by Eugène Sue
“Well, would you know how to ride on horseback?”
“I shall have to learn to ride. Only see to it that the horse be gentle.”
“Joan,” said Robert of Baudricourt after a moment’s silence, “you claim that you are inspired by God; that you are sent by Him to raise the siege of Orleans, vanquish the English and restore the King on his throne? Who is to prove that you are telling the truth?”
“My acts, sir.”
This answer, given in a sweet and confident voice, made a lively impression upon the officers. Robert of Baudricourt said:
“My daughter, go back with your uncle to his house — I shall shortly notify you of my decision. I must think over your request.”
“I shall wait, sire. But in the name of God, I must depart to the Dauphin, and let it be rather to-day than to-morrow; the siege of Orleans must be raised before a month is over.”
“Why do you place so much importance upon the raising of that siege?”
“Oh, sir!” answered Joan, smiling, “I would place less importance upon delivering the good town if the English did not place so much importance upon taking it! The success of the war depends upon that with them; it also depends upon that with us!”
“Well, now, Sir Captain,” said the radiant Denis Laxart in a low voice to Robert of Baudricourt, “should I cuff both the ears of the brazen and crazy girl? You advised me to do so.”
“No; although a visionary, she is a stout-hearted girl!” answered the knight, also in a low voice. “For the rest, I shall send the curate of Vaucouleurs to examine her, and, if need be, to exorcise her in case there be some sorcery at the bottom of this. Go back home.”
Denis and Joan left the hall; the two cavaliers remained in a brown study.
CHAPTER XVII.
JOHN OF NOVELPONT.
SHORTLY AFTER JOAN left, Robert of Baudricourt hastened to the table and prepared to write, while saying to John of Novelpont: “I now think like you; I shall forward the odd adventure to the King and submit to him the opinion that at the desperate pass of things it may not be amiss to try to profit by the influence which this young girl, who claims to be inspired and sent by God, might exercise upon the army, which is completely discouraged. I can see her, docile to the role that she will be put to play, passing before the troops, herself clad in armor and her handsome face under a casque of war! Man is captivated through his eyes as well as through his mind.” Robert of Baudricourt stopped upon noticing that the Sire of Novelpont was not listening, but was pacing the length of the hall. He cried: “John, what in the name of the devil are you thinking about?”
“Robert,” gravely answered the cavalier, “that girl is not a poor visionary, to be used in extremis like an instrument that one may break if it does not meet expectations.”
“What else is she?”
“Her looks, her voice, her attitude, her language — everything reveals an extraordinary woman — an inspired woman.”
“Are you going to take her visions seriously?”
“I am unable to penetrate such mysteries; I believe what I see, what I hear and what I feel. Joan is or will be an illustrious warrior-maid, and not a passive instrument in the hands of the captains. She may save the country—”
“If she is a sorceress the curate will play the holy-water sprinkler upon her, and report to us.”
“I am so much impressed by her answers, her candor, her daring, her good sense, her irresistible sincerity, that if the King sends word back with your messenger that he consents to see Joan — I am resolved to accompany her on her journey.”
“Ah, Sir John,” said Robert of Baudricourt, laughing; “that is a sudden resolve! Are you smitten by the pretty eyes of the maid?”
“May I die if I am yielding to any improper thought! Such is the proud innocence of that young girl that however lustful I might be, her looks would instantly silence my lust. I am ready to stake my salvation upon it that Joan is chaste. Did you not see how she blushed to the roots of her hair at the idea of riding alone in the company of the horsemen of her escort? Did you not hear her express her wish to assume man’s clothes, which she would not take off day or night during her journey? Robert, chastity ever proclaims a beautiful soul.”
“If, indeed, she is chaste, she could not be a sorceress; demons, it is said, can not possess the body of a virgin! But be on your guard, dear sire; without your knowing it, the maid’s beauty is seducing you. You wish to be her cavalier during the long journey; lucky chances may offer themselves to your amorous courtesy. But,” added Robert of Baudricourt in answer to an impatient gesture from his friend, “we shall drop joking. This is what I think concerning the young girl: If she is not a sorceress, her brain is disordered by visions, and she believes herself, in good faith, inspired of God. Such as she is, or seems to be, the girl can become a valuable instrument in the hands of the King. Soldiers and the people are ignorant and credulous. If they see in Joan an emissary of God, if they believe she brings them supernatural aid, they will regain courage, and will make strenuous efforts to wipe out their defeats. Her exaltation, if skilfully exploited by the chiefs of the army, may have happy results. And that is the important point with us.”
“The future will prove to you your error. Joan is too sincere, and right or wrong, too deeply imbued with the divinity of her mission, to accept the role that you imagine for her, to resign herself to being a machine in the hands of the chiefs of the army. She will act upon her own impulse. I take her to be naturally endowed with military genius, as have been so many other captains who were at first unknown. Whatever may happen, you must write to the King and inform him of what has happened.”
“I think so, too.”
“Which King are you writing to?”
“Have we two masters?”
“My dear Robert, I accompanied to court the Count of Metz, under whom I commanded a company of a hundred lances. I have had a near look of things at Chinon and at Loches. I have formed my opinion of our Sire.”
“From which it follows that there are two Kings?”
“There is a King of the name of Charles VII, whose mind runs only upon ruling the hearts of easy-going women. Unnerved by indulgence, ungrateful, selfish, regardless of his honor, that prince, hemmed in at Chinon or Loches by his favorites and his mistresses, allows his soldiers to fight and die in the defence of the fragments of his kingdom, but has never been seen at the head of his troops.”
“It is a disgrace to the royalty!”
“There is another King. His name is George of La Tremouille, a jealous despot, consumed with malice and vainglory, resentful. He rules supreme over the two or three provinces that the kingdom of France now consists of, and he dominates the royal council. He is the real master.”
“I knew that the steward of the palace of our do-nothing King was the Sire of La Tremouille; it is to him I meant to write.”
“Do no such thing, Robert; take my advice!”
“You say yourself he is the master — the King in fact!”
“Yes; but anxious to remain master and King in fact, he will not tolerate that any other than himself find the means to save Gaul. The Sire of La Tremouille will, you may rest assured, reject Joan’s intervention. Write, on the contrary, direct to Charles VII. He will be struck by the strangeness of the occurrence. If only out of curiosity he will want to see Joan. He finds the day long in his retreat of Loches or Chinon. The blandishments even of his mistresses are often unavailing to draw him from his ennui. The arrival of Joan will be a novelty to him; a pastime.”
“You are a good adviser. I shall write direct to the King and expedite a messenger to him on the spot. Should the answer be favorable to Joan, would you still think of accompanying her?”
“Then more than ever!”
“The journey is long. You will have to traverse part of Burgundy and of Champagne, both of them occupied by the enemy.”
“I shall take with me my equerry Bertrand of Poulagny, a prudent and resolute man. I shal
l join to him four well armed valets. A small troop passes more easily unperceived. Moreover, as Joan wisely proposed, we shall avoid the towns all we can by traveling by night, and shall rest by day in isolated farm-houses.”
“Do not forget that you will have to cross many rivers; since the war, the bridges are everywhere destroyed.”
“We will find ferries at all the rivers. From here we shall go to St. Urbain, where we can stay without danger; we shall avoid Troyes, St. Florentin, and Auxerre; arrived at Gien, we shall be on friendly soil. We shall then proceed to Loches or Chinon, the royal residences.”
“Admit it, Sire of Novelpont, are you not slightly smitten by the beauty of Joan?”
“Sire Robert of Baudricourt, I feel proud of being the knight of the warrior-maid and heroine, who, perhaps, may yet save Gaul.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
“GOOD LUCK, JOAN!”
TOWARDS SUN-DOWN OF February 28 of the year 1429, a large crowd consisting of men, women and children pressed around the Castle of Vaucouleurs. The crowd was impatient; it was enthusiastic.
“Are you sure the pretty Joan will leave the castle by this gate?” asked one of the crowd, addressing at random his nearest neighbor.
“I think so — she can not go out on horseback by the postern gate. She is to ride along the ramparts with the Sire of Novelpont, who is to escort her on her long journey. We shall be able to get a good view of her here on her fine white horse.”
“Our hearts all go out to her,” remarked a third.
“The prophecy of Merlin is fulfilled. Well did he say — Gaul, lost by a woman, will be saved by a virgin from the borders of Lorraine and a forest of old oaks!” said a fourth.
“She will deliver us from the English! The poor will again be able to breathe! Peace and work for all!”
“No more war alarms; no more conflagrations; no more pillaging; no more massacres! May her name be blessed!”
“It is God who sent us Joan the Maid — Glory to God!”
“And yet a daughter of the field — a simple shepherdess!”
“The Lord God inspires her — she alone is worth a whole army. The archangels will fight on her side.”
“Do you know that Master Tiphaine, the curate of the parish of St. Euterpe, undertook to exorcise the Maid in case she was a sorceress and was possessed of a demon? The clerk carried the cross, the choir-boy the holy-water, and Master Tiphaine carried the sprinkler. But he did not dare to approach the Maid too near, fearing some trick of the spirit of Evil. But Joan smiled and said: ‘Come near, good Father, I shall not fly away.’”
“She felt quite sure that she was a daughter of God!”
“Evidently she is a virgin. After the exorcism no clawy demon leaped out of her mouth!”
“Everybody knows that the devil can not inhabit the body of a virgin. Consequently Joan can not be a sorceress, whatever people may have said of her god-mother Sybille.”
“So far from suspecting that Joan was an invoker of demons, Master Tiphaine was so edified with her mildness and modesty that the day after the exorcism he admitted her to holy communion — she ate the bread of the angels.”
“That was lucky! Who, if not Joan, could eat angels’ bread?”
“Do you know, friends, that while the Sire of Baudricourt was waiting for the answer of the King, and, by God, it seems the answer was long in coming, the Duke of Lorraine, hearing the report that Joan was the maid foretold by Merlin, wished to see her?”
“And did he?”
“The Sire of Novelpont took Joan to the duke. ‘Well, my young girl,’ said the duke to her, ‘you who are sent by God should be able to give me advice; I am sick, and, it looks to me, near my end—’”
“So much the worse for him! Who does not know that the duke is suffering from the consequences of his debaucheries, and that, in order to indulge them at his ease, he has bravely cast off his own wife?”
“No doubt Joan must have known all that, because she answered the duke: ‘Monseigneur, call the duchess back to your side, lead an honest life, God will not forsake you. Help yourself and heaven will help you.’”
“Well answered, holy girl!”
“It is said that those are her favorite words— ‘Help yourself and heaven will help you!’”
“Well, may heaven and all its saints protect her during the long journey that she is to undertake!”
“Is it credible? — a poor child of seventeen years to command an army?”
“Myself and five other archers of the company of the Sire of Baudricourt,” said a sturdy looking soldier, “requested him as a favor to allow us to escort Joan the Maid. He refused! By the bowels of the Pope, I would have liked to have that beautiful girl for a captain! Led by her, I would defy all the English put together! Yes, by the navel of Satan, I would!”
“Armed men commanded by a woman! That surely is odd!” observed an impressed cynic.
“Two beautiful eyes looking upon you and seeming to say: ‘March upon the enemy!’ are enough to set one’s heart on fire! And if, besides, a sweet voice says to you: ‘Courage — forward!’ that would be enough to turn the biggest coward into a hero!”
“Above all if the voice is inspired by God, my brave archer.”
“Whether she be inspired by God, by the devil or by her own bravery, I care as little as for a broken arrow. If one were but alone against a thousand, he must have the cowardice of a hare not to follow a beautiful girl, who, sword in hand, rushes upon the enemy.”
“I can not help thinking of the pain it must give Joan’s family to have her depart, however glorious the Maid’s destiny may be. Her mother must feel very sad.”
“I have it from Dame Laxart that James Darc, a very strict and rough man, after having twice had his daughter written to, ordering her return home, and objecting to her riding away with men-at-arms, has invoked a curse upon her. Furthermore, he forbade his wife and his two sons ever again to see Joan. She wept all the tears in her poor body upon learning of her father’s curse. ‘My heart bleeds to leave my family,’ said the poor child to Dame Laxart, ‘but I must go whither God bids me. I have a glorious mission to fill.’”
“The Maid’s father is a brute! He must have a bad heart! The idea of cursing his daughter — who is going to deliver Gaul.”
“She will do so — Merlin foretold it.”
“It will be a beautiful day for us all when the English are thrust out of our poor country which they have been ravaging for so many years!”
“The fault lies with the knighthood,” put in a civilian; “why did it prove so cowardly at Poitiers? This nobility is a costly luxury.”
“And on top of all, oppressed and persecuted, Jacques Bonhomme has had to pay the ransom for the cowardly seigneurs with gilded spurs!”
“But Jacques Bonhomme got tired and kicked in his desperation. Oh, once at least did the scythe and fork get the better of the lance and sword! The Jacquerie revenged the serfs! Death to the nobles!”
“But what a carnage was not thereupon made of the Jacques! The day of reprisals will come!”
“Well, the Jacques had their turn; that is some consolation!”
“Now it will be the turn of the English, thanks to Joan the Maid — the envoy of God! She will throw them out!”
“Aye, aye! Let her alone — she promised that within a month there will not be one of these foreigners left in France.”
“Glory to her! The shepherdess of Domremy will have done what neither King, dukes, knights nor captains were capable of accomplishing!”
“Good luck to you, Joan, born like ourselves of the common people! A blessing on her from all the poor serfs who have been suffering death and all the agonies of death at the hands of the English!”
“They are letting down the drawbridge of the castle!”
“There she is! That’s she!”
“How well shaped and beautiful she is in her man’s clothes! Prosperity to Joan the Maid!”
“Look at her! You would tak
e her for a handsome young page with her black hair cut round, her scarlet cape, her green jacket, her leather hose and her spurred boots! Long live our Joan!”
“By my soul, she has a sword on her side!”
“Although not a generous man, the Sire of Baudricourt presented her with it.”
“That’s the least he could do! Did not the rest of us in Vaucouleurs go down in our pockets to purchase a horse for the warrior maid?”
“Master Simon, the cloth merchant, answered for the palfrey as a patient animal and of a good disposition; a child could lead it; it served as the mount to a noble dame in the hunt with falcons.”
“Upon the word of an archer,” again put in the archer of the Sire of Baudricourt’s company, “Joan holds herself in the saddle like a captain! By the bowels of the Pope! She is beautiful and well shaped! How sorry I am not to be among the armed men of her escort! I would go with her to the end of the world, if only for the pleasure of looking at her!”
“Indeed, if I were a soldier, I would prefer to obey orders given by a sweet voice and from pretty little lips, than given by a rough voice and from hairy and coarse lips.”
“Look at the Sire of Novelpont with his iron armor! He rides at Joan’s right. Do you see him? He is a worthy seigneur.”
“He looks as if he would guard her as his own daughter. May God guard them both!”
“He is adjusting a strap on the bridle of the Maid’s palfrey.”
“At her left is the Sire of Baudricourt; he will probably accompany her part of the way.”
“There is the equerry Bertrand of Poulagny, carrying his master’s lance and shield.”
“Jesus! They have only four armed men with them! All told six persons to escort Joan from here to Touraine! And through such dangerous territories! What an imprudence!”
“God will watch over the holy Maid.”
“Look — she is turning in her saddle and seems to wave good-bye to someone in the castle.”
“She is taking her handkerchief to her eyes; she is drying her tears.”