Free Yeomen, Welsh archers, English Heavy infantry and knights, with Mercenaries from Ireland, Scotland, Burgundy and Germany also, all fresh from the ships. Yet more troops answering the kings call for able bodied warriors to pursue his ambitions in Europe and take back his birthright as the king of both France and England.
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(you may have your own opinions on this, in the English legal system the Engish had claim to france, in France however they took steps to prevent this from happening. Such as changing the law to prevent the Angevins taking the rest of France.)
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All the Men carried Longbows and large hand-and-a-half Swords longer and heavier than their french counterparts, for the peoples of Britain are stronger than their southern cousins for it takes much strength to draw the mighty longbow and maintain a steady stream of arrows until the enemy came within closing distance with the Knights and men-at-arms, many of whom bore the fearsome poleaxe to crush their foes. All of the men were armoured in Full Mail hauberks, with red Padded cloth over the top emblazoned with the the livery of a multitude of Lords and nobles, some were fortunate enough to wear half plate or a Coat-of-Plates instead, Full suits of heavy armour were discouraged among the yeomanry as mail and thick padding will dispel a blade just as well as the finest steel cuirass. (Taking this from an Italian scholars account of English soldiers during the hundred years war)
The Column rode all manner of horses, hobbies, pack animals, Bay's, draft-types, anything to allow for troops to cover ground quickly English soldiers fought on foot, sometimes even the knights as fine warhorses were in rare supply with Coursers and Destriers reserved for the use of the more noble warriors in the army.
William was no such nobleman, not a knight, although admittedly better equipped than the common soldier he was among a group of friends and fortune seekers hoping to profit from the campaign and so found himself in France. Fighting for King and Country. Honour and Glory, or perhaps Women and plunder as was the goal of most soldiers following any banner. William liked to believe the army of a thousand men he rode beside fought for a greater cause, that these men truly loved their country. Secretly knowing however that such hope was fruitless and that no man enters into service without the promise of personal gain, after all William was no different. Seeking wealth and perhaps a little land, even forming a company of soldiers himself. He was not a noble, but he had earned the respect of many a 'Sir' and an Earl or two due to his own exploits on the battlefield, his blade hand was the envy of many and such a talent had earned him a good living, in the tournaments as well he was well know for his skill, not jousting perhaps as that was reserved for knights alone, he'd even trained soldiers or worked as a mercenary in his time, his ten years of perfecting the blood sport, of being a soldier.
Now though, William was in service to the king and would have to mind his manners amongst both the yeoman soldiers and the Uptight barons, at least the Knights were courteous and honourable but everyone knew Barons were bastards.
William rode on the left flank of the column, fully kitted in a mail hauberk which reached down to the knees and a coat of plates offering increased protection without sacraficing agility. On his head William wore a Great Helm masking his appearance as he bore no livery, he could probably pass for a soldier of any nation; it was a shame he couldn't speak french...
The Freisian warhorse he sat upon was getting unruly, wanting to gallop rather then be constrained to the slow pace of the marching coloumn. It was at this moment that a figure emerged from the treeline adjacent to the beaten forest path. The man was armoured in mail mounted on a black stallion, scanning the rows of men and horses for something. Evidently finding what he was looking for, the mounted man trotted towards William.
"William, Heard you drowned on the crossing from England" The new arrival stated matter-of-factly upon reeling his horse in beside Williams Steed.
"You hoped... I Heard you lost your bollocks to the tip of a chargers lance" William Replied from behind his greathelm. "Its good to see you again Robert, even if your manners are slipping again".
"Don't worry, you can forgive me later. I'm glad you're here, the army's outnumbered at least four to one, every able body is welcome". Replied the soldier identifies as Robert.
"Aye, although I fear able bodies are in short supply in England of late, there were never many of us on and this wars chewing up whatever career prosepects I had in Hereford"
"That bad eh? And I though you shipped because you missed me. By the way, I think you'd be surprised by the number of 'old friends' here in the army, Geoffrey 'Green Giant' - you know the big irish bastard, with a fetish for maces?"
"Yeah, I know him. Any others? I seem to remember a number of promises being made years ago about meeting up and fulfilling the grand dream we shared once. I for one still hold it, to a lesser degree".
"Sod it, it was hopeless anyway. Men like us, even with skill at arms and being English Freemen - can thank the plague for something I s'pose - ayway, we've no hope of building a company, becoming rich and the like. Such is only for the pretty nobles withtheir high ideals and deep pockets".
William sighed wistfully at his friends comments, he knew them to be true. Even England, which had now thrown off the shackles of Tyranny a mans dreams were forced to remain mundane or unattainable. He was amn with ambitiion however, but with little self esteem. Such thinking shook is confidence.
"Look, theres the camp". Robert said to William, and soon sighs of relief were being uttered by the soldiers in the column, France was a dangerous place to be English, even in territory twoscore miles from the frontlines.
The soldiers were given permission to enter the large encampment, currently being fortified due to the recent increase in French raids.
A grotty sergeant at arms in a stained Leather Jerkin stood leaning on a longbow answered William with a a grim smile, more out of courtesy then anything else.
"Well then, newly arrived eh? Thought so, welcome to France sir, are you a knight by any chance?" The sergeant said formally.
"No sir, we're...freelancers, signed up for the Heavy Infantry I believe." William answered in an equally formal tone and brief, unnoticed smile behind the face of his helmet.
"Smelly Bastards too Sergeant, like most of the troops. Wouldn't want to offend the nobles - mighty defenders of the realm - with our human odor and tardy drinking habits, I've always wondered what a noblewomen keeps up here dress" Robert uttered sarcastically. A smile breaking across the mans face the Sergeant let out a rough laugh. Motioning for them to follow the Sergeant at arms led the pair and group of other infantrymen similarly well equipped to William. Past several rows of tents and clusters of men gathered around fires, ranging from Half drunk to sombre the English army and their allies awaited the muster to come to a conclusion, and to inevitably march to war.
"Heres where you blokes are billetted, A captain Humbridge heads a company of 'Billmen' over yonder" The Sergeant said stopping, he motioned to the an adjacent group of tents. "They've been here before, good soldiers all of 'em, surprising how effective a simple Billhook is on the field. Gave those 'Frog' knights a fright in the woods near here not long ago" He said chuckling to himself, his eyes glazed as he recounted the event. "Anyway, as I was saying, the good Captain will help you get sorted, you are serving under the earl of Warwick until further notice, the Cap 'll tell whats going on tomorrow most likely. For now, hunker down. Its up early tomorrow as the nobles are gonna marshall their troops"
"Whats that mean again?" Robert said.
"It means they're gonna see whose here and whose not, and organise what troops they have into an army. The men billetted in this area of the camp are not led by anyone as of yet, like yourselve's most are independents or mercenaries, can't have that in an army so Warwick will pick you up later".
"Okay, I guess thats the mess tent over there?" Robert asked pointing to a large pavilion-like structure.
"Yeah thats it, you can eat there, and that over theres the armoury. Shiny bastards like you probably won't need any new kit, but its there just in case. Now get some rest every thing will be sorted tomorrow". The Sergeant sauntered off to take his post at the West entrance to the encampment.
The new arrivals entered their small tents, Robert and William choosing to share one with eachother than with anyone else. Having unpacked their few possessions in their saddlebags the two friendsset out to eat and get their bearings.
"We can catch up on old times" William said, "you tell me how the twins and Sophies doing back home -" He stopped as Robert wasn't listening.
"I wonder if they've got Beef, I love beef..."
Sighing William followed Robert into the Mess tent, Dusk had now fallen and the activity of the camp began to die down as a hazy and pleasant french evening set in. As the Tent flap closed, the noise died and the two friends were met with the aroma of Food. Not great food, but vittles none the less!
William would try to success in this land, or likely die in the attempt. First he needed to find some old friends to help along the way...
Two more Englishmen, joining the kings campaign to capture france.
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*Whoa, essay! I didn't draft this so theres probably several errors and its likely a bit rubbish/boring. I'm new at this.*
"Well. We're here, might as well make the most of it, and we catch up on old times
