Weeks had passed, and Joan had never yet seen a blow struck in war. She
used to exercise herself in horsemanship, and knightly sports of
tilting, and it is wonderful that a peasant girl became, at once, one of
the best riders among the chivalry of France. The young Duc d'Alencon,
lately come from captivity in England, saw how gallantly she rode, and
gave her a horse. He and his wife were her friends from the first, when
the politicians and advisers were against her. But, indeed, whatever the
Maid attempted, she did better than others, at once, without teaching or
practice. It was now determined that Joan should be taken to Poictiers,
and examined before all the learned men, bishops, doctors, and higher
clergy who still were on the side of France. There was good reason for
this delay. It was plain to all, friends and foes, that the wonderful
Maid was not like other men and women, with her Voices, her visions, her
prophecies, and her powers. All agreed that she had some strange help
given to her; but who gave it? This aid must come, people thought then,
either from heaven or hell--either from God and his saints, or from the
devil and his angels. Now, if any doubt could be thrown on the source
whence Joan's aid came, the English might argue (as of course they did),
that she was a witch and a heretic. If she was a heretic and a witch,
then her king was involved in her wickedness, and so he might be legally
shut out from his kingdom. It was necessary, therefore, that Joan should
be examined by learned men. They must find out whether she had always
been good, and a true believer, and whether her Voices always agreed in
everything with the teachings of the Church. Otherwise her angels must
be devils in disguise. For these reasons Joan was carried to Poictiers.
During three long weeks the learned men asked her questions, and, no
doubt, they wearied her terribly. But they said it was wonderful how
wisely this girl, who 'did not know A from B,' replied to their puzzling
inquiries. She told the story of her visions, of the command laid upon
her to rescue Orleans. Said Guillaume Aymeri, 'You ask for men-at-arms,
and you say that God will have the English to leave France and go home.
If that is true, no men-at-arms are needed; God's pleasure can drive the
English out of the land.'
[Illustration: 'In a better language than _yours_,' said Joan]
'In God's name,' said the Maid, 'the men-at-arms will fight, and God
will give the victory.' Then came the learned Seguin; 'a right sour man
was he,' said those who knew him.
Seguin was a Limousin, and the Limousins spoke in a queer accent at
which the other French were always laughing.
'In what language do your Voices speak?' asked he.
'In a better language than _yours_,' said Joan, and the bishops smiled
at the country quip.
'We may not believe in you,' said Seguin, 'unless you show us a sign.'
'I did not come to Poictiers to work miracles,' said Joan; 'take me to
Orleans, and I shall show you the signs that I am sent to do.' And show
them she did.
Joan never pretended to work miracles. Though, in that age, people
easily believed in miracles, it is curious that none worth mentioning
were invented about Joan in her own time. She knew things in some
strange way sometimes, but the real miracle was her extraordinary
wisdom, genius, courage, and power of enduring hardship.
At last, after examining witnesses from Domremy, and the Queen of Sicily
and other great ladies to whom Joan was entrusted, the clergy found
nothing in her but 'goodness, humility, frank maidenhood, piety,
honesty, and simplicity.' As for her wearing a man's dress, the
Archbishop of Embrun said to the king, 'It is more becoming to do these
things in man's gear, since they have to be done amongst men.'
The king therefore made up his mind at last. Jean and Pierre, Joan's
brothers, were to ride with her to Orleans; her old friends, her first
friends, Jean de Nouillompont and Bertrand de Poulengy, had never left
her. She was given a squire, Jean d'Aulon, a very good man, and a page,
Louis de Coutes, and a chaplain. The king gave Joan armour and horses,
and offered her a sword. But her Voices told her that, behind the altar
of St. Catherine de Fierbois, where she heard mass on her way to Chinon,
there was an old sword, with five crosses on the blade, buried in the
earth. That sword she was to wear. A man whom Joan did not know, and had
never seen, was sent from Tours, and found the sword in the place which
she described. The sword was cleaned of rust, and the king gave her two
sheaths, one of velvet, one of cloth of gold, but Joan had a leather
sheath made for use in war. She also commanded a banner to be made, with
the Lilies of France on a white field. There was also a picture of God,
holding the round world, and two angels at the sides, with the sacred
words, JHESU MARIA. On another flag was the Annunciation, the Virgin
holding a lily, and the angel coming to her. In battle, when she led a
charge, Joan always carried her standard, that she might not be able to
use her sword. She wished to kill nobody, and said 'she loved her
banner forty times more than her sword.' Joan afterwards broke St.
Catherine's sword, when slapping a girl (who richly deserved to be
slapped) with the flat of the blade. Her enemies, at her trial, wished
to prove that her flag was a kind of magical talisman, but Joan had no
belief in anything of that kind. What she believed in was God, her
Voices, and her just cause. When once it was settled that she was to
lead an army to relieve Orleans, she showed her faith by writing a
letter addressed to the King of England; Bedford, the Regent; and the
English generals at Orleans. This letter was sent from Blois, late in
April. It began JHESU MARIA. Joan had no ill-will against the English.
She bade them leave France, 'and if you are reasonable, you yet may ride
in the Maid's company, where the French will do the fairest feat of arms
that ever yet was done for Christentie.' Probably she had in her mind
some Crusade. But, before France and England can march together, 'do ye
justice to the King of Heaven and the Blood Royal of France. Yield to
the Maid the keys of all the good towns which ye have taken and assailed
in France.' If they did not yield to the Maid and the king, she will
come on them to their sorrow. 'Duke of Bedford, the Maid prays and
entreats you not to work your own destruction!'
[Illustration: ORLEANS