CHAPTER XX--CONCERNING THE MAID AND THE BIRDS
We rode northwards, first through lands that I had travelled in before toOrleans, and so into a country then strange to me, passing by way ofLagny, with intent to go to Senlis, where we deemed the King lay. Thewhole region being near Paris, and close under the English power, wasrich and peaceful of aspect, the corn being already reaped, and standingin sheaves about the fields, whether to feed Englishmen or Frenchmen,none could tell. For the land was in a kind of hush, in expectancy andfear, no man knowing how things should fall out at Paris. Natheless thePrior of Lagny, within that very week wherein we came, had gone to St.Denis, and yielded his good town into the hands of the Duc d'Alencon forthe King. And the fair Duke had sent thither Messire Ambrose de Lore, avery good knight, with Messire Jehan Foucault, and many men-at-arms.
To Messire Ambrose we were brought, that we might give and take his news.I remember well that I dropped out of the saddle at the door of hislodgings, and could scarce stand on my legs, so weary was I with the longand swift riding. Never had I ridden so far, and so fast, fresh horsesstanding saddled and bridled for Thomas Scott and me at every stage, butthe beast which I had hired I sent back from the first stage to mine hostof the "Hanging Sword." Not without labour I climbed the stairs to thechamber of Messire Ambrose, who bade us sit down, and called for wine tobe given us, whereof Thomas Scott drank well, but I dared take none, lestmy legs should wholly refuse their office.
When Thomas had told how all the country lay at the King's peace, and howour purpose was to ride to the King at Senlis, the knight bade us rathermake what haste we might to St. Denis. "For there, by to-morrow or nextday, the King is like to be, and the assault will be delivered on Paris,come of it what will."
With this he bade us good speed, but, to guess from his countenance, wasin no high hopes. And, at supper, whereto we had the company of certainof his men-at-arms, I could well perceive that they were not in the bestheart. For now we heard how the Maid, being sorrowful for the longdelays, had bidden the Duc d'Alencon ride forth with her from Compiegne"to see Paris closer than yet she had seen it." The Duc d'Alencon, whoin late days has so strangely forgotten the loyalty of his youth, wasthen fain to march with her, for they two were the closest friends thatmight be. Therefore they had passed by way of Senlis, where they werejoined by some force of men-at-arms, and so, on the third day's march,they came to St. Denis, where they were now lying. Here it is that thekings of France have been buried for these eight hundred years, in thegreat Abbey.
"Nom Dieu!" said one of those who spoke with us. "You might deem thatour King is nowise pressed to see the place where his forefathers lie.For D'Alencon is riding, now and again, to Senlis, to rouse the King, andmake him march to St. Denis, with the army, that the assault may begiven. But if they were bidding him to his own funeral, instead of to agentle passage of arms, he could not make more excuses. There areskirmishes under Paris walls, and at the gates, day by day, and the Maidrides here and there, considering of the best place for the onslaught.But the King tarries, and without him and the army they can venture on nogreat valiance. Nevertheless, come he must, if they bring him bound in acart. Wherefore, if you want your part in what is toward, you do well tomake no long tarrying here."
I was of the same mind, and as the King was shortly to be looked for atSt. Denis, we rode thither early next morning, with what speed we might.On our left, like a cloud, was the smoke of Paris, making me understandwhat a great city it was, much greater than Orleans. Before us, faraway, were the tall towers of the chapel of St. Denis, to be our guide!We heard, also, the noise of ordnance being fired, and therefore made thegreater haste, and we so rode that, about six hours after noon, on theEve of the Nativity of our Blessed Lady, we reached the gates of thetown. Here we found great press of folk, men coming and going, somecarrying the wounded, for there had been a skirmish that day, at one ofthe Paris gates, whence came the sound of cannon and culverins, and wehad won little advantage.
At the gates of St. Denis we asked where the quarters of the Scots men-at-arms might be, and were told in the chapel, whither we needed no guide.But, as we went up the street, we saw women leaning forth from thewindows, laughing with the men-at-arms, and beckoning to them, and by thetavern doors many were sitting drinking, with girls beside them, andothers were playing dice, and many an oath we heard, and foul words, asis customary in a camp. Verily I saw well that this was not the army ofmen clean confessed and of holy life who had followed the Maid from Bloisto Orleans. In place of priests, here were harlots, and, for hymns,ribald songs, for men had flocked in from every quarter; soldiers of therobber companies, Bretons, Germans, Italians, Spaniards, all talking intheir own speech, rude, foul, and disorderly. So we took our way, asbest we knight, through the press, hearing oaths enough if our horsestrod over near any man, and seeing daggers drawn.
It was a pleasure to come out on the great parvise, where the red, white,and green of our Scots were the commonest colours, and where the air wasless foul and noisome than in the narrow wynds. High above us the greattowers of the abbey shone red and golden in the light of the sinking sun,while beneath all was brown, dusk, and dim with smoke. On these towers Icould gladly have looked long, and not wearied. For they are all carvenwith the holy company of the martyrs and saints, like the Angels whomJacob saw ascending by the ladder into heaven; even so that blessedcompany seemed to scale upwards from the filth of the street, and thedarkness, and the din, right on towards the golden heights of the City ofGod. And beneath them lie the sacred bones of all the kings of France,from the days of St. Dagobert even to our own time, all laid there torest where no man shall disturb them, till the Angels' Trumpet calls, andthe Day of Judgment is at hand. Verily it is a solemn place for aChristian man to think on, and I was gazing thereupon, as in a dream,when one plucked my sleeve, and turning, I saw Randal Rutherford, all histeeth showing in a grin.
"Welcome," he cried. "You have made good speed, and the beginning of afray is better than the end of a feast. And, by St. Boswell, to-morrowwe shall have it, lad! The King came in to-day--late is better thannever--and to-morrow we go with the Maid, to give these pock-puddings ataste of Scottish steel."
"And the Maid, where is she, Randal?"
"She lodges beyond the Paris gate, at the windmill, wherefrom she drovethe English some days agone."
"Wherefore not in the town?" I asked.
"Mayhap because she likes to be near her work, and would that all were ofher mind. And mayhap she loves not the sight of the wenches whom she waswont to drive from the camp, above all now that she has broken the HolySword of Fierbois, smiting a lass with the flat of the blade."
"I like not the omen," said I.
"Freits follow them that freits fear," said Randal, in our countryspeech. "And the Maid is none of these. 'Well it was,' said she, 'thatI trusted not my life to a blade that breaks so easily,' and, in the nextskirmish, she took a Burgundian with her own hands, and now wears hissword, which is a good cut and thrust piece. But come," he cried, "ifneeds you must see the Maid, you have but to walk to the Paris gate, andso to the windmill hard by. And your horse I will stable with our own,and for quarters, we living Scots men-at-arms fare as well as the deadkings of France, for to-night we lie in the chapel."
I dismounted, and he gave me an embrace, and, holding me at arms'-length,laughed--
"You never were a tall man, Norman, but you look sound, and whole, andtough for your inches, like a Highlandman's dirk. Now be off on yourerrand, and when it is done, look for me yonder at the sign of 'TheCrane,'" pointing across the parvise to a tavern, "for I keep a word totell in your lug that few wot of, and that it will joy you to hear. To-morrow, lad, we go in foremost."
And so, smiling, he took my horse and went his way, whistling, "Hey,tuttie, tattie!"
Verily his was the gladdest face I had seen, and his words put some heartinto me, whereas, of the rest save our own Scots, I liked neither what Isaw, nor what I heard.
I had but to walk down the street, through elbowing throngs of grooms,pages, men-at-arms, and archers, till I found the Paris Gate, whence thewindmill was plain to behold. It was such an old place as we see inNorthern France, plain, strong, with red walls which the yellow mossesstain, and with high grey roofs. The Maid's banner, with the Holy Dove,and the Sacred Name, drooped above the gateway, and beside the door, onthe mounting-stone, sat the boy, Louis des Coutes, her page. He was alad of fifteen years, merry enough of his nature, and always went gailyclad, and wearing his yellow hair long. But now he sat thoughtful on themounting-stone, cutting at a bit of wood with his dagger.
"So you have come to take your part," he said, when we had saluted eachthe other. "Faith, I hope you bring good luck with you, and more joy tomy mistress, for we need all that you can bring."
"Why, what ails all of you?" I asked. "I have seen never a hopeful face,save that of one of my own countrymen. You are not afraid of a crack onyour curly pate, are you?"
"Curly or not, my head knows better than to knock itself against Pariswalls. They are thick, and high, and the windows of every house on thewall are piled with stones, to drop upon us. And I know not well why,but things go ill with us. I never saw Her," and he nodded towards theopen gateway, "so out of comfort. When there is fighting toward, she islike herself, and she is the first to rise and the last to lie down. But,in all our waiting here, she has passed many an hour praying in thechapel, where the dead kings lie, yet her face is not glad when she comesforth. It was wont to shine strangely, when she had been praying, at thechapel in Couldray, while we were at Chinon. But now it is otherwise.Moreover, we saw Paris very close to-day, and there were over many redcrosses of St. George upon the walls. And to-morrow is the Feast of theBlessed Virgin, no day for bloodshed."
"Faint heart!" said I (and, indeed, after the assault on Paris, Louis desCoutes went back, and rode no more with the maid). "The better the day,the better the deed! May I go within?"
"I will go with you," he said, "for she said that you would come, andbade me bring you to her."
We entered the gateway together, and before us lay the square of thefarm, strewn with litter, and from within the byre we heard the milk ringin the pails, for the women were milking the cows. And there we bothstood astonished, for we saw the Maid as never yet I had seen her. Shewas bareheaded, but wore the rest of her harness, holding in her hand ameasure of corn. All the fowls of the air seemed to be about her,expecting their meat. But she was not throwing the grain among them, forshe stood as still as a graven image, and, wonderful to tell, a dove wasperched on her shoulder, and a mavis was nestling in her breast, whilemany birds flew round her, chiefly doves with burnished plumage, flittingas it were lovingly, and softly brushing her now and again with theirwings. Many a time had I heard it said that, while she was yet a child,the wild birds would come and nestle in the bosom of the Maid, but I hadnever believed the tale. Yet now I saw this thing with mine own eyes, afair sight and a marvellous, so beautiful she looked, with headunhelmeted, and the wild fowl and tame flitting about her and above her,the doves crooning sweetly in their soft voices. Then her lips moved,and she spoke--
"Tres doulx Dieu, en l'onneur de vostre saincte passion, je vous requier,se vous me aimes, que vous me revelez ce que je doy faire demain pourvostre gloire!"
So she fell silent again, and to me it seemed that I must not any longerlook upon that holy mystery, so, crossing myself, I laid my hand on theshoulder of the page, and we went silently from the place.
"Have you ever seen it in this manner?" I whispered, when we were againwithout the farmyard.
"Never," said he, trembling, "though once I saw a stranger thing."
"And what may that have been?"
"Nay, I spoke of it to her, and she made me swear that I never wouldreveal it to living soul, save in confession. But she is not as otherwomen."
What he had in his mind I know not, but I bade him good even, and wentback into the town, where lights were beginning to show in the casements.In the space within the gates were many carts gathered, full of faggotswherewith to choke up the fosse under Paris, and tables to throw abovethe faggots, and so cross over to the assault.