frowning gates of Orleans, with banners flying and Joan and the
Grand Staff in the van of the long column. Those two young De
Lavals were come now, and were joined to the Grand Staff. Which
was well; war being their proper trade, for they were grandsons of
that illustrious fighter Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France
in earlier days. Louis de Bourbon, the Marshal de Rais, and the
Vidame de Chartres were added also. We had a right to feel a little
uneasy, for we knew that a force of five thousand men was on its
way under Sir John Fastolfe to reinforce Jargeau, but I think we
were not uneasy, nevertheless. In truth, that force was not yet in
our neighborhood. Sir John was loitering; for some reason or other
he was not hurrying. He was losing precious time–four days at
ђtampes, and four more at Janville.
We reached Jargeau and began business at once. Joan sent forward
a heavy force which hurled itself against the outworks in
handsome style, and gained a footing and fought hard to keep it;
but it presently began to fall back before a sortie from the city.
Seeing this, Joan raised her battle-cry and led a new assault herself
under a furious artillery fire. The Paladin was struck down at her
side wounded, but she snatched her standard from his failing hand
and plunged on through the ruck of flying missiles, cheering her
men with encouraging cries; and then for a good time one had
turmoil, and clash of steel, and collision and confusion of
struggling multitudes, and the hoarse bellowing of the guns; and
then the hiding of it all under a rolling firmament of smoke–a
firmament through which veiled vacancies appeared for a moment
now and then, giving fitful dim glimpses of the wild tragedy
enacting beyond; and always at these times one caught sight of that
slight figure in white mail which was the center and soul of our
hope and trust, and whenever we saw that, with its back to us and
its face to the fight, we knew that all was well. At last a great shout
went up–a joyous roar of shoutings, in fact–and that was sign
sufficient that the faubourgs were ours.
Yes, they were ours; the enemy had been driven back within the
walls. On the ground which Joan had won we camped; for night
was coming on.
Joan sent a summons to the English, promising that if they
surrendered she would allow them to go in peace and take their
horses with them. Nobody knew that she could take that strong
place, but she knew it–knew it well; yet she offered that
grace–offered it in a time when such a thing was unknown in war;
in a time when it was custom and usage to massacre the garrison
and the inhabitants of captured cities without pity or
compunctin–yes, even to the harmless women and children
sometimes. There are neighbors all about you who well remember
the unspeakable atrocities which Charles the Bold inflicted upon
the men and women and children of Dinant when he took that
place some years ago. It was a unique and kindly grace which Joan
offered that garrison; but that was her way, that was her loving and
merciful nature–she always did her best to save her enemy’s life
and his soldierly pride when she had the mastery of him.
The English asked fifteen days’ armistice to consider the proposal
in. And Fastolfe coming with five thousand men! Joan said no. But
she offered another grace: they might take both their horses and
their side-arms–but they must go within the hour.
Well, those bronzed English veterans were pretty hard-headed
folk. They declined again. Then Joan gave command that her army
be made ready to move to the assault at nine in the morning.
Considering the deal of marching and fighting which the men had
done that day, D’Alen‡on thought the hour rather early; but Joan
said it was best so, and so must be obeyed. Then she burst out with
one of those enthusiasms which were always burning in her when
battle was imminent, and said:
Work! work! and God will work with us!”