Corbett, the sweat now soaking his body, whirled in terror, he was surrounded by attackers though the rest of the English entourage were beginning to assert themselves and Corbett could see the French escort, rather dilatory at first, were making their presence felt. There were screams, curses, men fell, choking in the saddle, blood pumping from open wounds; axes, daggers and clubs whirled and Corbett heard the chilling whine of a jagged crossbow bolt. Ranulf came up beside him, blood streaming from a cut on his face, eyes staring madly, a white froth on his lips. He screamed soundlessly but Corbett ignored him as he glanced wildly around, eyes darting, looking to see if the crossbow man was friendly or hostile. Then, as sudden as their attack came, the assailants drew off, thundering back across the field in a cloud of dust.

Corbett sat, slumped over his horse, fighting back the nausea which threatened to disgrace him. He stopped the sobbing in his throat and looked around; there were bodies sprawled on the road, men screaming and cursing at the rawness of their wounds. The long column was now broken: two horses lay dead, another kicked in its traces, blood streaming from its throat. Gradually order was restored. There were a number of dead, two soldiers, a scullion in the Duke of Richmond's household and one of the attackers. Corbett watched Lancaster and Richmond scream aloud about 'Outlaws, so near to Paris,' ' Lack of protection,' but the knights shrugged and, shoulders raised, deprecatingly asked if there were no oudaws in England?

Lancaster intervened and called a meeting of his colleagues, Richmond, Waterton, Eastry and Corbett. They watched from the road while the Serjeants and stewards resorted order, the physician tended wounds while the French knights went off to commandeer a cart to take the dead and seriously wounded to a nearby manor. Richmond looked flushed, keen to brag about his own sword play, Waterton looked nervous, unmarked, not even a stain or cut, Eastry was sorrowful but coldy detached, eager to get back and give solace to the wounded, Lancaster looked furious, his white face mottled with anger.