A MONK OF FIFE
A Romance of the Days of Jeanne D'Arc - Joan of Arc
by Andrew Lang
CHAPTER XXX
HOW NORMAN LESLIE TOOK SERVICE WITH THE ENGLISH
"What make we now?" I asked of Barthelemy Barrette, one day, after
the companies had scattered, as I have said, and we had gone back
into Compiegne. "What stroke may France now strike for the Maid?"
He hung his head and plucked at his beard, ere he spoke.
"To be as plain with you as my heart is with myself, Norman," he
answered at last, "deliverance, or hope of deliverance, see I none.
The English have the bird in the cage, and Rouen is not a strength
that can be taken by sudden onslaught. And, were it so, where is
our force, in midwinter? I rather put my faith, that can scarce
move mountains, in some subtle means, if any man might devise them."
"We cannot sit idle here," I said. "And for three long months there
will be no moving of armies in open field."
"And in three months these dogs of false French doctors of Paris
will have tried and condemned the Maid. For my part, I ride with my
handful of spears to the Loire. Perchance there is yet some hope in
the King."
"Then I ride with you, granted your goodwill, for I must needs to
Tours, and I have overmuch treasure in my wallet to ride alone."
Indeed, I was now a rich man, more by luck than by valour; and
though I said nought of it, I hoped that my long wooing might now
come to a happy end.
Barthelemy clasped hands gladly on that offer; and not to make a
long tale, he and his men were my escort to Tours, and thence he
rode to Sully to see the King.
I had no heart for glad surprises this time, but having sent on a
letter to my master, by a King's messenger who rode from Compiegne
ere we did, I was expected and welcomed by Elliot and my master,
with all the joy that might be, after our long severance. And in my
master's hands I laid my newly gotten gear, and heard privily from
him that, with his goodwill, I and his daughter might wed so soon as
she would.
"For she is pining with grief, and prayer, and fasting, and marriage
is the best remede for such maladies."
Of this grace I was right glad; yet Christmas went by and I dared
not speak, for Elliot seemed set on far other things than mirth, and
was ever and early in the churches, above all when service and
prayer were offered up for the Maid. She was very willing to hear
all the tale of the long siege, and her face, that was thin and wan,
unlike her bright countenance of old, flushed scarlet when she heard
how we had bearded and shamed the noble Duke of Burgundy, and what
words Xaintrailles had spoken concerning his nobleness.
"There is one true knight left in France!" she said, and fell silent
again.
Then, we being alone in the chamber, I tried to take her hand, but
she drew it away.
"My dear love," she said, "I know all that is in your heart, and all
my love that is in mine you know well. But in mine there is no care
for happiness and joy, and to speak as plain as a maiden may, I have
now no will to marry. While the Sister of the Saints lies in
duresse, or if she be unjustly slain, I have set up my rest to abide
unwed, for ever, as the Bride of Heaven. And, if the last evil
befall her, as well I deem it must, I shall withdraw me from the
world into the sisterhood of the Clarisses."
Had the great mid-beam of the roof fallen and smitten me, I could
not have been stricken more dumb and dead. My face showed what was
in my mind belike, for, looking fearfully and tenderly on me, she
took my hand between hers and cherished it.
"My love," I said at last, "you see in what case I am, that can
scarce speak for sorrow, after all I have ventured, and laboured,
and won, for you and for the Maid."
"And I," she answered, "being but a girl, can venture and give
nothing but my poor prayers; and if she now perish, then I must pray
the more continually for the good rest of her soul, and the
forgiveness of her enemies and false friends."
"Sure, she hath already the certain promise of Paradise, and even in
this world her life is with the Saints. And if men slay her body,
we need her prayers more than she needs ours."
But Elliot said no word, being very wilful.
"Consider what manner of friend the Maid is," I said, "who desires
nothing but joy and happy life to all whom she loves, as she loves
you. Verily, I am right well assured that, could she see us in this
hour, she would bid you be happy with me, and not choose penance for
love of her."
"If she herself bids me do as you desire," said Elliot at last,
"then I would not be disobedient to that Daughter of God."
Here I took some comfort, for now a thought came into my mind.
"But," said Elliot, "as we read of the rich man and Lazarus, between
her and us is a great gulf fixed, and none may come from her to us,
or from us to her."
"Elliot!" I said, "if either the Maid be delivered, or if she sends
you sure and certain tidings under her own hand that she wills you
to put off this humour, will you then be persuaded, and make no more
delay!"
"Indeed, if either of these miracles befall, or both, right gladly
will I obey both you and her. But now her Saints, methinks, have
left her, wearied by the wickedness of France."
"I ask no more," I answered, "for, Elliot, either the Maid shall be
free, or she shall send you this command, or you shall see my face
no more."
My purpose was now clear before me, even as I executed it, as shall
be seen.
"Indeed, if my vow must be kept, never may I again behold you; for
oh! my love, my heart would surely break in twain, being already
weak with grief and fasting, and weary with prayer."
Whereon she laid her kind arms about my neck, and, despite my
manhood, I wept no less than she.
For Holy Writ says well, that hope deferred maketh the heart sick;
and mine was sick unto death.
Of my resolve I spoke no word more to Elliot, lest her counsel
should change when she knew the jeopardy whereinto I was firmly
minded to go. And to my master I said no more than that I was
minded to ride to the Court, and for that end I turned into money a
part of my treasure, for money I should need more than arms.
One matter in especial, which I deemed should stand me in the
greatest stead, I purchased for gold of the pottinger at Tours, the
same who had nursed me after my wound. This draught I bestowed in a
silver phial, graven with strange signs, and I kept it ever close
and secret, for it was my chief mainstay.
Secretly as I wrought, yet I deem that my master had some
understanding of what was in my mind, though I told him nothing of
the words between me and Elliot. For I was in no way without hope
that, when the bitterness of her grief was overpast, Elliot might
change her counsel. And again, I would not have him devise and
dispute with her, as now, whereby I very well knew that she would be
but the more unhappy, and the more set on taking her own wilful way.
I therefore said no more than that it behoved me to see such
captains as were about the King.
Thereafter I bade them farewell, nor am I disposed to write
concerning what passed at the parting of Elliot and me. For thrice
ere now I had left her to pass into the mouth of war, but now I went
into other peril, and with fainter hope.
I did indeed ride to the Court, which was at Sully, and there I met,
as I desired, Barthelemy Barrette. He greeted me well, and was
richly clad, and prosperous to behold. But it gave me greater joy
that he spoke of some secret enterprise which should shortly be put
in hand, when the spring came.
"For I have good intelligence," he said, "that the Bastard of
Orleans will ride privily to Louviers with men-at-arms. Now
Louviers, where La Hire lies in garrison, is but seven leagues from
Rouen town, and what secret enterprise can he purpose there, save to
break the cage and set free the bird?"
In this hope I tarried long, intending to ride with the spears of
Barthelemy, and placing my trust on two knights so good and skilled
in war as La Hire and the Bastard, the Maid's old companions in
fight.
But the days waxed long, and it was March the thirteenth ere we rode
north, and already the doctors had begun to entrap the Maid with
their questions, whereof there could be but one end.
Without adventure very notable, riding much at night, through
forests and byways, we came to Louviers, where they received us
joyfully. For it was very well known that the English were minded
to besiege this town, that braved them so near their gates at Rouen,
and that they only held back till they had slain the Maid. While
she lived they dared not stir against us, knowing well that their
men feared to follow their flag.
Now, indeed, I was in good hope, but alas! there were long counsels
of the captains, there was much harrying of Normandy, and some
outlying bands of English were trapped, and prisoners were taken.
But of an assault on Rouen we heard no word, and, indeed, the
adventure was desperate, though, for the honour of France, I marvel
yet that it was not put to the touch.
"There is nought to be done," Barthelemy said to me; "I cannot take
Rouen with a handful of spears, and the captains will not stir."
"Then," said I, "farewell, for under the lilies I fight never again.
One chance remains, and I go to prove it."
"Man, you are mad," he answered me. "What desperate peril are you
minded to run?"
"I am minded to end this matter," I said. "My honour and my very
life stand upon it. Ask me not why, and swear that you will keep
this secret from all men, if you would do the last service to me,
and to Her, whom we both love. I tell you that, help me or hinder
me, I have no choice but this; yet so much I will say to you, that I
put myself in this jeopardy for my honour and the honour of
Scotland, and for my lady."
"The days are past for the old chivalry," he said; "but no more
words. I swear by St. Ouen to keep your counsel, and if more I can
do, without mere madness and risk out of all hope, I will do it."
"This you can do without risk. Let me have the accoutrements of one
of the Englishmen who lie in ward, and let me ride with your band at
daybreak to-morrow. It is easy to tell some feigned tale, when you
ride back without me."
"You will not ride into Rouen in English guise? They will
straightway hang you for a spy, and therein is little honour."
"My purpose is some deal subtler," I said, with a laugh, "but let me
keep my own counsel."
"So be it," said he, "a wilful man must have his way. And now I
drink to your better wisdom, and may you escape that rope on which
your heart seems to be set!"
I grasped his hand on it, and by point of day we were riding out
seawards. We made an onslaught on a village, burned a house or
twain, and seized certain wains of hay, so, in the confusion, I
slipped forward, and rode alone into a little wood. There I clad
myself in English guise, having carried the gear in a wallet on my
saddle-bow, and so pushed on, till at nightfall I came to a certain
little fishing-village. There, under cover of the dark, I
covenanted with a fisherman to set me across the Channel, I feigning
to be a deserter who was fleeing from the English army, for fear of
the Maid.
"I would well that I had to carry all the sort of you," said the
boat-master, for I had offered him my horse, and a great reward in
money, part down, and the other part to be paid when I set foot in
England. Nor did he make any tarrying, but, taking his nets on
board, as if he would be about his lawful business, set sail, with
his two sons for a crew. The east wind served us to a miracle, and,
after as fair a passage as might be, they landed me under cloud of
night not far from the great port of Winchelsea.
That night I slept none, but walking fast and warily, under cover of
a fog, I fetched a compass about, and ended by walking into the town
of Rye by the road from the north. Here I went straight to the best
inn of the place, and calling aloud for breakfast, I bade the drawer
bring mine host to me instantly. For, at Louviers, we were so well
served by spies, the country siding with us rather than with the
English, that I knew how a company of the Earl of Warwick's men was
looked for in Winchelsea to sail when they had a fair wind for
Rouen.
Mine host came to me in a servile English fashion, and asked me what
I would?
"First, a horse," said I, "for mine dropped dead last night, ten
miles hence on the north road, in your marshes, God damn them, and
you may see by my rusty spur and miry boot that I have walked far.
Here," I cried, pulling off my boots, and flinging them down on the
rushes of the floor, "bid one of your varlets clean them! Next,
breakfast, and a pot of your ale; and then I shall see what manner
of horses you keep, for I must needs ride to Winchelsea."
"You would join the men under the banner of Sir Thomas Grey of
Falloden, I make no doubt?" he answered. "Your speech smacks of the
Northern parts, and the good knight comes from no long way south of
the border. His men rode through our town but few days agone."
"And me they left behind on the way," I answered, "so evil is my
luck in horse-flesh. But for this blessed wind out of the east that
hinders them, my honour were undone."
My tale was not too hard of belief, and before noon I was on my way
to Winchelsea, a stout nag enough between my legs.
The first man-at-arms whom I met I hailed, bidding him lead me
straight to Sir Thomas Grey of Falloden. "What, you would take
service?" he asked, in a Cumberland burr that I knew well, for
indeed it came ready enough on my own tongue.
"Yea, by St. Cuthbert," I answered, "for on the Marches nothing
stirs; moreover, I have slain a man, and fled my own country."
With that he bade God damn his soul if I were not a good fellow, and
so led me straight to the lodgings of the knight under whose colours
he served. To him I told the same tale, adding that I had heard
late of his levying of his men, otherwise I had ridden to join him
at his setting forth.
"You have seen war?" he asked.
"Only a Warden's raid or twain, on the moss-trooping Scots of
Liddesdale. Branxholme I have seen in a blaze, and have faced fire
at the Castle of the Hermitage."
"You speak the tongue of the Northern parts," he said; "are you
noble?"
"A poor cousin of the Storeys of Netherby," I answered, which was
true enough; and when he questioned me about my kin, I showed him
that I knew every name and scutcheon of the line, my mother having
instructed me in all such lore of her family. {38}
"And wherefore come you here alone, and in such plight?"
"By reason of a sword-stroke at Stainishawbank Fair," I answered
boldly.
"Faith, then, I see no cause why, as your will is so good, you
should not soon have your bellyful of sword-strokes. For, when once
we have burned that limb of the devil, the Puzel" (for so the
English call the Maid), "we shall shortly drive these forsworn dogs,
the French, back beyond the Loire."
I felt my face reddening at these ill words, so I stooped, as if to
clear my spur of mire.
"Shortly shall she taste the tar-barrel," I answered, whereat he
swore and laughed; then, calling a clerk, bade him write my
indenture, as is the English manner. Thus, thanks to my northern
English tongue, for which I was sore beaten by the other boys when I
was a boy myself, behold me a man-at-arms of King Henry, and so much
of my enterprise was achieved.
I make no boast of valour, and indeed I greatly feared for my neck,
both now and later. For my risk was that some one of the men-at-
arms in Rouen, whither we were bound, should have seen my face
either at Orleans, at Paris (where I was unhelmeted), or in the
taking of the Bastille at Compiegne. Yet my visor was down, both at
Orleans and Compiegne, and of those few who marked me in girl's gear
in Paris none might chance to meet me at Rouen, or to remember me in
changed garments. So I put a bold brow on it, for better might not
be. None cursed the Puzel more loudly than I, and, without
feigning, none longed so sorely as I for a fair wind to France,
wherefore I was ever going about Winchelsea with my head in the air,
gazing at the weather-cocks. And, as fortune would have it, the
wind went about, and we on board, and with no long delay were at
Rouen town.
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