Joan of Arc - Maid of Heaven

JOAN OF ARC The Warrior Maid

Chapter 21
A Week of Wonders

The goodness of her life proves that Jeanne possesses
the grace of God.... She goeth forth capturing towns
and castles. She is the first captain of our host.
Such power had not Hector or Achilles.
But God, who leads her, does all.

Jacques Gélu, Archbishop of Embrun. 1429

After a few days’ rest Jeanne set forth for Chinon, where the King still remained. To raise the siege of Orléans and to lead the Dauphin to his crowning and anointing were the two charges laid upon her. She had performed the first, and wished now to accomplish the latter. There was too a lack of provisions and money, the troops were dispersing, and the help of Charles was needed if the army were to be kept together. After the fall of each bastille news had been sent to the King by the citizens, and he in turn forwarded the tidings to all the good towns that held for him. “The Maid, who was always there in person at the doing of these things,” is the only leader mentioned in the dispatches.

Consequently a royal welcome awaited Jeanne at all the towns through which she and her company passed. As she drew near to Tours she was amazed to see the King, accompanied by some of the courtiers, ride forth to meet her. As soon as she saw him the maiden set forth at speed to greet him, bowing low in her saddle. But Charles reached forth his hand and lifted her, bowing in turn before her as though she were a queen.

“Rise, dear Maid,” he said, “and receive our welcome and our thanks for what you have done. It was a great deed, most gloriously performed. Such prowess merits rich reward; therefore speak, and say what poor return Charles may make for such services.”

Jeanne looked at him eagerly with all her soul in her eyes. There was but one desire in her heart.

“Gentle Dauphin, the only boon I crave is leave to lead you to your crowning and anointing at Reims. Out of your goodness I beg you to let us set forth at once; for now is the time.”

“At once?” The indolent monarch shrank from the suggestion, and there were murmurs among the courtiers, who did not wish anything to occur to interrupt their amusements. La Trémouille, the favorite, interposed quickly:

“It is impossible, my dear Maid. His Majesty’s person should not be exposed to such risks. Why, the road is filled with English and Burgundian strongholds. An army strong enough to open the way should first be raised, and that would take six weeks to equip.”

“But now is the time,” cried Jeanne, dismayed that there should be delay. “We should strike now before the Duke of Bedford has time to send them reinforcements. If we wait our task will be but the harder.”

“Patience, patience, Jeanne,” spoke the King soothingly. “We will go, we promise you, but not just now. You are wounded too, we hear, and sadly need the rest. So have patience for a little, we beseech you.”

So Jeanne was forced to curb her eagerness while the King dawdled away the precious days in idle pleasure. She had spoken truly: the time was ripe for action. Charles had but to mount and ride and all was his at a blow. Had he but gone straight to Reims, after Orléans, and thence on to Paris, every city would have opened its gates to him. So obviously was this the thing he ought to do that, supposing it would be done, the Duke of Bedford left Paris and shut himself up in the strong castle of Vincennes, dreading an uprising among the people. Then next he wholly withdrew to Rouen, for he had no force of men to guard the walls of Paris. But through the influence of La Trémouille, Regnault de Chartres, the Archbishop of Reims, and Raoul de Gaucourt, the former governor of Orléans, the golden opportunity was lost.

It was no part of the policy of these men to allow the King to shake off his indolence, and from this time forth they set themselves to thwart the peasant Maid who so amazingly upset their plans and schemes. It was never English or Burgundians whom Jeanne had to fear the most. They were open enemies, and with a good company of men-at-arms she could overcome them. It was the constant efforts of these foes at Court that undermined her influence and neutralized any advantage that she might gain.

The campaign of Orléans had been allowed. La Trémouille was willing that the city should be relieved, if it could be done without danger to his power, but the completeness of the girl’s victory had aroused his opponents, and there was a dangerous current of French patriotism awakening which, unless subdued, meant the overthrow of himself and his party. It was said of him truthfully that he had “a foot both in the Burgundy and French camps,” and the present state of France suited him admirably. So Jeanne found herself opposed by these wretched politicians in her plans for the redemption of her country. Her true friends were the gallant captains of the armed companies that accompanied her on the campaigns, and the simple people who believed that she had a mission from Heaven, and was inspired by saints and angels.

Thus, longing for the dash of action that would drive the enemy from the land, Jeanne was thrown into the frivolity of the Court instead. A fortnight was spent by Charles in lengthy debates with his Counsellors, and in a round of pleasures; then he removed to Loches, some thirty miles from Tours, where there was a grim fortress better suited to his humours than a city. Being a part of his household, Jeanne went also.

In every place that she entered the people crowded about her horse, and tried to kiss her shoes or her hands. The Abbot, Robert le Macon, one of those who had examined her at Poictiers, reproved her sharply for allowing these manifestations, and told her that it was making the people idolatrous.

“In truth,” answered Jeanne, smiling at him, “I should not know how to guard myself from these things, unless God guarded me. They love me because I have never done them any unkindness, but helped them as I could.”

Charles tried by means of rich gifts to make the maiden content to remain in idleness, and so to cease from importuning him to set forth for his anointing. But, though Jeanne delighted in pretty clothes and presents, as was natural in a young girl, she never for one moment lost sight of her mission. Nor did she abstain from entreating the Dauphin to go to Reims. And now Alençon and Dunois, her good friends, came to the Court, and added their pleas to hers that he should set forth for the crowning, but Charles did not discover the hurry to save his kingdom that they did.

Greatly distressed by the waiting, one day Jeanne’s patience reached its limit. Knowing that the King was in Council with Sir Christopher d’Harcourt, Gerard Machet, his confessor, Robert le Macon and Dunois, she went boldly to the door of the Council Chamber, and knocked. Being admitted she went at once to the monarch, and threw herself at his feet, clasping his knees.

“Noble Dauphin, you hold so many and such long Councils,” she cried. “Rather come to Reims and receive your worthy crown.”

“Does your Counsel tell you to say this?” asked d’Harcourt, the Bishop of Castres.

“Yes,” replied Jeanne. “The Voices urge this chiefly.”

“Will you not tell us in the presence of the King the nature of this Counsel?”

Jeanne blushed and hesitated before replying. Then she said:

“I understand what it is that you wish to know, and I will gladly satisfy you.”

“Jeanne,” said Charles kindly, “it would be very good if you could do what they ask in the presence of those here; but are you sure that you are willing to speak about it?”

“Yes, sire,” she answered simply. Then she turned to them, and spoke with visible emotion.

“When I am vexed to find myself disbelieved in the things I say from God, I retire by myself and pray to God, complaining and asking of Him why I am not listened to. And when I have finished my prayer I hear a Voice saying: ‘Daughter of God, on, on! I will help thee. On!’ And when I hear the Voice I have great joy. I would that I could always feel thus.”

The maiden’s face shone as she spoke, “lifting her eyes to Heaven, and she was in marvellous ecstasy,” so that the men who heard her were dazzled, and sat speechless looking on. Then all in a moment there came a change. Jeanne’s features worked, and she was overcome by emotion. She turned toward the King beseechingly, and cried brokenly:

“The time is so short. Oh, use it, use it, sire. I shall last such a little while: only a year and little more. Oh, sire, ’tis such a little time to work for France.”

Charles was deeply moved, as were also those with him.

“Dear Maid,” he said, “I will go whenever you––” Robert le Macon interposed softly:

“When the roads are clear between here and Reims. Your Majesty. It would not be wise to risk your person on an uncertainty.”

“Let me clear the road, noble Dauphin,” exclaimed the maiden quickly. “I beseech you, out of your grace to grant me leave to do it.”

“There still remain the strong places on the Loire which will have to be broken up,” remarked the King dubiously.

“They can be broken up. Then you can march.”

“Well, you have our permission to do it, Jeanne,” said the monarch, half laughing. “Never was there such an indefatigable little soldier!”

“When may I begin, sire?” Jeanne’s delight was plainly evident. The delay was over; action might begin. No wonder she rejoiced.

“As soon as you please,” Charles told her graciously.

Joyously the girl left the room, and began immediately the task of gathering the army together; the army that had been forced to disband through the inertia of its King. A tide of popular enthusiasm arose as soon as it became known that the English towns on the Loire were to be attacked, and from all quarters came men eager to fight, with or without pay; beginning again to hope for their country and aroused by the Maid’s exploits before Orléans. Selles, a town of Berri, about fifteen miles from Loches and about fifty miles south of Orléans, was chosen for the recruiting camp.

Thither, among other nobles, came one day the two young Counts de Laval: Guy and his brother André, who could not rest until they had seen Jeanne. Their father had been slain at Agincourt, and they had been brought up by their mother, who had defended their castles against the English, and by their grandmother, in her youth the wife of the great constable, Bertrand Du Gueselin, who had done great deeds for France. Full of boyish enthusiasm for the Maid, they wrote home to their mothers, telling them of Jeanne:

“She seems a creature wholly divine, whether to see or hear. Monday at vespers she left Selles to go to Romorantin, three leagues in advance of the army, the Marshal of Boussac and a great many soldiers and common people being with her. I saw her get on horseback, armed all in white, except her head, with a little battle-axe in her hand, riding a great black courser, which was very restive at the door of her lodgings, and would not let her mount. So she said, ‘Lead him to the cross,’ which was in front of the church near by, in the road. There she mounted without his budging, just as if he had been tied. And she turned to the church door and called in her sweet woman’s voice: ‘You priests and churchmen, make processions and prayers to God.’ She then set out on the road, calling, ‘Forward! Forward!’ with her little battle-axe in her hand, and her banner carried by a page. Her brothers went with her, all armed in white.”

At Romorantin Jeanne and Alençon, who had been given the command under the Maid, were joined by Dunois and other captains, and together they entered Orléans on the Ninth of June. The people received her with joy, and set about supplying her impoverished army with supplies and artillery, making their gifts directly to the Maid whose courage and wisdom they had cause to know. They were grateful for their deliverance, but to make that deliverance secure the Loire must be cleared of the strongholds that menaced it. The first point of attack was Jargeau, which lay above Orléans on the south bank of the Loire, about ten miles. It was connected with the north bank by a bridge, which was the only bridge across the river between Orléans and Gien, and was held for the English by the Earl of Suffolk, one of the commanders before Orléans, who had retreated into this place after the raising of the siege. Ten miles below Orléans lay Meung, which also had a fortified bridge, and six miles below Meung was Beaugency, with a bridge also fortified. Both these places were held by the English, Talbot being in Beaugency, and Lord Scales, his lieutenant, being in Meung. The next bridge across the river was at Blois, which was French, so that the English could cross either above or below Orléans into the Dauphin’s provinces. By bringing large reinforcements into these places the siege of Orléans could be renewed at any time by the English. It was the part of wisdom to clear them of the enemy.

As has been said, the first point of attack was Jargeau, for the reason that news was brought that Sir John Fastolf was proceeding toward it with reinforcements, and it was Jeanne’s plan to attack it before he could reach it. It was a strong place. After Jeanne left Orléans Dunois had stormed it unsuccessfully for three hours, and Suffolk had strengthened its defences. Its garrison was experienced in all the arts of war.

On the eleventh of June the advance was begun on the town, and on the way the associate commanders were seized with hesitation, using many arguments to get the Maid to postpone the attack. To which she replied:

“Success is certain. If I were not assured of this from God, I would rather herd sheep than put myself in so great jeopardy.”

The men of Orléans were in the van, and, encouraged by the marvellous success of the month before, rushed to the attack without waiting for the men-at-arms or the artillery, and tried to storm the place. The garrison easily beat them off, and charged upon them, driving them back to the main body. Then Jeanne rode forward, standard in hand, and led the men-at-arms to the rescue. The English in turn were driven back, the French occupied the environs to the very ditch, and passing the night there, after the Maid had summoned Suffolk to yield peaceably to the Dauphin.

The next morning the artillery was placed and Alençon wondered audibly at Jeanne’s expertness in laying the guns.

“Where got you such skill in military matters, Jeanne?” he exclaimed. “Who taught you where to set those guns? You go to work as though you were a captain of twenty or thirty years’ experience.”

“It is my Lord who tells me,” answered Jeanne, regarding him with reverent look in her large grave eyes. “When I see a place I know at once where the artillery should be placed.”

At which the young duke’s wonder grew; for he knew that she had never seen ordnance until at Orléans the month before. While the captains were planning the mode of attack word came that the Earl of Suffolk was parleying with La Hire, offering to surrender if not relieved within fifteen days, no doubt believing that Fastolf would arrive with reinforcements before that time.

“Tell them that they may leave in their tunics, without arms or armour,” cried Jeanne. “Otherwise the place will be stormed at once.”

The terms were refused by Suffolk, and immediately the cannon began their work. One of the towers of the town was destroyed, and the sharpshooters of the French picked off some of the garrison with their culverins. The English too used their artillery with telling effect. As Jeanne and Alençon stood watching the bombardment, she cried out to him suddenly, recalling the promise she had made his wife to bring him back safe.

“Change your position. That gun will kill you!” pointing to a gun on the walls. Alençon stepped aside quickly, and a few moments later a gentleman was killed on that very spot.

Soon Jeanne urged an assault on the walls, which Alençon believed to be premature. He thought that the artillery should continue the bombardment before the attack should be made, and was therefore reluctant to follow. As the trumpets sounded the assault, and he did not advance, Jeanne turned upon him quickly:

“Why do you hesitate?” she asked. “Doubt not! When it pleases God the hour is prepared. God helps those who help themselves.” As he still hesitated she added: “Ah, gentle duke, are you afraid? Do you not know that I promised your wife to bring you back safe and sound?” Thereupon they both rushed to the attack.

As the body of the men rushed into the fosse to plant the scaling ladders Suffolk tried to parley, but it was now too late. The English resistance was effective and stubborn, so that for several hours the struggle went on with Jeanne in the thick of it. The ditch was bridged and, banner in hand, the Maid started up one of the scaling ladders as at the Tourelles and tried to mount the wall. One of the garrison threw down a stone which crashed through the banner, struck on the light helmet that she wore, and stretched her stunned to the ground. For a moment only she lay, and then springing to her feet unhurt, she cried:

“Friends, friends, on! On! Our Lord has condemned the English. They are ours! Have good courage.”

The French had learned that cry. They knew that victory awaited them, and swarmed over the walls in a rush that carried all before them. Suffolk retreated toward the bridge, hoping to escape across it into the Beauce, but the French followed him too closely. One of his brothers and many of the garrison were slain, but he and all who were left alive were captured. As Suffolk was surrounded a knight cried:

“Yield thee, Suffolk! Yield thee, rescue or no rescue!”

“I will yield to none but the most valiant woman in the world,” answered Suffolk proudly. And he would give his sword to none other than Jeanne herself.

So Jargeau was taken.

The town even to the churches was sacked, and Jeanne found herself powerless to prevent the sacrilege, but she profited by the experience. Some of the prisoners had been butchered because their captors had quarreled over the right to ransom them, so that it was deemed best to send the other captives down to Orléans by boat during the night. This was another lesson that Jeanne took to heart.

Alençon and Jeanne returned in triumph to Orléans, where the burghers gave them a royal welcome, making them many presents. Among Jeanne’s were a hucque and a rich robe of the Orléans colors, green and crimson. In the old times the green had been bright and clear, but it had darkened after the murder of Duke Louis by Jean Sans Peur of Burgundy, and since Agincourt was almost black. The hucque was of green, and the robe, or overcoat, was of crimson “cramoisy” lined with white satin and embroidered with the device of Orléans, the nettle.

With Meung and Beaugency still left to attack Jeanne felt the necessity of immediate action. Sir John Fastolf was at that very time at Janville, only twenty-five miles’ distant from Jargeau; since that town had fallen he would press forward to Talbot’s assistance. The Maid permitted but one day of rest in Orléans.

“Now we must go to see the English at Meung,” she told Alençon. “We will march to-morrow after dinner. Give orders to that effect.”

Meung, as has been said, was the nearest fortified town to Orléans down the river, being distant some ten miles. Its bridge was a mile upstream from the town, and well fortified. It was attacked the afternoon of the next day, as Jeanne had desired, and fell easily. Placing a French garrison in the bridge towers the Maid with her forces camped for the night in the fields and next morning passed on down the river to Beaugency. These towns with their castles and towers were very conspicuous on the flat plain of the Loire; and bodies of men were easily seen by the watchmen on the walls. As soon, therefore, as the English saw the French approaching they did not try to defend the town, but retired into the castle, leaving men ambushed in houses and sheds to surprise the French. They were under command of Matthew Gough, a brave Welshman, for Talbot, having no force sufficient to meet the enemy in the field, left Beaugency and rode off with a small company to Janville to hasten the coming of Fastolf. As the French marched into the town the men hidden in the houses fell upon them, but with losses upon both sides were driven into the castle. Jeanne placed the guns, and battered the castle until evening, when news came that was disturbing; for the Constable of France was advancing with a force of men and wished to join her.

The Comte de Richemont, Constable of France, was a great nobleman and a famous leader, but at the present time was in disgrace with the King and exiled from Court, largely through the machinations of La Trémouille and his party. He had wished to assist in raising the siege of Orléans, but the King had forbidden it, and consequently his approach caused both Alençon and Jeanne disquietude.

He was no friend of Jeanne’s, believing it to be a disgrace to France that her armies should be led and victories gained by a woman, probably a witch, a creature unworthy to stand before armed men. The Constable could hardly be blamed for holding this opinion of the Maid; excepting those who came in personal contact with her such belief was general. The captains and soldiers reverenced her, holding that she was truly sent of God; the simple people had no doubt of it. The English believed firmly that she was a witch. The Regent Bedford in his report to England concerning the failure of the siege of Orléans said that it was caused by “false enchantments and witchcraft of a Maid.” Richemont was a sworn enemy to all such.

The French generals were divided over the advisability of receiving him. He was own uncle to Alençon, and the latter had no personal quarrel with him, but the King’s command was that Richemont should not be received should he come with his force. Alençon, therefore, declared that he would withdraw should the Constable’s aid be accepted. It was an embarrassing moment. Jeanne herself did not regard his coming with much pleasure, but it was not her way to reject any champion of France. So, as just at this time news was received of the advance of the English under Talbot and Fastolf, she persuaded Alençon that they ought to accept the proffered aid gladly.

“He is French, my gentle duke,” she said. “And Frenchmen ought to lay aside private quarrels for France. In God’s name, then let us welcome him.”

In the end this wise counsel prevailed, and both Jeanne and Duc Alençon rode forth to meet the Constable.

“Jeanne,” said Richemont, as the maiden alighted from her horse to greet him, “they tell me that you are against me. I know not whether you come from God––or elsewhere. If from God, I do not fear you, for He knows my good will; if from the Devil, I fear you still less.”

“Brave Constable,” returned the maiden, smiling, “you are not here by any will of mine; but since you are here you are welcome.”

They then mounted and rode back to Beaugency. Immediately they were obliged to make ready for battle, for Talbot and Fastolf had come up with their forces, and rested at a spot between Meung and Beaugency, distant about a league from each town. The French army took up a strong position on a hill in front of Beaugency, covering the siege of the castle and the town. Night was coming on, but the English formed in line of battle, and waited for the French to begin the attack. From their excellent position the French watched the enemy’s preparations, but made no move to fight. Becoming impatient the English sent two heralds, saying that three English knights would fight any who would come down into the plain. Jeanne declined the challenge.

“Go to your rest to-day,” she sent back word. “It is late enough. To-morrow, if it please God and Our Lady, we shall see you at closer quarters.”

Later, scouts reported to Jeanne and the French captains that the English were withdrawing from their position in the plain, and were headed northward.

“They are going to Meung,” cried the Maid joyfully. “They will occupy the town, and try to take the bridge, thinking to come down on the other side of the river, and so relieve the garrison here at Beaugency in that way. But Beaugency will surrender as soon as it hears the news that Talbot has gone.”

Which proved to be the case. Matthew Gough, upon learning that the English army had retreated, felt that his case was hopeless. He had seen that Alençon was reinforced by the Constable, and believed that Talbot had left him to his fate. Therefore, at midnight he capitulated on easy terms. His men with their horses and armour, and goods to the value of a silver mark, were allowed to march away, on the condition that they were not to fight against the Dauphin for ten days; he himself was held as hostage.

At dawn the French were up and away to Meung, where they found that Talbot had indeed been battering the bridge held by the French all night long, but the bridge held. On receipt of the news that Gough had surrendered Talbot and Fastolf with all the united forces of the English set off across the wooded plain of Beauce, as the country north of the Loire was called, for Paris.

The French were uncertain what to do. An encounter in the open field, an open hand-to-hand battle between the French and the English, had heretofore resulted in victory for the English. Such a thing as the French holding their own and attaining victory over the enemy had never been known. They would rather avoid an engagement than risk such a disaster. To arrive at an understanding Alençon assembled the captains for a Council of war. He turned to Jeanne first.

“What shall be done now?” he asked.

“Have good spurs,” she told him.

“What?” he cried astonished. “Are we to turn our backs?”

“Nenni,” answered she, laughing. “The English will not defend themselves, and you will need good spurs to follow them.”

There was a murmur at these words; a murmur of confidence for the prophecy put heart into men who had been wont to fly instead of pursue. Eagerly now they prepared to follow the retreating English. La Hire and Dunois with a company of eighty men, mounted on the best horses, rode in advance, and the main body of the army came more slowly. Jeanne preferred going with the vanguard, but the leaders feared that they might run into an ambush, and would not permit the risk. Jeanne was angry over this. She liked the thick of the fight, and chafed at following, but it was well that she remained with the main body, for the men needed encouragement.

It was a long ride and a dangerous one. The wide plain was covered by a dense growth of underbrush and trees, and there was danger of an ambush. Not an Englishman was visible. Cautiously the French made their way, and some of the captains began to show signs of uneasiness. Jeanne encouraged them constantly.

“In God’s name we must fight them; if they were hung in the clouds we should have them, for God has sent them to us that we might punish them.” And again:

“Fear naught. This day the gentle Dauphin shall have the greatest victory he has ever won; my Counsel have told me that they are ours.”

The pursuit continued until near Patay, a town standing midway between Meung and Rouvray, where Fastolf had won the Battle of Herrings in February. La Hire and his scouts were scouring the country to get trace of the English, but without success. All at once they roused a stag as they rode, and, startled, the animal bounded away before them, disappearing into some bushes which grew as a hedge by the roadside. Instantly there came a shout from English voices––a cheer of delight as the creature plunged among them, and, not suspecting that the French van was so near, they began to fire upon it.

La Hire drew rein, and sent back a messenger to the main army to hurry forward. Then with a shout he and his company spurred forward, and charged the English before they had time to form, or to set up their usual defenses.

Now Talbot had been marching in three bodies. First, the advance guard; then his artillery; then his battle corps a good way in the rear. When he was within a league of Patay some of his scouts reported that a large body of the French was advancing toward him. Seeing that he could not escape without some fighting he posted his advance guard with the wagons and artillery behind some strong hedges which would cover their front from the French cavalry. He himself with five hundred archers halted in a place where the road through which the French must pass was bordered on both sides by a hedge. Here he stood waiting for the enemy, waiting too for his main body of troops under Sir John Fastolf to join the train, when the advent of the stag discovered his presence to the French.

The English archers were thrown into wildest confusion and disorder by the suddenness of the onslaught. Slashing and slaying, the French cut them down, pressing onward toward the advance guard of the English with the wagons and artillery. Sir John began to gallop toward the advance guard, but to the latter he seemed to be fleeing before the enemy. Panic seized them, and leaving the provisions and guns the troops broke and fled, utterly demoralized, on the road toward Patay. Talbot himself fought with desperation and rage, to be thus overcome a second time by a girl whom he believed to be a pernicious witch, but was finally taken prisoner by Poton Zaintrailles, while his men fled and were killed in their flight. Fastolf turned back to the field, hoping to die there or be captured, but his escort dragged him off, and at length he too rode off toward Paris. His men were cut down at the will of the victors.

The Battle of Patay was won.

But it was a bloody field, for slaughter of fugitives who were not valuable followed. Jeanne had never seen such a massacre, and “she had great compassion on the victims.” Meeting a Frenchman who was brutally using a prisoner she flung herself from her horse, indignant that he should be subjected to such treatment, and seating herself beside him lifted his bleeding head upon her lap. Sending for a priest that he might have the last comforts of religion she comforted him with womanly tenderness until he died.

Jeanne wanted the English out of France. She fought them that she might achieve that end. She had steeled herself to the necessity of war, but pity was always enthroned in her heart. A wounded enemy appealed to her tenderness as much as one of her own countrymen would have done.

And so ended a great week of wonders. Between June eleventh and eighteenth the Maid had delivered three strong towns from the English, and routed them in open field. All the Loire and the waterway was now in the power of France. But it was not Alençon, nor Dunois, nor the French generals who had secured the victories. It was the dauntless girl, the peasant maid in whom was more of the divine than human––she who after a scarce month of war bore herself like the “most skilled captain in the world who all his life has been trained to war”[12] ––this girl of seventeen who bade fair to be the best soldier of them all.

[12] De Termes.

RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS                          CONTINUE to CHAPTER 22 Warrior Maid

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