Showering down blasphemies Glasdale stood on the drawbridge making a

desperate effort to save his men by covering their retreat over the bridge into the Tourelles. Suddenly a foul smoke rolled up from the river, suffocating all who stood with him. The citizens had loaded a barque with sulphur and all manner of evil smelling things, and floated it under the drawbridge. Presently tongues of flames shot up from it, licking the rafters of the drawbridge, and darting through the planks, while all about them fell the stone bullets of the guns of Orléans, lighting on the roofs and walls of the Tourelles, and splashing in the waters of the Loire. Jeanne’s quick eye saw the men’s danger.

“Classidas! Classidas!” she cried. “Yield thee, yield thee to the King of Heaven.

I have great pity on thee and thy people.”

Before the compassionate voice died away the bridge bent under the rush of armoured men, and broke. Glasdale and his companions plunged downward into

the great river and were seen no more, for the weight of their armour, the fire and the water all conspired against them. And at the sight Jeanne broke down and wept, then kneeling began to pray for their souls.

Yet the greater part of the surviving English had succeeded in reaching the fortress, but here they found themselves assailed from another quarter––Orléans.

The gap whence the arches had been broken had been spanned by gutters and beams, and through the smoke and dusk came the knights from the city, assaulting the Tourelles from that side. The struggle was soon over. Of all the stout defenders of the fort not one escaped; all were slain, drowned, or taken and held to ransom. Talbot with his English in the forts before the city had heard the French trumpets sound the recall, and had believed that the battle was over. Now the flames of boulevard and bridge blazed out the story of a new defeat.

The bells of Orléans pealed forth joyously as Jeanne re-entered the town by the bridge, as she had said she would do. The streets were crowded with people so

that it was with difficulty that she could make her way through them. They pressed about her as closely as they could, to kiss her hand, her greaves, her mailed shoes, her charger, or the floating folds of her banner, while others went

before her, crying:

“Room! Room for the Maid of Orléans!”

She was no longer the holy Maid from Vaucouleurs or Domremy, she was their

Maid; the Heaven-sent deliverer of their city; their Maid whom God had raised

from among His poor for their salvation; their Maid, and so she has remained, and always will remain––The Maid of Orléans.

Through all the delirious joy Jeanne rode in a maze of happiness, fatigue, languor, pain, and profound pity for the souls of those who had gone unshriven

to their maker. She stopped only to return thanks in the Church of St. Paul, and then rode to her lodgings, and went to bed.

On Sunday morning she arose and, weak from her wound, put on a coat of armour lighter than she had worn, and with Dunois and the captains marched out

of the Regnart Gate, for the English had come out of their fortresses and were drawn up outside in battle array. The confident French soldiers were eager to attack them, but Jeanne was reluctant to do so.

“Let us not attack them, for it is Sunday,” she said. “But if they attack you, fight bravely, and you will get the better of them.”

She then sent for an altar and a priest, and bade him celebrate mass in front of both armies. When one mass was done, she bade him celebrate another, both of

which she and the French and English soldiers heard with devotion.

“Now look,” she said, “and see if their faces are set toward us.”

“No,” was the answer. “They have turned their backs and are retreating toward

Meung.”

“In God’s name, let them go,” she said. “Our Lord does not wish us to fight them to-day. You shall have them another time.”

La Hire with a hundred lances followed the English and found that the retreat was genuine. They had collected their prisoners and all the property they could carry, leaving their sick, their heavy guns and ammunition, huge shields and provisions behind them. Jeanne’s first herald, Guienne, was found bound to a stake preparatory to burning him. The English but waited for the decision of the University at Paris before the execution. Before it had time to arrive the siege was raised.

The army of the French returned to the city and gave thanks, and made a procession; for they were delivered of the ancient enemies of the realm. [11]

That which had been declared impossible was done. The siege of Orléans was raised. Jeanne D’Arc had shown her sign.

[9]

Leech: surgeon.

[10]

Percéval de Cagny.

[11]

This was the foundation of the festival that has been held ever since at Orléans on the eighth of May. It was suspended for a short time during the French Revolution, but resumed afterward. Since 1429 the day has been considered as belonging to the Maid, and so throughout the centuries it has been observed. Orléans does not forget Jeanne D’Arc.

CHAPTER XXI

A WEEK OF WONDERS

“The goodness of her life proves that Jeanne possesses

the grace of God.... She goeth forth capturing towns

and castles. She is the first captain of our host. Such

power had not Hector or Achilles. But God, who leads

her, does all. ”

JACQUES GÉLU, Archbishop of Embrun. 1429

After a few days’ rest Jeanne set forth for Chinon, where the King still remained.

To raise the siege of Orléans and to lead the Dauphin to his crowning and anointing were the two charges laid upon her. She had performed the first, and

wished now to accomplish the latter. There was too a lack of provisions and money, the troops were dispersing, and the help of Charles was needed if the army were to be kept together. After the fall of each bastille news had been sent to the King by the citizens, and he in turn forwarded the tidings to all the good towns that held for him. “The Maid, who was always there in person at the doing of these things,” is the only leader mentioned in the dispatches.

Consequently a royal welcome awaited Jeanne at all the towns through which she and her company passed. As she drew near to Tours she was amazed to 2s

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the King, accompanied by some of the courtiers, ride forth to meet her. As soon as she saw him the maiden set forth at speed to greet him, bowing low in her saddle. But Charles reached forth his hand and lifted her, bowing in turn before her as though she were a queen.