A MONK OF FIFE
A Romance of the Days of Jeanne D'Arc - Joan of Arc
by Andrew Lang
CHAPTER XII
HOW THE MAID CAME TO ORLEANS, AND OF THE
DOLOROUS
STROKE THAT FIRST SHE STRUCK IN WAR
Concerning the ways of the saints, and their holy counsel, it is not
for sinful men to debate, but verify their ways are not as our ways,
as shall presently be shown, in the matter of the Maid's march to
Orleans.
For the town of Blois, where now we lay, is, as all men know, on the
right bank of the water of Loire, a great river, wider and deeper
and stronger by far than our Tay or Tweed, and the town of Orleans,
whither we were bound, is also on the same side, namely, the right
side of the river. Now, Orleans was beleaguered in this manner:
The great stone bridge had been guarded, on the left, or further
side of the stream, first by a boulevard, or strong keep on the
land, whence by a drawbridge men crossed to a yet stronger keep,
called "Les Tourelles," builded on the last arches of the bridge.
But early in the siege the English had taken from them of Orleans
the boulevard and Les Tourelles, and an arch of the bridge had been
broken, so that in nowise might men-at-arms of the party of France
enter into Orleans by way of that bridge from the left bank through
the country called Sologne.
Yet that keep, Les Tourelles, had not been a lucky prize to our
enemies of England. For their great captain, the Lord Salisbury,
had a custom to watch them of Orleans and their artillery from a
window in that tower, and, to guard him from arrow-shots, he had a
golden shield pierced with little holes to look through, that he
held before his face. One day he came into this turret when they
who worked the guns in Orleans were all at their meat. But it so
chanced that two boys, playing truant from school, went into a niche
of the wall, where was a cannon loaded and aimed at Les Tourelles.
They, seeing the gleam of the golden shield at the window of the
turret, set match to the touch-hole of the cannon, and, as Heaven
would have it, the ball struck a splinter of stone from the side of
the window, which, breaking through the golden shield, slew my Lord
of Salisbury, a good knight. Thus plainly that tower was to be of
little comfort to the English.
None the less, as they held Les Tourelles and the outer landward
boulevard thereof, the English built but few works on the left side
of the river, namely, Champ St. Prive, that guarded the road by the
left bank from Blois; Les Augustins, that was a little inland from
the boulevard of Les Tourelles, so that no enemy might pass between
these two holds; and St. Jean le Blanc, that was higher up the
river, and a hold of no great strength. On the Orleans side, to
guard the road from Burgundy, the English had but one fort, St.
Loup, for Burgundy and the north were of their part, and by this way
they expected no enemy. But all about Orleans, on the right bank of
the river, to keep the path from Blois on that hand, the English had
builded many great bastilles, and had joined them by hollow ways,
wherein, as I said, they lived at ease, as men in a secure city
underground. And the skill of it was to stop convoys of food, and
starve them of Orleans, for to take the town by open force the
English might in nowise avail, they being but some four thousand
men-at-arms.
Thus Matters stood, and it was the Maid's mind to march her men and
all the cattle clean through and past the English bastilles on the
right side of the river, and by inspiration she well knew that no
man would come forth against us. Moreover, she saw not how, by the
other way, and the left bank, the cattle might be ferried across,
and the great company of men-at-arms, into Orleans town, under the
artillery of the English. For the English held the pass of the
broken bridge, as I said, and therefore all crossing of the water
must be by boat.
Now, herein it was shown, as often again, that the ways of the
saints are not as our ways. For the captains, namely, the Sieur de
Rais (who afterwards came to the worst end a man might), and La
Hire, and Ambroise de Lore, and De Gaucourt, in concert with the
Bastard of Orleans, then commanding for the King in that town, gave
the simple Maid to understand that Orleans was on the left bank of
the river. This they did, because they were faithless and slow of
belief, and feared that so great a company as ours might in nowise
pass Meun and Beaugency, towns of the English, and convey so many
cattle through the bastilles on the right bank. Therefore, with
many priests going before, singing the Veni Creator, with holy
banners as on a pilgrimage; with men-at-arms, archers, pages, and
trains of carts; and with bullocks rowting beneath the goad, and
swine that are very hard to drive, and slow-footed sheep, we all
crossed the bridge of Blois on the morning of April 25th.
Now, had the holy saints deemed it wise and for our good to act as
men do, verily they would have spoken to the Maid, telling her that
we were all going clean contrary to her counsel. Nevertheless, the
saints held their peace, and let us march on. Belike they designed
that this should turn to the greater glory of the Maid and to the
confusion of them that disbelieved, which presently befell, as I
shall relate.
All one day of spring we rode, and slept beneath the stars, the Maid
lying in her armour, so that as one later told me who knew, namely,
Elliot, her body was sorely bruised with her harness. Early in the
morning we mounted again, and so rode north, fetching a compass
inland; after noontide we came to a height, and lo! beneath us lay
the English bastilles and holds on the left bank, and, beyond the
glittering river and the broken bridge, the towers and walls of
Orleans. Then I saw the Maid in anger, for well she knew that she
had been deceived by them who should have guided her. Between us
and the town of Orleans lay the wide river, the broken bridge, and
the camps of the English. On the further shore we beheld the people
swarming on the walls and quays, labouring to launch boats with
sails, and so purposing to ascend the river against the stream and
meet us two leagues beyond the English lines. But this they might
not do, for a strong wind was blowing down stream, and all their
vessels were in disarray.
The Maid spurred to the front, where were De Rais, Lore, Kennedy,
and La Hire. We could see her pointing with her staff, and hear
speech high and angry, but the words we could not hear. The
captains looked downcast, as children caught in a fault, and well
they might, for we were now as far off victualling Orleans as ever
we had been. The Maid pointed to the English keep at St. Jean le
Blanc, on our side of the water, and, as it seems, was fain to
attack it; but the English had drawn off their men to the stronger
places on the bridge, and to hold St. Jean le Blanc against them, if
we took it, we had no strength. So we even wended, from the height
of Olivet, for six long miles, till we reached the stream opposite
Checy, where was an island. A rowing-boat, with a knight in
glittering arms, was pulled across the stream, and the Maid, in her
eagerness, spurred her steed deep into the water to meet him. He
was a young man, brown of visage, hardy and fierce, and on his
shield bore the lilies of Orleans, crossed with a baton sinister.
He bowed low to the Maid, who cried -
"Are you the Bastard of Orleans?"
"I am," he said, "and right glad of your coming."
"Was it you who gave counsel that I should come by this bank, and
not by the other side, and so straight against Talbot and the
English?"
She spoke as a master to a faulty groom, fierce and high, and to
hear her was marvel.
"I, and wiser men than I, gave that counsel," said he, "deeming this
course the surer."
"Nom Dieu!" she cried. "The council of Messire is safer and wiser
than yours." She pointed to the rude stream, running rough and
strong, a great gale following with it, so that no sailing-boats
might come from the town. "You thought to beguile me, and are
yourselves beguiled, for I bring you better succour than ever came
to knight or town--the help of the King of Heaven."
Then, even as she spoke, and as by miracle, that fierce wind went
right about, and blew straight up the stream, and the sails of the
vessels filled.
"This is the work of our Lord," said the Bastard of Orleans,
crossing himself: and the anger passed from the eyes of the Maid.
Then he and Nicole de Giresme prayed her to pass the stream with
them, and to let her host march back to Blois and so come to
Orleans, crossing by the bridge of Blois. To this she said nay,
that she could not leave her men out of her sight, lest they fell to
sin again, and all her pains were lost. But, with many prayers, her
confessor Pasquerel joining in them, she was brought to consent. So
the host, with priests and banners, must set forth again to Blois,
while the Maid, and we that were of her company, crossed the river
in boats, and so rode towards the town. On this way (the same is a
road of the old Romans) the English held a strong fort, called St.
Loup, and well might they have sallied forth against us. But the
people of Orleans, who ever bore themselves more hardily than any
townsfolk whom I have known, made an onfall against St. Loup, that
the English within might not sally out against us, where was fierce
fighting, and they took a standard from the English.
So, at nightfall, the Maid, with the Bastard and other captains at
her side, rode into the town, all the people welcoming her with
torches in hand, shouting Noel! as to a king, throwing flowers
before her horse's feet, and pressing to touch her, or even the
harness of her horse, which leaped and plunged, for the fire of a
torch caught the fringe of her banner. Lightly she spurred and
turned him, and lightly she caught at the flame with her hand and
quenched it, while all men marvelled at her grace and goodly
bearing.
Never saw I more joy of heart, for whereas all had feared to fall
into the hands of the English, now there was such courage in them,
as if Monseigneur St. Michael himself, or Monseigneur St Aignan, had
come down from heaven to help his good town. If they were hardy
before, as indeed they were, now plainly they were full of such
might and fury that man might not stand against them. And soon it
was plain that no less fear had fallen on the English. But the
Maid, with us who followed her, was led right through the great
street of Orleans, from the Burgundy gate to the gate Regnart,
whereby the fighting was ever most fell, and there we lodged in the
house of the Treasurer of the Duke of Orleans, Jacquet Boucher.
Never was sleep sweeter to me, after the two weary marches, and the
sounds of music and revelry in the street did not hum a moment in my
ears, before I had passed into that blessed world of slumber without
a dream.
But my waking next day brought instantly the thought of my brother
Robin, concerning whom I had ever feared that he fell with the
flower of Scotland, when the Comte de Clermont deserted us so
shamefully on the day of the Battle of the Herrings. No sooner did
this doubt come into my mind, than I leaped from my bed, attired
myself, and went forth to the quarters of the Scots under Sir
Christian Chambers. Little need I had to tell my errand, for they
that met me guessed who I was, because, indeed, Robin and I favoured
each other greatly in face and bodily presence.
It was even as I had deemed: my dear brother and friend and tutor
of old days had died, charging back upon the English who pursued us,
and fighting by the side of Pothon de Xaintrailles. All that day,
and in the week which followed, my thought was ever upon him; a look
in a stranger's face, a word on another's lips, by some magic of the
mind would bring my brother almost visibly before me, ay, among the
noise of swords on mail, and the screaming of arrows, and of great
cannon-balls.
If I heard ill news, it was no more than I looked for; but better
news, as it seemed, I also heard, though, in my sorrow, I marked it
little. For the soldiers were lamenting the loss of their famed
gunner, not John the Lorrainer, but one who had come to them, they
said, now some weeks agone, in the guise of a cordelier, though he
did not fight in that garb, but in common attire, and ever wore his
vizor down, which men deemed strange. Whither he had gone, or how
disappeared, they knew not, for he had not been with those who
yesterday attacked St. Loup.
"He could never thole the thought of the Blessed Maid," said Allan
Rutherford, "but would tell all that listened how she was a brain-
sick wench, or a witch, and under her standard he would never fight.
He even avowed to us that she had been a chamber-wench of an inn in
Neufchateau, and there had learned to back a horse, and many a worse
trick," which was a lie devised by the English and them of Burgundy.
But, go where he would, or how he would, I deemed it well that
Brother Thomas and I (for of a surety it was Brother Thomas) were
not to meet in Orleans.
Concerning the English in this wonderful adventure of the siege, I
have never comprehended, nor do I now know, wherefore they bore them
as they did. That they sallied not out on the trains which the Maid
led and brought into the town, a man might set down to mere
cowardice and faint heart--they fearing to fight against a witch, as
they deemed her. In later battles, when she had won so many a
victory, they may well have feared her. But, as now, they showed no
dread where honour was to be won, but rather pride and disdain. On
this very Saturday, the morrow of our arrival, La Hire, with Florent
d'Illiers and many other knights, pushed forth a matter of two
bowshots from the city walls, and took a keep that they thought to
have burned. They were very hardy men, and being comforted by the
Maid's coming, were full of courage and goodwill; yet the English
rallied and drove them back, with much firing of guns, and now first
I heard the din of war and saw the great stone balls fly,
scattering, as they fell, into splinters that screamed in the air,
with a very terrible sound. Truly the English had the better of
that fray, and were no whit adread, for at sunset the Maid sent them
two heralds, bidding them begone; yet they answered only that they
would burn her for a witch, and called her a ribaulde, or loose
wench, and bade her go back and keep her kine.
I was with her when this message came, and her brows met and her
eyes flashed with anger. Telling us of her company to follow, she
went to the Fair Cross on the bridge, where now her image stands,
fashioned in bronze, kneeling before the Cross, with the King
kneeling opposite. There she stood and cried aloud to the English,
who were in the fort on the other side of the bridge that is called
Les Tourelles, and her voice rang across the water like a trumpet,
so that it was marvel. Then came out on to the bridge a great
knight and a tall, Sir William Glasdale; no bigger man have I seen,
and I bethought me of Goliath in Holy Scripture. He spoke in a
loud, north-country voice, and, whereas she addressed him
courteously, as she did all men, he called her by the worst of
names, mocking at her for a ribaulde. She made answer that he lied,
and that he should die in four days' time or five, without stroke of
sword; and so, waving her hand haughtily, turned and went back. But
I, who walked close by her, noted that she wept like any girl at his
evil and lying accusations.
Next day was Sunday, and no stroke was struck, but the Bastard of
Orleans set forth to bring back the army from Blois. And on Monday
the Maid rode out and under the very walls of the English keeps, the
townsfolk running by her rein, as if secure in her company; yet no
man came forth against them, which was marvel. And on the
Wednesday, the Maid, with many knights, rode forth two leagues, and
met the Bastard of Orleans and all the array from Blois, and all the
flocks and herds that were sent to Orleans by the good towns. Right
beneath the forts of the English they rode and marched, with
chanting of hymns, priests leading the way, but none dared meddle
with them. Yet a child might have seen that now or never was the
chance: howbeit Talbot and Glasdale and Scales, men well learned in
war, let fire not even a single cannon. It may be that they feared
an attack of the Orleans folk on their bastilles, if they drew out
their men. For, to tell the plain truth, the English had not men-
at-arms enough for the task they took in hand; but they oft achieve
much with but little force, and so presume the more, sometimes to
their undoing. And, till the Maid came, ten of them could chase a
hundred of the French.
So the Maid returned, leading the army, and then, being very weary,
she went into her chamber, and lay down on a couch to sleep, her
esquire, D'Aulon, also resting in the room, where were the lady and
a daughter of the house, one Charlotte Boucher. There was I,
devising idly with her page, Louis de Coutes, a boy half Scots by
birth, and good-brother to Messire Florent d'Illiers, who had
married his sister. But alas! he was more French than Scots, and
later he left the Maid. But then we were playing ourselves at the
door of the house, and all was still, the men-at-arms reposing, as
we deemed, after their march. Then suddenly the Maid ran forth to
us, her face white and her eyes shining, and cried to Louis de
Coutes, in great anger -
"Wretched boy, the blood of France is being shed, and you told me no
word of it!"
"Demoiselle," said he, trembling, "I wotted not of it. What mean
you?"
And I also stood in amaze, for we had heard no sound of arms.
"Go, fetch my horse," she said, and was gone.
I went with him, and we saddled and bridled a fresh courser
speedily; but when we reached the door, she stood there already
armed, and sprang on the horse, crying for her banner, that De
Coutes gave her out of the upper window. Then her spurs were in her
horse's side, and the sparks flying from beneath his hoofs, as she
galloped towards St. Loup, the English fort on the Burgundy road.
Thither we followed her, with what speed we might, yet over tardily;
and when we came through crowds of people, many bearing the wounded
on litters, there was she, under the wall of that fort, in a rain of
arrows, holding up her banner, and crying on the French and Scots to
the charge. They answered with a cry, and went on, De Coutes and I
pressing forward to be with them; but ere ever we could gain the
fosse, the English had been overwhelmed, and, for the more part,
slain. For, as we found, the French captains had commanded an
attack on St. Loup, and had told the Maid no word of it, whether as
desiring to win honour without her, or to spare her from the peril
of the onslaught, I know not. But their men were giving ground,
when by the monition of the saints, as I have shown, she came to
them and turned the fray.
Of the English, as I said, most were slain, natheless certain men in
priests' raiment came forth from the Church of St. Loup, and very
humbly begged their lives of the Maid, who, turning to D'Aulon, her
esquire, bade him, with De Coutes and me, and such men as we could
gather, to have charge of them and be answerable for them.
So, while the French were plundering, we mustered these priests
orderly together, they trembling and telling their beads, and we
stood before them for their guard. False priests, I doubt, many of
them were, Englishmen who had hastily done on such holy robes as
they found in the church of St Loup. Now Louis de Coutes, being but
a boy, and of a mad humour, cried -
"'Cucullus non facit monachum!' Good sirs, let us see your reverend
tonsures."
With that he twitched the hood from the head of a tall cordelier,
who, without more ado, felled him to the earth with his fist.
The hood was off but for a flash of time, yet I saw well the shining
wolf's eyes and the long dark face of Brother Thomas. So, in the
pictures of the romance of Renard Fox, have I seen Isengrim the wolf
in the friar's hood.
"Felon and traitor!" I cried, and drawing my sword, was about to run
him through the body, when my hand was stunned by a stroke, and the
sword dropped from it. I turned, in great anger, and saw the Maid,
her sword in her hand, wherewith she had smitten me flatlings, and
not with the edge.
"Knave of a Scot," she cried, "wouldst thou strike a holy man and my
prisoner? Verily they say well that the Scots are all savages.
Begone home, till I speak with the captains about thy case! And for
these holy men," she said to D'Aulon, in a soft voice, "see that
they are safely housed and ministered to in the Church of
Monseigneur St. Aignan."
With that I shrank back like a beaten hound, and saw the Maid no
more that night, as fearing her wrath. So was I adread and out of
all comfort. But, when first I might, I sought D'Aulon and told him
all the tale of Brother Thomas, and all the evil I knew of him, as
well as I could, and I showed him wherefore I had sought to slay the
man, as forsworn and a traitor, who had manifestly fled to the
English, being by his doggish nature the enemy of the Maid. I so
wrought with him, though he was weary, and would scarce listen to my
tale, that he promised to speak for me to the Maid, without whom I
was a man lost. Moreover, he swore that, as early as might be, he
would visit the Church of St. Aignan, and there examine into the
matter of this cordelier, whom some knew, and could testify against,
if he was my man.
No more could I do that night, but next morning D'Aulon awoke me a
little after dawn.
"It is a true tale," he said, "and worse than I deemed, for your
bird has flown! Last night he so spoke with me in the church when I
lodged him there, that I reckoned him a simple man and a pious. But
he has vanished from among his brethren, none knows how or whither."
"The devil, his master, knows," I said. "Faith, he has a shrewd
care of his own. But this, I misdoubt me, is the beginning of evil
to us and to the Maid."
"A knave more or less is of little count in the world," said he;
"but now I must make your peace with the Maid, for she speaks of no
less than sending you forth from her household."
His promise he kept so well--for he was a very honourable man, as
any in France--that the Maid sent for me and showed me the best
countenance, even begging my pardon with all sweetness, and in so
fair a manner that I could have wept.
"It was my first blow in war," she said, smiling kindly, as was her
manner, "and I hope to strike no more as with my own hand, wherefore
I carry my banner to avoid the slaying of men. But verily I deemed
that you were about stabbing my prisoner, and him a priest. Belike
we shall hear no more of him, and I misdoubt that he is no true son
of Holy Church. To-day let me see you bear yourself as boldly
against armed men, that I may report well of you to your lady and my
friend."
Therewith she held out her hands and took mine, as frankly as does
one brother in arms with another. And I kissed her hand, and kept
my tears in my own heart. But no deadlier blow for France and for
herself was ever dealt than when the Maid struck down my sword, that
was thirsting for the blood of Brother Thomas, and was within an
inch of his throat. Often have I marvelled how the saints, who, as
then, guarded her, gave her no warning, as they did of the onslaught
on St. Loup; but it might not be, or it was not their will, to which
we must humbly submit ourselves. And now I think I see that wolf's
face, under the hood, with anger and fear in the ominous eyes. In
the Church of St. Loup we found him, and he was a wolf of the holy
places. None the less, the words of the Maid brought more keenly to
my mind the thought of Elliot, whom in these crowded hours, between
my sorrow and anger, and fear of the Maid's wrath, I had to some
degree forgotten. They were now ordering an onslaught on a post of
the English beyond the river, and there came into my heart that
verse of the "Book of a Hundred Ballades": how a lover must press
into breach, and mine, and escalade to win advancement and his
lady's favour; and I swore within myself that to-day I would be
among the foremost.
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