CHAPTER II. HOW I FIRST SAW THE MAID.
CHAPTER III. HOW THE MAID CAME TO VAUCOULEURS.
CHAPTER IV. HOW THE MAID WAS TRIED AND TESTED.
CHAPTER V. HOW THE MAID JOURNEYED TO CHINON.
CHAPTER VI. HOW THE MAID CAME TO THE KING.
CHAPTER VII. HOW THE MAID WAS HINDERED; YET MADE PREPARATION.
CHAPTER VIII. HOW THE MAID MARCHED FOR ORLEANS.
CHAPTER IX. HOW THE MAID ASSUMED COMMAND AT ORLEANS.
CHAPTER X. HOW THE MAID LED US INTO BATTLE.
CHAPTER XI. HOW THE MAID BORE TRIUMPH AND TROUBLE.
CHAPTER XII. HOW THE MAID RAISED THE SIEGE.
CHAPTER XIII. HOW THE MAID WON A NEW NAME.
CHAPTER XIV. HOW THE MAID CLEARED THE KING'S WAY.
CHAPTER XV. HOW THE MAID RODE WITH THE KING.
CHAPTER XVI. HOW THE MAID ACCOMPLISHED HER MISSION.
CHAPTER XVII. HOW THE MAID WAS PERSUADED.
CHAPTER XVIII. HOW I LAST SAW THE MAID.
CHAPTER I. HOW I FIRST HEARD OF THE MAID.
"The age of Chivalry--alas!--is dead. The days of miracles are past
and gone! What future is there for hapless France? She lies in the
dust. How can she hope to rise?"
Sir Guy de Laval looked full in our faces as he spoke these words,
and what could one reply? Ah me!--those were sad and sorrowful days
for France--and for those who thought upon the bygone glories of
the past, when she was mistress of herself, held high her head, and
was a power with hostile nations. What would the great Charlemagne
say, could he see us now? What would even St. Louis of blessed
memory feel, could he witness the changes wrought by only a century
and a half? Surely it were enough to cause them to turn in their
graves! The north lying supine at the feet of the English
conqueror; licking his hand, as a dog licks that of his master,
lost to all sense of shame that an English infant in his cradle (so
to speak) should rule through a regent the fair realm of France,
whilst its own lawful King, banished from his capital and from half
his kingdom, should keep his Court at Bourges or Chinon, passing
his days in idle revelry, heedless of the eclipse of former
greatness, careless of the further aggressions threatened by the
ever-encroaching foe.
Was Orleans to fall next into the greedy maw of the English
adventurers? Was it not already threatened? And how could it be
saved if nothing could rouse the King from his slothful
indifference? O for the days of Chivalry!--the days so long gone
by!
Whilst I, Jean de Novelpont, was musing thus, a curious look
overshadowed the face of Bertrand de Poulengy, our comrade and
friend, with whom, when we had said adieu to Sir Guy a few miles
farther on, I was to return to Vaucouleurs, to pay a long-promised
visit there. I had been journeying awhile with Sir Guy in Germany,
and he was on his way to the Court at Chinon; for we were all of
the Armagnac party, loyal to our rightful monarch, whether King or
only Dauphin still, since he had not been crowned, and had adopted
no truly regal state or authority; and we were earnestly desirous
of seeing him awaken from his lethargy and put himself at the head
of an army, resolved to drive out the invaders from the land, and
be King of France in truth as well as in name. But so far it seemed
as though nothing short of a miracle would effect this, and the
days of miracles, as Sir Guy had said, were now past and gone.
Then came the voice of Bertrand, speaking in low tones, as a man
speaks who communes with himself; but we heard him, for we were
riding over the thick moss of the forest glade, and the horses'
feet sank deep and noiseless in the sod, and our fellows had fallen
far behind, so that their laughter and talk no longer broke upon
our ears. The dreamy stillness of the autumn woodlands was about
us, when the songs of the birds are hushed, and the light falls
golden through the yellowing leaves, and a glory more solemn than
that of springtide lies upon the land.
Methinks there is something in the gradual death of the year which
attunes our hearts to a certain gentle melancholy; and perchance
this was why Sir Guy's words had lacked the ring of hopeful bravery
that was natural to one of his temperament, and why Bertrand's eyes
were so grave and dreamy, and his voice seemed to come from far
away.
"And yet I do bethink me that six months agone I did behold a scene
which seems to me to hold within its scope something of miracle and
of mystery. I have thought of it by day, and dreamed of it by
night, and the memory of it will not leave me, I trow, so long as
breath and being remain!"
We turned and looked at him--the pair of us--with eyes which
questioned better than our tongues. Bertrand and I had been
comrades and friends in boyhood; but of late years we had been much
sundered. I had not seen him for above a year, till he joined us
the previous Wednesday at Nancy, having received a letter I did
send to him from thence. He came to beg of me to visit him at his
kinsman's house, the Seigneur Robert de Baudricourt of Vaucouleurs;
and since my thirst for travel was assuaged, and my purse something
over light to go to Court, I was glad to end my wanderings for the
nonce, in the company of one whom I still loved as a brother.
From the first I had noted that Bertrand was something graver and
more thoughtful than had been his wont. Now I did look at him with
wonder in my eyes. What could he be speaking of?
He answered as though the question had passed my lips.
"It was May of this present year of grace," he said, "I mind it the
better that it was the Feast of the Ascension, and I had kept fast
and vigil, had made my confession and received the Holy Sacrament
early in the day. I was in my lodging overlooking the market place,
and hard by the Castle which as you know hangs, as it were, over
the town, guarding or threatening it, as the case may be, when a
messenger arrived from my kinsman, De Baudricourt, bidding me to a
council which he was holding at noon that day. I went to him
without delay; and he did tell me a strange tale.
"Not long since, so he said, an honest prud'homme of the
neighbouring village of Burey le Petit, Durand Laxart by name, had
asked speech with him, and had then told him that a young niece of
his, dwelling in the village of Domremy, had come to him a few days
since, saying it had been revealed to her how that she was to be
used by the God of Heaven as an instrument in His hands for the
redemption of France; and she had been told in a vision to go first
to the Seigneur de Baudricourt, who would then find means whereby
she should be sent to the Dauphin (as she called him), whom she was
to cause to be made King of France."
"Mort de Dieu!" cried Sir Guy, as he gazed at Bertrand with a look
betwixt laughter and amaze, "and what said your worshipful uncle to
that same message?"
"At the first, he told me, he broke into a great laugh, and bid the
honest fellow box the girl's ears well, and send her back to her
mother. But he added that the man had been to him once again, and
had pleaded that at least he would see his niece before sending her
away; and since by this time he was himself somewhat curious to see
and to question this village maiden, who came with so strange a
tale, he had told Laxart to bring her at noon that very day, and he
desired that I and certain others should be there in the hall with
him, to hear her story, and perhaps suggest some shrewd question
which might help to test her good faith."
"A good thought," spoke Sir Guy, "for it is hard to believe in
these dreamers of dreams. I have met such myself--they talk great
swelling words, but the world wags on its way in spite of them.
They are no prophets; they are bags of wind. They make a stir and a
commotion for a brief while, and then they vanish to be heard of no
more."
"It may be so," answered Bertrand, whose face was grave, and whose
steadfast dark-blue eyes had taken a strange shining, "I can only
speak of that which I did see and hear. What the future may hold
none can say. God alone doth know that."
"Then you saw this maid--and heard her speech. What looked she
like?--and what said she?"
"I will tell you all the tale. We were gathered there in the great
hall. There were perhaps a score of us; the Seigneur at the head of
the council table, the Abbe Perigord on his right, and the Count of
La Roche on his left. There were two priests also present, and the
chiefest knights and gentlemen of the town. We had all been
laughing gaily at the thought of what a village maid of but
seventeen summers--or thereabouts--would feel on being introduced
into the presence of such a company. We surmised that she would
shrink into the very ground for shame. One gentleman declared that
it was cruel to ask her to face so many strangers of condition so
much more exalted than her own; but De Baudricourt cried out, 'Why
man, the wench is clamouring to be taken to the King at his Court!
If she cannot face a score of simple country nobles here, how can
she present herself at Chinon? Let her learn her place by a sharp
lesson here; so may she understand that she had best return to her
distaff and spindle and leave the crowning of Kings to other
hands!' And it was in the midst of the roar of laughter which
greeted this speech that the door opened slowly--and we saw the
maid of whom we had been talking."
"And she doubtless heard your mirth," spoke I, and he bent his head
in assent.
"I trow she did," he answered, "but think you that the ribald jests
of mortal men can touch one of the angels of God? She stood for a
moment framed in the doorway, and I tell you I lie not when I
declare that it seemed to all present as though a halo of pure
white light encircled her. Where the light came from I know not;
but many there were, like myself, who noted it. The far end of the
hall was dim and dark; but yet we saw her clear as she moved
forward. Upon her face was a shining such as I have seen upon none
other. She wore the simple peasant dress of her class, with the
coif upon her head; yet it seemed to me--ay, and to others too--as
though she was habited in rich apparel. Perchance it was that when
one had seen her face, one could no longer think upon her raiment.
If a queen--if an angel--if a saint from heaven stood in stately
calm and dignity before one's eyes, how could we think of the
raiment worn? We should see nothing but the grandeur and beauty of
the face and form!"
"Mort de Dieu!" cried Sir Guy with his favourite oath, "but you
look, good Bertrand, as though you had gazed upon some vision from
the unseen world!"
"Nay," he answered gravely, "but I have looked upon the face of one
whom God has visited through His saints. I have seen the reflection
of His glory in human eyes; and so I can never say with others that
the days of miracles are past."
Bertrand spoke with a solemnity and earnestness which could not but
impress us deeply. Our eyes begged him to continue, and he told the
rest of his tale very simply.
"She came forward with this strange shining in her eyes. She bent
before us with simple reverence; but then lifted herself up to her
full height and looked straight at De Baudricourt without boldness
and without fear, as though she saw in him a tool in the hand of
God, and had no other thought for him besides.
"'Seigneur,' she said, 'my Lord has bidden me come to you, that you
may send me to the Dauphin; for He has given me a message to him
which none else may bear; and He has told me that you will do it,
therefore I know that you will not fail Him, and your laughter
troubles me not.'
"'Who is your Lord, my child?' asked De Baudricourt, not laughing
now, but pulling at his beard and frowning in perplexity.
"'Even the Lord of Heaven, Sire,' she answered, and her hands
clasped themselves loosely together whilst her eyes looked upward
with a smile such as I have seen on none other face before. 'He
that is my Lord and your Lord and the Lord of this realm of France.
But it is His holy will that the Dauphin shall be its King, and
that he shall drive back the English, and that the crown shall be
set upon his head. And this, with other matters which are for his
ear alone I am sent to tell him; and you, good my lord, are he who
shall send me to my King.'
"Thus she spoke, and looked at us all with those shining eyes of
hers; yet it seemed to me she scarce saw us. Her glance did go
beyond, as though she were gazing in vision upon the things which
were to be."
"She was beautiful, you say?" asked Sir Guy, whose interest was
keenly aroused; but who, I saw, was doubtful whether Bertrand had
not been deceived by some witchery of fair face and graceful form;
for Bertrand, albeit a man of thews and sinews and bold as a lion
in fight, was something of the dreamer too, as warriors in all ages
have sometimes been.
"Yes--as an angel of God is beautiful," he answered, "ask me not of
that; for I can tell you nothing. I know not the hue of her hair or
of her eyes, nor what her face was like, nor her form, save that
she was tall and very slender; but beautiful--ah yes!--with the
beauty which this world cannot give; a beauty which silenced every
flippant jest, shamed every scoffing thought, turned ridicule into
wonder, contempt into reverence. Whether this wonderful maiden came
in truth as a messenger of God or no, at least not one present but
saw well that she herself believed heart and soul in her divine
commission."
"And what answer did the Seigneur de Baudricourt make to her?"
"He gazed upon her full for awhile, and then he suddenly asked of
her, 'And when shall all these wonders come to pass?'
"She, with her gaze fixed still a little upwards, answered, 'Before
mid-Lent next year shall succour reach him; then will the city of
Orleans be in sore straight; but help shall come, and the English
shall fly before the sword of the Lord. Afterwards shall the
Dauphin receive consecration at Rheims, and the crown of France
shall be set upon his head, in token that he is the anointed of the
Lord.'
"'And who has told you all this, my child?' asked De Baudricourt
then, answering gently, as one speaks within a church.
"'Mes voix,' she answered, speaking as one who dreams, and in
dreaming listens.
"'What voices?' asked De Baudricourt, 'and have you naught but
voices to instruct you in such great matters?'
"'Yes, Sire,' she answered softly, 'I have seen the great Archangel
Michael, his sword drawn in his hand; and I know that he has drawn
it for the deliverance of France, and that though he has chosen so
humble an instrument as myself, yet that to him and to the Lord of
Heaven will he the victory and the glory.'
"When she had thus spoken there was a great silence in the hall, in
which might have been heard the fall of a pin, and I vow that
whether it were trick of summer sunshine or no, the light about the
maiden seemed to grow brighter and brighter. Her face was just
slightly uplifted as one who listens, and upon her lips there was a
smile.
"'And I know that you will send me to the Dauphin, Robert de
Baudricourt,' she suddenly said, 'because my voices tell me so.'
"We all looked at De Baudricourt, who sat chin on hand, gazing at
the maiden as though he would read her very soul. We waited,
wondering, for him to speak At last he did.
"'Well, my girl, I will think of all this. We have till next year,
by your own showing, ere these great things shall come to pass. So
get you home, and see what your father and mother say to all this,
and whether the Archangel Michael comes again or no. Go home--be a
good girl, and we will see what we will see.'"
"Was that all he promised?" spoke Sir Guy with a short laugh. "I
trow the maiden dreamer would not thank him for that word! A
deliverer of princes to be bidden to go home and be a good girl!
What said she to that counsel?"
"Ay, well you may ask," spoke Bertrand with subdued emotion. "Just
such a question sprang to my lips as I heard my kinsman's answer. I
looked to see her face fall, to see sparks of anger flash from her
eyes, or a great disappointment cloud the serene beauty of her
countenance. But instead of this a wonderful smile lighted it, and
her sweet and resonant voice sounded clear through the hall.
"'Ah, now Seigneur, I know you for a good and true man! You speak
as did my voices when first I heard them. "Jeanne, sois bonne et
sage enfant; va souvent a l'eglise"; that was their first message
to me, when I was but a child; and now you say the same to me--be a
good girl. Thus I know that your heart is right, and that when my
Lord's time is come you will send me with His message to the
Dauphin.'
"And so saying she bent again in a modest reverence before us. Yet
let me tell you that as she did so, every man of us sprang to his
feet by an impulse which each one felt, yet none could explain. As
one man we rose, and bowed before her, as she retired from the hail
with the simple, stately grace of a young queen. Not till the door
had closed behind her did we bethink us that it was to a humble
peasant girl we had paid unconscious homage. We who had thought she
would well-nigh sink to the dust at sight of us, had been made to
feel that we were in the presence of royalty!"
"Tu Dieu! but that is a strange story!" quoth Sir Guy with knitted
brows. "For many a long day I have heard nought so strange! What
think you of it yourself, good Bertrand? For by my troth you speak
like a man convinced that a miracle may even yet be wrought for
France at the hand of this maid."
"And if I do, is that so strange? Cannot it be that the good God
may still speak through His saints to the sons of men, and may
raise up a deliverer for us, even as He did in the days of old for
His chosen people? Is His arm shortened at all? And is it meet that
we Christian knights should trust Him less than did the Jews of
old?"
Sir Guy made no reply, but fell into thought, and then asked a
sudden question:
"Who is this peasant maid of whom you speak? And where is she now?
Is she still abiding content at home, awaiting the time appointed
by her visions?"
"I trow that she is," answered Bertrand. "I did hear that she went
home without delay, as quietly as she had come. Her name is Jeanne
d'Arc. She dwells in the village of Domremy over yonder. Her father
is an honest prud'homme of the place. She has brothers and a
sister. She is known in the village as a pious and gentle maid,
ever ready to tend the sick, hold vigil for the dead, take charge
of an ailing child, or do any such simple service for the
neighbours. She is beloved of all, full of piety and good works,
constant in attendance at church, regular in her confession and at
mass. So much have I heard from her kinsman Laxart, though for mine
own part I have not seen her again."
"And what thinks De Baudricourt of her mission? Does he ever speak
of it?"
"Not often; and yet I know that he has not forgotten it. For
ofttimes he does sink into a deep reverie; and disjointed words
break from him, which tell me whither his thoughts have flown.
"At the first he did say to me, 'Let the girl go home; let us see
if we hear more of her. If this be but a phantasy on her part; if
she has been fasting and praying and dreaming, till she knows not
what is true and what is her own imagining, why, time will cure her
of her fancies and follies. If otherwise--well, we will see when
the time comes. To act in haste were to act with folly.'
"And so he dismissed the matter, though, as I say, he doth not
forget it, and I think never a day comes but he thinks on it."
"And while the Lord waits, the English are active!" cried Sir Guy
with a note of impatience in his voice. "They are already
threatening Orleans. Soon they will march in strength upon it. And
if that city once fall, why what hope is there even for such
remnants of his kingdom as still remain faithful south of the
Loire? The English will have them all. Already they call our King
in mockery 'the King of Bourges;' soon even that small domain will
be reft away, and then what will remain for him or for us? If the
visions of the maiden had been true, why doth not the Lord strike
now, before Salisbury of England can invest the city? If Orleans
fall, all is lost!"
"But Jeanne says that Orleans shall be saved," spoke Bertrand in a
low voice, "and if she speaks sooth, must not she and we alike
leave the times and seasons in the hand of the Lord?"
Sir Guy shrugged his shoulders, and gave me a shrewd glance, the
meaning of which I was at no loss to understand. He thought that
Bertrand's head had been something turned, and that he had become a
visionary, looking rather for a miracle from heaven than for
deliverance from the foe through hard fighting by loyal men
marching under the banner of their King. Truth we all knew well
that little short of a miracle would arouse the indolent and
discouraged Charles, cowed by the English foe, doubtful of his own
right to call himself Dauphin, distrustful of his friends,
despairing of winning the love or trust of his subjects. But could
it indeed be possible that such a miracle could be wrought, and by
an instrument so humble as a village maid--this Jeanne d'Arc?
But the time had come when we must say adieu to our comrade, and
turn ourselves back to Vaucouleurs, if we were not to be benighted
in the forest ere we could reach that place. We halted for our
serving men to come up; and as we did so Bertrand said in a low
voice to Sir Guy:
"I pray you, Seigneur de Laval, speak no word to His Majesty of
this maid and her mission, until such time as news may reach him of
her from other sources."
"I will say no word," answered the other, smiling, and so with many
friendly words we parted, and Bertrand and I, with one servant
behind us, turned our horses' heads back along the road by which we
had come.
"Bertrand," I said, as the shadows lengthened, the soft dusk fell
in the forest, and the witchery of the evening hour fell upon my
heart, "I would that I could see this maiden of whom you speak,
this Jeanne d'Arc of the village of Domremy."
He turned and looked me full in the face; I saw his eyes glow and
the colour deepen in his cheeks.
"You would not go to mock, friend Jean de Metz?" he said, for so I
am generally named amongst my friends.
"Nay," I answered truthfully, "there is no thought of mockery in my
heart; yet I fain would see the Maid."
He paused awhile in thought and then made answer:
"At least we may ride together one day to Domremy; but whether or
no we see the Maid will be according to the will of Heaven."