other hand, the Maid” soldiers were full of courage, enthusiasm,
and zeal.
Joan could have marched by the English forts. However, it was not
to be. She had been cheated out of her first chance to strike a
heavy blow for her country.
In camp that night she slept in her armor on the ground. It was a
cold night, and she was nearly as stiff as her armor itself when we
resumed the march in the morning, for iron is not good material
for a blanket. However, her joy in being now so far on her way to
the theater of her mission was fire enough to warm her, and it soon
did it.
Her enthusiasm and impatience rose higher and higher with every
mile of progress; but at last we reached Olivet, and down it went,
and indignation took its place. For she saw the trick that had been
played upon her–the river lay between us and Orleans.
She was for attacking one of the three bastilles that were on our
side of the river and forcing access to the bridge which it guarded
(a project which, if successful, would raise the siege instantly), but
the long-ingrained fear of the English came upon her generals and
they implored her not to make the attempt. The soldiers wanted to
attack, but had to suffer disappointment. So we moved on and
came to a halt at a point opposite Ch‚cy, six miles above Orleans.
Dunois, Bastard of Orleans, with a body of knights and citizens,
came up from the city to welcome Joan. Joan was still burning
with resentment over the trick that had been put upon her, and was
not in the mood for soft speeches, even to reversed military idols
of her childhood. She said:
“Are you the bbb?”
“Yes, I am he, and am right glad of your coming.”
“And did you advise that I be brought by this side of the river
instgead of straight to Talbot and the English?”
Her high manner abashed him, and he was not able to answer with
anything like a confident promptness, but with many hesitations
and partial excuses he managed to get out the confession that for
what he and the council had regarded as imperative military
reasons they so advised.
“In God’s name,” said Joan, “my Lord’s counsel is safer and wiser
than yours. You thought to deceive me, but you have deceived
yourselves, for I bring you the bst help that ever knight or city had;
for it is God’s help, not sent for love of me, but by God’s pleasure.
At the prayer of St. Louis and St. Charlemagne He has had pity on
Orleans, and will not suffer the enemy to have both the Duke of
Orleans and his city. The provisions to save the starving people are
here, the boats are below the city, the wind is contrary, they cannot
come up hither. Now then, tell me, in God’s name, you who are so
wise, what that council of yours was thinking about, to invent this
foolish difficulty.”
Dunois and the rest fumbled around the matter a moment, then
gave in and conceded that a blunder had been made.
“Yes, a blunder has been made,” said Joan, “and except God take
your proper work upon Himself and change the wind and correct
your blunder for you, there is none else that can devise a remedy.”
Some of these people began to perceive that with all her technical
ignorance she had practical good sense, and that with all her native
sweetness and charm she was not the right kind of a person to play
with.
Presently God did take the blunder in hand, and by His grace the
wind did change. So the fleet of boats came up and went away
loaded with provisions and cattle, and conveyed that welcome
succor to the hungry city, managing the matter successfully under
protection of a sortie from the walls against the bastille of St.
Loup. Then Joan began on the Bastard again:
“You see here the army?”
“Yes.”
“It is here on this side by advice of your council?”
“Yes.”
“Now, in God’s name, can that wise council explain why it is better