flung from above came crashing down upon her helmet and
stretched her, wounded and stunned, upon the ground. But only for
a moment. The Dwarf stood her upon her feet, and straightway she
started up the ladder again, crying:
“To the assault, friends, to the assault–the English are ours! It is
the appointed hour!”
There was a grand rush, and a fierce roar of war-cries, and we
swarmed over the ramparts like ants. The garrison fled, we
pursued; Jargeau was ours!
The Earl of Suffolk was hemmed in and surrounded, and the Duke
d’Alen‡on and the Bastard of Orleans demanded that he surrender
himself. But he was a proud nobleman and came of a proud race.
He refused to yield his sword to subordinates, saying:
“I will die rather. I will surrender to the Maid of Orleans alone,
and to no other.”
And so he did; and was courteously and honorably used by her.
His two brothers retreated, fighting step by step, toward the bridge,
we pressing their despairing forces and cutting them down by
scores. Arrived on the bridge, the slaughter still continued.
Alexander de la Pole was pushed overboard or fell over, and was
drowned. Eleven hundred men had fallen; John de la Pole decided
to give up the struggle. But he was nearly as proud and particular
as his brother of Suffolk as to whom he would surrender to. The
French officer nearest at hand was Guillaume Renault, who was
pressing him closely. Sir John said to him:
“Are you a gentleman?”
“Yes.”
“And a knight?”
“No.”
Then Sir John knighted him himself there on the bridge, giving
him the accolade with English coolness and tranquillity in the
midst of that storm of slaughter and mutilation; and then bowing
with high courtesy took the sword by the blade and laid the hilt of
it in the man’s hand in token of surrender. Ah, yes, a proud tribe,
those De la Poles.
It was a grand day, a memorable day, a most splendid victory. We
had a crowd of prisoners, but Joan would not allow them to be
hurt. We took them with us and marched into Orleans next day
through the usual tempest of welcome and joy.
And this time there was a new tribute to our leader. From
everywhere in the packed streets the new recruits squeezed their
way to her side to touch the sword of Joan of Arc and draw from it
somewhat of that mysterious quality which made it invincible.