第93章 HOW NORMAN LESLIE FARED IN COMPIEGNE,WITH THE ENDO

Never was man more astounded than Barthelemy;and he bade me swear by the Blessed Trinity that all this tale was true.

"Mayhap you were fevered,"he said,"when you lay in the casement seat,and saw the Maid taken by device of the cordelier.""I was no more fevered than I am now,and I swear,by what oath you will,and by the bones of St.Andrew,which these sinful hands have handled,that Flavy's face was set the other way when that cry came,'Down portcullis,up drawbridge,close gates!'And now that I have told you the very truth,what should I do?""Brother Thomas should burn for this,"quoth Barthelemy;"but not while the siege endures.He carries too many English lives in his munition-box.Nor can you slay him in single combat,or at unawares,for the man is a priest.Nor would Flavy,who knows you not,listen to such a story."So there he sat,frowning,and plucking at his beard."I have it,"he said;"D'Aulon is no further off than Beaulieu,where Jean de Luxembourg holds him till he pays his ransom.When the siege is raised,if ever we are to have succour,then purchase safe-conduct to D'Aulon,take his testimony,and bring it to Flavy."As he spoke,some stir in the still air made me look up,and suddenly throw my body aside;and it was well,for a sword swept down from the low parapet above our heads,and smote into the back of that settle whereon we were sitting.

Ere I well knew what had chanced,Barthelemy was on his feet,his whinger flew from his hand,and he,leaping up on to the parapet,was following after him who smote at me.

In the same moment a loud grating voice cried--"The Maid shall burn,and not the man,"and a flash of light went past me,the whinger flying over my head and clipping into the water of the moat below."Rising as I best might,but heedfully,I spied over the parapet,and there was Barthelemy coming back,his naked sword in his hand.

"The devil turned a sharp corner and vanished,"he said."And now where are we?We have a worse foe within than all the men of Burgundy without.There goes the devil's tally!"he cried,and threw the little carven rod far from him into the moat,where it fell and floated.

"No man saw this that could bear witness;most are in church,where you and I should have been,"I said.

Then we looked on each other with blank faces.

"My post is far from his,and my harness is good,"said Barthelemy;"but for you,beware!"Thenceforth,if I saw any cowl of a cordelier as I walked,I even turned and went the other way.

I was of no avail against this wolf,whom all men praised,so serviceable was he to the town.

Once an arbalest bolt struck my staff from my hand as I walked,and I was fain to take shelter of a corner,yet saw not whence the shot came.

Once a great stone fell from a turret,and broke into dust at my feet,and it is not my mind that a cannon-ball had loosened it.

Thus my life went by in dread and watchfulness.No more bitter penance may man dree than was mine,to be near this devil,and have no power to avenge my deadly quarrel.There were many heavy hearts in the town;for,once it was taken,what man could deem his life safe,or what woman her honour?But though they lay down and rose up in fear,and were devoured by desire of revenge,theirs was no such thirst as mine.

So the days went on,and darkened towards the promised season of Martinmas,but there dawned no light of hope.Now,on the Wednesday before All Saints,I had clambered up into the tower of the Church of the Jacobins,on the north-east of the city,whence there was a prospect far and wide.With me were only two of the youngest of the fathers.I looked down into the great forest of Pierrefonds,and up and down Oise,and beheld the army of our enemies moving in divers ways.The banners of the English and their long array were crossing the Duke of Burgundy's new bridge of wood,that he had builded from Venette,and with them the men of Jean de Luxembourg trooped towards Royaulieu.On the crest of their bastille,over against our Pierrefonds Gate,matches were lighted and men were watching in double guard,and the same on the other side of the water,at the Gate Margny.Plainly our foes expected a rescue sent to us of Compiegne by our party.But the forest,five hundred yards from our wall,lay silent and peaceable,a sea of brown and yellow leaves.

Then,while the English and Burgundian men-at-arms,that had marched south and east,were drawn up in order of battle away to the right between wood and water,behold,trumpets sounded,faint enough,being far off.Then there was a glitter of the pale sun on long lines of lance-points,under the banners of French captains,issuing out from the forest,over against the enemy.We who stood on the tower gazed long at these two armies,which were marshalled orderly,with no more than a bowshot and a half between them,and every moment we looked to see them charge upon each other with the lance.

Much we prayed to the Saints,for now all our hope was on this one cast.They of Burgundy and of England dismounted from their horses,for the English ever fight best on foot,and they deemed that the knights of France would ride in upon them,and fall beneath the English bows,as at Azincour and Crecy.We,too,looked for nought else;but the French array never stirred,though here and there a knight would gallop forth to do a valiance.Seldom has man seen a stranger sight in war,for the English and Burgundians could not charge,being heavy-armed men on foot,and the French would not move against them,we knew not wherefore.