Pushkin

On the north bank of the estuary were assembled the English Army.

A little over 2,000 knights supported by 5,000 archers.

On the south bank the larger force of the French, 8,000 knights and thousands of crossbowmen

alongside them. The French army had been chasing the English for weeks, but wisely decided

not to try to cross the salty marshes within range of those English archers. Instead,

between the opposing armies. A single French knight, like a hero from Arthurian legend, galloped

out towards the English, a tiny figure in the middle of the tidal flats. He shouted out

his challenge. Following the traditions of courtly love, the French knight was carrying the

token of some fair lady and wanted to prove that he was worthy of her. Did any Englishman

dare, thrice, to joust with him, in full view of both armies? There was a moment of silence.

Broken only by the flapping of the penance in the sea breeze. And then an English knight

roared out his acceptance. The two men took up their position on the damp, salty sands.

In front of the cheering soldiers, they jousted one, picked fresh lances, wheeled around and

jousted a second time. In the second exchange, the English knight's shield was broken. To joust

again, would be to court, defeat and death. Yet the English knight seized another lance and

prepared for battle. His French opponent instead dismounted and walked towards him, chivalrously

refusing to take advantage. The fight was over. The English knight and the French knight became

lifelong friends. It's a charming story, beloved by the chroniclers, and one which reminds

us of the chivalric code of honor they loved to celebrate. Two days later, the armies

would meet again. The result would be remembered for a very different reason. I'm Tim

Haafard, and you're listening to cautionary tales. Nearly 700 years ago, the English king

...