by Various
CHAPTER V--OF THE FRAY ON THE DRAWBRIDGE AT CHINON CASTLE
During supper, to which they called me, my master showed me the bestcountenance that might be, and it was great joy to me to eat off cleanplatters once again, on white linen strewn with spring flowers. As thetime was Lent, we had fare that they called meagre: fish from the Viennewater, below the town, and eggs cooked in divers fashions, all to thepoint of excellence, for the wine and fare of Chinon are famous inFrance. As my duty was, I waited on my master and on the maid Elliot,who was never silent, but babbled of all that she had heard since shecame into the town; as to where the Pucelle had lighted off her horse (onthe edge-stone of a well, so it seemed), and where and with what goodwifeshe lodged, and how as yet no message had come to her from the castle andthe King; and great joy it was to watch and to hear her. But her fathermocked, though in a loving manner; and once she wept at his bourdes, andshone out again, when he fell on his knees, offering her a knife andbaring his breast to the stroke, for I have never seen more love betweenfather and child, my own experience being contrary. Yet to my sisters myfather was ever debonnair; for, as I have often marked, the mothers lovethe sons best and the sons the mothers, and between father and daughtersit is the same. But of my mother I have spoken in the beginning of thishistory.
When supper was ended, and all things made orderly, I had no great mindfor my bed, having slept my fill for that time. But the maid Elliot leftus early, which was as if the light had been taken out of the room.
Beside the fire, my master fell to devising about the state of thecountry, as burgesses love to do. And I said that, if I were theDauphin, Chinon Castle should not hold me long, for my "spur would be inmy horse's side, and the bridle on his mane," {9} as the old song of theBattle of Harlaw runs, and I on the way to Orleans. Thereto he answered,that he well wished it were so, and, mocking, wished that I were theDauphin.
"Not that our Dauphin is a coward, the blood of Saint Louis has notfallen so low, but he is wholly under the Sieur de La Tremouille, who wasthrust on him while he was young, and still is his master, or, as we say,his governor. Now, this lord is one that would fain run with the hareand hunt with the hounds, and this side of him is Burgundian and that isArmagnac, and on which of the sides his heart is, none knows. AtAzincour, as I have heard, he played the man reasonably well. But hewaxes very fat for a man-at-arms, and is fond of women, and wine, and ofhis ease. Now, if once the King ranges up with the Bastard of Orleans,and Xaintrailles, and the other captains, who hate La Tremouille, thenhis power, and the power of the Chancellor, the Archbishop of Rheims, isgone and ended. So these two work ever to patch up a peace withBurgundy, but, seeing that the duke has his father's death to avenge onour King, they may patch and better patch, but no peace will come of it.And the captains cry 'Forward!' and the archbishop and La Tremouille cry'Back!' and in the meantime Orleans will fall, and the Dauphin may flywhither he will, for France is lost. But, for myself, I would to thesaints that I and my lass were home again, beneath the old thorn-tree atPolwarth on the green, where I have been merry lang syne."
With that word he fell silent, thinking, I doubt not, of his home, as Idid of mine, and of the house of Pitcullo and the ash-tree at the door,and the sea beyond the ploughed land of the plain. So, after some spaceof silence, he went to his bed, and I to mine, where for long I laywakeful, painting on the dark the face of Elliot, and her blue eyes, andremembering her merry, changeful ways.
Betimes in the morning I was awakened by the sound of her moving aboutthrough the house, and having dressed and gone forth from my littlechamber, I found her in the house-place, she having come from early Mass.She took little heed of me, giving me some bread and wine, the same asshe and her father took; and she was altogether less gay and wilful thanshe had been, and there seemed to be something that lay heavy on hermind. When her father asked her if the gossips at the church door hadgiven her any more tidings of the Maid, she did but frown, and soon leftthe chamber, whence my master led me forth into his booth, and bade meshow him my hand in writing. This pleased him not ill, and next I mustgrind colours to his liking; and again he went about his business, whileI must mind the booth, and be cap in hand to every saucy page that camefrom the castle with an order from his lord.
Full many a time my hand was on my whinger, and yet more often I wishedmyself on the free road again, so that I were out of ill company, andassuredly the Lorrainer Maid, whatever she might be, was scarcely longingmore than I for the day when she should unfurl her banner and march, withme at her back, to Orleans. For so irksome was my servitude, and thelaying of colours on the ground of banners for my master to paint, andthe copying of books of Hours and Missals, and the insolence of customersworse born than myself, that I could have drowned myself in the Viennewater but for the sight of Elliot. Yet she was become staid enough, andbetimes sad; as it seemed that there was no good news of her dear Maid,for the King would not see her, and all men (it appeared), save those whohad ridden with her, mocked the Pucelle for a bold ramp, with a bee inher bonnet. But the two gentlemen that had been her escort were staunch.Their names were Jean de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengy, good esquires.
Of me Elliot made ofttimes not much more account than of her jackanapes,which was now in very high favour, and waxing fat, so that, when none buther father could hear her, she would jest and call him La Tremouille.
Yet I, as young men will, was forward in all ways to serve her, and towin her grace and favour. She was fain to hear of Scotland, her owncountry, which she had never seen, and I was as fain to tell her. Andbetimes I would say how fair were the maidens of our own country, and howany man that saw her would know her to be a Scot, though from her tongue,in French, none might guess it. And, knowing that she loved wildflowers,I would search for them and bring them to her, and would lead her tospeak of romances which she loved, no less than I, and of pages who hadloved queens, and all such matters as young men and maids are wont todevise of; and now she would listen, and at other seasons would seemproud, and as if her mind were otherwhere. Young knights many came toour booth, and looked ill-pleased when I served them, and their eyes wereever on the inner door, watching for Elliot, whom they seldom had sightof.
So here was I, in a double service, who, before I met Brother Thomas, hadbeen free of heart and hand. But, if my master's service irked me, inthat other I found comfort, when I could devise with Elliot, asconcerning our country and her hopes for the Maid. But my own hopes werenot high, nor could I mark any sign that she favoured me more thananother, though I had the joy to be often in her company. And, indeed,what hope could I have, being so young, and poor, and in visible stationno more than any 'prentice lad? My heart was much tormented in thesefears, and mainly because we heard no tidings that the Maid was acceptedby the Dauphin, and that the day of her marching, and of my deliverancefrom my base craft of painting, was at hand.
It so fell out, how I knew not, whether I had shown me too presumptuousfor an apprentice, or because of any other reason, that Elliot had muchforborne my company, and was more often in church at her prayers than inthe house, or, when in the house, was busy in divers ways, and I scarceever could get word of her. Finding her in this mood, I also withdrewwithin myself, and was both proud and sorely unhappy, longing more thanever to take my own part in the world as a man-at-arms. Now, one dayright early, I being alone in the chamber, copying a psalter, Elliot camein, looking for her father. I rose at her coming, doffing my cap, andtold her, in few words, that my master had gone forth. Thereon sheflitted about the chamber, looking at this and that, while I stoodsilent, deeming that she used me in a sort scarce becoming my blood andlineage.
Suddenly she said, without turning round, for she was standing by a tablegazing at the pictures in a Book of Hours--
"I have seen her!"
"The Pucelle?--do you speak of her, gentle maid?"
"I saw her and spoke to her, and heard her voice"; and here her ownbroke, and I guessed that she was near to weeping. "I
went up within thecastle precinct, to the tower Coudraye," she said, "for I knew that shelodged hard by, with a good woman who dwells there. I passed into thechapel of St. Martin on the cliff, and there heard the voice of onepraying before the image of Our Lady. The voice was even as you saidthat day--the sweetest of voices. I knelt beside her, and prayed aloudfor her and for France. She rested her hand on my hair--her hair isblack, and cut 'en ronde' like a man's. It is true that they say, shedresses in man's garb. We came forth together, and I put my hand intohers, and said, 'I believe in you; if none other believes, yet do Ibelieve.' Then she wept, and she kissed me; she is to visit me here to-morrow, la fille de Dieu--"
She drew a long sob, and struck her hand hard on the table; then, keepingher back ever towards me, she fled swiftly from the room. I wasamazed--so light of heart as she commonly seemed, and of latedisdainful--to find her in this passion. Yet it was to me that she hadspoken--to me that she had opened her heart. Now I guessed that, if Iwas ever to win her, it must be through this Pucelle, on whom her mindwas so strangely bent. So I prayed that, if it might be God's will, Hewould prosper the Maid, and let me be her loyal servitor, and at lastbring me to my desire.
Something also I dreamed, as young men will who have read many romances,of myself made a knight for great feats of arms, and wearing in my salademy lady's favour, and breaking a spear on Talbot, or Fastolf, orGlasdale, in some last great victory for France.
Then shone on my eyesight, as it were, the picture of these two children,for they were little more, Elliot and the Maid, kneeling together in thechapel of St. Martin, the gold hair and the black blended; and what werethey two alone against this world and the prince of this world? Alas,how much, and again how little, doth prayer avail us! These thoughtswere in my mind all day, while serving and answering customers, andcarrying my master's wares about the town, and up to the castle on thecliff, where the soldiers and sentries now knew me well enough, and theScots archers treated me kindly. But as for Elliot, she was like herfirst self again, and merrier than common with her father, to whom, asfar as my knowledge went, she said not a word about the meeting in thecrypt of St. Martin's chapel, though to me she had spoken so freely. Thisgave me some hope; but when I would have tried to ask her a question, sheonly gazed at me in a manner that abashed me, and turned off to toy withher jackanapes. Whereby I went to my bed perplexed, and with a heavyheart, as one that was not yet conversant with the ways of women--nay,nor ever, in my secular life, have I understood what they would be at.Happier had it been for my temporal life if I had been wiser in woman'sways. But commonly, when we have learned a lesson, the lore comes toolate.
Next day my master had business at the castle with a certain lord, andtook me thither to help in carrying his wares. This castle was a placethat I loved well, it is so old, having first been builded when theRomans were lords of the land; and is so great and strong that ourbishop's castle of St. Andrews seems but a cottage compared to it. Fromthe hill-top there is a wide prospect over the tower and the valley ofthe Vienne, which I liked to gaze upon. My master, then, went in by thedrawbridge, high above the moat, which is so deep that, I trow, no foemancould fill it up and cross it to assail the walls. My master, in limpingup the hill, had wearied himself, but soon passed into the castle throughthe gateway of the bell-tower, as they call it, while I waited for him onthe further end of the bridge, idly dropping morsels of bread to theswans that swam in the moat below.
On the drawbridge, standing sentinel, was a French man-at-arms, a youngman of my own age, armed with a long fauchard, which we call a bill orhalberd, a weapon not unlike the Lochaber axes of the Highlandmen. Othersoldiers, French, Scottish, Spaniards, Germans, a mixed company, wereidling and dicing just within the gate.
I was throwing my last piece of crust to a swan, my mind empty ofthought, when I started out of my dream, hearing that rare woman's voicewhich once I had heard before. Then turning quickly, I saw, walkingbetween two gentlemen, even those who had ridden with her fromVaucouleurs, one whom no man could deem to be other than that much-talked-of Maid of Lorraine. She was clad very simply, like the varlet of somelord of no great estate, in a black cap with a little silver brooch, agrey doublet, and black and grey hose, trussed up with many points; asword of small price hung by her side. {10} In stature she was somethingabove the common height of women, her face brown with sun and wind, hereyes great, grey, and beautiful, beneath black brows, her lips red andsmiling. In figure she seemed strong and shapely, but so slim--she beingbut seventeen years of age--that, were it not for her sweet girl's voice,and for the beauty of her grey eyes, she might well have passed for apage, her black hair being cut "en ronde," as was and is the fashionamong men-at-arms. Thus much have I written concerning her bodilyaspect, because many have asked me what manner of woman was the blessedMaid, and whether she was beautiful. I gazed at her like onemoon-struck, then, remembering my courtesy, I doffed my cap, and loutedlow; and she bowed, smiling graciously like a great lady, but with suchan air as if her mind was far away.
She passed, with her two gentlemen, but the French sentinel barred theway, holding his fauchard thwartwise.
"On what business come you, and by what right?" he cried, in a rudevoice.
"By the Dauphin's gracious command, to see the Dauphin," said one of thegentlemen right courteously. "Here is his own letter, and you may knowthe seal, bidding La Pucelle to come before him at this hour."
The fellow looked at the seal, and could not but acknowledge the arms ofFrance thereon. He dropped his fauchard over his shoulder, and stoodaside, staring impudently at the Maiden, and muttering foul words.
"So this is the renowned Pucelle," he cried; "by God's name" . . . andhere he spoke words such as I may not set down in writing, blasphemingGod and the Maid.
She turned and looked at him, but as if she saw him not; and then, alight of joy and love transfiguring her face, she knelt down on thedrawbridge, folding her hands, her face bowed, and so abode while onemight count twenty, we that beheld her being amazed. Then she rose andbent as if in salutation to one we saw not; next, addressing herself tothe sentinel, she said, very gently--
"Sir, how canst thou take in vain the name of God, thou that art in thisvery hour to die?"
So speaking, she with her gentlemen went within the gate, while thesoldier stood gazing after her like a man turned to stone.
The Maid passed from our sight, and then the sentinel, coming to himself,turned in great wrath on me, who stood hard by.
"What make you gaping here, you lousy wine-sack of Scotland?" he cried;and at the word, my prayer which I had made to St. Andrew in my bondscame into my mind, namely, that I should not endure to hear my countrydefamed.
I stopped not to think of words, wherein I never had a ready wit, but hiswere still in his mouth when I had leaped within his guard, so that hemight not swing out his long halberd.
"Blasphemer and liar!" I cried, gripping his neck with my left hand,while with two up-cuts of my right I sent his lies down his throat incompany, as I deem, with certain of his teeth.
He dropped his halberd against the wooden fence of the bridge, and feltfor his dagger. I caught at his right hand with mine; cries were in myears--St. Denis for France! St. Andrew for Scotland!--as the other menon guard came running forth to see the sport.
We gripped and swayed for a moment, then the staff of his fauchard comingbetween his legs, he tripped and fell, I above him; our weight sousedagainst the low pales of the bridge side, that were crazy and old; therewas a crash, and I felt myself in mid-air, failing to the moat far belowus. Down and down I whirled, and then the deep water closed over me.
