any kind. ’Tis nothing short of miraculous.”
But Jeanne heard them wondering, and smiled at them.
“Marvel not,” she said. “God clears the way for me. I was born for this.”
And so they came to the green slopes of Fierbois, from which place they would
proceed to Chinon, where the King lay.
CHAPTER XVI
JEANNE COMES TO HER KING
“Be not dismayed, for succor is at hand:
A holy maid hither with me I bring,
Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven,
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege.
And drive the English forth the bounds of France. ”
SHAKESPEARE. Henry Sixth, First Part.
The King lay at Chinon, just six leagues from Fierbois, and Jeanne decided to write to him, asking permission to come to the town, for neither of the knights dared go further without his consent. Accordingly Sire Bertrand procured a scribe, and the maiden dictated the following letter:
“Gentle Dauphin,––I have ridden a hundred and fifty leagues to bring
you aid from Messire, the King of Heaven. I have much good news for
you, and would beg that out of your grace you will allow me to tell it to
you in person. Though I have never seen you, yet I should know you in
any disguise among a thousand. May God give you long life.
“JEANNE THE MAID.”
Colet de Vienne, the King’s messenger, took the missive, and at once set forth
16 7at
speed for Chinon. A day at least must pass before the answer could come back,
so Jeanne availed herself of the privilege of hearing mass in the village church dedicated to Saint Catherine, one of her daily visitors.
It was the most famous sanctuary of the Saint, for here she received multitudes of pilgrims and worked great miracles. Her worship was warlike and national, and dated back to the beginning of French history. Jeanne lingered lovingly in the chapel, hearing three masses, and listening with delight to the stories of the miracles.
The next day, having received permission to proceed to Chinon, they mounted and faced toward the town, and the maiden’s heart beat fast. She was going to the King at last. That which she had dreamed for four years was being realized.
She was going to the King, and her heart sang for joy.
The nearer the company drew to Chinon they saw with amazement that the country became poorer, for the Court and the men-at-arms had stripped it bare.
For this reason the Dauphin could seldom abide long at one place, for he was so much better known than trusted that the very cord-wainer would not let him march off in a new pair of boots without seeing his money. There was a song which said that he even greased his old clouted shoon to make them last as long as he might. There were many stories told about his extravagance and consequent poverty. It was a poor prince to whom Jeanne was going.
It had been a long journey, as De Poulengy had said it would be, so that it was the eleventh day after leaving Vaucouleurs that they entered Chinon. It was March sixth, the fourth Sunday in Lent, and therefore Laetare Sunday. In far off Domremy the boys and the girls, the youths and the maidens would be going to
the Fairy Tree and the Gooseberry Spring for the “Well Dressing.” They would
eat their hard boiled eggs with the rolls their mothers had kneaded. Pierre would go and possibly Jean, though he was older than she. The country would be grey
and leafless there; here there were already monitions of Spring. So Jeanne mused, but she did not let her thoughts wander long to her far off home and friends, for she was at last in Chinon, where the Dauphin abode.
The town was built upon a meadow beside the river Vienne, and was compactly
walled. Behind it rose a high perpendicular ledge on which the castle stood, the finest in the realm of France. Behind its proud walls there breathed that King to whom she had been impelled to come by a miraculous love. Jeanne looked up at
it with longing glance, but she must wait until permission was accorded before
