and more traffic. Given the stress of the day, we both agreed it was time for a drink!

We headed down to the dining room for a perfectly French dinner - really the first we had since arriving. For the most part, we had been living on baguettes, cheese and ham on the road. We decided on the prix fixe 3-course dinner splurging on making it to Poissy in one piece - not unlike the Black Prince might have felt in 1346 but for entirely different reasons.

Our first course was a delicious soup with a very pretty garnish of cream cheese & chives.
I didn't take any pictures of our main course because I didn't eat it ... in my ignorance, I mistakenly ordered some sort of dish made with kidneys, not the veal I thought I had ordered. Oh well ... more room for dessert.  I had a selection of cheeses and Mary opted for the pastry.

Butternut Squash Soup

Chocolate & Pear Pastry

 We toddled off to bed planning to view the Poissy bridge in the morning ... so I'll leave you here and say goodnight.

Crécy Battlefield

Maintenay - 13th century Church 
of St. Nicholas

There have been many unknowns on this trip, particularly how much time would be needed to drive the route and visit the sights, especially traveling backroads.  My goal was to get a feel for the topography the army would have marched through and visit that which might remain from the time period. We had to 'adjust' along the way in order to arrive in Crécy when the museum was open and during daylight hours.

In the village of Maintenay, we viewed a medieval church in very sad condition. We located a pub (open on Sunday) and the owner was delighted to practice his English.  He offered a cold soft drink and a warm smile, both welcome after our long drive.

This Frenchman welcomed us with a kiss!

Visiting the Crécy battlefield was a high prioity for me for on August 26, 1346, the Black Prince, just sixteen led the army's vanguard and earned his spurs. The English had been on the march since early July; they were now exhausted and short of supplies.  The French, finally aroused, were on their tail. Edward located a highly defensible position and awaited King Philippe and his noble French knights.  It was late in the afternoon and the French had marched all day but, were eager for glory, they took to the field believing their numbers would win the day.

At the conference, I had heard I might be disappointed at Crécy, in particular that the museum was small.

So, I wasn't too disappointed to discover that in spite of all my double-checking, the museum was closed for the season. No matter; I was at Crécy!

We drove on up the hill about a quarter-mile out of town.
There's a small, easy-to-miss parking area across the road from a circular viewing tower where (supposedly) the windmill from which King Edward watched the battle stood.  Atop the tower was a panoramic display board detailing the English and French positions. We could look out across the cultivated fields and try to imagine thousands of men arrayed on the hillside.

I must admit, the land did not seem nearly as steep as what we had driven through earlier and I wondered why, considering all the places from which to choose, Edward chose this particular site.  To my untrained eyes, it didn't look all that different, or all that more commanding, than other locations.

There is a controversy whether this is the actual battle site as another has been proposed, similar to the situation with Bosworth battlfield today.

To visit this battlefield in person was truly special for me, particularly given all the research I've done on this battle alone.  I have waited to write the actual battle chapter until after this visit but I have written one scene. Prince Edward is sprawled on the ground, tired and sweaty, leaning back against the blue boards of the windmill.  He's waiting with his seasoned commanders for the French to arrive and the blue of the boards is reminiscient of the color of his mother's gown when he received his first real lesson in duty.  He had just celebrated his fifth birthday.  The duty before him is daunting but honor demands him to lead nonetheless. As I view Edward, it was no whim that he chose "Ich Dien" as his motto.  "I Serve" was truly how he led his life, that which gave it meaning. 

Looking down slope from English position.

The French approached from below the trees on the right, marching up the Vallee des Clerks. There's no road to get that area and we drove in circles for awhile trying to figure it out. We finally located the area using the directions and GPS coordinates provided by Peter Hoskins in his guidebook. Thank heavens my cell phone compass and hooray for technology!

French Approach 
 Vallee des Clerks

The photo to the left shows a waterlogged track up  a rise which is the Vallee des Clerks. The French would have marched up this track (?) between the berm on the right and the wood on the left.  At the end of the wood, they would have turned left and headed up the slope toward the English position. The French would have been hampered by the berm on the right so they were forced into a narrow area.  

How similar this is to what existed then is difficult to know but walking this track made the battle come alive for me.  When I exited the other end of the trees, I could imagine the English arrayed on the top of the hillside opening up in front of me, still a distance away but a steeper climb than it appears from above. 

The first wave of Genoese crossbowman approached and the English longbowmen let loose flight after flight of arrows before the Genoese could come within range of their own bows. The arrows were so thick, the Genoese turned back and were trampled by their own French cavalry. The archers,  on the flanks, shot at the knights' horses bringing them down and creating total havoc. They switched to armor-piercing bodkins as the range closed.  The piles of dead and wounded were so high, those coming in the following waves had to climb over the top.  Some chroniclers believe there were as many as fifteen waves of attack. 

Hand to hand combat was fierce and from all accounts, at one point, the prince went down. His standard bearer and men rallied around him until he regained his footing.  He may have been concussed; we'll never know for sure.  But as dusk settled, King Philippe was convinced to withdraw. The victory decimated the ranks of the French nobility and left the reign of Philippe in shambles. 
There is no doubt that Edward III's strategic use of artillery, aka longbow arrors, changed the face of warfare. No longer were mounted knights and lances to win the day.  The lowly archer, much less expensive to employ, was now England's vaunted battle hero. Edward's defensive position, team of battle-seasoned commanders, and strategic use of archers proved that strength of numbers alone did not dictate victory in battle. 

John of Bohemia Cross 

King John of Bohemia, a blind knight, died during this engagement. He and his entourage roped themselves together and rode into the fray.  His bravery is commemorated by a monument along the Vallee des Clerks route. It is said that in honor of King John's bravery, Edward adopted his ostrich feather and created his personal badge using this symbol.  

Black Prince's Badge
Used by every Prince of Wales since then.