“No, Colin; there are no beds, but even so floors are better than the fields. There would be no safety outside the walls on account of the wolves.”
“Wolves?” Colin whitened perceptibly, and the children huddled closer together.
“I did not think of wolves. Is there in truth danger?”
“The men fear so, because some of the cattle and sheep were trampled to death
by the others, and their carcasses may draw them. We are to use the castle until the houses are thatched.”
The arrangements were as Jeanne had said. The nights were to be spent in the safety of the castle’s confines, while the days were to be devoted to the rebuilding of the village, and the resowing of the fields. Thus did the peasants with brave resignation once more take up their lives. For, no matter how adverse Fate may be, life must be lived; misfortune must be met and overcome.
And the times that followed were such as to try the endurance of the unfortunate inhabitants of Domremy to the utmost. It was the season of the year when there
was a scarcity of provisions everywhere. From early Spring until the reaping of the new crops the stock of food in a rural community is at its lowest; so, though many villages of the valley shared their stores with their unfortunate neighbors their own needs had to be taken into consideration, therefore it came about that Famine reared his ugly head in the linked villages of Greux and Domremy.
Many of the cruelly despoiled peasants died of hunger.
One day Jacques D’Arc gathered his family about him. They were in their own
home by this time, but its furnishings were of the rudest. Before Jacques on the table lay a single loaf of bread, and by it stood a pail of water. He looked at them sadly.
“’Tis our last loaf,” he said, “and, of provision we have naught else. So this is our last meal, for I know not where another can be forthcoming. We will eat to-day; to-morrow we must do as we can. Take in thankfulness, therefore, what lies before us.”
With this he cut the loaf into seven parts, giving a portion to his wife first, then one to each of his children except Jeanne. Hers he kept beside his own. When all had been served he turned to her.
“Come here, my little one,” he said.
Timidly, for there was something in his tone that she did not understand, the little maid went to his side. Jacques encircled her with his arm.
“Have you broken your fast to-day, my child?”
Jeanne blushed, and hung her head as though guilty of wrong doing, but did not
reply.
“You have not,” he asserted. “Yesterday Pierre saw you give all of your portion to your sister. The day before you kept but a small part for yourself, giving Catherine the rest. Is it not so?”
“Yes, father; but I go to the church and pray; then I do not need food.” Jeanne took courage as she told this, and raising her head looked at him bravely. “I do not feel very hungry.”
“Fasting is good for the soul, my child, but too much of it is ill for the body.
Stay, therefore, beside me that your father may see you eat your share.”
“But, father,” she began protestingly. He interrupted her:
“Eat,” he commanded. When Jacques spoke in that tone his children knew that
resistance was useless, so silently Jeanne ate her portion. Nor would he permit her to leave his side until every crumb was swallowed. She did not sit again at table, but went to the open door and gazed down the highroad through tear-blinded eyes. Her heart was very full. Father and child were in close accordance, and she knew that he suffered because of his family’s misery. So down the valley she gazed wishing that she might do something to help him.
The valley had regained much of its loveliness. The trees had leaved again; the fields were green with the new crops, and the gardens gave promise of later abundance. There were still black gaps among the dwellings, however;
significant reminders of the visit of the marauders. Suddenly as the little maid stood leaning against the door, something down the road caused her to start violently, and lean forward eagerly.
“Father,” she cried shrilly.
“Yes, Jeanne,” he answered apathetically.
“There are cattle and sheep coming down the highroad. They look like ours.
What does it mean?”
Instantly Jacques sprang to his feet and hastened to the door. One look and he
gave a great shout.
“They are ours,” he cried in ringing tones. “Friends, neighbours, come and see!
The cattle have come back.”
From out of the cottages ran the people, incredulity turning to joy as their sight verified Jacques’ cry. The wildest excitement prevailed as the flocks and herds in charge of a number of soldiers commanded by a young man-at-arms drew near.
From him they learned what had happened.
When the lady of the castle, she who had gone to live with her spouse at the ducal court of Nancy, heard of the raid that had been made upon the villages, she protested to her kinsman, the Count of Vaudemont, against the wrong done to her, as she was the lady of Domremy and Greux.
Now the place to which the chief of the marauding band, Henri d’Orley, had taken the cattle and plunder was the Château of Doulevant, which was under the
immediate suzerainty of the lady’s kinsman. As soon, therefore, as he received her message he sent a man-at-arms with soldiers to recapture the animals and the booty. This was done; not, however, without a fight, in which the young commander was victorious; and so he had brought the cattle home.
