"Verily and indeed the Maid is of wonderful excellence,"quoth Father Francois to me,in my chamber at the Jacobins,where I was healing of my hurts.
"Any man may know that,who is in your company,"the father went on speaking.
"And how,good father?"I asked him;"sure I have caught none of her saintliness.""A saint I do not call you,but I scarce call you a Scot.For you are a clerk.""The Maid taught me none of my clergy,father,nor have I taught her any of mine.""She needs it not.But you are peaceful and gentle;you brawl not,nor drink,nor curse ...""Nay,father,with whom am I to brawl,or how should I curse in your good company?Find you Scots so froward?""But now,pretending to be our friends,a band of them is harrying the Sologne country ...""They will be Johnstons and Jardines,and wild wood folk of Galloway,"I said."These we scarce reckon Scots,but rather Picts,and half heathen.And the Johnstons and Jardines are here belike,because they have made Scotland over hot to hold them.We are a poor folk,but honest,let by the clans of the Land Debatable and of Ettrick Forest,and the Border freebooters,and the Galloway Picts,and Maxwells,and Glendinnings,and the red-shanked,jabbering Highlanders and Islesmen,and some certain of the Angus folk,and,maybe,a wild crew in Strathclyde.""Yours,then,is a very large country?""About the bigness of France,or,may be,not so big.And the main part of it,and the most lawful and learned,is by itself,in a sort,a separate kingdom,namely Fife,whence I come myself.The Lothians,too,and the shire of Ayr,if you except Carrick,are well known for the lands of peaceful and sober men.""Whence comes your great captain,Sir Hugh Kennedy?""There you name an honourable man-at-arms,"I said,"the glory of Scotland;and to show you I was right,he is none of your marchmen,or Highlanders,but has lands in Ayrshire,and comes of a very honourable house.""It is Sir Hugh that hath just held to ransom the King's good town of Tours,where is that gracious lady the mother of the King's wife,the Queen of Sicily."Hereat I waxed red as fire.
"He will be in arrears of his pay,no doubt,"I made answer.
"It is very like,"said Father Francois:"but considering all that you tell me,I crave your pardon if I still think that the Blessed Maid has won you from the common ways of your countrymen."To which,in faith,I had no answer to make,but that my fortune was like to be the happier in this world and the next.
"Much need have all men of her goodness,and we of her valour,"said the father,and he sighed."This is now the fourth siege of Compiegne I have seen,and twice have the leads from our roofs and the metal of our bells been made into munition of war.Absit omen Domine!And now they say the Duke of Burgundy has sworn to slay all,and spare neither woman nor child.""A vaunt of war,father.Call they not him the Good Duke?When we lay before Paris,the English put about a like lying tale concerning us,as if we should sack and slay all.""I pray that you speak sooth,"said Father Francois.
On the next day,being May the twentieth,he came to me again,with a wan face.
"Burgundians are in Claroix,"said he,"across the river,and yet others,with Jean de Luxembourg,at Margny,scarce a mile away,at the end of the causeway through the water meadows,beyond the bridge.And the Duke is at Coudun,a league off to the right of Claroix,and I have clomb the tower-top,and thence seen the English at Venette,on the left hand of the causeway.All is undone.""Nay,father,be of better cheer.Our fort at the bridge end is stronger than Les Tourelles were at Orleans.The English shot can scarce cross the river.Bridge the enemy has none,and northward and eastward all is open.Be of better heart,Heaven helps France.""We have sent to summon the Maid,'said he,"from Crepy-en-Valois.
In her is all my hope;but you speak lightly,for you are young,and war is your trade.""And praying is yours,father,wherefore you should be bolder than I."But he shook his head.
So two days passed,and nothing great befell,but in the grey dawn of May the twenty-third I was held awake by clatter of horsemen riding down the street under the window of my chamber.And after matins came Father Francois,his face very joyful,with the tidings that the Maid,and a company of some three hundred lances of hers,had ridden in from Crepy-en-Valois,she ****** her profit of the darkness to avoid the Burgundians.
Then I deemed that the enemy would soon have news of her,and all that day I heard the bells ring merry peals,and the trumpets sounding.About three hours after noonday Father Francois came again,and told me that the Maid would make a sally,and cut the Burgundians in twain;and now nothing would serve me but I must be borne in a litter to the walls,and see her banner once more on the wind.
So,by the goodwill of Father Francois,some lay brethren bore me forth from the convent,which is but a stone's-throw from the bridge.They carried me across the Oise to a mill hard by the boulevard of the Bridge fort,whence,from a window,I beheld all that chanced.No man sitting in the gallery of a knight's hall to see jongleurs play and sing could have had a better stance,or have seen more clearly all the mischief that befell.
The town of Compiegne lies on the river Oise,as Orleans on the Loire,but on the left,not the right hand of the water.The bridge is strongly guarded,as is custom,by a tower at the further end,and,in front of that tower,a boulevard.All the water was gay to look on,being covered with boats,as if for a holiday,but these were manned by archers,whom Guillaume de Flavy had set to shoot at the enemy,if they drove us back,and to rescue such of our men as might give ground,if they could not win into the boulevard at the bridge end.
