sleep by day in concealment, as almost the whole of our long
journey would be through the enemy’s country.
Also, she commanded that we should keep the date of our
departure a secret, since she meant to get away unobserved.
Otherwise we should be sent off with a grand demonstration which
would advertise us to the enemy, and we should be ambushed and
captured somewhere. Finally she said:
“Nothing remains, now, but that I confide to you the date of our
departure, so that you may make all needful preparation in time,
leaving nothing to be done in haste and badly at the last moment.
We march the 23d, at eleven of the clock at night.”
Then we were dismissed. The two knights were startled–yes, and
troubled; and the Sieur Bertrand said:
“Even if the governor shall really furnish the letter and the escort,
he still may not do it in time to meet the date she has chosen. Then
how can she venture to name that date? It is a great risk–a great
risk to select and decide upon the date, in this state of uncertainty.
I said:
“Since she has named the 23d, we may trust her. The Voices have
told her, I think. We shall do best to obey.”
We did obey. Joan’s parents were notified to come before the 23d,
but prudence forbade that they be told why this limit was named.
All day, the 23d, she glanced up wistfully whenever new bodies of
strangers entered the house, but her parents did not appear. Still
she was not discouraged, but hoped on. But when night fell at last,
her hopes perished, and the tears came; however, she dashed them
away, and said:
“It was to be so, no doubt; no doubt it was so ordered; I must bear
it, and will.”
De Metz tried to comfort her by saying:
“The governor sends no word; it may be that they will come
to-morrow, and–”
He got no further, for she interrupted him, saying:
“To what good end? We start at eleven to-night.”
And it was so. At ten the governor came, with his guard and arms,
with horses and equipment for me and for the brothers, and gave
Joan a letter to the King. Then he took off his sword, and belted it
about her waist with his own hands, and said:
“You said true, child. The battle was lost, on the day you said. So I
have kept my word. Now go–come of it what may.”
Joan gave him thanks, and he went his way.
The lost battle was the famous disaster that is called in history the
Battle of the Herrings.
All the lights in the house were at once put out, and a little while
after, when the streets had become dark and still, we crept
stealthily through them and out at the western gate and rode away
under whip and spur.
Chapter 3 The Paladin Groans and Boasts
WE WERE twenty-five strong, and well equipped. We rode in
double file, Joan and her brothers in the center of the column, with
Jean de Metz at the head of it and the Sieur Bertrand at its extreme
rear. In two or three hours we should be in the enemy’s country,
and then none would venture to desert. By and by we began to hear
groans and sobs and execrations from different points along the
line, and upon inquiry found that six of our men were peasants
who had never ridden a horse before, and were finding it very
difficult to stay in their saddles, and moreover were now beginning
to suffer considerable bodily torture. They had been seized by the
governor at the last moment and pressed into the service to make
up the tale, and he had placed a veteran alongside of each with
orders to help him stick to the saddle, and kill him if he tried to
desert.
These poor devils had kept quiet as long as they could, but their
physical miseries were become so sharp by this time that they were
obliged to give them vent. But we were within the enemy’s country
now, so there was no help for them, they must continue the march,