第37章 HOW NORMAN LESLIE WAS OUT OF ALL COMFORT(2)
Thereafter there was no similitude for me and my unhappy estate，save that of a dog who has lost his master in a strange place，and goes questing everywhere，and comfortless.Then Randal Rutherford，coming to visit me，found me such a lackmirth，he said，and my wits so distraught，that a love-sick wench were better company for a man-at-arms.
"Cheer up，man，"he said."Look at me，did I not leave my heart at Branxholme Mains with Mally Grieve，and so in every town where Ihave been in garrison，and do you see me cast down？Off with this green sickness，or never will you have strength to march with the Maid，where there is wealth to be won，and golden coronets，and gaudy stones，such as Saunders Macausland took off the Duke of Clarence at Bauge.Faith，between the wound Capdorat gave you and this arrow of Dan Cupid's in your heart，I believe you will not be of strength to carry arms till there is not a pockpudding left in broad France.Come forth，and drain a pot or two of wine，or，if the leech forbids it，come，I will play you for all that is owing between you and me."With that he lugged out his dice and fetched a tablier，but presently vowed that it was plain robbery，for I could keep no count of the game.Therewith he left me，laughing and mocking，and saying that I had been bolder with Robin Lindsay's lass.
Being alone and out of all comfort，I fell to wandering in the workroom，and there lit，to my solace，on that blessed book of the hundred ballades，which my master was adorning with pictures，and with scarlet，blue，and gold.It set forth how a young knight，in sorrow of love，was riding between Pont de Ce and Angiers，and how other knights met him and gave him counsel.These lines I read，and getting them by rote，took them for my device，for they bid the lover thrust himself foremost in the press，and in breach，mine，and escalade.
S'en assault viens，devant te lance，En mine，en eschielle，en tous lieux Ou proesce les bons avance，Ta Dame t'en aimera mieux.
But reading soon grew a weariness to me，as my life was，and my master coming home，bade me be of better cheer.
"By St.Andrew，"quoth he，"this is no new malady of thine，but well known to leeches from of old，and never yet was it mortal！Remede there is none，save to make ballades and rondels，and forget sorrow in hunting rhymes，if thou art a maker.Thou art none？Nay，nor ever was I，lad；but I have had this disease，and yet you see me whole and well.Come，lend me a hand at painting in these lilies；it passes not thy skill."So I wrought some work whereof I have reason to be proud，for these lilies were carried wheresoever blows and honour were to be won，ay，and where few might follow them.Meanwhile，my master devised with me about such sights as he had seen on the way，and how great a concourse was on pilgrimage to Puy，and how，if prayers availed，the cause of France was won；"and yet，in England too，wives are praying for their lords，and lasses for their lads in France.But ours is the better quarrel."So that weary day went by，one of the longest that I have known，and other days，till now the leech said that I might go back to the castle，though that I might march to the wars he much misdoubted.
Among the archers I had the best of greetings，and all quarrels were laid by，for，as was said，we were to set forth to Orleans，where would be blows enough to stay the greediest stomach.For now the Maid had won all hearts，taking some with her piety，and others with her wit and knowledge，that confounded the doctors，how she，a simple wench，was so subtle in doctrine，which might not be but by inspiration.Others，again，were moved by her mirth and good-fellowship，for she would strike a man-at-arms on the shoulder like a comrade，and her horsemanship and deftness with sword and lance bewitched others，she seeming as valiant and fair as these lady crusaders of whom old romances tell.And others，again，she gained by bourdes and jests；others by her manners，the fairest and most courtly that might be，for she，a manant's daughter，bore herself as an equal before the blood of France，and was right dear to the young bride of the fair Duc d'Alencon.Yet was there about her such a grace of purity，as of one descended from the skies，that no man of them all was so hardy as to speak to her of love，or even so much as to think thereof in the secret of his heart.
So all reported of her，and she had let write a letter to the English at Orleans，bidding them yield to God and the Maid，and begone to their own country，lest a worse thing befall them.At this letter they mocked，swearing that they would burn her heralds who carried the message.But the King had named her chief of war，and given her a household，with a good esquire，Jean d'Aulon，to govern it，and all that beseems noble or royal blood.New armour had been made for her，all of steel and silver，and there was talk of a sword that she had come by in no common way，but through revelation of the saints.For she being in Tours had it revealed to her that a certain ancient sword，with five crosses on the blade，lay buried behind the altar of St.Catherine of Fierbois.An armourer of Tours was therefore sent thither，and after much labour and search they of St.Catherine's Church found that sword，very ancient，and much bestained with rust.Howbeit，they cleaned it and made for it a sheath of cloth of gold.Nevertheless，the Maid wore it in a leathern scabbard.
第一章HOW MADAME CATHERINE OF FIERBOIS WROUGHT A MIRACLE FOR ASCOT，AND HOW NORMAN RODE TO THE WARS
Now，in this place I cannot withhold me from telling of an adventure which at this very time befell，though it scarce belongs to my present chronicle.But it may be that，in time to come，faith will wax cold，and the very saints be misdoubted of men.It therefore behoves me not to hold back the truth which I know，and which this tale makes plain and undeniable even by Hussites，Lollards，and other miscreants.For he who reads must be constrained to own that there is no strait so terrible but the saints can bring safely forth therefrom such men as call upon them.