To the right the brittle grass stretched into brown fields that sloped towards the sea, while to the left the ground rose steeply into tree-tangled summits. Near the front of the train rode King Edward, his destrier sure-footed on the frost-bitten ground. Bayard, his favourite, was a huge, muscular warhorse, a necessity considering his burden. A quilted caparison covered the animal from head to tail, hiding a skirt of mail that swayed stiff about his legs. On top of the trapper, which took two grooms to haul over the beast’s back, was the wooden saddle in which the king sat at ease, the horse taking the weight of his armour: a long-sleeved mail hauberk, over which he wore a coat of plates, buckled at his back. Leather gauntlets, covered with more steel plates, protected his hands and mail chausses his legs. The upper ranks of Edward’s army, with him in the vanguard, were similarly dressed, whereas the infantry made do with tunics of boiled leather or gambesons stuffed with straw. But all, high or low, wore armour of some kind, for they were deep in hostile lands, Madog and his men lurking somewhere in these frozen hills.
