THE FLIGHT.
The family of Darc had not been the only ones to discover the nocturnal
raid of the English. The whole parish was on foot, a prey to
consternation and terror.
The more frightened gathered a few eatables, and abandoning all else,
fled to the forest. Others, hoping that the English might not advance as
far as Domremy, took the chances of remaining in the village. Finally,
others there were who also decided to flee for safety to the Castle of
Ile. The Darc family soon left their house, Jeannette calling her sheep,
which obediently followed, James leading the cows that hauled the wagon
on which his wife was seated in the midst of her bundles of goods, a few
bags of wheat and the household utensils that she had managed to get
together. The two lads carried on their shoulders the implements of
husbandry that were portable.
The flight of the inhabitants of Domremy, in the darkness of the night,
that was reddened only on the horizon by the reflection of the
conflagrations, was heartrending. The imprecations uttered by the men,
the moanings of the women, the cries of the children who clung weeping
to their mothers' skirts, not a few of which latter held babies to their
breasts; the mass of peasants, cattle and wagons promiscuously jumbled,
striking against each other and getting in each others' way; all
presented a distressing picture of that desperate flight for life. These
poor people left behind them their only wealth--their granaries filled
with the grain of the last harvest--expecting soon to see them devoured
by the flames along with their humble homes. Their distress escaped in
sobs, in plaintive cries, and often in curses and expressions of hatred
and rage against the English. The spectacle left a profound and
indelible impression upon Jeannette, now for the first time made
acquainted with the horrors of war. Soon was she to contemplate them at
still closer range and in their most appalling forms.
The fugitives arrived near the hamlet of St. Pierre, situated on the
Meuse. There was nothing left but a heap of blackened debris, with here
and there a wooden beam still burning--nothing else was left of the
village. Walking a little ahead of her herd, Jeannette stood still,
stupefied at the spectacle.
A few steps from where she stood a column of smoke rose from the ruins
of a cottage that had been sheltered under a large walnut tree, the
leaves of which were now singed and its branches charred by the fire.
From one of the branches of the tree hung, head down, a man suspended by
his feet over a now nearly extinct brazier. His face, roasted by the
fire, retained no human form. His arms, twisted and rigid, betokened the
intensity of his dying agony. Not far from him, two almost naked
corpses, one of an old man and the other of a lad, lay in a pool of
blood. They must have attempted to defend themselves against their
assailants; a butcher's knife lay near the old man's corpse, while the
lad still held in his clenched hands the handle of a pitchfork. Finally,
a young woman, whose face was wholly concealed under her thick blonde
hair and who must have been dragged from her bed in her night clothes,
lay disemboweled near a still smoking heap of faggots; while a baby,
apparently forgotten in the midst of the carnage, crept toward its dead
mother crying loudly.
Such had been the savage war waged in Gaul for the last fifty years
since the defeat of the French nobility at Poitiers.
The shocking spectacle unnerved Jeannette and, seized again with
vertigo, she tottered and fell to the ground; Peter, her elder brother,
coming close behind, raised her, and, with the help of his father,
placed her on the wagon with her mother.
The wife of the castellan of Ile and her husband, a brave soldier,
allowed the fugitives from Domremy to camp with their cattle in the yard
of the castle, a vast space within the fortifications that were situated
between the arms of the Meuse. Unfortunately the inhabitants of St.
Pierre, who were taken by surprise at night, had not been able to reach
this hospitable place of refuge. After ravaging the valley the English
gathered near Vaucouleurs and concentrated their forces before that
place, the siege of which they pressed vigorously for a short time. A
few nights later a few of the peasants who had taken refuge in the
Castle of Ile, among them Peter, Jeannette's elder brother, went out on
a reconnoitering expedition and on their return reported that the enemy
had departed from that part of the country. Tired of arson and carnage,
the English had withdrawn from the neighborhood of Domremy after
pillaging only a few of the houses and killing some of its inhabitants.
Back again at their home in Domremy the family of Darc busied themselves
in repairing the damage that their house had sustained.