Presently she added: “During three weeks I was questioned by the
clergy at Chinon and Poitiers.
The King had a sign before he would believe; and the clergy were
of opinion that my acts were good and not evil.”
The subject was dropped now for a while, and Beaupere took up
the matter of the miraculous sword of Fierbois to see if he could
not find a chance there to fix the crime of sorcery upon Joan.
“How did you know that there was an ancient sword buried in the
ground under the rear of the altar of the church of St. Catherine of
Fierbois?”
Joan had no concealments to make as to this:
“I knew the sword was there because my Voices told me so; and I
sent to ask that it be given to me to carry in the wars. It seemed to
me that it was not very deep in the ground. The clergy of the
church caused it to be sought for and dug up; and they polished it,
and the rust fell easily off from it.”
“Were you wearing it when you were taken in battle at
CompiЉgne?”
“No. But I wore it constantly until I left St. Denis after the attack
upon Paris.”
This sword, so mysteriously discovered and so long and so
constantly victorious, was suspected of being under the protection
of enchantment.
“Was that sword blest? What blessing had been invoked upon it?”
“None. I loved it because it was found in the church of St.
Catherine, for I loved that church very dearly.”
She loved it because it had been built in honor of one of her
angels.
“Didn’t you lay it upon the altar, to the end that it might be lucky?”
(The altar of St. Denis.) “No.”
“Didn’t you pray that it might be made lucky?”
“Truly it were no harm to wish that my harness might be
fortunate.”
“Then it was not that sword which you wore in the field of
CompiЉgne? What sword did you wear there?”
“The sword of the Burgundian Franquet d’Arras, whom I took
prisoner in the engagement at Lagny. I kept it because it was a
good war-sword–good to lay on stout thumps and blows with.”
She said that quite simply; and the contrast between her delicate
little self and the grim soldier words which she dropped with such
easy familiarity from her lips made many spectators smile.
“What is become of the other sword? Where is it now?”
“Is that in the procЉs verbal?”
Beaupere did not answer.
“Which do you love best, your banner or your sword?”
Her eye lighted gladly at the mention of her banner, and she cried
out:
“I love my banner best–oh, forty times more than the sword!
Sometimes I carried it myself when I charged the enemy, to avoid
killing any one.” Then she added, na‹vely, and with again that
curious contrast between her girlish little personality and her
subject, “I have never killed anyone.”
It made a great many smile; and no wonder, when you consider
what a gentle and innocent little thing she looked. One could
hardly believe she had ever even seen men slaughtered, she look so
little fitted for such things.
“In the final assault at Orleans did you tell your soldiers that the
arrows shot by the enemy and the stones discharged from their
catapults would not strike any one but you?”
“No. And the proof its, that more than a hundred of my men were
struck. I told them to have no doubts and no fears; that they would
raise the siege. I was wounded in the neck by an arrow in the
assault upon the bastille that commanded the bridge, but St.
Catherine comforted me and I was cured in fifteen days without
having to quit the saddle and leave my work.”
“Did you know that you were going to be wounded?”
“Yes; and I had told it to the King beforehand. I had it from my
Voices.”
“When you took Jargeau, why did you not put its commandant to
ransom?”
“I offered him leave to go out unhurt from the place, with all his
garrison; and if he would not I would take it by storm.”