The English soldiers were seated on the ground awaiting the approach of the enemy. When the French came in view, the trumpets sounded the note of alarm, and the men sprang to their feet and seized their arms. Evening was drawing on when the two armies met face to face; for it was not till five o'clock that the French army drew near to Cressy. When the Genoese had formed, they advanced with a loud shout, hoping to frighten the English, who stood still and neither moved nor shouted. Then the Genoese set up a second cry, and again a third; but still the same immovable silence on the part of the English was maintained. Only when they presented their cross-bows, and began to shoot, did the English answer; then their answer was a shower of arrows, poured with such force and quickness that it seemed as if it snowed. The Genoese threw down their arms in terror, and tried to seek safety in flight. The Duke of Alençon, who was commanding the French battalion in the rear, enraged at seeing them fly, shouted to his men, "Kill me these scoundrels, for they stop up our road without any reason." The French men-at-arms pressed on through the flying Genoese, killing all who came in their way. But the shower of English arrows never ceased. With sure and steady aim the archers penetrated into the French ranks. Together with Alençon advanced the blind King of Bohemia, who rode between two knights, to whose bridles he had caused his horse to be fastened, that they might lead him into the thickest of the fray. And now the time was come for the English knights to meet the French. Prince Edward, followed by his knights, sprang forward from behind the ranks of his archers, and rushed upon Alençon and his followers. Then ensued a terrible mêlée. Knight struggled with knight in hand to hand combat. The Prince's Welsh foot-soldiers made great havoc amongst the French with their short knives. Over all fell a ceaseless shower of arrows from the unshaken ranks of the English archers. The second battalion of the English army came to the aid of the first. The numbers of the French seemed so overwhelming, that a knight was sent in great haste to the King of England, who was still posted with his reserve near the windmill on the hill. He begged the King to come to the Prince's assistance. "Is my son dead," asked the King, "unhorsed, or so badly wounded that he cannot support himself?" "Nay, thank God," answered the knight, "but he is in so hot an engagement that he has great need of your help." The King only said, "Let the boy win his spurs; for I am determined, if it please God, that all the glory and honour of this day shall be given to him, and to those into whose care I have entrusted him."