CHAPTER XII. HOW THE MAID RAISED THE SIEGE.
To tell the tale of how Les Augustins was taken is but to tellagain the tale of St Loup.
I know not precisely what instructions the lesser officersreceived, nor what they told their men. But whether frompreconcerted arrangement that the attack was only to be a feint, orwhether from the dash and energy of the English, it appeared atfirst as though the tide of war was rolling back in its old track,and that the prowess of the English as destined to win the day.
For one thing the assault was commenced before the Maid had crossedthe river and could put herself at the head of the men. A largebody of troops had been transported to the south side in boatsduring the night, under cover of darkness; and this was all verywell; but they should have waited hen daylight came for the Maid tomarch at their head, instead of which they sought to rush thefortress before ever she had appeared at all; and when we arrivedat the river's bank, it was to see a furious battle raging roundthe base of Les Augustins, and ere we were half across the river,we saw only too plainly that the French were being badly beaten,were fleeing in all directions from the pursuing foe, and weremaking for the river bank once more as fast as their legs couldcarry them.
The Maid watched it all, with that strange, inscrutable look uponher face, and that battle light in her eyes which we were alllearning to know. She was sitting upon her horse; for though anumber of animals had been taken across in the night, no horse ofhers had been so conducted, and we had led the creature with itsrider into the great flat-bottomed boat; so that she was on ahigher level than the rest of us, and could better see what waspassing, though it was plain to all that our soldiers were gettingbadly beaten.
"O foolish children, silly sheep!" murmured the Maid as shewatched, "and yet you are not to blame, but those who lead you.When will they understand? When will they believe?"
We reached the shore, and the Maid, without waiting for any of usto mount or form a bodyguard round her, leaped her horse to thebank, and charged up it, her pennon flying, her eyes alight withthe greatness of her purpose.
But even as she climbed the slippery bank, a great rush of flyingsoldiers met her, and by their sheer weight forced back horse andrider almost to the river's brink before they were aware who orwhat it was.
Then her silver trumpet voice rang out. She called upon them toreform, to follow her. She cried that her Lord would give them thevictory, and almost before we who had accompanied her had formedinto rank for the charge, the flying, panic-stricken men from thefront, ashamed and filled with fresh ardour, had turned themselvesabout, closed up their scattered ranks, and were ready to followher whithersoever she might lead them.
Yet it was to no speedy victory she urged them. No angel with aflaming sword came forth to fight and overcome as by a miracle. Butit was enough for that white-clad figure to stand revealed in thethickest of the carnage to animate the men to heroic effort. As Isay, it was the story of St. Loup over again; but if anything thefighting was more severe. What the Generals had meant for a merefeint, the Maid turned into a desperate battle. The English werereinforced many times; it seemed as though we had a hopeless taskbefore us. But confidence and assurance of victory were in ourhearts as we saw our Deliverer stand in the thick of the fight andheard her clarion voice ringing over the field. Ere the shades ofnight fell, not only was Les Augustins ours, but its stores of foodand ammunition had been safely transported into the city, and theplace so destroyed and dismantled that never again could it be asource of peril to the town.
And now the Maid's eyes were fixed full upon the frowning bulk ofLes Tourelles, rising grim and black against the darkening sky,with its little "tower of the Boulevard," on this side thedrawbridge. Thither had the whole English force retired--all whowere not lying dead or desperately wounded on the plain or roundthe gutted tower of Les Augustins--we saw their threatening faceslooking down fiercely upon us, and heard the angry voices from thewalls, heaping abuse and curses upon the "White Witch," who hadwrought them this evil.
"Would that we could attack at once!" spoke the Maid. "Would thatthe sun would stay his course! Truly I do believe that we shouldcarry all before us!"
The leaders came up to praise and glorify her prowess. They heardher words, but answered how that the men must needs have a night'srest ere they tried this second great feat of arms. But, theyadded, there should be no going back into the city, no delay on themorrow in crossing the river.
It was a warm summer-like night. Provisions were abundant, sheltercould be obtained beneath the walls of the captured citadel. They,with the bulk of the army, would remain on the south bank for thenonce, and the Maid should return to the city with the convoys ofwounded, to spend a quiet night there, returning with the dawn ofthe morrow to renew the attack and take Les Tourelles.
Thus they spoke, and spoke suavely and courteously. But I did notea strange look in the eyes of the Maid; and I wondered why it wasthat Dunois, the speaker, grew red and stumbled over his words,whilst that La Hire, who had done a giant's work in the fightingthat day, ground his teeth and looked both ashamed and disturbed.
The Maid stood a brief while as though in doubt. But then she madequiet reply:
"Then, gentlemen, it shall be as you will. I will return to thecity for the night. But with the dawn of day I will be here, andLes Tourelles shall be ours. The siege of Orleans shall be raised!"
They bowed low to her; every one of them made obeisance. Yet wasthere something ironical in the very humility of some? I could nottell; yet my heart burned within me as I followed our mistress; andnever had I known her so silent as she was upon our journey back,or as we sat at supper, the rest of us telling of the day's doings,but the Maid speechless, save when she bent her head to answer someeager question of little Charlotte's, or to smile at her childishprattle.
Suddenly the door was flung open, and Sir Guy strode in with a facelike a thundercloud. Behind him came a messenger sent by theGenerals to the Maid, and this was the news he brought:
There had been a council held after dark, and it was thenunanimously agreed that all now had been done that was necessary.The city was provisioned, the power of the English had been greatlyweakened and broken. The army would now be content with the triumphsalready won, and would quietly await further reinforcements beforetaking any fresh step.
The man who brought this message faltered as he delivered it. TheMaid sat very still and quiet, her head lifted in a dignified butmost expressive disdain.
"Monsieur," she replied, when the envoy ceased speaking, "go backto those who sent you. Tell them that they have had their counciland I have had mine. I leave the city at dawn as I have said. Ireturn not to it till the siege has been raised."
The man bowed and retired confusedly. The Maid lifted the littlechild in her arms, as was her wont, to carry her to bed. She turnedto her chaplain as she did so:
"Come to me at dawn, my father, to hear my confession; and I prayyou accompany me upon the morrow; for my blood will be shed. But donot weep or fear for me, my friends, nor spread any banquet for meere I start forth upon the morrow; but keep all for my return inthe evening, when I will come to you by the bridge."
She was gone as she spoke, and we gazed at her and each other inamaze; for how could she come back by a bridge which had beendestroyed, and how did she brook such slights as were heaped uponher without showing anger and hurt pride?
"And there is worse yet to come!" cried Sir Guy in a fury of rage,"for I lingered behind to hear and see. If you will believe it,there are numbers and numbers of the lesser officers who woulddesire that the Maid should now be told that her work is done, andthat she can retire to her home in Domremy; that the King will comehimself with another reinforcing army to raise the siege, so thatthey may get rid of her, and take the glory to themselves wheneverthe place shall be truly relieved. Could you believe such folly,such treachery?"
We could not; we could scarce believe our ears, and right glad wasI to hear how that La Hire had had no part in this sha
mefulcouncil; and I hope that Dunois had not either, though I fear me hewas less staunch.
La Hire had returned to the city to seek to infuse into thecitizens some of the spirit of the Maid. He was always for boldattack, and would be ready on the morrow, we did not doubt, forwhatever might betide.
It was little after dawn when we rode forth, the Maid in her whitearmour at our head, carrying her small pennon, whilst D'Aulon borethe great white standard close behind. Her face was pale and rapt.None of us spoke to her, and Pasquerel, her good chaplain, rodebehind telling his beads as he went.
We reached the Burgundy Gate; and behold it was fast shut. At theportal stood De Gaucourt, a notable warrior, with a grim look abouthis mouth. The Maid saluted him courteously, and quietly bid himopen the gate. But he budged not an inch.
"Madam," he said, "I have my commands from the Generals of thearmy. The gate is to remain shut. No one is to be suffered to passforth today."
We understood in a moment. This was a ruse to trap the Maid withinthe city walls. Our hands were upon the hilts of our swords. At aword from her, they would have flashed forth, and De Gaucourt wouldhave been a dead man had he sought to hinder us in the opening ofthe gate. But the Maid read our purpose in our eyes and in ourgestures, and she stayed us by her lifted hand.
"Not so, my friends," she answered gravely, "but the Chevalier deGaucourt will himself order the opening of the gate. I have to ridethrough it and at once. My Lord bids it!"
Her eyes flashed full and suddenly upon him. We saw him quiver fromhead to foot. With his own hands he unlocked the gate, and itseemed to swing of its own accord wide open before us. The Maidbent her head in gracious acknowledgment, swept through and was offto the river like a flash of white lightning.
The river lay golden in the glory of the morning. The boats whichhad transported us across last night bore us bravely over now. Iknow not how the Generals felt when they saw the Maid, a dazzlingvision of brightness, her great white standard close behind, herphalanx of knights and gentlemen in attendance, gallop up to thescene of action, from which they thought they had successfullybanished her. I only know that from the throats of the soldiersthere arose a deafening shout of welcome. They at least believed inher. They looked to her as to none else. They would follow herunwaveringly, when no other commander could make them budge.
A yell that rent the very firmament went up at sight of her, andevery man seized his arms and sprang to his post, as thoughinspired by the very genius of victory.
"Courage, my children, forward! The day shall be ours!" she cried,as she took her place at the head of the formidable charge againstthe walls which frowned and bristled with the pikes and arrows ofthe English. Her voice, like a silver clarion, rang clear throughthe din of the furious battle which followed:
"Bon coeur, bonne esperance, mes enfants, the hour of victory is athand! De la part de Dieu! De la part de Dieu!"
That was her favourite battle cry! It was God who should give thevictory.
But it was no easy victory we were to win that day. The Englishfought with the energy of despair. They knew as well as we thatwhen Les Tourelles fell the siege would be raised. True they hadtheir bastilles upon the north side of the river to fall back upon,since the Maid's counsel of destruction had not been followed. Butonce dislodged from the south bank, and Orleans would lie open tothe support of her friends in the south, and the position of theEnglish army would be one of dire peril. For now the French were nomore cowed by craven fear of the power of their enemies. They hadfound them capable of defeat and overthrow; the spell was broken.And it was the Maid who had done it!
Oh, how we fought around her that day! She was on foot now, for thebanks of the moat were slippery, and the press around the walls wastoo great to admit easily of the tactics of horsemen. I never sawher strike at any foe. It was her pennon rather than her sword inwhich she trusted. Here was the rallying point for the bravest andmost desperate of the assailants, ever in the thickest of thestrife, ever pointing the way to victory.
It was the tower of the Boulevard against which we were directingour attack. If that fell, Les Tourelles itself must needs follow,isolated as it would then be in the midst of the river. We did notknow it then, but we were to learn later, that La Hire in the citywith a great band of citizens and soldiers to help him, was alreadyhard at work constructing a bridge which should carry him and hismen across to Les Tourelles, to take the English in the rear,whilst their attention was concentrated upon our work on the otherside.
No wonder that the clash and din was something deafening, that theboom of the great cannon ceased not; smoke and fire seemed toenvelop the walls of the towers; the air was darkened by clouds ofarrows; great stones came crashing into our midst. Men fell onevery side; we had much ado to press on without treading under footthe dead and dying; but the white pennon fluttered before us, andfoot by foot we crept up towards the base of the tower.
Victory! Victory! was the cry of our hearts. We were close to thewalls now--the Maid had seized a ladder, and with her own hands wassetting it in position, when--O woe! woe!--a great cloth-yard shaftfrom an English bow, tipped with iron and winged with an eagle'splume, struck upon that white armour with such crashing force thata rent was made in its shining surface, and the Maid was borne tothe ground.
Oh, the terrible fear of that moment! The yell of triumph and joywhich arose from the walls of the fortress seemed to turn my bloodinto liquid fire.
The English had seen the fall of our champion. They shouted likemen drunk with victory! They knew well enough that were she dead,they would drive back the French as sheep are driven by wolves.
I had been close beside the Maid for hours; for I never forgot whatshe had spoken about being wounded that day; yet when she fell Ihad been parted from her a brief space, by one of those battlewaves too strong for resistance. But now I fought my way to herside with irresistible fury, though there was such a strugglingpress all about her that I had much ado to force my way through it.But I was known as one of her especial personal attendants, and waywas made for me somehow; yet it was not I who was the first torender her assistance.
When I arrived, De Gamache was holding her in his arms; someone hadremoved her headpiece, and though her face was as white as thesnowy plumes, her eyes were open, and there was a faint brave smileupon her lips. De Gamache had his horse beside him, his arm slippedthrough the reins.
"My brave General," he said, as the Maid looked in his face, "letme lift you to my saddle and convey you to a place of safety. Ihave done you wrong before; but I pray you forgive me, and bear nomalice; for I am yours till death. Never was woman so brave."
"I should be wrong indeed to bear malice against any, my goodfriend," spoke the Maid, in her gentle tones, "above all againstone so courteous, so brave."
We lifted her upon the horse. We formed a bodyguard round her. Wedrew her out of the thick of the press, for once unresisting; andwe laid her down in a little adjacent vineyard, where the goodPasquerel came instantly, and knelt beside her offering prayers forher recovery. But the great arrow had pierced right through hershoulder, and stood out a handbreadth upon the other side. We hadsent for a surgeon; but we dreaded to think of the pain she mustsuffer; must be suffering even now. Her face was white; her browwas furrowed.
But suddenly, as we stood looking at her in dismay, she sat up,took firm hold of the cruel barb with her own hands, and drew itsteadily from the wound.
Was ever courage like hers? As the blood came gushing forth,staining her white armour red, she uttered a little cry and herlips grew pale. Yet I think the cry was less from pain than to seethe marring of her shining breastplate; and the tears started toher eyes. Never before had this suffered hurt; the sight of theenvious rent hurt her, I trow, as much as did the smart of herwound.
The surgeon came hurrying up, and dressed the wound with a pledgetof linen steeped in oil; and the Maid lay very white and still,almost like one dying or dead, so that we all held our breath infear. In sooth, the faintness was deat
hlike for awhile, and she didbeckon to her priest to come close to her and receive herconfession, whilst we formed round her in a circle, keeping off allidle gazers, and standing facing away from her, with bent,uncovered heads.
Was it possible that her Lord was about to take her from us, hertask yet unfulfilled? It was hard to believe it, and yet we couldnot but fear; wherefore our hearts were heavy within us during thatlong hour which followed.
And the battle? It was raging still, but the heart of it seemed tobe lacking. The English were crying out that the White Witch wasdead, taunting their foes with being led by a woman, and askingthem where she was gone to now.
Dunois came hurrying up for news of her. The Maid roused herselfand beckoned to him to come to her where she lay, and asked him ofthe battle. Dunois told her that the courage of the men seemedfailing, that he thought of sounding the retreat.
For a few moments she lay still; her eyes bent full upon theblinding blue of the sunny sky. Then she spoke:
"Sound no retreat, my General," she spoke, "but give the men abreathing space. Let them draw off for a brief moment. Let them eatand drink and refresh themselves. Tell them that I will come tothem again; and when you and they see my standard floating againstthe wall, then know by that token that the place is yours."
Dunois went his way, and soon the sound of the struggle ceased.There came a strange hush in the heat of the noontide hours. TheMaid lay still a while longer; then raising herself, asked thatwater should be brought to cleanse away all stains from her handsand face and her white armour.
That being done she called to D'Aulon and said to him:
"Take the great standard; plant it again upon the edge of the moat;and when the silken folds touch the tower wall, call and tell me;and you, my knights and gentlemen, be ready to follow me tovictory!"
Did we doubt her ability, wounded as she was, to lead us? Not onewhit. We looked to our arms; we stood silently beside her. Wewatched D'Aulon move quietly forward to the appointed place, andunfold the great white banner, which hung down limply in the sultryheat of the May afternoon. He stood there, and we stood beside theMaid a great while; she lay upon the heap of cloaks which had beenspread to form a couch for her; her hands were clasped and her eyesclosed as though in prayer.
Then a little puff of wind arose, followed by another, and yetanother--soft, warm wind, but we saw the folds of the banner beginto unfurl. Little by little the breeze strengthened; breathlesslywe watched the gradual lifting of the silken standard, till, withan indescribably proud motion--as though some spirit was infusedinto the lifeless silk--it launched itself like a living thingagainst the tower wall.
"It touches! It touches!" cried D'Aulon.
"It touches! It touches!" we shouted in response.
"It touches! It touches!" came an echoing wave sound from thesoldiers watching from their resting places.
The Maid was on her feet in a moment. Where was the weakness, thefeebleness, the faintness of the wounded girl? All gone--allswallowed up in the triumph of the victorious warrior.
"Onward! Onward, my children. Onward, de la part de Dieu! He hasgiven you the victory! Onwards and take the tower! Nothing canresist you now!"
Her voice was heard all over the field. The white folds of thebanner still fluttered against the wall, the white armour of theMaid shone dazzling in the sunshine as she dashed forward. The armyto a man sprang forward in her wake with that rush, with that powerof confidence against which nothing can stand.
The English shrieked in their astonishment and affright. The deadhad come to life! The White Witch, struck down as they thought bymortal wound, was charging at the head of her armies. The Frenchwere swarming up the scaling ladders, pouring into their tower,carrying all before them.
Fighting was useless. Nothing remained but flight. Helter skelter,like rabbits or rats, they fled this way and that before us. Not anEnglishman remained upon the south side of the river. The Frenchflag waved from the top of the tower. The seven months' siege wasraised by the Maid eight days after her entrance into the city.
A Heroine of France: The Story of Joan of Arc Page 12