A Monk of Fife

by Various

  CHAPTER XXVI--HOW, AND BY WHOSE DEVICE, THE MAID WAS TAKEN AT COMPIEGNE

  "Verily and indeed the Maid is of wonderful excellence," quoth FatherFrancois to me, in my chamber at the Jacobins, where I was healing of myhurts.

  "Any man may know that, who is in your company," the father went onspeaking.

  "And how, good father?" I asked him; "sure I have caught none of hersaintliness."

  "A saint I do not call you, but I scarce call you a Scot. For you are aclerk."

  "The Maid taught me none of my clergy, father, nor have I taught her anyof mine."

  "She needs it not. But you are peaceful and gentle; you brawl not, nordrink, nor curse . . . "

  "Nay, father, with whom am I to brawl, or how should I curse in your goodcompany? Find you Scots so froward?"

  "But now, pretending to be our friends, a band of them is harrying theSologne country . . . "

  "They will be Johnstons and Jardines, and wild wood folk of Galloway," Isaid. "These we scarce reckon Scots, but rather Picts, and half heathen.And the Johnstons and Jardines are here belike, because they have madeScotland over hot to hold them. We are a poor folk, but honest, let bythe clans of the Land Debatable and of Ettrick Forest, and the Borderfreebooters, and the Galloway Picts, and Maxwells, and Glendinnings, andthe red-shanked, jabbering Highlanders and Islesmen, and some certain ofthe Angus folk, and, maybe, a wild crew in Strathclyde."

  "Yours, then, is a very large country?"

  "About the bigness of France, or, may be, not so big. And the main partof it, and the most lawful and learned, is by itself, in a sort, aseparate kingdom, namely Fife, whence I come myself. The Lothians, too,and the shire of Ayr, if you except Carrick, are well known for the landsof peaceful and sober men."

  "Whence comes your great captain, Sir Hugh Kennedy?"

  "There you name an honourable man-at-arms," I said, "the glory ofScotland; and to show you I was right, he is none of your marchmen, orHighlanders, but has lands in Ayrshire, and comes of a very honourablehouse."

  "It is Sir Hugh that hath just held to ransom the King's good town ofTours, where is that gracious lady the mother of the King's wife, theQueen of Sicily."

  Hereat I waxed red as fire.

  "He will be in arrears of his pay, no doubt," I made answer.

  "It is very like," said Father Francois: "but considering all that youtell me, I crave your pardon if I still think that the Blessed Maid haswon you from the common ways of your countrymen."

  To which, in faith, I had no answer to make, but that my fortune was liketo be the happier in this world and the next.

  "Much need have all men of her goodness, and we of her valour," said thefather, and he sighed. "This is now the fourth siege of Compiegne I haveseen, and twice have the leads from our roofs and the metal of our bellsbeen made into munition of war. Absit omen Domine! And now they say theDuke of Burgundy has sworn to slay all, and spare neither woman norchild."

  "A vaunt of war, father. Call they not him the Good Duke? When we laybefore Paris, the English put about a like lying tale concerning us, asif we should sack and slay all."

  "I pray that you speak sooth," said Father Francois.

  On the next day, being May the twentieth, he came to me again, with a wanface.

  "Burgundians are in Claroix," said he, "across the river, and yet others,with Jean de Luxembourg, at Margny, scarce a mile away, at the end of thecauseway through the water meadows, beyond the bridge. And the Duke isat Coudun, a league off to the right of Claroix, and I have clomb thetower-top, and thence seen the English at Venette, on the left hand ofthe causeway. All is undone."

  "Nay, father, be of better cheer. Our fort at the bridge end is strongerthan Les Tourelles were at Orleans. The English shot can scarce crossthe river. Bridge the enemy has none, and northward and eastward all isopen. Be of better heart, Heaven helps France."

  "We have sent to summon the Maid," said he, "from Crepy-en-Valois. Inher is all my hope; but you speak lightly, for you are young, and war isyour trade."

  "And praying is yours, father, wherefore you should be bolder than I."

  But he shook his head.

  So two days passed, and nothing great befell, but in the grey dawn of Maythe twenty-third I was held awake by clatter of horsemen riding down thestreet under the window of my chamber. And after matins came FatherFrancois, his face very joyful, with the tidings that the Maid, and acompany of some three hundred lances of hers, had ridden in from Crepy-en-Valois, she making her profit of the darkness to avoid the Burgundians.

  Then I deemed that the enemy would soon have news of her, and all thatday I heard the bells ring merry peals, and the trumpets sounding. Aboutthree hours after noonday Father Francois came again, and told me thatthe Maid would make a sally, and cut the Burgundians in twain; and nownothing would serve me but I must be borne in a litter to the walls, andsee her banner once more on the wind.

  So, by the goodwill of Father Francois, some lay brethren bore me forthfrom the convent, which is but a stone's-throw from the bridge. Theycarried me across the Oise to a mill hard by the boulevard of the Bridgefort, whence, from a window, I beheld all that chanced. No man sittingin the gallery of a knight's hall to see jongleurs play and sing couldhave had a better stance, or have seen more clearly all the mischief thatbefell.

  The town of Compiegne lies on the river Oise, as Orleans on the Loire,but on the left, not the right hand of the water. The bridge is stronglyguarded, as is custom, by a tower at the further end, and, in front ofthat tower, a boulevard. All the water was gay to look on, being coveredwith boats, as if for a holiday, but these were manned by archers, whomGuillaume de Flavy had set to shoot at the enemy, if they drove us back,and to rescue such of our men as might give ground, if they could not wininto the boulevard at the bridge end.

  Beyond the boulevard, forth to the open country, lay a wide plain, andbehind it, closing it in, a long, low wall of steep hills. On the left,a mile and a half away, Father Francois showed me the church tower ofVenette, where the English camped; to the right, a league off, was thetower of Clairoix; and at the end of a long raised causeway that ran fromthe bridge across the plain, because of the winter floods, I saw thetower and the village of Margny. All these towns and spires lookedpeaceful, but all were held by the Burgundians. Men-at-arms were thickon the crest of our boulevard, and on the gate-keep, all looking acrossthe river towards the town, whence the Maid should sally by way of thebridge. So there I lay on a couch in the window and waited, having nofear, but great joy.

  Nay, never have I felt my spirit lighter within me, so that I laughed andchattered like a fey man. The fresh air, after my long lying in achamber, stirred me like wine. The May sun shone warm, yet cooled with asweet wind of the west. The room was full of women and maids, allwaiting to throw flowers before the Maid, whom they dearly loved.Everything had a look of holiday, and all was to end in joy and greatvictory. So I laughed with the girls, and listened to a strange tale,how the Maid had but of late brought back to life a dead child at Lagny,so that he got his rights of Baptism, and anon died again.

  So we fleeted the time, till about the fifth hour after noon, when weheard the clatter of horses on the bridge; and some women waxed pale. Myown heart leaped up. The noise drew nearer, and presently She rodeacross and forth, carrying her banner in the noblest manner, mounted on agrey horse, and clad in a rich hucque of cramoisie; she smiled and bowedlike a queen to the people, who cried, "Noel! Noel!" Beside her rodePothon le Bourgignon (not Pothon de Xaintrailles, as some have falselysaid), her confessor Pasquerel on a palfrey; her brother, Pierre du Lys,with his new arms bravely blazoned; and her maitre d'hotel, D'Aulon. Butof the captains in Compiegne no one rode with her. She had but her owncompany, and a great rude throng of footmen of the town that would not besaid nay. They carried clubs, and they looked, as I heard, for no lessthan to take prisoner the Duke of Burgundy himself. Certain of these menalso bore spades and picks and other tools; for the Maid, as I de
em,intended no more than to take and hold Margny, that so she might cut theBurgundians in twain, and sunder from them the English at Venette. Nowas the night was not far off, then at nightfall would the English be insore straits, as not knowing the country and the country roads, and nothaving the power to join them of Burgundy at Clairoix. This, one told meafterwards, was the device of the Maid.

  Be this as it may, and a captain of hers, Barthelemy Barrette, told methe tale, the Maid rode gallantly forth, flowers raining on her, while myheart longed to be riding at her rein. She waved her hand to Guillaumede Flavy, who sat on his horse by the gate of the boulevard, and so,having arrayed her men, she cried, "Tirez avant!" and made towardsMargny, the foot-soldiers following with what speed they might, while Iand Father Francois, and others in the chamber, strained our eyes afterthem. All the windows and roofs of the houses and water-mills on thebridge were crowded with men and women, gazing, and it came into my mindthat Flavy had done ill to leave these mills and houses standing. Theywrought otherwise at Orleans. This was but a passing thought, for myheart was in my eyes, straining towards Margny. Thence now arose a greatdin, and clamour of trumpets and cries of men-at-arms, and we could seetumult, blown dust, and stir of men, and so it went for it may be half ofan hour. Then that dusty cloud of men and horses drove, forward ever,out of our sight.

  The sun was now red and sinking above the low wall of the western hills,and the air was thicker than it had been, and confused with a yellowlight. Despite the great multitude of men and women on the city walls,there came scarcely a sound of a voice to us across the wide river, sostill they kept, and the archers in the boats beneath us were silent:nay, though the chamber wherein I lay was thronged with the people of thehouse pressing to see through the open casement, yet there was silencehere, save when the father prayed.

  A stronger wind rising out of the west now blew towards us with a sweetburden of scent from flowers and grass, fragrant upon our faces. So wewaited, our hearts beating with hope and fear.

  Then I, whose eyes were keen, saw, blown usward from Margny, a cloud offlying dust, that in Scotland we call stour. The dust rolled white alongthe causeway towards Compiegne, and then, alas! forth from it brokelittle knots of our men, foot-soldiers, all running for their lives.Behind them came more of our men, and more, all running, and then mountedmen-at-arms, spurring hard, and still more and more of these; and everthe footmen ran, till many riders and some runners had crossed thedrawbridge, and were within the boulevard of the bridge. There theystayed, sobbing and panting, and a few were bleeding. But though theforemost runaways thus won their lives, we saw others roll over and fallas they ran, tumbling down the sides of the causeway, and why they fell Iknew not.

  But now, in the midst of the causeway, between us and Margny, our flyinghorsemen rallied under the Maiden's banner, and for the last time of all,I heard that clear girl's voice crying, "Tirez en avant! en avant!"

  Anon her horsemen charged back furiously, and drove the Picards andBurgundians, who pursued, over a third part of the raised roadway.

  But now, forth from Margny, trooped Burgundian men-at-arms without end ornumber, the banner of the Maid waved wildly, now up, now down, in the madmellay, and ever they of Burgundy pressed on, and still our men, beingfew and outnumbered, gave back. Yet still some of the many clubmen ofthe townsfolk tumbled over as they ran, and the drawbridge was chokedwith men flying, thrusting and thronging, wild and blind with the fear ofdeath. Then rose on our left one great cry, such as the English givewhen they rejoice, or when they charge, and lo! forth from a little woodthat had hidden them, came galloping and running across the heavy wetmeadowland between us and Venette, the men-at-arms and the archers ofEngland. Then we nigh gave up all for lost, and fain I would have turnedmy eyes away, but I might not.

  Now and again the English archers paused, and loosed a flight ofclothyard shafts against the stream of our runaways on the bridge.Therefore it was that some fell as they ran. But the little company ofour horsemen were now driven back so near us that I could plainly see theMaid, coming last of all, her body swung round in the saddle as shelooked back at the foremost foemen, who were within a lance's length ofher. And D'Aulon and Pierre du Lys, gripping each at her reins, werespurring forward. But through the press of our clubmen and flyinghorsemen they might not win, and now I saw, what never man saw before,the sword of the Maid bare in battle! She smote on a knight's shield,her sword shivered in that stroke, she caught her steel sperthe into herhand, and struck and hewed amain, and there were empty saddles round her.

  And now the English in the meadow were within four lances' lengths of thecauseway between her and safety. Say it I must, nor cannon-ball norarrow-flight availed to turn these English. Still the drawbridge and theinlet of the boulevard were choked with the press, and men were leapingfrom bank and bridge into the boats, or into the water, while so mixedwere friends and foes that Flavy, in a great voice, bade archers andartillerymen hold their hands.

  Townsfolk, too, were mingled in the throng, men who had come but to gapeas curious fools, and among them I saw the hood of a cordelier, as Iglanced from the fight to mark how the Maid might force her way within.Still she smote, and D'Aulon and Pierre du Lys smote manfully, and anonthey gained a little way, backing their horses, while our archers darednot shoot, so mixed were French, English, and Burgundians.

  Flavy, who worked like a man possessed, had turned about to give an orderto the archers above him; his back, I swear, was to the press of flyingmen, to the inlet of the boulevard, and to the drawbridge, when his ownvoice, as all deemed who heard it, cried aloud, "Up drawbridge, closegates, down portcullis!" The men whose duty it was were standing readyat the cranks and pulleys, their tools in hand, and instantly, groaning,the drawbridge flew up, casting into the water them that were flyingacross, down came the portcullis, and slew two men, while the gates ofthe inlet of the boulevard were swung to and barred, all, as it might hesaid, in the twinkling of an eye.

  Flavy turned in wrath and great amaze: "In God's name, who cried?" heshouted. "Down drawbridge, up portcullis, open gates! To the front, men-at-arms, lances forward!"

  For most of the mounted men who had fled were now safe, and on foot,within the boulevard.

  All this I heard and saw, in a glance, while my eyes were fixed on theMaid and the few with her. They were lost from our sight, now and again,in a throng of Picards, Englishmen, Burgundians, for all have their partin this glory. Swords and axes fell and rose, steeds countered andreeled, and then, they say, for this thing I myself did not see, a Picardarcher, slipping under the weapons and among the horses' hoofs, tore theMaid from saddle by the long skirts of her hucque, and they were all uponher. This befell within half a stone's-throw of the drawbridge. WhileFlavy himself toiled with his hands, and tore at the cranks and chains,the Maid was taken under the eyes of us, who could not stir to help her.Now was the day and the hour whereof the Saints told her not, though sheimplored them with tears. Now in the throng below I heard a laugh likethe sound of a saw on stone, and one struck him that laughed on themouth. It was the laugh of that accursed Brother Thomas!

  I had laid my face on my hands, being so weak, and was weeping for veryrage at that which my unhappy eyes had seen, when I heard the laugh, andlifting my head and looking forth, I beheld the hood of the cordelier.

  "Seize him!" I cried to Father Francois, pointing down at the cordelier."Seize that Franciscan, he has betrayed her! Run, man, it was he whocried in Flavy's voice, bidding them raise drawbridge and let fallportcullis. The devil gave him that craft to counterfeit men's voices. Iknow the man. Run, Father Francois, run!"

  "You are distraught with very grief," said the good father, the tearsrunning down his own cheeks; "that is Brother Thomas, the bestartilleryman in France, and Flavy's chief trust with the couleuvrine. Hecame in but four days agone, and there was great joy of his coming."

  Thus was the Maid taken, by art and device of the devil and BrotherThomas, and in no otherwise. They wh
o tell that Flavy sold her, closingthe gates in her face, do him wrong; he was an ill man, but loyal toFrance, as was seen by the very defence he made at Compiegne, for therewas none like it in this war. But of what avail was that to us who lovedthe Maid? Rather, many times, would I have died in that hour than haveseen what I saw. For our enemies made no more tarrying, nor anyonslaught on the boulevard, but rode swiftly back with the prize they hadtaken, with her whom they feared more than any knight or captain ofFrance. This page whereon I work, in a hand feeble and old, and wearywith much writing, is blotted with tears that will not be held in. Butwe must bow humbly to the will of God and of His Saints. "Dominus dedit,et Dominus abstulit; benedictum sit nomen Domini."

  Wherefore should I say more? They carried me back in litter over thebridge, through the growing darkness. Every church was full of womenweeping and praying for her that was the friend of them, and the playmateof their children, for all children she dearly loved.

  Concerning Flavy, it was said, by them who loved him not, that he showedno sign of sorrow. But when his own brother Louis fell, later in thesiege, a brother whom he dearly loved, none saw him weep, or alter thefashion of his countenance; nay, he bade musicians play music before him.

  I besought the Prior, when I was borne home, that I might be carried toFlavy, and tell him that I knew. But he forbade me, saying that, in verytruth, I knew nought, or nothing that could be brought against aChurchman, and one in a place of trust. For I had not seen the lips ofthe cordelier move when that command was given--nay, at the moment I sawhim not at all. Nor could I even prove to others that he had thisdevilish art, there being but my oath against his, and assuredly he woulddeny the thing. And though I might be assured and certain within myself,yet other witness I had none at all, nor were any of my friends there whocould speak with me. For D'Aulon, and Pasquerel, and Pierre du Lys hadall been taken with the Maid. It was long indeed before Pierre du Lyswas free, for he had no money to ransom himself withal. Therefore Flavy,knowing me only for a wounded Scot of the Maid's, would think me a brain-sick man, and as like as not give me more of Oise river to drink than Icraved.

  With these reasonings it behoved me to content myself. The night Ipassed in prayers for the Maid, and for myself, that I might yet dojustice on that devil, or, at least, might see justice done. But howthese orisons were answered shall be seen in the end, whereto I nowhasten.