I'd like to add to this thread.

After a long, bloody war in the North with the Danes, with the bridge between Bruges and Antwerp changing hands after some incredibly vicious battles no less than three times, the English army led by Godfrey Bucknell reached the walls of Antwerp, intent on revenge for the lives lost on that tragic bridge.
The town was not well garrissoned, and the recent battles at the bridge had weakened the Danish army, so the walls fell quickly and Godfrey ordered the immediate extermination of the populace.Their bloodlust satiated, the English settled in to enjoy the 'finer' things of the settlement, and no doubt nearly a year later hundreds of Anglo-Flemish/Danish babies must have arrived.
Stephen Pilson had been ordered to the region, ostensibly to deal with local rebels but also to test new artillery, the ribault and the bombard.
After crushing the local rebels and achieving satisfactory results with the new weapons, he left them for safekeeping in Antwerp whilst he, his brother Morcar and their company of knights headed southwards to guard Paris from a possible Milanese invasion.

In command of the small garrison of sixty longbowmen, two catapults, four ribualts, two bombards and his bodyguard of thirty knights, Godfrey must have looked uneasily northwest and hoped that the horizon would remain free of any tell-tale cloud of dust.

He was wrong to hope.

Taking advantage of the lack of defenders, a large army of Danish assault troops moved quickly into position around the walls of Antwerp.
Godfrey was lucky enough to sneak a messenger out, who rode quickly south to find the Pilson brothers.
On hearing the news, they abandoned their posts and marched north, pushing themselves and their horses as fast as they could in the hope of arriving in time to stop an assault, praying that they would not arrive to the smell of death and a Danish flag flying over the walls.

Dawn broke, and Godfrey looked out from the walls at the Danes. They were more lively this morning, and as the light increased he saw theram being brought forward, saw the ladders being assigned, and knew that this was it.
He rushed down to his men, his heart pounding as his page strapped on his armour.
He mounted his horse, bade his men do the same, and tried to find a speech, a rousing sentiment to stir his terrified men and lift them to great deeds, but could not.
He tried, but his mouth was dry, but eventually he managed to articulate a simple "God save us". He prayed to the Lord for a miracle.
Then they came.

The Norse axemen assigned to the ram rushed forward with it, trying to avoid the vicious arrows from the archers on the walls that whipped down around them. Some were not lucky, but the majority got through to relative shelter, and were quickly followed the the greater mass of Danish troops.
The Danish foot knights had been assigned the ladders, and had also brought them forward to the left of the gates, but had not attracted any arrows from the small garrison.
They were on the ramparts before the ram did it's job, and started hacking into the hated archers stationed on top, who in turn dropped their bows and fought back, like fiends, with anything they could get their hands on.

The gates burst open and the axemen poured through, but the foremost of them slowed and stopped in a moment of bowel-liquifying terror.
The mass of troops behind them pushed them onwards, not seeing the threat, until, for many of them, the world exploded.

The firing of all six guns simultaneously in such an enclosed space was deafening and a huge risk, but as the smoke cleared a pile of bloody and broken Danish bodies was revealed, and Godfrey grinned to himself, knowing his plan had worked and that this day may yet end well, lowered his visor, and ordered his horsemen to charge into the wavering Danes.
The gunners drew their knives and,screaming, also hurled themselves at the enemy.

The Danes at the back had heard the explosions, but were not able to see anything over the men in front, and kept pushing, eager to get to the fray, and eager to catch a glimpse of the progress of the battle.
So intent were they on pushing forward and struggling to see what was happening that they did not hear the thunder of hooves until too late, and some turned shortly before the Pilson brothers and their knights smashed into the crowd of men.

The Pilsons had ridden hard through the night, and as dawn had broken finally seen the spire of the abbey at Antwerp, and spurred their tired horses further on, knowing that they were almost there.
They had ridden into view of the proceedings shortly before the gate fell, and realising that they might be too late, rode hell-for-leather across the field.
As the knights hurtled into the rear of the Danish army, English men-at-arms clambered up the ladders at the walls after the Danish foot knights who were finishing off the archers who had vainly given their lives.
The knights of the ground hacked their way through the Danes, the weight of their horses pushing them further through the gates onto the swords and knives of Godfrey and his men.
Soon, as they stood astride the corpses of their friends and comrades, the Danes wielding their axes at the gate and the Danes gripping their swords on the walls realised that all was lost, gritted their teeth, prayed to the Lord and went to their deaths grimly hoping to take as many English with them as possible.
They were disappointed.

Nearly three thousand Danes lost their lives at the walls of Antwerp, ten times the number of Englishmen who fell that day, and this time the city was saved, but for now, the war is not over.