A Monk of Fife

by Various

  CHAPTER XIV--OF THE FIGHTING AT THE BRIDGE, AND OF THE PRIZE WON BYNORMAN LESLIE FROM THE RIVER

  On that night I slept soft, and woke oft, being utterly foredone. In thegrey dawn I awoke, and gave a little cough, when, lo! there came a hotsweet gush into my mouth, and going to the window, I saw that I wasspitting of blood, belike from my old wound. It is a strange thing that,therewith, a sickness came over me, and a cold fit as of fear, thoughfear I had felt none where men met in heat of arms. None the less,seeing that to-day, or never, I was to be made or marred, I spoke of thematter neither to man nor woman, but drinking a long draught of very coldwater, I spat some deal more, and then it stanched, and I armed me andsat down on my bed.

  My thoughts, as I waited for the first stir in the house, were not glad.Birds were singing in the garden trees; all else was quiet, as if menwere not waking to slay each other and pass unconfessed to their account.There came on me a great sickness of war. Yesterday the boulevard of LesAugustins, when the fight was over, had been a shambles; white bodiesthat had been stripped of their armour lay here and there like sheep on ahillside, and were now smirched with dust, a thing unseemly. I put it tomyself that I was engaged, if ever man was, in a righteous quarrel,fighting against cruel oppression; and I was under the protection of onesent, as I verily believed, by Heaven.

  But blood runs tardy in the cold dawn; my thoughts were chilled, and Ideemed, to speak sooth, that I carried my death within me, from my oldwound, and, even if unhurt, could scarce escape out of that day's labourand live. I said farewell to life and the sun, in my own mind, and toElliot, thinking of whom, with what tenderness she had nursed me, and ofher mirth and pitiful heart, I could scarce forbear from weeping. Of mybrother also I thought, and in death it seemed to me that we couldscarcely be divided. Then my thought went back to old days of childhoodat Pitcullo, old wanderings by Eden banks, old kindness and old quarrels,and I seemed to see a vision of a great tree, growing alone out of alittle mound, by my father's door, where Robin and I would play "WillieWastle in his castle," for that was our first manner of holding a siege.A man-at-arms has little to make with such fancies, and well I wot thatRandal Rutherford troubled himself therewith in no manner. But now therecame an iron footstep on the stairs, and the Maid's voice rang clear, andpresently there arose the sound of hammers on rivets, and all the din ofmen saddling horses and sharpening swords, so I went forth to join mycompany.

  Stiff and sore was I, and felt as if I could scarce raise my sword-arm;but the sight of the Maid, all gleaming in her harness, and clear ofvoice, and swift of deed, like St. Michael when he marshalled his angelsagainst the enemies of heaven, drove my brooding thoughts clean out ofmind. The sun shone yellow and slanting down the streets; out of theshadow of the minster came the bells, ringing for war. The armedtownsfolk thronged the ways, and one man, old and ill-clad, brought tothe Maid a great fish which he had caught overnight in the Loire. Ourhost prayed her to wait till it should be cooked, that she mightbreakfast well, for she had much to do. Yet she, who scarce seemed tolive by earthly meat, but by the will of God, took only a sop of breaddipped in wine, and gaily leaping to her selle and gathering the reins,as a lady bound for a hunting where no fear was, she cried, "Keep thefish for supper, when I will bring back a goddon {25} prisoner to eat hispart. And to-night, gentle sir, my host, I will return by thebridge!"--which, as we deemed, might in no manner be, for an arch of thebridge was broken. Thereon we all mounted, and rode down to the Burgundygate, the women watching us, and casting flowers before the Maiden. Butwhen we won the gate, behold, it was locked, and two ranks ofmen-at-arms, with lances levelled, wearing the colours of the Sieur deGaucourt, were drawn up before it. That lord himself, in harness, butbareheaded, stood before his men, and cried, "Hereby is no passage. To-day the captains give command that no force stir from the town."

  "To-day," quoth the Maid, "shall we take Les Tourelles, and to-morrow nota goddon, save prisoners and slain men, shall be within three leagues ofOrleans. Gentle sir, bid open the gate, for to-day have I work to do."

  Thereat Gaucourt shook his head, and from the multitude of townsfolk roseone great angry shout. They would burn the gate, they cried; they wouldfire the town, but they would follow the Maid and the guidance of thesaints.

  Thereon stones began to fly, and arbalests were bended, till the Maidturned, and, facing the throng, her banner lifted as in anger--

  "Back, my good friends and people of Orleans," she said, "back and openthe postern door in the great tower on the river wall. By one way oranother shall I meet the English this day, nor shall might of man preventme."

  Then many ran back, and soon came the cry that the postern was opened,and thither streamed the throng. Therefore Gaucourt saw well that anonslaught would verily be made; moreover, as a man wise in war, he knewthat the townsfolk, that day, would be hard to hold, and would go far. Sohe even yielded, not ungraciously, and sending a messenger to the Bastardand the captains, he rode forth from the Burgundy Gate by the side of theMaid. He was, indeed, little minded to miss his part of the honour; norwere the other captains more backward, for scarce had we taken boat andreached the farther bank, when we saw the banners of the Bastard and LaHire, Florent d'Illiers and Xaintrailles, Chambers and Kennedy, above theheads of the armed men who streamed forth by the gate of Burgundy. Lessorderly was no fight ever begun, but the saints were of our party. Itwas the wise manner of the Maid to strike swift, blow upon blow, eachstroke finding less resistance among the enemy, that had been used to alaggard war, for then it was the manner of captains to dally for weeks ormonths round a town, castle, or other keep, and the skill was to starvethe enemy. But the manner of the Maid was ever to send cloud upon cloudof men to make escalade by ladders, their comrades aiding them from undercover with fire of couleuvrines and bows. Even so fought that famedKnight of Brittany, Sir Bertrand du Guesclin. But he was long dead, andwhether the Maid (who honoured his memory greatly) fought as she didthrough his example, or by direct teaching of the saints, I know not.

  If disorderly we began, the fault was soon amended; they who hadbeleaguered the boulevard all night were set in the rear, to rest out ofshot; the fresh men were arrayed under their banners, in vineyards andunder the walls of fields, so that if one company was driven back anotherwas ready to come on, that the English might have no repose from battle.

  Now, the manner of the boulevard was this: first, there was a strongpalisade, and many men mustered within it; then came a wide, deep, dryfosse; then a strong wall of earth, bound in with withes and palisaded,and within it the gate of the boulevard. When that was won, and theboulevard taken, men defending it might flee across a drawbridge, over astream, narrow and deep and swift, into Les Tourelles itself. Here theywere safe from them on the side of Orleans, by reason of the broken archof the bridge. So strong was this tower, that Monseigneur the Ducd'Alencon, visiting it later, said he could have staked his duchy on hisskill to hold it for a week at least, with but few men, against all theforces in France. The captain of the English was that Glasdale who hadreviled the Maid, and concerning whom she had prophesied that he shoulddie without stroke of sword. There was no fiercer squire in England, andhis men were like himself, being picked and chosen for that post;moreover their backs were at the wall, for the French and Scots oncewithin the boulevard, it was in nowise easy for Talbot to bring theEnglish a rescue, as was seen.

  The battle began with shooting of couleuvrines at the palisade, to weakenit, and it was marvel to see how the Maid herself laid the guns, ascunningly as her own countryman, the famed Lorrainer. Now, when therewas a breach in the palisade, Xaintrailles led on his company, splendidin armour, for he was a very brave young knight. We saw the pales fallwith a crash, and the men go in, and heard the cry of battle; but slowly,one by one, they staggered back, some falling, some reeling wounded, androlling their bodies out of arrow-shot. And there, in the breach, shonethe back-plate of Xaintrailles, his axe falling and rising, and not onefoot he budged, till t
he men of La Hire, with a cry, broke in to backhim, and after a little space, swords fell and rose no more, but we sawthe banners waving of Xaintrailles and La Hire. Soon the side of thepalisade towards us was all down, as if one had swept it flat with hishand, but there stood the earthen wall of the boulevard, beyond thefosse. Then, all orderly, marched forth a band of men in the colours ofFlorent d'Illiers, bearing scaling-ladders, and so began the escalade,their friends backing them by shooting of arbalests from behind theremnant of the palisade. A ladder would be set against the wall, and wecould see men with shields, or doors, or squares of wood on their headsto fend off stones, swarm up it, and axes flashing on the crest of thewall, and arrows flying, and smoke of guns: but the smoke cleared, andlo! the ladder was gone, and the three libbards grinned on the flag ofEngland. So went the war, company after company staggering thinned fromthe fosse, and re-forming behind the cover of the vineyards; companyafter company marching forth, fresh and glorious, to fare as theirfriends had fared. And ever, with each company, went the Maid at theirhead, and D'Aulon, she crying that the place was theirs and now was thehour! But the day went by, till the sun turned in heaven towardsevening, and no more was done. The English, in sooth, showed no fear norfaint heart; with axe, and sword, and mace, and with their very handsthey smote and grappled with the climbers, and I saw a tall man, hissword being broken, strike down a French knight with his mailed fist, anddrag another from a ladder and take him captive. Boldly they showedthemselves on the crest, running all risk of our arrows, as our men didof theirs.

  Now came the Scots, under Kennedy. A gallant sight it was to see themadvance, shoulder to shoulder--Scots of the Marches and the Lennox, Fife,Argyll, and the Isles, all gentlemen born.

  "Come on!" cried Randal Rutherford. "Come on, men of the Marches, Scotsof the Forest, Elliots, Rutherfords, Armstrongs, and deem that,wheresoever a Southron slinks behind a stone, there is Carlisle wall!"

  The Rough Clan roared "Bellenden!" the Buchanans cried "Clare Innis," arag of a hairy Highlander from the Lennox blew a wild skirl on the war-pipes, and hearing the Border slogan shouted in a strange country, nomDieu! my blood burned, as that of any Scotsman would. Contrary to theMaid's desire, for she had noted that I was wan and weary, and hadcommanded me to bide in cover, I cried "A Leslie! a Leslie!" and wentforward with my own folk, sword in hand and buckler lifted.

  Beside good Randal Rutherford I ran, and we both leaped together into theditch. There was a forest of ladders set against the wall, and I had myfoot on a rung, when the Maid ran up and cried, "Nom Dieu! what make youhere? Let me lead my Scots"; and so, pennon and axe in her left hand,she lightly leaped on the ladder, and arrows ringing on her mail, and agreat stone glancing harmless from her salade, she so climbed that mylady's face on the pennon above her looked down into the English keep.

  But, even then, I saw a face at an archere, an ill face and fell, thewolf's eyes of Brother Thomas glancing along the stock of an arbalest.

  "Gardez-vous, Pucelle, gardez-vous!" I cried in her ear, for I was nexther on the ladder; but a bolt whistled and smote her full, and reeling,she fell into my arms.

  I turned my back to guard her, and felt a bolt strike my back-piece; thenwe were in the fosse, and all the Scots that might be were between herand harm. Swiftly they bore her out of the fray, into a little greenvineyard, where was a soft grassy ditch. But the English so cried theirhurrah, that it was marvel, and our men gave back in fear; and had notthe Bastard come up with a fresh company, verify we might well have beenswept into the Loire.

  Some while I remained with Rutherford, Kennedy, and many others, for whatcould we avail to help the Maid? and to run has an ill look, and givesgreat heart to an enemy. Moreover, that saying of the Maid came into mymind, that she should be smitten of a bolt, but not unto death. So Ieven abode by the fosse, and having found an arbalest, my desire was towin a chance of slaying Brother Thomas, wherefore I kept my eyes on thatarchere whence he had shot. But no arbalest was pointed thence, and thefight flagged. On both sides men were weary, and they took some meat asthey might, no ladders being now set on the wall.

  Then I deemed it no harm to slip back to the vineyard where the Maid lay,and there I met the good Father Pasquerel, that was her confessor. Hetold me that now she was quiet, either praying or asleep, for he had lefther as still as a babe in its cradle, her page watching her. The bolthad sped by a rivet of her breast-piece, clean through her breast hardbelow the shoulder, and it stood a hand-breadth out beyond. Then she hadwept and trembled, seeing her own blood; but presently, with such mightand courage as was marvel, she had dragged out the bolt with her ownhands. Then they had laid on the wound cotton steeped with olive oil,for she would not abide that they should steep the bolt with weapon salveand charm the hurt with a song, as the soldiers desired. Then she hadconfessed herself to Pasquerel, and so had lain down among the grass andthe flowers. But it was Pasquerel's desire to let ferry her acrosssecretly to Orleans. This was an ill hearing for me, yet it was putabout in the army that the Maid had but taken a slight scratch, and againwould lead us on, a thing which I well deemed to be impossible. So theday waxed late, and few onslaughts were made, and these with no greatheart, the English standing on the walls and openly mocking us.

  They asked how it went with the Maid, and whether she would not fain beat home among her kine, or in the greasy kitchen? We would cry back, andfor my own part I bade them seek the kitchen as pock-puddings and belly-gods, and that I cried in their own tongue, while they, to my greatamaze, called me "prentice boy" and "jackanapes." Herein I saw the craftand devilish enmity of Brother Thomas, and well I guessed that he hadgotten sight of me; but his face I saw not.

  Ill names break no bones, and arrows from under cover wrought slightscathe; so one last charge the Bastard commanded, and led himself, and asore tussle there was that time on the wall-crest, one or two of our menleaping into the fort, whence they came back no more.

  Now it was eight hours of the evening, the sky grey, the men out-worn andout of all heart, and the captains were gathered in council. Of this Iconceived the worst hope, for after a counsel men seldom fight. So Iwatched the fort right sullenly, and the town of Orleans looking blackagainst a red, lowering sky in the west. Some concourse of townsfolk Isaw on the bridge, beside the broken arch, and by the Boulevard BelleCroix; but I deemed that they had only come to see the fray as near asmight be. Others were busy under the river wall with a great black boat,belike to ferry over the horses from our side.

  All seemed ended, and I misdoubted that we would scarce charge again sobriskly in the morning, nay, we might well have to guard our own gates.

  As I sat thus, pondering by the vineyard ditch, the Maid stood by mesuddenly. Her helmet was off, her face deadly white, her eyes like twostars.

  "Bring me my horse," she said, so sternly that I crushed the answer on mylips, and the prayer that she would risk herself no more.

  Her horse, that had been cropping the grass near him happily enough, Ifound, and brought to her, and so, with some ado, she mounted and rode ata foot's pace to the little crowd of captains.

  "Maiden, ma mie," said the Bastard. "Glad I am to see you able to mount.We have taken counsel to withdraw for this night. Martin," he said tohis trumpeter, "sound the recall."

  "I pray you, sir," she said very humbly, "grant me but a little while";and so saying, she withdrew alone from the throng of men into thevineyard.

  What passed therein I know not and no man knows; but in a quarter of anhour's space she came forth, like another woman, her face bright andsmiling, her cheeks like the dawn, and so beautiful that we marvelled onher with reverence, as if we had seen an angel.

  "The place is ours!" she cried again, and spurred towards the fosse.Thence her banner had never gone back, for D'Aulon held it there, to be aterror to the English. Even at that moment he had given it to a certainBasque, a very brave man, for he himself was out-worn with its weight.And he had challenged the Basque to do a vaillance, or boa
stful deed ofarms, as yesterday I and the Spaniard had done. So D'Aulon leaped intothe fosse, his shield up, defying the English; but the Basque did notfollow, for the Maid, seeing her banner in the hands of a man whom sheknew not, laid hold of it, crying, "Ha, mon estandart! mon estandart!"

  There, as they struggled for it, the Basque being minded to followD'Aulon to the wall foot, the banner wildly waved, and all men saw it,and rallied, and flocked amain to the rescue.

  "Charge!" cried the Maid. "Forward, French and Scots; the place isyours, when once my banner fringe touches the wall!"

  With that word the wind blew out the banner fringe, and so suddenly that,though I saw the matter, I scarce knew how it was done, the whole hostswarmed up and on, ladders, lifted, and so furiously went they, that theywon the wall crest and leaped within the fort. Then the more part of theEnglish, adread, as I think, at the sight of the Maid whom they haddeemed slain, fled madly over the drawbridge into Les Tourelles.

  Then standing on the wall crest, whither I had climbed, I beheld strangesights. First, through the dimness of the dusk, I saw a man armed,walking as does a rope-dancer, balancing himself with his spear, acrossthe empty air, for so it seemed, above the broken arch of the bridge.This appeared, in very sooth, to be a miracle; but, gazing longer, I sawthat a great beam had been laid by them of Orleans to span the gap, andnow other beams were being set, and many men, bearing torches, werefollowing that good knight, Nicole Giresme, who first showed the way oversuch a bridge of dread. So now were the English in Les Tourelles betweentwo fires.

  Another strange sight I saw, for in that swift and narrow stream whichthe drawbridge spanned whereby the English fled was moored a great blackbarge, its stem and stern showing on either side of the bridge. Boatswere being swiftly pulled forth from it into the stream, and as I gazed,there leaped up through the dark one long tongue of fire. Then I saw theskill of it, namely, to burn down the drawbridge, and so cut the Englishoff from all succour. Fed with pitch and pine the flame soared lustily,and now it shone between the planks of the drawbridge. On the stoneplatform of the boulevard, wherein the drawbridge was laid, stood a fewEnglish, and above them shone the axe of a tall squire, Glasdale, as itfell on shield and helm of the French. Others held us at bay with longlances, and never saw I any knight do his devoir more fiercely than hewho had reviled the Maid. For on his head lay all the blame of thetaking of the boulevard. To rear of him rang the shouts of them ofOrleans, who had crossed the broken arch by the beam; but he never turnedabout, and our men reeled back before him. Then there shone behind himthe flames from the blazing barge; and so, black against that blaze, hesmote and slew, not knowing that the drawbridge began to burn.

  On this the Maid ran forth, and cried to him--

  "Rends-toi, rends-toi! Yield thee, Glacidas; yield thee, for I stand inmuch sorrow for thy soul's sake."

  Then, falling on her knees, her face shining transfigured in that fiercelight, she prayed him thus--

  "Ah! Glacidas, thou didst call me ribaulde, but I have sorrow for thysoul. Ah! yield thee, yield thee to ransom"; and the tears ran down hercheeks, as if a saint were praying for a soul in peril.

  Not one word spoke Glasdale: he neither saw nor heard. But the levelledspears at his side flew up, a flame caught his crest, making a plume offire, and with a curse he cast his axe among the throng, and the man whostood in front of it got his death. Glasdale turned about as he threw;he leaped upon the burning drawbridge, where the last of his men werehuddled in flight, and lo! beneath his feet it crashed; down he plungedthrough smoke and flame, and the stream below surged up as bridge andflying men went under in one ruin.

  The Maid gave a cry that rang above the roar of fire and water.

  "Saints! will no man save him?" she shrieked, looking all around her onthe faces of the French.

  A mad thought leaped up in my mind.

  "Unharness me!" I cried; and one who stood by me undid the clasps of mylight jaseran. I saw a head unhelmeted, I saw a hand that clutched at afloating beam. I thought of the Maid's desire, and of the ransom of sogreat a squire as Glasdale, and then I threw my hands up to dive, andleaped head foremost into the water.

  Deep down I plunged, and swam far under water, to avoid a stroke fromfloating timber, and then I rose and glanced up-stream. All the air wasfiercely lit with the blaze of the burning barge; a hand and arm wouldrise, and fall ere I could seize it. A hand was thrown up before me, theglinting fingers gripping at empty air. I caught the hand, swimmingstrongly with the current, for so the man could not clutch at me, and ifa drowning man can be held apart, it is no great skill to save him. Inthis art I was not unlearned, and once had even saved two men from awrecked barque in the long surf of St. Andrews Bay. Save for a blow fromsome great floating timber, I deemed that I had little to fear; nay, nowI felt sure of the Maid's praise and of a rich ransom.

  A horn of bank with alder bushes ran out into the stream, a smooth eddyor backwater curling within. I caught a bough of alder, and, though nighcarried down by the drowning man's weight, I found bottom, yet hardly,and drew my man within the backwater. He lay like a log, his face in thestream. Pushing him before me, I rounded the horn, and, with much ado,dragged him up to a sloping gravelly beach, where I got his head on dryland, his legs being still in the water. I turned him over and lookedeagerly. Lo! it was no Glasdale, but the drowned face of Brother Thomas!

  Then something seemed to break in my breast; blood gushed from my mouth,and I fell on the sand and gravel. Footsteps I heard of men running tous. I lifted my hand faintly and waved it, and then I felt a hand on myface.