Amid a hush of expectancy the armourer whom Jeanne had sent to Fierbois entered, and advanced toward the King. At a sign from the monarch he handed

to him the sword that he bore. Charles drew the weapon from its sheath and examined it curiously. It was an ancient blade, and though it had been cleaned still showed traces of rust. Upon the handle there were five crosses, as Jeanne had said there would be.

“Did the priests know that the sword was there?” he asked of the man.

“No, Sire. They said at first that the Maid must be mistaken, as they knew of no such sword; but, after much labor and search, ’twas found just where the Maid

said that it would be. It was very rusty when it was taken from the earth, but when the priests started to clean it the rust fell away of itself. So marvellous is the matter deemed that there is a great stir over it at Fierbois, and the priests have had this scabbard of crimson velvet made for the Maid to carry the sacred

weapon in.”

“The matter is of a truth marvellous,” commented Charles, laying the sword in

Jeanne’s eager, outstretched hands. “But good blade though it be, Pucelle, it will need sharpening before it can be used.”

Jeanne hung her head, blushing.

“It shall never be used for the shedding of blood,” she said reverently. “I love it already, fair Dauphin, but it shall not be used to kill. I could not shed blood.”

Charles smiled slightly at the shamefaced confession. Here was the maiden anxiously awaiting the gathering of men-at-arms that she might lead them into battle, yet declaring that she could not shed blood.

“And your standard?” he said gently. “Did you not say that you had received divine direction regarding it also?”

“Yes; but––” Jeanne paused reluctant to continue. She did not understand the reason for the design upon the standard, and was diffident about telling of it.

After some urging, however, she told Charles the exact design that was to be emblazoned upon it, and was dictated to her by her saints––Margaret and Catherine, and the monarch had it painted accordingly.

It was made of white linen, a precious fabric at this time, and over its field were scattered golden lilies. In the midst of it God was painted holding the world and sitting upon the clouds; on either side an angel knelt; the motto was Jesus Marie.

The standard was symbolic of her mission: the lilies of France, the country she had come to save; God, who had sent her; and Jesus, the Son of Mary, her watchword. On the reverse side of the standard Charles had fashioned the chosen blazon of the Maid: a dove argent, upon a field azure.

This was the great standard to be used for the rallying of all her host. She had also a banner and a pennon. On the banner was our Lord crucified between the

Holy Virgin and Saint John. This was to be used for the gathering of the men for prayer and praise after they had confessed and made their consciences clean. On the pennon was wrought the Annunciation, the angel with a lily kneeling to the

Blessed Virgin. It was to be used as a signal to those who fought around her as guards to her body. The standard Jeanne declared that she would carry herself, which was unusual for one who was to act as general. But such was the command of her heavenly guides.

“Take the standard on the part of God, and carry it boldly,” they had told her.

While all these preparations were being made Jeanne made a visit of a few days

to Alençon’s wife and mother at St. Florent near Saumur. Jeanne of Orléans made Jeanne of D’Arc warmly welcome. She was but a young girl herself,

daughter of Charles Duke of Orléans, then nearly fifteen years a prisoner in England, whose city the English were besieging, and therefore had a peculiar interest in the purpose of Jeanne D’Arc. She feared, though, for her husband’s safety, remembering the three years that he too had been a prisoner to the English, and she told these fears to Jeanne just as the latter was starting to return to Tours.

“Fear nothing, madame,” comforted Jeanne. “I will bring him back to you as well as he is now, or even better.”

While Jeanne was at St. Florent the two knights, Poulengy and Metz, had gone

with many others from Tours on a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Puy en Velay; for

this year of our Lord, 1429, was the year of Jubilee, as any year was called when Good Friday and the Annunciation fell upon the same day. The years in which

this occurred were always marked by strange and great events, and crowds flocked to the church which was the oldest dedicated to Our Lady.

The morning that the knights were to return Jeanne sat in an upper room of the

house of Jean du Puy, whose wife had charge of her. It was the room where she

received people, and was connected with the portal by a flight of stairs. There were many in the chamber, for she was now the commissioned Maid of War, with much to attend to. Presently her attention was caught by a commotion in the street below, and there came shouts and cries, and then the sound of footsteps.

Wondering at the tumult, for,––though many people were always waiting in the

street below to see her come and go; sometimes striving to get close enough to

kiss her hands or any part of her garments and hailing her as a messenger of hope,––there was seldom any disturbance inside the portal. Her amaze grew as

footsteps were heard ascending the stairs. Presently there came a quick rush of men in haste. As the door was flung wide a young voice cried:

“Jeanne, Jeanne! where are you? We have come to you, Jeanne.”

Jeanne uttered a cry of joy as Pierre and Jean, her brothers, came into the room, followed by the two knights and Father Pasquerel, her confessor.

“Oh, boys!” she cried, trying to clasp both of them in her arms at once. “When

did you come? How did you get here?”

“We came with the knights and Father Pasquerel from Puy en Velay, where we

went with mother on a pilgrimage. Then we came on here,” Pierre told her, giving her a bearlike hug.

“With mother?” exclaimed Jeanne in surprise. “Did mother go on a pilgrimage to

Puy en Velay?”

“Yes; she sends her love and blessing to you. She made offerings for you there,”

spoke Jean.

“And father?” questioned she anxiously. “How is father?”

“He grieves over your absence, Jeanne, but he sends his blessing and love also.”

“Now God be thanked,” cried the Maid, weeping for very joy. “Oh, ’tis good to

have you here, boys. Now you two shall be members of my Household, and be

with me wherever I go.”