A MONK OF FIFE
A Romance of the Days of Jeanne D'Arc - Joan of Arc
by Andrew Lang
CHAPTER X
HOW NORMAN LESLIE WAS OUT OF ALL COMFORT
My brethren the good Benedictine Fathers here in Pluscarden Priory,
are wont betimes to be merry over my penitents, for all the young
lads and lasses in the glen say they are fain to be shriven by old
Father Norman and by no other.
This that my brethren report may well be true, and yet I take no
shame in the bruit or "fama." For as in my hot youth I suffered
sorrows many from love, so now I may say, like that Carthaginian
queen in Maro, "miseris succurrere disco." The years of the youth
of most women and men are like a tourney, or jousts courteous, and
many fall in the lists of love, and many carry sorer wounds away
from Love's spears, than they wot of who do but look on from the
safe seats and secure pavilions of age. Though all may seem but a
gentle and joyous passage of arms, and the weapons that they use but
arms of courtesy, yet are shrewd blows dealt and wounds taken which
bleed inwardly, perchance through a whole life long. To medicine
these wounds with kind words is, it may be, part of my poor skill as
a healer of souls in my degree, and therefore do the young resort to
Father Norman.
Some confessors there be who laugh within their hearts at these
sorrows of lovers, as if they were mere "nugae" and featherweights:
others there are who wax impatient, holding all love for sin in some
degree, and forgetting that Monseigneur St. Peter himself was a
married man, and doubtless had his own share of trouble and amorous
annoy when he was winning the lady his wife, even as other men. But
if I be of any avail (as they deem) in the healing of hearts, I owe
my skill of that surgery to remembrance of the days of my youth,
when I found none to give me comfort, save what I won from a book
that my master had in hand to copy and adorn, namely, "The Book of
One Hundred Ballades, containing Counsel to a Knight, that he should
love loyally"; this counsel offered by Messire Lyonnet de Coismes,
Messire Jehan de Mailly, the Sieur d'Yvry, and many other good
knights that were true lovers. Verily, in sermons of preachers and
lives of holy men I found no such comfort.
Almost the sorest time of my sorrowing was for very grief of heart
when Elliot set forth on pilgrimage to Puy en Velay, for we were but
newly come together; "twain we were with one heart," as a maker sang
whom once I met in France ere I came back to Scotland; sweetly could
he make, but was a young clerk of no godly counsel, and had to name
Maitre Francoys Villon. Our heart was one, the heart of Elliot and
mine own, and lo! here, in a day, it was torn asunder and we were
set apart by the wisdom of men.
I remember me how I lay wakeful on the night before the day when
Elliot should depart. Tossing and turning, I lay till the small
fowls brake forth with their songs, and my own thought seemed to
come and go, and come again in my head, like the "ritournelle" of
the birds. At last I might not endure, but rose and attired myself
very early, and so went down into the chamber. Thither presently
came Elliot, feigning wonder to find me arisen, and making pretence
that she was about her housewiferies, but well I wot that she might
sleep no more than I. The old housewife coming and going through
the room, there we devised, comforting each other with hopes and
prayers; indeed we sorely wanted comfort, because never till we were
wed, if ever that should be, might we have such solace of each
other's presence as we desired. Then I brought from the workshop a
sheet of vellum and colours, and the painting tools, and so
fashioned a little picture of her, to wear within the breast of my
doublet. A rude thing it was and is, for what gold, however finely
handled, could match with her golden hair, whereof, at my desire,
she gave me a lock; and of all worldly gear from my secular life,
these and the four links of my mother's chain alone are still mine,
and where my heart is there is my treasure. And she, too, must clip
a long curl of my hair, for as yet it was not cut "en ronde," as
archers use to wear it, but when she came again, she said she would
find me shrewdly shaven, and then would love me no longer. Then she
laughed and kissed me, and fell to comforting me for that she would
not be long away.
"And in three months or four," she said, "the King will be sacred at
Rheims, and the Maid will give you red wine to drink in Paris town,
and the English will be swept into the sea, and then we shall have
peace and abundance."
"And then shall we be wedded, and never part," I cried; whereat she
blushed, bidding me not be over bold, for her heart might yet
change, and so laughed again; and thus we fleeted the time, till her
father came and sent her about disposing such things as she must
take with her. Among these she was set on carrying her jackanapes,
to make her merry on the road, though here I was of another counsel.
For in so great a gathering there must be many gangrel folk, and
among them, peradventure, the violer woman, who would desire to have
the creature given back to her. But, if it were so, Elliot said she
would purchase the jackanapes, "for I am no lifter of other men's
cattle, as all you Scots are, and I am fain to own my jackanapes
honestly."
So she carried him with her, the light chain about her wrist, and he
riding on her saddle-bow, for presently, with many banners waving
and with singing of hymns, came the troop who wended together on
pilgrimage. Many townsfolk well armed were there to guard their
women; the flags of all the crafts were on the wind; the priests
carried blessed banners; so with this goodly company, and her
confessor, and her father's old kinswoman, Elliot rode away. The
jackanapes was screeching on her saddle-bow, her yellow hair was
lifted on her shoulder with the light breeze; her father rode the
first two stages with them. Merry enough they seemed that went, and
the bells were chiming, but I was left alone, my heart empty, or
only full of useless longings. I betook myself, therefore, to a
chapel hard by, and there made my orisons for their safety and for
good speed to the Maid and her holy enterprise.
Thereafter there was no similitude for me and my unhappy estate,
save that of a dog who has lost his master in a strange place, and
goes questing everywhere, and comfortless. Then Randal Rutherford,
coming to visit me, found me such a lackmirth, he said, and my wits
so distraught, that a love-sick wench were better company for a man-
at-arms.
"Cheer up, man," he said. "Look at me, did I not leave my heart at
Branxholme Mains with Mally Grieve, and so in every town where I
have been in garrison, and do you see me cast down? Off with this
green sickness, or never will you have strength to march with the
Maid, where there is wealth to be won, and golden coronets, and
gaudy stones, such as Saunders Macausland took off the Duke of
Clarence at Bauge. Faith, between the wound Capdorat gave you and
this arrow of Dan Cupid's in your heart, I believe you will not be
of strength to carry arms till there is not a pockpudding left in
broad France. Come forth, and drain a pot or two of wine, or, if
the leech forbids it, come, I will play you for all that is owing
between you and me."
With that he lugged out his dice and fetched a tablier, but
presently vowed that it was plain robbery, for I could keep no count
of the game. Therewith he left me, laughing and mocking, and saying
that I had been bolder with Robin Lindsay's lass.
Being alone and out of all comfort, I fell to wandering in the
workroom, and there lit, to my solace, on that blessed book of the
hundred ballades, which my master was adorning with pictures, and
with scarlet, blue, and gold. It set forth how a young knight, in
sorrow of love, was riding between Pont de Ce and Angiers, and how
other knights met him and gave him counsel. These lines I read, and
getting them by rote, took them for my device, for they bid the
lover thrust himself foremost in the press, and in breach, mine, and
escalade.
S'en assault viens, devant te lance,
En mine, en eschielle, en tous lieux
Ou proesce les bons avance,
Ta Dame t'en aimera mieux.
But reading soon grew a weariness to me, as my life was, and my
master coming home, bade me be of better cheer.
"By St. Andrew," quoth he, "this is no new malady of thine, but well
known to leeches from of old, and never yet was it mortal! Remede
there is none, save to make ballades and rondels, and forget sorrow
in hunting rhymes, if thou art a maker. Thou art none? Nay, nor
ever was I, lad; but I have had this disease, and yet you see me
whole and well. Come, lend me a hand at painting in these lilies;
it passes not thy skill."
So I wrought some work whereof I have reason to be proud, for these
lilies were carried wheresoever blows and honour were to be won, ay,
and where few might follow them. Meanwhile, my master devised with
me about such sights as he had seen on the way, and how great a
concourse was on pilgrimage to Puy, and how, if prayers availed, the
cause of France was won; "and yet, in England too, wives are praying
for their lords, and lasses for their lads in France. But ours is
the better quarrel."
So that weary day went by, one of the longest that I have known, and
other days, till now the leech said that I might go back to the
castle, though that I might march to the wars he much misdoubted.
Among the archers I had the best of greetings, and all quarrels were
laid by, for, as was said, we were to set forth to Orleans, where
would be blows enough to stay the greediest stomach. For now the
Maid had won all hearts, taking some with her piety, and others with
her wit and knowledge, that confounded the doctors, how she, a
simple wench, was so subtle in doctrine, which might not be but by
inspiration. Others, again, were moved by her mirth and good-
fellowship, for she would strike a man-at-arms on the shoulder like
a comrade, and her horsemanship and deftness with sword and lance
bewitched others, she seeming as valiant and fair as these lady
crusaders of whom old romances tell. And others, again, she gained
by bourdes and jests; others by her manners, the fairest and most
courtly that might be, for she, a manant's daughter, bore herself as
an equal before the blood of France, and was right dear to the young
bride of the fair Duc d'Alencon. Yet was there about her such a
grace of purity, as of one descended from the skies, that no man of
them all was so hardy as to speak to her of love, or even so much as
to think thereof in the secret of his heart.
So all reported of her, and she had let write a letter to the
English at Orleans, bidding them yield to God and the Maid, and
begone to their own country, lest a worse thing befall them. At
this letter they mocked, swearing that they would burn her heralds
who carried the message. But the King had named her chief of war,
and given her a household, with a good esquire, Jean d'Aulon, to
govern it, and all that beseems noble or royal blood. New armour
had been made for her, all of steel and silver, and there was talk
of a sword that she had come by in no common way, but through
revelation of the saints. For she being in Tours had it revealed to
her that a certain ancient sword, with five crosses on the blade,
lay buried behind the altar of St. Catherine of Fierbois. An
armourer of Tours was therefore sent thither, and after much labour
and search they of St. Catherine's Church found that sword, very
ancient, and much bestained with rust. Howbeit, they cleaned it and
made for it a sheath of cloth of gold. Nevertheless, the Maid wore
it in a leathern scabbard.
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