A MONK OF FIFE
A Romance of the Days of Jeanne D'Arc - Joan of Arc
by Andrew Lang
CHAPTER XVIII
HOW ELLIOT'S JACKANAPES WAS SEEN AT THE KING'S
CROWNING
"The hearts of kings are in His hand," says Holy Scripture, and it
is of necessity to be believed that the hearts of kings, in an
especial sense, are wisely governed. Yet, the blindness of our
sinful souls, we often may not see, nor by deep consideration find
out, the causes wherefore kings often act otherwise, and, as we
might deem, less worthily than common men. For it is a truth and
must be told, that neither before he was anointed with the blessed
oil from the holy vessel, or ampulla, which the angel brought to St.
Remigius, nor even after that anointing (which is more strange), did
Charles VII., King of France, bear him kingly as regards the Maiden.
Nay, I have many a time thought with sorrow that if Xaintrailles, or
La Hire, ay, or any the meanest esquire in all our army, had been
born Dauphin, in three months after the Maid's victories in June
Paris would have been ours, and not an Englishman left to breathe
the air of France. For it needed but that the King should obey the
Maid, ride straight to Reims, and thence on Paris town, and every
city would have opened its gates to him, as the walls of Jericho
fell at the mere sound of the trumpets of Israel.
This is no foolish fancy of an old man dreaming in a cloister about
what might have been. For the Regent of the English, brother of
their King Harry the Fifth, and himself a wise man, and brave, if
cruel, was of this same mind. First, he left Paris and shut himself
up in the strong castle of Vincennes, dreading an uproar among the
people; and next, he wholly withdrew himself to Rouen, for he had
now no force of men to guard the walls of Paris. Our Dauphin had
but to mount and ride, and all would have been his at one blow, ay,
or without a blow. The Maid, as we daily heard, kept praying him,
even with tears, to do no more than this; and from every side came
in men free and noble, ready to serve at their own charges. The
poorest gentlemen who had lost all in the troubles, and might not
even keep a horse to ride, were of goodwill to march as common foot-
soldiers.
But, while all France called on her King, he was dwelling at Sully,
in the castle of La Tremouille, a man who had a foot in either camp,
so that neither English nor Burgundians had ever raided on his rich
lands, when these lay in their power. So, what with the self-
seeking, and sloth, and jealousy of La Tremouille; what with the
worldly policy of the Archbishop of Reims, crying Peace, where there
was no peace, the Maid and the captains were not listened to, or, if
they were heard, their plans were wrought out with a faint heart, so
that, at last, if it is lawful to say so, the will of men prevailed
over the will of Heaven.
Never, I pray, may any prince of my own country be so bestead, and
so ill-served, that, when he has won battles and gained cities two
or three, and needs but to ride forward and win all his kingdom, he
shall be turned back by the little faith of his counsellors! Never
may such a thing befall a prince of Scotland! Concerning these
matters of State, as may be believed, we devised much at Tours,
while messengers were coming and going, and long, weary councils
were being held at Sully and at Gien. D'Alencon, we got news, was
all for striking a blow yet more bold than the march to Reims, and
would have attacked the English where they were strongest, and
nearest their own shores, namely, at Rouen. The counsellors of the
peaceful sort were inclined to waste time in besieging La Charite,
and other little towns on Loire-side. But her Voices had bidden the
Maid, from the first, to carry the Dauphin to Reims, that there he
might be anointed, and known to France for the very King. So at
last, finding that time was sorely wasted, whereas all hope lay in a
swift stroke, ere the English could muster men, and bring over the
army lately raised by the Cardinal of Winchester to go crusading
against the miscreants of Bohemia--the Maid rode out of Gien, with
her own company, on June the twenty-seventh, and lodged in the
fields, some four leagues away, on the road to Auxerre. And next
day the King and the Court followed her perforce, with a great army
of twelve thousand men. Thenceforth there came news to us every day
in Tours, and all the news was good. Town after town opened its
gates at the summons of the Maid, and notably Troyes and Chalons, in
despite of the English garrisons.
We were all right glad, and could scarce sleep for joy, above all
when a messenger rode in, one Thomas Scott, whom I had encountered
before, as I have written, bidding my master come straightway to
Reims, to join the King, and exercise his craft in designing a great
picture of the coronation. So with much ado he bestowed his
canvases, brushes, paints, and all other gear of his trade in
wallets, and, commending his daughter to his old kinswoman, to obey
her in all things, he set off on horseback with Thomas Scott. But
for myself, I was to lodge, while he was at Reims, with a worthy
woman of Tours, for the avoiding of evil tongues, and very tardily
the time passed with me, for that I might not be, as before, always
in the company of Elliot.
As for my lady, she was, during most of these days, on her knees at
the altar in the great minster, praying to the saints for the
Dauphin, and the Maid, and for her father, that he might come and go
safely on his journey. Nor did she pray in vain, for, no more than
two days after the first tidings had arrived that the sacring was
done, and that all had gone well, my master rode to his own door,
weary, but glad at heart, and hobbled into his house. One was sent
running to bring me this good news, and I myself ran, for now I was
able, and found him seated at his meat, as well as he could eat it
for Elliot, that often stopped his mouth with kisses.
He held forth his hand to me, saying, "All is as well as heart could
desire, and the Maid bids you follow her, if you may, to the taking
of Paris, for there she says will be your one chance to win your
spurs. And now let me eat and drink, for the heat is great, the
ways dusty, and I half famished. Thereafter ask me what you will,
and you, Elliot, come not between a hungry man and his meat."
So he spoke, sitting at his table with his tankard in his hand, and
his wallets lying about him on the floor. Elliot was therefore fain
not to be embracing him, but rather to carve for him, and serve in
the best manner, that he might sup the quicker and tell us all his
tale. This he did at last, Elliot sitting on his knee, with her arm
about his neck. But, as touches the sacring, how it was done,
though many of the peers of France were not there to see, and how
noble were the manners of the King and the Maid, who stood there
with her banner, and of the only reward which she would take,
namely, that her townsfolk should live free of tax and corvee, all
this is known and written of in Chronicles. Nor did I see it
myself, so I pass by. But, next to actual beholding of that
glorious rite, the best thing was to hear my master tell of it,
taking out his books, wherein he had drawn the King, and the Maid in
her harness, and many of the great lords. From these pictures a
tapestry was afterwards wrought, and hung in Reims Cathedral, where
it is to this day: the Maid on horseback beckoning the King onward,
the Scots archers beside him in the most honourable place, as was
their lawful due, and, behind all, the father of the Maid entering
Reims by another road. By great good fortune, and by virtue of
being a fellow-traveller with Thomas Scott, the rider of the King's
stable, my master found lodgings easily enough. So crowded was the
town that, the weather being warm, in mid July, many lay in
tabernacles of boughs, in the great place of Reims, and there was
more singing that night than sleeping. But my master had lain at
the hostelry called L'Asne Roye, in the parvise, opposite to the
cathedral, where also lay Jean d'Arc, the father of the Maid.
Thither she herself came to visit him, and she gave gifts to such of
the people of her own countryside as were gathered at Reims.
"And, Jeannot, do you fear nothing?" one of them asked her, who had
known her from a child.
"I fear nothing but treason," my master heard her reply, a word that
we had afterwards too good cause to remember.
"And is she proud now that she is so great?" asked Elliot.
"She proud! No pride has she, but sat at meat, and spoke friendly
with all these manants, and it was "tu" and "toy," and "How is this
one? and that one?" till verily, I think, she had asked for every
man, woman, child, and dog in Domremy. And that puts me in mind--"
"In mind of what?"
"Of nought. Faith, I remember not what I was going to say, for I am
well weary."
"But Paris?" I asked. "When march we on Paris?" My master's face
clouded. "They should have set forth for Paris the very day after
the sacring, which was the seventeenth of July. But envoys had come
in from the Duke of Burgundy, and there were parleys with them as
touching peace. Now, peace will never be won save at the point of
the lance. But a truce of a fortnight has been made with Burgundy,
and then he is to give up Paris to the King. Yet, ere a fortnight
has passed, the new troops from England will have come over to fight
us, and not against the heretics of Bohemia, though they have taken
the cross and the vow. And the King has gone to Saint Marcoul,
forsooth, seeing that, unless he goes there to do his devotions, he
may not touch the sick and heal the crewels. {29} Faith, they that
have the crewels might even wait till the King has come to his own
again; they have waited long enough to learn patience while he was
Dauphin. It should be Paris first, and Saint Marcoul and the
crewels afterwards, but anything to waste time and keep out of the
brunt of the battle." Here he struck his hand on the table so that
the vessels leaped. "I fear what may come of it," he said. "For
every day that passes is great loss to us and much gain to our
enemies of England, who will anon garrison Paris."
"Faint-heart," cried Elliot, plucking his beard. "You will never
believe in the Maid, who has never yet failed to help us, by the aid
of the saints."
"The saints help them that help themselves," he answered. "And
Paris town has walls so strong, that once the fresh English are
entered in, even the saints may find it a hard bargain. But you,
Elliot, run up and see if my chamber be ready, for I am well weary."
She ran forth, and my master, turning to me, said in a low voice, "I
have something for your own ear, but I feared to grieve her. In a
booth at Reims I saw her jackanapes doing his tricks, and when he
came round questing with his bowl the little beast knew me and
jumped up into my arms, and wailed as if he had been a Christian.
Then I was for keeping him, but I was set on by three or four stout
knaves, and, I being alone, and the crowd taking their part, I
thought it not well to draw sword, and so break the King's peace
that had just then begun to be King. But my heart was sore for the
poor creature, and, in very truth, I bring back no light heart, save
to see you twain again, for I fear me that the worst of the darg
{30} is still to do. But here comes Elliot, so no word of the
jackanapes."
Therewith he went off to his chamber, and I to mine, with less
pleasure than I had looked for. Still, the thought came into my
heart that, the longer the delay of the onslaught on Paris, the
better chance I had to take part therein; and the harder the work,
the greater the glory.
The boding words of my master proved over true. The King was sacred
on July the sixteenth, and Paris then stood empty of English
soldiers, being garrisoned by Burgundians only. But, so soon as he
was anointed, the King began to parley with Burgundy, and thus they
spun out the time, till, on July the twenty-fifth, a strong army of
Englishmen had entered Paris. Whether their hearts were high may
not be known, but on their banner they had hung a distaff, and had
painted the flag with the words -
"Ores viegne la Belle,"
meaning, "Let the fair Maid come, and we shall give her wool to
spin." Next we heard, and were loth to believe it, that a new truce
of fifteen days more had been made with Burgundy. The Maid, indeed,
said openly that she loved not the truce, and that she kept it only
for the honour of the King, which was dearer to her than her life,
as she proved in the end.
Then came marchings, this way and that, all about the Isle of
France, Bedford leaving Paris to fight the King, and then refusing
battle, though the Maid rode up to the English palisades, and smote
them with her sword, defying the English to come out, if they were
men. So the English betook them back to Paris, after certain light
skirmishes only. Meanwhile some of his good towns that had been in
the hands of the English yielded to the King, or rather to the Maid.
Among these the most notable was Compiegne, a city as great as
Orleans. Many a time it had been taken and retaken in the wars, but
now the burgesses swore that they would rather all die, with their
wives and children, than open their gates again to the English. And
this oath they kept well, as shall be seen in the end.
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