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Fourth Secret Henry V Concerned |
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In this version, Henry is concerned about the tenor of his
troops. They have been marching
continuously for days, the last few have been forced marches. The weather has been terrible, the roads wet
and muddy. Disease has stalked the army
and they are cold, dirty, exhausted, and discouraged. Now, directly to their front, an army that
could outnumber them by as much as ten to one awaits. He has heard grumblings and determines he
must find out for himself the morale of his men. So, he disguises himself and walks amongst
his troops. What he finds is
distressing. Indeed, there is
discord. There is bitterness amongst
some, even against the King himself.
Who, after all, his soldiers ask, will benefit from the morning's sure
slaughter? Will it be the poor foot
soldier? Do they have a chance of being
ransomed should they fall captive? Not
likely. It will be the nobility that
will survive in defeat, and they also that will gain the glory in victory.
Henry retreats within himself, questioning his ability to
see this through, questioning the very nature of Kingship, of leadership. Why must he bear the burden? How much easier it would be to be a common
man, unconcerned with the care and the responsibilities of leadership. But as much as he would like to run himself,
to hide from his duty, he makes a conscious choice to stay and to lead. The question is, how? How can he turn the perspective of the army
towards the certainty of victory, rather than the imminence of defeat? How can he change the tide of defeatism that seems
to have taken hold of the mass of his men?
What can he say? What can he
do? He ponders these things as the dawn
breaks on October 25th,
1415.
In the mist, he moves his army forward, each archer carrying
a stake and challenges the French to fight.
They, confident of victory, do not come.
They will do so of their own choosing.
Certainly, in the ranks, the English archers and men at arms feel this
arrogance, this surety of their enemy.
They cannot help but feel even greater despair. It is then, according to Shakespeare, that
one of Henry's trusted lieutenants, the Earl of Westmoreland, utters the line:
"O that we now had here but one ten thousand of those men in
England
that do no work today!"
His lament echoes the spirit of the army at this moment in
the campaign. Where are all the men that
could help them now? Where is the hope
with which they began this journey over two months ago? How will they, standing alone, win this
fight?
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