CHAPTER XXIII--HOW ELLIOT'S JACKANAPES CAME HOME
Of our Blessed Lord Himself it is said in the Gospel of St. Matthew, "etnon fecit ibi virtutes multas propter incredulitatem illorum." Thesewords I willingly leave in the Roman tongue; for by the wisdom of HolyChurch it is deemed that many mysteries should not be published abroad inthe vulgar speech, lest the unlearned hear to their own confusion. Butif even He, doubtless by the wisdom of His own will, did not many greatworks "propter incredulitatem," it is the less to be marvelled at thatHis Saints, through the person of the Blessed Maid, were of no availwhere men utterly disbelieved. And that, where infidelity was, even shemust labour in vain was shown anon, even on this very day of my escapeout of Paris town. For I had scarce taken some food, and washed andarmed myself, when the Maid's trumpets sounded, and she herself, armedand on horseback, despite her wound, rode into St. Denis, to devise withthe gentle Duc d'Alencon. Together they came forth from the gate, and I,being in their company, heard her cry--
"By my baton, I will never go back till I take that city." {31}
These words Percival de Cagny also heard, a good knight, and maitred'hotel of the house of Alencon. Thereon arose some dispute, D'Alenconbeing eager, as indeed he always was, to follow where the Maiden led, andsome others holding back.
Now, as they were devising together, some for, some against, for men-at-arms not a few had fallen in the onfall, there came the sound of horses'hoofs, and lo! Messire de Montmorency, who had been of the party of theEnglish, and with them in Paris, rode up, leading a company of fifty orsixty gentlemen of his house, to join the Maid. Thereat was great joyand new courage in all men of goodwill, seeing that, within Paris itself,so many gentlemen deemed ours the better cause and the more hopeful.
Thus there was an end of all dispute, our companies were fairly arrayed,and we were marching to revenge ourselves for the losses of yesterday,when two knights came spurring after us from St. Denis. They were theDuc de Bar, and that unhappy Charles de Bourbon, Comte de Clermont, bywhose folly, or ill-will, or cowardice, the Scots were betrayed anddeserted at the Battle of the Herrings, where my own brother fell, as Ihave already told. This second time Charles de Bourbon brought evilfortune, for he came on the King's part, straitly forbidding D'Alenconand the Maid to march forward another lance's length. Whereat D'Alenconswore profane, and the Maiden, weeping, rebuked him. So, with heavyhearts, we turned, all the host of us, and went back to quarters, theMaid to pray in the chapel, and the men-at-arms to drink and speak ill ofthe King.
All this was on the ninth of September, a weary day to all of us, thoughin the evening word came that we were to march early next morning andattack Paris in another quarter, crossing the river by a bridge of boatswhich the Duc d'Alencon had let build to that end. After two wakefulnights I was well weary, and early laid me down to sleep, rising at dawnwith high hopes. And so through the grey light we marched silently tothe place appointed, but bridge there was none; for the King, havingheard of the Maid's intent, had caused men to work all night long,destroying that which the gentle Duke had builded. Had the King butheard the shouts and curses of our company when they found nought but thebare piles standing, the grey water flowing, and the boats and planksvanished, he might have taken shame to himself of his lack of faith.Therefore I say it boldly, it was because of men's unbelief that the Maidat Paris wrought no great works, save that she put her body in suchhazard of war as never did woman, nay, nor man, since the making of theworld.
I have no heart to speak more of this shameful matter, nor of these daysof anger and blasphemy. It was said and believed that her voices badethe Maid abide at St. Denis till she should take Paris town, but theKing, and Charles de Bourbon, and the Archbishop of Reims refused tohearken to her. On the thirteenth day of September, after dinner, theKing, with all his counsellors, rode away from St. Denis, towards Gien onthe Loire. The Maiden, for her part, hung up all her harness that shehad worn, save the sword of St. Catherine of Fierbois, in front of thealtar of Our Lady, and the blessed relics of St. Denis in the chapel.Thereafter she rode, as needs she must, and we of her company with her,to join the King, for so he commanded.
And now was the will of the Maid and of the Duc d'Alencon broken, andbroken was all that great army, whereof some were free lances out of manylands, but more were nobles of France with their men, who had servedwithout price or pay, for love of France and of the Maid. Never againwere they mustered; nay when, after some weeks passed, the gentle Ducd'Alencon prayed that he might have the Maiden with him, and burst intoNormandy, where the English were strongest, by the Marches of Maine, eventhis grace was refused to him, by the malengin and ill-will of LaTremouille and the Archbishop of Reims. And these two fair friends metnever more again, neither at fray nor feast. May she, among the Saints,so work by her prayers that the late sin and treason of the gentle Dukemay be washed out and made clean, for while she lived there was no manmore dear to her, nor any that followed her more stoutly in every onfall.
Now concerning the times that came after this shameful treason at Paris,I have no joy to write. The King's counsellors, as their manner was,ever hankered after a peace with Burgundy, and they stretched the falsetruce that was to have ended at Christmas to Easter Day, "pacem clamantesquo non fuit pax." For there was no truce with the English, who took St.Denis again, and made booty of the arms which the Maid had dedicated toOur Lady. On our part La Hire and Xaintrailles plundered, for their ownhand, the lands of the Duke of Burgundy, and indeed on every side therewas no fair fighting, such as the Maid loved, but a war of wastry, thepeasants pillaged, and the poor held to ransom. For her part, she spenther days in prayer for the poor and the oppressed, whom she had come todeliver, and who now were in worse case than before, the English harryingcertain of the good towns that had yielded to King Charles.
Now her voices ever bade the Maid go back to the Isle of France, andassail Paris, where lay no English garrison, and the Armagnacs werestirring as much as they might. But Paris, being at this time under thegovernment of the Duke of Burgundy, was forsooth within the truce. TheKing's counsellors, therefore, setting their wisdom against that of theSaints, bade the Maid go against the towns of St. Pierre le Moustier andLa Charite, then held by the English on the Loire. This was in November,when days were short, and the weather bitter cold. The Council was heldat Mehun sur Yevre, and forthwith the Maid, glad to be doing, rode toBourges, where she mustered her men, and so marched to St. Pierre leMoustier, a small town, but a strong, with fosses, towers, and highwalls.
There we lay some two days or three, plying the town with our artillery,and freezing in the winter nights. At length, having made somewhat of abreach, the Maid gave the word for the assault, and herself leading, withher banner in hand, we went at it with what force we might. But twiceand thrice we were driven back from the fosse, and to be plain, our menwere fled under cover, and only the Maid stood within arrow-shot of thewall, with a few of her household, of whom I was one, for I could not goback while she held her ground. The arrows and bolts from the townrained and whistled about us, and in faith I wished myself other where.Yet she stood, waving her banner, and crying, "Tirez en avant, ils sont anous," as was her way in every onfall. Seeing her thus in jeopardy, hermaitre d'hotel, D'Aulon, though himself wounded in the heel so that hemight not set foot to ground, mounted a horse, and riding up, asked her"why she abode there alone, and did not give ground like the others?"
At this the Maid lifted her helmet from her head, and so, uncovered, herface like marble for whiteness, and her eyes shining like steel, madeanswer--
"I am not alone; with me there are of mine fifty thousand! Hence I willnot give back one step till I have taken the town."
Then I wotted well that, sinful man as I am, I was in the company of thehosts of Heaven, though I saw them not. Great heart this knowledge gaveme and others, and the Maid crying, in a loud voice, "Aux fagots, tout lemonde!" the very runaways heard her and came back with planks andfaggots, and so, filling up the
fosse and passing over, we ran into thebreach, smiting and slaying, and the town was taken.
For my own part, I was so favoured that two knights yielded them myprisoners (I being the only man of gentle birth among those who besetthem in a narrow wynd), and with their ransoms I deemed myself wealthyenough, as well I might. So now I could look to win my heart's desire,if no ill fortune befell. But little good fortune came in our way. FromLa Charite, which was beset in the last days of November, we had perforceto give back, for the King sent us no munitions of war, and for lack ofmore powder and ball we might not make any breach in the walls of thattown. And so, by reason of the hard winter, and the slackness of theKing, and the false truce, we fought no more, at that season, but went,trailing after the Court, from castle to castle.
Many feasts were held, and much honour was done to the Maid, as by giftsof coat armour, and the ennobling of all her kith and kin, but thesethings she regarded not, nor did she ever bear on her shield the swordsupporting the crown, between the lilies of France.
If these were ill days for the Maid, I shame to confess that they weremerry days with me. There are worse places than a king's court, when aman is young, and light of heart, full of hope, and with money in hispurse. I looked that we should take the field again in the spring; andhaving gained some gold, and even some good words, as one not backwardwhere sword-strokes were going, I know not what dreams I had of highrenown, ay, and the Constable's staff to end withal. For many a poorScot has come to great place in France and Germany, who began with nobetter fortune than a mind to put his body in peril. Moreover, thewinning of Elliot herself for my wife seemed now a thing almost within myreach. Therefore, as I say, I kept a merry Yule at Jargeau, goingbravely clad, and dancing all night long with the merriest. Only the wanface of the Maid (that in time of war had been so gallant and glad) camebetween me and my pleasures. Not that she was wilfully and wantonly sad,yet now and again we could mark in her face the great and loving pitythat possessed her for France. Now I would be half angered with her, butagain far more wroth with myself, who could thus lightly think of thatpassion of hers. But when she might she was ever at her prayers, or incompany of children, or seeking out such as were poor and needy, to whomshe was abundantly lavish of her gifts, so that, wheresoever the Courtwent, the people blessed her.
In these months I had tidings of Elliot now and again; and as occasionserved I wrote to her, with messages of my love, and with a gift, as of aring or a jewel. But concerning the manner of my escape from Paris I hadtold Elliot nothing for this cause. My desire was, when soonest I had anoccasion, to surprise her with the gift of her jackanapes anew, knowingwell that nothing could make her greater joy, save my own coming, or avictory of the Maid. The little creature had been my comrade wheresoeverwe went, as at Sully, Gien, and Bourges, only I took him not to theleaguers of St. Pierre le Moustier and La Charite, but left him with afair lady of the Court. He had waxed fat again, for as meagre as he waswhen he came to me in prison, and he was full of new tricks, warminghimself at the great fire in hall, like a man.
Now in the middle of the month of January, in the year of Grace fourteenhundred and thirty, the Maid told us of her household that she wouldjourney to Orleans, to abide for some space with certain ladies of herfriends, namely, Madame de St. Mesmin and Madame de Mouchy, who loved herdearly. To the most of us she gave holiday, to see our own friends. TheMaid knew surely that in France my friends were few, and well she guessedwhither I was bound. Therefore she sent for me, and bidding me carry herlove to Elliot, she put into my hands a gift to her friend. It was aring of silver-gilt, fashioned like that which her own father and motherhad given her. At this ring she had a custom of looking often, so thatthe English conceived it to be an unholy talisman, though it bore theName that is above all names. That ring I now wear in my bosom. So,saying farewell, with many kind words on her part, I rode towards Tours,where Elliot and her father as then dwelt, in that same house where I hadbeen with them to be healed of my malady, after the leaguer of Orleans.To Tours I rode, telling them not of my coming, and carrying thejackanapes well wrapped up in furs of the best. The weather was frosty,and folk were sliding on the ice of the flooded fields near Tours when Icame within sight of the great Minster. The roads rang hard; on thesmooth ice the low sun was making paths of gold, and I sang as I rode.Putting up my horse at the sign of the "Hanging Sword," I took the apeunder my great furred surcoat, and stole like a thief through the alleys,towards my master's house. The night was falling, and all the casementof the great chamber was glowing with the colour and light of a leapingfire within. There came a sound of music too, as one touched thevirginals to a tune of my own country. My heart was beating for joy, asit had beaten in the bushment outside Paris town.
I opened the outer door secretly, for I knew the trick of it, and I sawfrom the thin thread of light on the wall of the passage that the chamberdoor was a little ajar. The jackanapes was now fretting and strugglingwithin my surcoat, so, opening the coat, I put him down by the chamberdoor. He gave a little scratch, as was his custom, for he was a verymannerly little beast, and the sound of the virginals ceased. Then,pushing the door with his little hands, he ran in, with a kind of cry ofjoy.
"In Our Lady's name, what is this?" came the voice of Elliot. "My dear,dear little friend, what make you here?"
Then I could withhold myself no longer, but entered, and my lady ran tome, the jackanapes clinging about her neck with his arms. But mine wereround her too, and what words we said, and what cheer we made each theother, I may not write, commending me to all true lovers, whose heartsshall tell them that whereof I am silent. Much was I rebuked for that Idid not write to warn them of my coming, which was yet the more joyfulthat they were not warned. And then the good woman, Elliot's kinswoman,must be called (though in sooth not at the very first), and then a greatfire must be lit in my old chamber; and next my master came in, from atavern where he had been devising with some Scots of his friends; and allthe while the jackanapes kept such a merry coil, and played so many ofhis tricks, and got so many kisses from his mistress, that it was marvel.But of all that had befallen me in the wars, and of how the Maiden did(concerning which Elliot had questioned me first of all), I would tellthem little till supper was brought.
And then, indeed, out came all my tale, and they heard of what had beenmy fortune in Paris, and how the jackanapes had delivered me fromdurance, whereon never, surely, was any beast of his kind so caressedsince our father Adam gave all the creatures their names. But astouching the Maid, I told how she had borne herself at St. Pierre leMoustier, and of all the honours that had been granted to her, and I badethem be of good heart and hope, for that her banner would be on the windin spring, after Easter Day. All the good news that might be truly toldI did tell, as how La Hire had taken Louviers town, and harried theEnglish up to the very gates of Rouen. And I gave to Elliot the ringwhich the Maid had sent to her, fashioned like that she herself wore, butof silver gilt, whereas the Maid's was of base metal, and it bore theHoly Names MARI. IHS. Thereon Elliot kissed it humbly, and avowedherself to be, that night, the gladdest damsel in all France.
"For I have gotten you, mon ami, and my little friend that I had lost,beyond all hope, and I have a kind word and a token from Her, la fille deDieu," whereat her speech faltered, and her eyes swam in tears. But sometrick of her jackanapes brought back her mirth, and so the hours passed,as happy as any in my life. Truly the memory of these things tells mehow glad this world might be, wherein God has placed us, were it nottroubled by the inordinate desires of men. In my master's house ofTours, then, my days of holiday went merrily by, save for one matter, andthat of the utmost moment. For my master would in no manner permit me towed his daughter while this war endured; and Elliot herself, blushinglike any rose, told me that, while the Maid had need of me, with the MaidI must abide at my duty, and that she herself had no mind for happinesswhile her friend was yet labouring in the cause of France. Howbeit, Idelivered me of my vow, by
pilgrimage to the chapel in Fierbois. {32}