by Eugène Sue
“Stand aside that you may not be wounded by the arrow on which I have fastened the letter that I have written to you. Read it!”
The ballista was set in motion; the arrow whizzed through the air and carried into the enemy’s encampment the missive of Joan, which ran as follows:
ALL OF YOU, MEN OF ENGLAND, WHO HAVE NO RIGHTS OVER THE KINGDOM OF FRANCE: —
I, Joan, call upon you by the order of God, to abandon your bastilles and to return to your own country. If not I shall do you such damage that you will eternally remember it. This is the second time that I write to you. I shall write no more. — Joan.
Informed by their spies of the incredible and menacing enthusiasm created in Orleans by the arrival of the Maid, the English soldiers began to believe her inspired of the devil, nor could the dangerous superstition any longer be easily combated by their chiefs. Learning from her missive that the Maid was now so near them, the more timid grew pale, while others uttered furious imprecations. One of the most rabid among the latter, an English captain of wide repute named Gladescal, a man of colossal size and armed cap-a-pie, still held the Maid’s letter in his hand, and shook his fist at her, while he foamed at the mouth with rage.
“You and your men,” cried out Joan to them in her kind and serious voice, “surrender yourselves, every man, at mercy. Your lives will be spared on condition that you agree to return to your own country.”
At these words of peace, Gladescal and his men answered with a new explosion of vituperation. The stentorian voice of Gladescal was heard above all the others: “I shall have you roasted, you bedeviled witch!”
“If you catch me!” Joan answered. “But I, if I overcome you, and I certainly shall, with the aid of God, I shall cast you far away from France, you and yours; I shall thump you out of the land, seeing that you refuse to surrender at mercy. God battles on our side.”
“Go back to your cows, vile serf!” yelled Gladescal. “Get you gone, you ribald and triple fraud!”
“Yes, yes!” repeated the English amidst hisses and jeers. “Go back and tend your cows! Go back, infernal fraud and strumpet!”
The unworthy and obscene insults hurled at her in the presence of so many of her people fell short of the warrior maid, whose conscience was free from any blot. But they deeply wounded her delicate sense of modesty, the most salient feature of her character; she wept.
Several of the captains who accompanied Joan smiled maliciously, and hoped that the invectives of the English would smirch the girl’s character in the opinion of the Orleans militiamen and of the soldiers who had witnessed the insult. It was otherwise. Moved by her virginal beauty, her celestial appearance, her touching tears, and above all, affected by the religious respect that her person inspired in all who approached her, they could not repress their indignation. Inflamed with rage, they rushed to the battlements and in turn shook their fists at the English, returning insult for insult, and crying with fervor:
“Good luck! Good luck to Joan the Maid!”
“We shall cut you to pieces, you vagabonds and English swine!”
“Joan will throw you far from here!”
Some of the cannoniers even forgot the truce, and set the loaded ballistas in motion, to which the enemy replied with a volley of arrows. Joan, unsuspecting of danger, did not budge from the parapet, and seemed to defy death with serenity. Two men were wounded near her. Covering her with their bodies, the militiamen forced her to descend from the parapet, and implored her to spare herself for the great assault on Monday. On the other hand, most of the English attributed her escape from the murderous discharge of their arrows to a supernatural interposition, and their superstitious fears received fresh increment. They feared the devil and his sorceries.
CHAPTER III.
SUNDAY, MAY 1, 1429.
UNABLE TO OVERCOME the opposition of the captains to attacking the enemy on Sunday morning, Joan again proceeded at break of day and in the company of John the cannonier to examine the enemy’s position. Master John conceived a singular attachment for the martial maid, and he later accompanied her in almost all her engagements, being charged by her with the command of the artillery. Due to his extensive experience at the siege of Orleans, the cannonier had acquired profound skill in matters connected with the attack and defence of fortifications. On her part, endowed with unusual perspicacity in martial matters, Joan derived in a short time great advantage from the practical knowledge of Master John. Back from her Sunday morning excursion, the Maid proceeded to the Church of St. Croix, where she attended high mass and took the communion in the presence of a vast concourse of people, upon all of whom the Maid’s modesty and piety left a profound impression. Upon her return to the house of James Boucher, Joan entertained herself in the afternoon by joining in the family sewing, and she astonished not a little both Madeleine and her mother, who were charmed to see the warrior maid, from whom the deliverance of the town and even the kingdom was expected, display so much skill, ingenuity and familiarity in the labors of her own sex. More than once was she obliged to interrupt the sewing at which she was engaged and show herself at one of the casements in response to the clamors of the admiring crowds that pressed before the treasurer’s house.
Towards evening, the captains who were hostile to Joan either from jealousy or any other cause, held a meeting and decided that the projected Monday attack should not take place. It was absolutely necessary, they claimed, to await a reinforcement that Marshal St. Sever was bringing from Blois and that was expected to attempt an entry during the night of Tuesday. This further postponement, of which Joan was notified by one of the captains, afflicted her profoundly. Guided by her good judgment, Joan considered the delays disastrous; they allowed the ardor of the troops to cool off after it had been rekindled by her presence, and gave the English time to recover from their dread, because, thrown into increasing consternation by the reports that they received concerning the Maid, the English had not, since her arrival, dared to quit their bastilles to skirmish against the town. But compelled to yield to the will of the captains, whom to oppose had not yet occurred to her, Joan could only weep at the further delay. But presently the scales began to drop from her eyes. Reflection showed her that the delays were intentional, and her voices, the echoes of her sentiments and her thoughts, said to her:
“They are deceiving you — the captains treasonably seek to oppose the will of heaven that you deliver Orleans and set Gaul free. Courage. God protects you. Rely only upon yourself for the fulfilment of the mission that He has entrusted to you.”
CHAPTER IV.
MONDAY, MAY 2, 1429.
STRENGTHENED BY HER “voices,” Joan sent her equerry, Daulon, early in the morning to convoke the captains for noon at the house of her host. Most of them responded to the call. When they were assembled, the virgin warrior, nowise intimidated, declared to them with mildness but with firmness, that if on the next day, Tuesday, they did not in concert with her definitely arrange a plan of attack for Wednesday morning, she would then, without any further delay, mount her horse, raise her standard and, preceded by her equerry sounding the trumpet call and her page carrying her pennon, traverse the streets of the town and call to arms the good townsmen of Orleans, and the soldiers also; and that she alone would lead them to battle, certain of victory with the aid of God.
The Maid’s resolute language and the fear of seeing her carry out her threat had their effect upon the captains. Several signs of popular dissatisfaction had manifested themselves on the inexplicable delay in using the unexpected help that Joan had brought from heaven. Pointing with becoming dignity to the numberless proofs that they had given of their bravery and of their devotion to the public cause, the councilmen complained bitterly of being ignored, in the councils where the fate of the town was decided upon; and no less than Joan they condemned the fatal, perhaps irreparable, delays of the captains. Yielding despite themselves to the pressure of public opinion, the captains promised the Maid to meet the next day and decide join
tly with her upon a plan of battle.
Without the consciousness of her military genius, that every day rose mightier within her; without her invincible patriotism; without her settled faith in divine help, Joan would before now have renounced the painful and glorious task that she had set to herself. The indolence and craven egotism of Charles VII, his insulting doubts concerning her character, the infamous physical examination that she was forced to undergo, the ill will of the captains towards her since her arrival in Orleans, had profoundly grieved her simple and loyal spirit. But determined to deliver Gaul from its age-long foes and to save the King despite himself, seeing that she considered the safety of the country bound up in his throne, the heroine thrust her personal sufferings aside and only thought of pursuing her task of deliverance to its consummation.
CHAPTER V.
TUESDAY, MAY 3, 1429.
ON TUESDAY THE council of war assembled at the house of James Boucher and in the presence of Joan. The Maid submitted briefly and spiritedly the plan of attack that she had matured and modified after the several reconnoitering tours which she had made during the last three days. Instead of first attacking the Tournelles, as she had at first contemplated, she proposed collecting all the disposable forces in an attack against the redoubt of St. Loup, situated on the left bank of the Loire and constituting one of the most important posts of the enemy, seeing that, as it commanded the road to Berry and the Sologne, it rendered difficult the revictualing of the town and the entry of reinforcements. That redoubt was to be carried, first; she was then to march successively against the others. The only forces that Joan proposed to keep from the expedition was a body of reserve, that was to be held ready to sally from the town for the protection of the assailants of the bastille of St. Loup, in case the English should issue from their other redoubts to the help of the attacked garrison and thus attempt a diversion. A few men placed in the belfry of the town hall were to watch the movements of the English, and if these were seen to sally in order to attempt either the junction of their forces or the diversion foreseen by Joan, the signal was to be given to the reserve corps to fall upon the enemy, intercept their march to St. Loup, drive them back, and keep them from taking the French in the rear. The plan, explained with a military precision that stupefied even the captains who envied Joan, was unanimously adopted. It was agreed that the troops were to set off at daybreak.
CHAPTER VI.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 4, 1429.
FEELING CERTAIN OF battling on the morrow, Joan slept on Tuesday night the peaceful sleep of a child, while Madeleine, on the contrary, remained almost constantly awake, tossed about by painful uneasiness, and thinking with no little alarm that her companion was to deliver a murderous battle in the early morning. Joan awoke at dawn, made her morning prayer, invoked her good saints, and was assisted by Madeleine in putting on her armor. A touching and charming picture! One of the two girls, delicate and blonde, raising with difficulty the pieces of the iron armor that she helped her virile and dark complexioned friend to case herself in, and rendering the service with a degree of inexperience that caused herself to smile through the tears that she did her best to repress and that welled up at the thought of the near dangers that threatened the martial maid.
“You must excuse me, Joan, I am more in the habit of lacing my linen gorget than a gorget of iron,” said Madeleine, “but with time I shall be able, I hope, to arm you as quickly as could your equerry. To arm you! Good God! I can not pronounce the dreadful word without weeping! Is it quite certain that you are to lead an assault this morning?”
“Yes; and if it please God, Madeleine, we shall drive hence these English who have caused so much damage to your good town of Orleans and to the poor people of France!”
The Maid said this as she strapped the jambards over her buckskin hose whose waistband outlined her supple and robust shape. Her shoulders and bosom were then almost exposed. She hastened to button up her chemise, while blushing with chaste embarrassment although she was in the presence of a girl of her own age; but such was Joan’s modesty, that on a similar occasion she would have blushed before her own mother! Putting on a slightly padded skin jacket that the friction with her armor had already begun to blacken, she cased her breast in her iron corselet, that Madeleine strapped on as well as she could.
“May this cuirass protect you, Joan, against the enemy’s swords! Alack! To have a young girl fight! To have her face such dangers!”
“Oh, dear Madeleine, before leaving Vaucouleurs, I said to the Sire of Baudricourt, the seigneur who helped me to reach the Dauphin of France: ‘I would prefer to remain and sew and spin near my mother; but I must fulfil the orders of the Lord.’”
“What dangers you have run, my dear Joan, and still are to run in the fulfilment of your mission!”
“Danger troubles me little; I place myself in the hands of God. What troubles me is the slowness I encounter in having my services availed of. These delays are fatal to Gaul — because it seems to me that my days are numbered.”
The martial maid pronounced these last words with so sweet a melancholy that Madeleine’s tears started to flow afresh. Placing back upon a table the casque that she was about to place upon her friend’s head, she threw herself into her arms without uttering a word, and embraced her, sobbing, as she would have embraced her sister at the supreme hour of an eternal farewell. Dame Boucher entered at that moment precipitately and said:
“Joan, Joan, the Sire of Villars and Jamet of Tilloy, two councilmen, are downstairs in the hall. They wish to speak with you immediately. Your page has just led up your horse. It seems that something unexpected has happened.”
“Adieu, till we meet again, my dear Madeleine,” said Joan to the weeping girl. “Be comforted. My saints and the Lord will protect me, if not against wounds, at least against death until I shall have carried out the mission that they have laid upon me;” and hastily taking up her casque, her sword and the small baton that she habitually carried in her hand, the Maid descended quickly into the large hall.
“Joan,” said the Councilman Jamet of Tilloy, an honest and brave townsman, “everything was ready, agreeable to yesterday’s decision, to attack the bastille of St. Loup this morning. But before dawn a messenger ran in to announce to us the approach of a large convoy of provisions and munitions of war that the people of Blois, Tours and Angers send us, under the command of Marshal St. Sever, by way of the Sologne. The escort of the convoy is not strong enough to pass without danger under the bastille of St. Loup, which commands the only available wagon road. The English may sally from their redoubt and attack the train which the town has been impatiently expecting. The captains, who are assembled in council at this hour, are debating the point whether it is better to attack the bastille of St. Loup or to go forward to meet Marshal St. Sever, who is waiting for reinforcements before resuming his march.”
“How far is the convoy from here, sir?” asked Joan.
“About two leagues. It can not choose but pass under the bastille of St. Loup. There is where the danger lies.”
After a moment’s reflection, Joan answered with composure:
“Let us first of all see to the provisions and munitions of war. We can not fight without victuals. Let us help the convoy to enter the town this morning; we shall immediately after attack and take the bastille with the help of God.”
The Maid’s advice seemed wise. She mounted her horse, and accompanied by the Sire of Villars rode to the town hall, whither the Councilman Jamet of Tilloy preceded her in haste while ordering the militia to be called to arms under its captains of tens and of forties and giving the Bourgogne Gate as the rendezvous. On this occasion the captains yielded without a contest to the will of Joan, who was strongly seconded by the councilmen. She marched out of the Bourgogne Gate at the head of two thousand men, who, loudly clamoring for battle, and impatient to wipe out their previous defeats, were fired by the sight of the martial maid, who gracefully rode her white charger with her banner in her hand. At
a little distance from the bastille of St. Loup, a veritable fortress that held a garrison of over three thousand men, Joan took the command of the vanguard which was to clear the path for the column. Whether it was a superstitious terror caused by the presence of the Maid, whom they recognized from a distance by her white armor and standard, or whether they were merely reserving their strength to sally forth and attack the convoy itself, the English remained behind their entrenchments and limited themselves to shooting a few almost inoffensive volleys of arrows and artillery balls at the Orleans column. The obvious timidity of an enemy who was usually so daring increased the confidence of the French. They soon left the bastille behind them and met near St. Laurent, an advance post that covered the convoy. At the sight of the reinforcement from Orleans, that reached them without hindrance from the English in their bastille, the escort of the convoy attributed the successful operation to the influence of the Maid, and felt in turn elated. Himself struck by the successful move, that was due to the promptness of Joan’s manoeuvre, Marshal St. Sever still feared, and not without good reason, that the enemy’s purpose was to allow the French to pass out freely in order all the more effectively to fall upon them on their return, hampered as they would then be by the large train of carts and cattle that the convoy had to escort. The Marshal was undecided what to do.
