permission to hang the plotters, but she refused without hesitancy.
She said:
“Neither these men nor any others can take my life before my
mission is accomplished, therefore why should I have their blood
upon my hands? I will inform them of this, and also admonish
them. Call them before me.”
When the came she made that statement to them in a plain
matter-of-fact way, and just as if the thought never entered her
mind that any one could doubt it after she had given her word that
it was true. The men were evidently amazed and impressed to hear
her say such a thing in such a sure and confident way, for
prophecies boldly uttered never fall barren on superstitious ears.
Yes, this speech certainly impressed them, but her closing remark
impressed them still more. It was for the ringleader, and Joan said
it sorrowfully:
“It is a pity that you should plot another’s death when you own is
so close at hand.”
That man’s horse stumbled and fell on him in the first ford which
we crossed that night, and he was drowned before we could help
him. We had no more conspiracies.
This night was harassed with ambuscades, but we got through
without having any men killed. One more night would carry us
over the hostile frontier if we had good luck, and we saw the night
close down with a good deal of solicitude. Always before, we had
been more or less reluctant to start out into the gloom and the
silence to be frozen in the fords and persecuted by the enemy, but
this time we were impatient to get under way and have it over,
although there was promise of more and harder fighting than any
of the previous nights had furnished. Moreover, in front of us
about three leagues there was a deep stream with a frail wooden
bridge over it, and as a cold rain mixed with snow had been falling
steadily all day we were anxious to find out whether we were in a
trap or not. If the swollen stream had washed away the bridge, we
might properly consider ourselves trapped and cut off from escape.
As soon as it was dark we filed out from the depth of the forest
where we had been hidden and began the march. From the time
that we had begun to encounter ambushes Joan had ridden at the
head of the column, and she took this post now. By the time we
had gone a league the rain and snow had turned to sleet, and under
the impulse of the storm-wind it lashed my face like whips, and I
envied Joan and the knights, who could close their visors and shut
up their heads in their helmets as in a box. Now, out of the pitchy
darkness and close at hand, came the sharp command:
“Halt!”
We obeyed. I made out a dim mass in front of us which might be a
body of horsemen, but one could not be sure. A man rode up and
said to Joan in a tone of reproof:
“Well, you have taken your time, truly. And what have you found
out? Is she still behind us, or in front?”
Joan answered in a level voice:
“She is still behind.”
This news softened the stranger’s tone. He said:
“If you know that to be true, you have not lost your time, Captain.
But are you sure? How do you know?”
“Because I have seen her.”
“Seen her! Seen the Virgin herself?”
“Yes, I have been in her camp.”
“Is it possible! Captain Raymond, I ask you to pardon me for
speaking in that tone just now. You have performed a daring and
admirable service. Where was she camped?”
“In the forest, not more than a league from here.”
“Good! I was afraid we might be still behind her, but now that we
know she is behind us, everything is safe. She is our game. We will
hang her. You shall hang her yourself. No one has so well earned
the privilege of abolishing this pestilent limb of Satan.”
“I do not know how to thank you sufficiently. If we catch her, I–“