The Executioner's Knife Part 20

Early in the morning the Sire of Gaucourt, with a squad of soldiers and mercenaries, took possession of the Bourgogne Gate, through which Joan had to pa.s.s to reach the river bank and effect the embarkation of the troops. Gaucourt ordered the soldiers, whom he planted under the arch, to allow none to leave the town, and to use their arms against anyone who tried to violate their orders. Stepping back a few paces, wrapping himself closely in his cloak, and listening from time to time for what was happening in town, the traitor waited.

Dawn soon appeared; its early glimmer lighted the horizon and set off the outlines of the crenelated Bourgogne Gate. A distant noise presently attracted the attention of Gaucourt; it increased and drew near; and soon he distinguished the m.u.f.fled tread of many feet and the rattling of arms. He then repeated his orders to his soldiers and withdrew into the shadow of the vault that united the two towers at this entrance to the town. A few minutes later a compact column, marching in good order and composed of the urban militia and surrounding peasants, who had entered Orleans after the capture of the bastille of St. Loup, turned into the street that led to the Bourgogne Gate. Master John and about twelve other citizen cannoniers marched in the front ranks, dragging a cart on which were two portable culverins, christened by Master John "Jeannette"

and "Jeanneton" in honor of his countrywoman; another cart, also hand-drawn, contained the munitions for the two pieces of artillery. The martial maid rode at the head of the column, escorted by several armed councilmen who had previously taken part in the defence of the town. One of these, intending to hasten the egress of the troops, quickened his horse's pace, and advanced toward the gate to have it opened. A sergeant in his cups seized the bridle of the councilman's horse and cried roughly:

"There is no pa.s.sage here. It is forbidden to leave the town! Such are our orders!"

"The town gates are opened or closed by orders of the councilmen. I am a councilman. You must obey."

"I have my orders," replied the mercenary drawing his sword; "back, or I cut you to pieces!"

"You miserable drunken fellow! Do you dare to threaten a magistrate!"

"I only know my captain, and since you are trying to pa.s.s despite my orders, here is for you!" saying which he made a thrust at the councilman. The sword glided over the magistrate's armor, and the soldier cried out: "This way, my men!"

About twenty soldiers rushed to the spot from under the gate. The squad of drunken men had surrounded and were hooting at and threatening the magistrate when Joan, her equerry Daulon, her page, and the other councilmen who, together with her, formed the head of the column, reached the scene of the wrangle. At the same moment the Sire of Gaucourt appeared. He was in a towering rage, made a sign to his soldiers to draw back, and himself stepped towards the heroine whom he insolently addressed:

"Joan, the council of war p.r.o.nounced itself yesterday against your proposed plan for to-day. You shall not leave the town--"[89]

"You are a bad man!" cried the Maid indignantly. "I shall pa.s.s whether you will it or not. The men of Orleans will follow me--and we shall vanquish the English again as we have done before."[90]

The Maid's defiant answer to the impudent and imprudent words of the royal captain were heard by Master John and his cannoniers, and were repeated down the column from rank to rank of the militiamen, producing such exasperation against Gaucourt that from all parts the furious cries were heard:

"Death to the traitor! Cut the captain to pieces!"

"He dares to oppose the Maid's pa.s.sage!"

"Death to the traitor! Death to his soldiers! They are worse than the Englis.h.!.+"

In the midst of these cries, Master John and his cannoniers, together with a ma.s.s of armed citizens, fell upon Gaucourt and his mercenaries and drubbed them soundly with the handles of their pikes; not content with having almost killed the captain and his band, the more enraged of the militiamen insisted upon hanging them. With much difficulty, Joan and the councilmen obtained mercy for Gaucourt and his crew. On a later occasion he admitted that he had never before been as near death as on that day.

The Bourgogne Gate was opened, and the troops proceeded on their march towards the river whose waters began to glisten in the rays of the rising sun. Joan had several times the day before insisted with the councilmen to see that about twenty barges, capable of containing each from fifty to sixty men be safely moored and ready at daybreak for the embarkation of the troops. Never forgetful of any precautionary measure, fifty soldiers were to remain on guard during the night on board of the flotilla in order to defend it, if need be, against a "coup de main" of the English. The councilmen themselves superintended the execution of the Maid's orders. Nevertheless, seeing that her mistrust of the captains gained ground, especially after her last experience with Gaucourt, Joan wished to make sure that her transports were ready. She put the spurs to her horse and took the lead of the column toward the river bank which a high hill intercepted from her sight. What was the martial Maid's stupor at the sight before her! Only five or six barges and a few boats lay ready. She rode her horse almost to the saddle into the Loire to question an old skipper who sat aft on one of the lighters.

From him she learned that towards midnight a captain had requisitioned most of the lighters for the royal army. The wind being favorable, the captain said he had orders to ascend the Loire with the flotilla as far as Blois in order to take reinforcements. Several master skippers, the one who spoke to Joan among them, had answered that they would not budge from their anchorage without counter-orders from the councilmen; but the captain threatened the skippers with bodily injury if they refused to obey. The majority yielded to the intimidation in the belief that the purpose was really to bring reinforcements from Blois, and spread their sails to the wind. There only remained six barges and a few boats.

This new machination of the captains wounded the Maid's heart without, however, abating her courage, or disturbing her presence of mind. With the number of barges that she had counted upon, her troops were to be landed in two or three trips; it would now require eight or ten.

Precious time would thus be lost. Observing the movement from the tops of their redoubts, and taking cognizance of the small number of barges at her disposal, the English might attempt a sally and repel the descent upon them by hastening to the opposite river bank before all the troops had time to form in line of battle. Joan appreciated the extreme peril of the situation; but so far from being discouraged thereby, only felt that a stronger demand was made upon her audacity, calmness and foresight. Full of faith in her mission, she repeated her favorite saying--_Help yourself and heaven will help you!_

The sun was rising behind the wooded banks of the Loire and the curtain of poplars that shaded its sh.o.r.e when the first ranks of the militia arrived upon the scene. Their disappointment was profound at the sight of the small number of barges that awaited them. But leaving them no time to reflect, Joan said:

"Let the bravest follow me! The others will come after!"

A race ensued as to who was to be the first upon the barges so as to be considered the bravest by the heroine. She left her horse with a valet, and threw herself into one of the boats accompanied only by her equerry, her page and an oarsman; she had herself rowed several times around the barges to see that they were not overloaded. The militiamen vied with one another to be ranked among the most intrepid. The barges being finally full, their sails were spread, and the wind being favorable, blowing in the direction of the left bank, they moved swiftly, preceded by several boats in which were the councilmen, Master John and several of his cannoniers, the rest of whom were on board the barges with the two culverins Jeannette and Jeanneton. The first of the vanguard boats carried Joan cased in her white armor that now glistened in the sun.

Standing erect and motionless in the prow of the light skiff, and leaning on the staff of her standard that fluttered in the morning breeze, the outlines of the martial maid stood off against the azure sky like the country's protecting angel.

Hardly had the boat reached the opposite bank when Joan leaped ash.o.r.e and drew up her men in order of battle as fast as they disembarked.

Master John and his cannoniers landed the two culverins from the barges, and these then returned and returned again bringing over the rest of the army from the right bank of the Loire. The work of transportation consumed over an hour, an hour of indescribable impatience and anxiety to the heroine. She feared at every moment to see the English issue from their entrenchments to rush at the small number that she at first landed with. But her fears were idle. The heroic capture of the bastille of St.

Loup, that two days before had fallen into the hands of the French, spread consternation among the ranks of the English. Imputing her prowess to witchcraft, they dared not a.s.sail her in the open, and tremblingly awaited her under shelter of their own works. This evidence of timidity augured well for the happy issue of Joan's undertaking, nor was she slow to perceive and draw courage from it. When the last phalanx was successfully landed, Joan, now at the head of two thousand militiamen and peasants, marched straight upon the bastille of St.

John-le-Blanc, that was similarly fortified to the bastille of St. Loup.

To the end of protecting the descent of the a.s.sailants in the enclosing moat, Master John planted Jeannette and Jeanneton on the outer edge of the embankment and trained their muzzles at the parapet of the redoubt, whose own cannon and other engines began to pour their projectiles upon the French. Thanks, however, to the cannonier's marksmans.h.i.+p most of the English engines were speedily silenced. The a.s.sault was accordingly less murderous to the a.s.sailants. The Maid and her troop speedily crossed the moat, leaving a large number of their own dead and wounded behind; they rushed up and climbed the opposite escarpment, arrived at the palisade and forced it; and in an incredibly short time the white standard was seen floating from the boulevard of the entrenchment. The resistance of the English was at first desperate, but speedily yielding to a panic, they fled pell mell, crossed the Loire at a ford and retreated in utter disorder to the little neighboring island of St. Aignan.

This rough and b.l.o.o.d.y attack consumed only two hours. Without allowing her men a moment's rest, Joan ordered the barracks of the bastille to be set on fire, to the end of utterly ruining the works, and also signaling her new victory to the good people of Orleans. A short respite was taken, and the combatants, exalted and exhilarated with their triumph, followed the martial maid to the attack of the Augustinian Convent, still more strongly entrenched. This position had to be first carried, in order to undertake the siege of the Tournelles, itself a veritable fortress raised at the entrance of the town bridge. Thanks to the protection that her friends deemed divine, Joan had not until then been wounded, although ever at the head of her forces. But to offset this, her losses were serious. Despite the considerable reduction of her forces, she turned her back upon the burning redoubt of St.

John-le-Blanc and marched to the attack of the Augustinians, which was defended by a garrison of over two thousand men, reinforced by about a thousand more from the Tournelles. Thanks to this reinforcement, instead of awaiting the enemy under shelter of the fortifications of the convent, the English decided to risk a decisive stroke and deliver battle in the open field, reliant upon the advantage of their own numbers and upon the aid afforded by the redoubt of St. Prive, whose garrison sallied forth to take the French in the rear. Joan had about fourteen hundred men under her command; before her stood over three thousand, and her right flank was threatened by another considerable force.

At the sight of the numerical superiority of the enemy, who advanced in a compact ma.s.s, cased in iron, with the red standard of St. George floating in the air, the martial maid collected herself, crossed her arms over her cuira.s.sed bosom, and raised her inspired eyes to heaven.

Suddenly she believed she heard the mysterious voice of her two good saints murmuring in her ear: "March, daughter of G.o.d! Attack the enemy boldly! Whatever their numbers, you shall vanquis.h.!.+"

For the first time the Maid drew her sword, used it to point at the foe, turned towards her own troops and cried in tones that stirred their bosoms:

"Be brave! Forward! G.o.d is with us!"

The words, accompanied with a heroic gesture, the sublime expression of her beautiful countenance, all contributed to drag the soldiers at her heels. The hearts of all burned with the fires of intensest patriotism.

Her men were no longer themselves; they were she! The wills of all seemed concentrated in one single will! The souls of all were merged into one! At that supreme moment the militiamen attained that superb contempt for death that transported our ancestors the Gauls when, half naked, they rushed upon the iron-cased and serried ranks of the Roman legions, throwing these into a panic and breaking through them by the very force of their foolhardiness. Thus it was with the intrepid attack of the Gallic virgin on this day. So far from yielding to numbers, as the English had hoped she would, she fell upon them at the head of her troop. Stupefied, terrified by such audacity, the English ranks wavered and opened despite all the orders, threats, imprecations and desperate efforts to the contrary by their captains. A large breach was opened in the center of the enemy's line. Their success added fuel to the exaltation of the men of Orleans, and raised them to a delirium of heroism. They made havoc with their swords, pikes and maces among the English ranks. The breach widened amid floods of blood. The white standard of the Maid advanced--the red standard of St. George retreated.

The arms of the English soldiers seemed paralyzed and struck but uncertain blows. Only a few of the French were wounded or killed; on the side of the English, however, the blood ran in torrents. Suffolk, who conducted himself gallantly, cried out, showing to his bewildered and panic stricken men his own sword dyed red:

"Look at this blood, you miserable cowards! Do you still deem these varlets to be invulnerable? Will you allow yourselves to be vanquished by a female cowherd? If she be a witch, let us capture her, by G.o.d, and burn her--the charm will end! But to capture her you must fight or die like soldiers of old England!"

This energetic language, the example of their chiefs, the impression, slowly a.s.serting itself, of the vast numerical inferiority of the French, and the bray of the trumpets of the garrison of St. Prive that was hastening to the rescue, gradually revived the courage of the English. Shame and rage at their threatened defeat presently changed their panic into a furious exaltation. They closed ranks and took the offensive. Despite all the prodigies of valor on the part of their adversaries, they, in turn, now forced them to retreat in disorder. In the midst of the maddening struggle Joan would certainly have been killed but for the devotion of Master John and some twenty other determined men. With their bodies they made a rampart around her, determined to preserve her life that was so dear to them all. The ground was defended inch by inch. Every moment the handful of men grew thinner.

Ten of them, fighting to her left, were scattered and crushed by the opposing numbers. During the movement of retreat Joan was driven despite herself towards the Loire, and already a few distracted men were heard crying:

"To the barges! Save himself who can! To the barges! The battle is lost!"

The triumphant English pursued the Maid with jeers and their accustomed insults. They pushed forward, crying:

"Strumpet!" "Cowherd!" "Thief!"

"We shall now capture and burn you, witch!"

The panic had now completely seized the ranks of the French. They no longer fought but fled wildly towards the Loire. In vain did the Maid seek to rally them. Suddenly and obedient to an inspiration of her genius, instead of resisting the current that was carrying her away, she outran it and overtook the swiftest fleers, waving her standard. These followed and rallied around her and thus naturally and perforce order was gradually restored. During this move, the jeers, imprecations and insults of the English, hurled at the Maid, redoubled in volume, especially when they saw the skippers, witnessing the French defeat, share the general panic, raise the sails of their barges, the only means of retreat for the French, and push off from the sh.o.r.e out of fear of being boarded by the vanquishers. The latter, now certain of the success of the day, even disdained to hasten the rout of the fleeing French, who, crowded against the Loire, were sure to be drowned or taken--Joan first of all. The bulk of the English troops halted to shout three cheers of triumph, a few companies advanced unsupported and with mocking slowness to make the a.s.sured capture.

"Come, now, Joan! Come!" cried the English captains from a distance.

"Come now, strumpet, surrender! You shall be burned! That's your fate!"

The presumptuous confidence of the enemy afforded the heroine the necessary time to re-form her lines.

"Prisoners or drowned!" she said to them, pointing to the receding barges. "One more effort--and by the order of G.o.d we shall vanquish, as we have vanquished twice before! Let us first attack this English vanguard that boasts to have us in its clutches! Be brave! Forward!"

And turning about she rushed upon the enemy.

"Be brave! Forward! Forward!" repeated Master John and the most determined townsmen of Orleans, following the Maid.

"Be brave! Forward!" echoed all the others. "Let us exterminate the Englis.h.!.+"

The scene that ensued was no longer one of courage, or of heroism; it was a superhuman frenzy that transported the handful of French and added tenfold strength to their arms. The enemy's companies, that had been detached from the main body and sent forward to make a capture deemed unquestionable, were stupefied at the offensive move, and unable to resist the superhuman shock of despair and patriotism. Driven in disorder, the sword in their flanks, towards the main body, they overthrew its front ranks and spread disorder and confusion in the English army.

The superst.i.tious fears of the English, fears that they had once before succ.u.mbed to, now gained new empire over them that seemed justified by the unheard-of audacity of a body of men, once in full flight, suddenly returning to the attack with intrepidity. The front ranks of the English being broken through, the general panic spread all the quicker seeing that, in sharing it, those who stood away from the center of action were wholly in the dark as to the cause of the sudden rout. The English soldiers struck at and trampled one another; the orders of their captains were lost in the frightful tumult; their efforts were powerless to conjure away the defeat. The cry of the first soldiers to flee: "The witch has let loose her fiends upon us!" was carried from mouth to mouth. Finally, and as if to overfill the measure, the English of the bastille of St. Prive, upon arriving to the aid of their fellows, saw the barges, that had shortly left the near sh.o.r.e, now returning from the opposite side filled with fresh French soldiers. The French captains had been compelled by the exasperation of the inhabitants of Orleans to decide to co-operate with the Maid,[91] and they had marched out and reached the river bank just as the barges arrived on that side. At the sight of the re-inforcements, the corps from St. Prive hastened back to its own encampment, while the rest of the panic-stricken English ran to their respective bastilles for shelter behind the entrenchments of the redoubts of the Augustinians and the Tournelles. When the fresh French contingent brought by Marshal St. Sever and other captains disembarked, the martial maid was preparing to attack the Convent of the Augustinians, determined not to allow the enemy time to recover from their panic. Now supported by the reinforcements, Joan threw herself upon the convent, but at the moment when, in the lead of all she set foot upon a narrow pa.s.sage leading to the palisade that she was to attack, she uttered a piercing cry. The teeth of a man trap had closed above her ankle; it penetrated her jambards and her skin and even reached the bone. It was an English "ruse of war," into which the Maid had put her foot.[92]

The pain was so keen that Joan, exhausted from the fatigues of the day, fainted away, and fell in the arms of her equerry Daulon. When she recovered consciousness, the day was nearing its end; the bastille of the Augustinians had been carried and its defenders were either dead or prisoners. The heroine had been transported to the lodgings of one of the English captains who had been killed in the combat. When Joan returned to consciousness, her equerry wished to remove the armor from her wounded limb and bathe the wound, but blus.h.i.+ng at the exposure of even her foot to the surrounding soldiers, Joan obstinately refused all attention, and bestowed all her thought to the best use to be made of the capture of the Augustinian Convent. She forbade that it be set on fire, and ordered it to be held during the night by a strong garrison, that should lead the next day in a determined attack upon the Tournelles. After issuing these and other necessary orders with remarkable military sagacity, the warrior maid had herself conveyed to Orleans in a boat, feeling unable to walk by reason of the pain of her wound. The Augustinian Convent rose almost on the river's edge. Daulon, Master John and a few other cannoniers carried Joan to the river on a stretcher improvised out of the shafts of lances and placed her in a boat. Her page and equerry accompanied her, and she was rowed over to Orleans where she arrived at night. Modestly desiring to escape observation in her transit through the town to the house of her host, especially seeing that all the windows in the houses were illuminated, Joan asked Daulon to spread her cloak over her on the stretcher. Thus, although unseen of all, Joan was the witness of the delirious joy inspired by her last triumph. The town was in gala, hope radiated from all countenances. In two days, the Maid had destroyed or carried three of the most redoubtable fortifications of the English, and set free a large number of prisoners. More than eight hundred of these were found in the Augustinian Convent. By virtue of the confidence that she inspired, there was no doubt entertained on the success of the morrow's a.s.sault--the Tournelles would be taken, and, agreeable to the promise she had made in the name of G.o.d, the enemy would raise the siege.

Concealed under the cloak that covered her, the Maid was transported to the house of James Boucher. Informed of the victory by the wild cheers of the people, but full of anxiety for the heroine, his wife and daughter were at first thrown into terror seeing her carried on a stretcher. But the Maid soon calmed them, promising that with their help she would soon be restored. a.s.sisted by the two she went up to her room, and there submitted to the tender nursing at which her modesty could take no offence. Madeleine and her mother, like most women of the time, were versed in the tending of wounds. They applied oil, balm and lint to the heroine's hurt after removing her armor, which, much to their alarm, they saw was indented in more than twenty places with sabre blows and lance thrusts. A large number of contusions, discolored and painful, the results of so many strokes, fortunately deadened by her cuira.s.s and arm protectors, marked the body of Joan, who now only felt the reaction of her exertion during the warmly contested battle. She took a little nourishment, performed her evening devotions, thanked G.o.d and her saints for having sustained her during the b.l.o.o.d.y struggle, and implored their aid for the battle of the morrow. The warrior maid was about to compose herself for recuperative sleep, when Master Boucher requested admission to Joan upon an important and urgent matter. She quickly threw one of Madeleine's robes over herself in order to receive her host's visit and was struck by the signs of indignation and anger depicted on his face as he entered. His first words on entering were: