Then the voice of an officer was heard calling: "Line! Line! The King comes!" Another minute and over the crest of a little rise appeared Edward of England clad in full armour.

He wore a surtout embroidered with the arms of England and France, but his helm hung at his saddle-bow that all might see his face.

He was mounted, not on his war steed, but on a small, white, ambling palfrey, and in his hand he bore a short baton.
With him came two marshalls, gaily dressed, and a slim young man clad from head to foot in plain black armour, and wearing a great ruby in his helm, whom all knew for Edward, Prince of Wales.
On he rode, acknowledging the cheering of his soldiers with smiles and courtly bows, till at length he pulled rein just in front of the triple line of archers, among whom were mingled some knights and men-at-arms, for the order of battle was not yet fully set.

Just then, on the plain beneath, riding from out the shelter of some trees and, as they thought, beyond the reach of arrows, appeared four splendid French knights, and with them a few squires.

There they halted, taking stock, it would seem, of the disposition of the English army.
"Who are those that wear such fine feathers ?" asked the King.
"One is the Lord of Bazeilles," answered a marshall.