Tidings of these parleys, and marches, and surrenders of cities came to
us at Tours, the King sending letters to his good towns by messengers.
One of these, the very Thomas Scott of whom I have before spoken, a man
out of Rankelburn, in Ettrick Forest, brought a letter for me, which was
from Randal Rutherford.
"Mess-John Urquhart writes for me, that am no clerk," said Randal, "and,
to spare his pains, as he writes for the most of us, I say no more than
this: come now, or come never, for the Maid will ride to see Paris in
three days, or four, let the King follow or not as he will."
There was no more but a cross marked opposite the name of Randal
Rutherford, and the date of place and day, August the nineteenth, at
Compiegne.
My face fired, for I felt it, when I had read this, and I made no more
ado, but, covenanting with Thomas Scott to be with him when he rode forth
at dawn, I went home, put my harness in order, and hired a horse from him
that kept the hostelry of the "Hanging Sword," whither also I sent my
harness, for that I would sleep there. This was all done in the late
evening, secretly, and, after supper, I broke the matter to my master and
Elliot. Her face changed to a dead white, and she sat silent, while my
master took the word, saying, in our country speech, that "he who will to
Cupar, maun to Cupar," and therewith he turned, and walked out and about
in the garden.
We were alone, and now was the hardest of my work to do, to comfort
Elliot, when, in faith, I sorely needed comfort myself. But honour at
once and necessity called me to ride, being now fit to bear harness, and
foreseeing no other chance to gain booty, or even, perchance, my spurs.
Nor could I endure to be a malingerer. She sat there, very white, her
lip quivering, but her eyes brave and steadfast.
I kneeled beside her, and in my hands I took her little hand, that was
cold as ice.
"It is for the Maid, and for you, Elliot," I whispered; and she only bent
her head on my shoulder, but her cold hand gripped mine firmly.
"She did say that you should come back unharmed of sword," whispered
Elliot, looking for what comfort she might. "But, O my dear! you may be
taken, and when shall I see you again? Oh! this life is the hardest
thing for women, who must sit and tremble and pray at home. Sure no
danger of war is so terrible! Ah, must you really go?"
Then she clung so closely about me, that it seemed as if I could never
escape out of her arms, and I felt as if my heart must break in twain.
"How could I look men in the face, and how could I ever see the Maid
again, if I go not?" I said; and, loosening her grasp, she laid her hands
on my shoulders, and so gazed on me steadfastly, as if my picture could
be fixed on the tablets of her brain.
"On your chin is coming a little down, at last," she said, smiling
faintly, and then gave a sob, and her lips met mine, and our very souls
met; but, even then, we heard my master's steps hobbling to the door, and
she gave a cry, and fled to her chamber. And this was our
leave-taking--brief, but I would not have had it long.
"It is ill work parting, Heaven help us," said my master. "Faith, I
remember, as if it were to-day, how I set forth for Verneuil; a long time
I was gone, and came back a maimed man. But it is fortune of war! The
saints have you in their keeping, my son, and chiefly St. Andrew. Come
back soon, and whole, and rich, for, meseems, if I lose one of you, I am
to lose both."
Therewith he embraced me, and I set forth to the hostel where I was to
lie that night.
Now, see how far lighter is life to men than to women, for, though I left
the house with the heaviest heart of any man in Tours, often looking back
at the candleshine in my lady's casement, yet, when I reached the
"Hanging Sword," I found Thomas Scott sitting at his wine, and my heart
and courage revived within me. He lacked nothing but one to listen, and
soon was telling tales of the war, and of the road, and of how this one
had taken a rich prisoner, and that one had got an arrow in his thigh,
and of what chances there were to win Paris by an onslaught.
"For in no other can we take it," said he, "save, indeed, by miracle. For
they are richly provisioned, and our hope is that, if we can make a
breach, there may be a stir of the common folk, who are well weary of the
English and the Burgundians."
Now, with his talk of adventures, and with high hopes, I was so heartened
up, that, to my shame, my grief fell from me, and I went to my bed to
dream of trenches and escalades, glory and gain. But Elliot, I fear me,
passed a weary night, and a sorry, whereas I had scarce laid my head on
my pillow, as it seemed, when I heard Thomas shouting to the grooms, and
clatter of our horses' hoofs in the courtyard. So I leaped up, though it
was scarce daylight, and we rode northwards before the full coming of the
dawn.
Here I must needs write of a shameful thing, which I knew not then, or I
would have ridden with a heavier heart, but I was told concerning the
matter many years after, by Messire Enguerrand de Monstrelet, a very
learned knight, and deep in the counsels of the Duke of Burgundy.
"You were all sold," he said to me, at Dijon, in the year of our Lord
fourteen hundred and forty-seven--"you were all sold when you marched
against Paris town. For the Maid, with D'Alencon, rode from Compiegne
towards Paris, on the twenty-third of August, if I remember well"; and
here he turned about certain written parchments that lay by him. "Yea,
on the twenty-third she left Compiegne, but on the twenty-eighth of that
month the Archbishop of Reims entered the town, and there he met the
ambassadors of the Good Duke of Burgundy. There he and they made a
compact between them, binding your King and the Duke, that their truce
should last till Noel, but that the duke might use his men in the defence
of Paris against all that might make onfall. Now, the Archbishop and the
King knew well that the Maid was, in that hour, marching on Paris. To
what purpose make a truce, and leave out of the peace the very point
where war should be? Manifestly the French King never meant to put forth
the strength of his army in helping the Maid. There was to be truce
between France and Burgundy, but none between England and the Maid."
So Messire Enguerrand told me, a learned knight and a grave, and thus was
the counsel of the saints defeated by the very King whom they sought to
aid. But of this shameful treaty we men-at-arms knew nothing, and so
hazarded our lives against loaded dice.