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HER work in Orleans complete, Joan's plan now was to seek out the King, and urge him to come to Reims and receive his crown. Disregarding the soreness of her wound, she was off next morning, after taking leave of the people of Orleans, who gathered about her, weeping for joy, offering as gifts whatever she might desire. She asked nothing but their good will, and with Dunois and her military household set out for Chinon, by the south bank of the Loire, pausing to give thanks at the famous shrine of Clery, where her name, with that of Dunois, is still recorded.

As Joan rode through the golden May weather, to carry her tidings to the King, other riders from Orleans were speeding in every direction, bearing to every corner of Europe news of her great victory. Foreign news writers, forerunners of today's journalists, were sending it to kings, princes, churchmen in every capital. The peasant girl of Domremy had been found to be all that she had claimed. She had become the most important figure in France. The great churchman, Jean

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Gerson, then in Lyons, issued a statement in which he called her a worthy sister of Deborah and Judith, comparing her with Saint Catherine. The Archbishop of Embrun declared that the Maid was to be obeyed as a messenger of God, and spoke of her as "an angel of the armies of the Lord." The Duke of Bedford—uncle of the little English King and ruling in his stead as "Regent of England and France"—fearing an uprising in Paris, hurried to the castle of Vincennes and sent out a general summons for soldiers to combat the powers of this "disciple and limb of Satan." Few would respond, for the news of what had happened at Orleans was reaching Burgundian and English soldiers as well as their leaders. Joan as she rode knew that this would be so, and that if the King with her army would set out at once for Reims, few would oppose his progress.

She had expected to go to Chinon to meet Charles, but the news of her victory had outrun her, and he was on his way to Tours. She arrived there a little before him, and with her banner in her hand rode forward to greet him. An old chronicle says:

"Then the young girl bowed low before the King, who bade her sit upright, and it is thought that he gladly would have kissed her for the joy that he felt." In all history there are not many such moments: a peasant girl of seventeen offering to a king his kingdom.

And now side by side they entered Tours, while the shout-

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Gerson, then in Lyons, issued a statement in which he called her a worthy sister of Deborah and Judith, comparing her with Saint Catherine. The Archbishop of Embrun declared that the Maid was to be obeyed as a messenger of God, and spoke of her as "an angel of the armies of the Lord." The Duke of Bedford—uncle of the little English King and ruling in his stead as "Regent of England and France"—fearing an uprising in Paris, hurried to the castle of Vincennes and sent out a general summons for soldiers to combat the powers of this "disciple and limb of Satan." Few would respond, for the news of what had happened at Orleans was reaching Burgundian and English soldiers as well as their leaders. Joan as she rode knew that this would be so, and that if the King with her army would set out at once for Reims, few would oppose his progress.

She had expected to go to Chinon to meet Charles, but the news of her victory had outrun her, and he was on his way to Tours. She arrived there a little before him, and with her banner in her hand rode forward to greet him. An old chronicle says:

"Then the young girl bowed low before the King, who bade her sit upright, and it is thought that he gladly would have kissed her for the joy that he felt." In all history there are not many such moments: a peasant girl of seventeen offering to a king his kingdom.

And now side by side they entered Tours, while the shouting, weeping populace thronged about them and the bells rang and many knelt or pressed forward, to kiss or touch the Maid's hands, her feet, her clothing, even her horse, and were in danger of being trodden down. One may be certain that among that swaying mass was little Heliote Poulvoir, and that later Joan sought out the painter's pretty daughter who rejoiced and wept to welcome back from battle this miracle-working comrade who had delivered a city and had been wounded; who was a great heroine—almost a saint.

"Come to Reims," Joan urged the King, "come to Reims and receive your crown! " but the timid Charles and his timeserving counselors hesitated. Cities in English hands were along the way. In spite of the "sign" she had shown, Charles and his court did not entirely share her faith. Her wound, they said, must have time to heal. Dunois, meantime, would attack Jargeau, twelve miles east of Orleans, and still in, English hands.

Joan, against her will, was taken to Loches, where the King had a fine chateau, which he could now enjoy without fear of his enemies. At Loches Joan was surrounded by luxury and idolized by the people, but she fretted and grieved, for she saw her army, unpaid and poorly fed, melting away; and she counted the passing of her precious days.

At last one day she knocked at the door of the King's apartment,

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where he sat with two of his counselors; a moment later she entered, and falling on her knees to Charles, said:

"Noble Dauphin, hold no longer so many of these interminable councils, but come at once to Reims, and receive your rightful crown."

"Is it your Council that tells you this?" asked one of those present.

"Yes," she replied, "and I am much stimulated thereby."

"Would you not explain, here in the presence of the King, the manner of your Council when it speaks to you?"

Joan answered:

"I think I understand what you want to know, and I will tell it to you willingly."

"Joan," said the King, "is it truly your wish, before the persons here present, to declare what is asked of you?"

"Yes," she answered, and added:

"When I am baffled in some manner, because some one does not wish to credit the thing I speak on the part of God, I retire apart and pray to God, complaining that those to whom I speak are hard of belief. My prayer to God finished, I hear a Voice that says to me: ‘Daughter of God, go, go, go! I will aid thee, go!’ And when I hear this Voice I have great joy. I would like always to hear it."

Dunois, who was present and told of this, added that as she spoke she seemed transported. This brave soldier had returned to Loches to get the King's sanction for raising a new

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army under Joan's leadership. His attack on Jargeau had failed. Without the Maid, the French still could not win. Dunois said that, hearing these words from Joan, the King became very joyous and decided to believe her. He would go to Reims, but they would first take some places along the Loire.

Joan had been about ten days at Loches, and her wound was as good as healed. With Alencon, her beau duc, who was, to be military head of the new expedition, she at once began to collect men and supplies. Captains who had fought at Orleans and who had faith in the Maid, came with their troops to Romorantin, where they were ordered to assemble. Charles, meantime, conferred armorial bearings on Joan, perhaps thinking this would give her more prestige in raising troops: as if any decoration could add to her prestige in the eyes of those who had been with her at Orleans. "They came," says one old chronicler, "more to accompany Joan the Maid than for any other reason."

Money was harder to raise than men, but here also, the Maid's name proved a magic word. Cities gave supplies, and support came from private sources—from nobles little able to afford it, after the heavy ransoms which most of them had

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paid following the disaster of Verneuil. A young noble, Guy de Laval, scion of one of the oldest families in France, on the way with his brother to join the new army, wrote a letter to his people which shows the spirit of the moment. The writer tells of the scarcity of funds and urges his mother not to spare

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his estates, either by sale or mortgage, to the end that money may be raised in support of the cause. The writer had seen Joan, and his letter is especially fortunate in the lovely picture it presents of her. It was written from Selles, where the Maid gave warm welcome to the brothers de Laval, "she being fully armed, except the head."

"And there seemed something wholly divine in her manner, and to see her, and to hear her . . . and I saw her mount her horse—armed all in white all except her head, a little axe in her hand—on a black courser, that at the entrance of her lodging plunged fiercely, and would not suffer her to mount; whereupon she said: 'Lead him to the cross,' which was before the near-by church on the road. And then she mounted without him moving, any more than if he had been bound. Then she turned toward the church, which was close by, and said, in a very womanly voice: 'You, priests and men of the church, form procession and make prayers to God.' After which she set out on her way, saying: 'Forward! Forward!' her standard furled, carried by a graceful page, her little axe in her hand."

To how many Joan's face and manner gave the impression of having in them "something divine"! Unhappily, no one left any worthy description of her; we have little more than the words of d'Aulon that she was "belle et bien formee, beautiful and well formed."

The new army collected at Romorantin, Joan saw it safely

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on its march for the Loire; with Alencon overtaking it at Orleans. It was a very good army, numbering five or six thousand men, well equipped for siege work. Jargeau was twelve miles up the river and the march upon it was not delayed. The English commanders of the town were the Duke of Suffolk and his two brothers, John and Alexander de la Pole. They had no great force, but their defenses were very strong, by many believed impregnable.

Arriving before Jargeau there was the usual discussion among the captains. Some were for the assault, others against it. Joan bade them be without fear. "Do not hesitate to assault the English." She said: "God conducts our work. If I had not this assurance I would rather guard sheep than expose myself to so great perils."

The men pressed forward, thinking to capture the outskirts f the town. As they did so the English made a sudden sortie and drove the French back. Seeing this, Joan seized her standard.

"Have good heart," she called to them: "Forward with

A little later the English had retreated to their defenses, and the French camped that night in the adjoining suburbs. In the darkness, approaching the great walls of the citadel, -~e Maid called to those within:

"Surrender to the King of Heaven, and to the noble King Charles, and go away. Otherwise he will destroy you!"

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She thought it right to warn those she was about to attack. Also, she well knew the effect this would have on the men, even upon the officers. No answer came from the fort; perhaps Suffolk had heard of the fate of Glasdale after calling the Maid an evil name.

No guard was set that night by the French, who seemed to have full faith in Joan's protection. They were not attacked, and early next morning the heavy guns were brought forward for the assault. There was a difference of opinion among the leaders, some being in favor of delay. Joan's policy was to strike swiftly; her heralds began summoning the soldiers, crying: "To the assault!" Joan herself called to Alencon, "Forward, noble duke, to the assault!" And as he hesitated she added: "Doubt not, the hour is good when God pleases. One must work when God wills. Work, and God will work also."

Alencon himself told of this, and how a little later she said to him:

"Ah, noble duke, hast thou fear? Knowest thou not I have" promised thy wife to bring thee back safe and sound?"

"In fact," said Alencon, "when I left my wife to come to the army with Joan, my wife said to her: 'Jeannette, I am much afraid for my husband. He is no more than out of prison, and has been obliged to spend so much money for ransom that I would gladly see him remain at home.' To

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which Joan answered: 'Madame, be without fear; I will bring him back safe to you, and in better health than he is now.' "

Alencon had always full faith in Joan, and it was here quickly justified. The English guns on the ramparts opened fire and stone cannon balls began to work damage to the French. Joan said to him:

"Step aside from there; if you do not that gun will kill you." The duke obeyed and a moment later a ball from the gun killed a man who had taken his place.

Joan now urged forward the assault on the English defenses. As the soldiers rushed to the walls, the Duke of Suffolk called out that he wished to speak to Alencon. In the tumult the latter failed to hear this, and the assault proceeded. Joan started up a ladder, standard in hand. A stone from above struck her helmet, felling her to the earth. An instant later she was on her feet, calling to her soldiers:

"Friends, friends, up! up! Our Lord has condemned the English. At this moment they are ours! Have good heart!" It was the Tourelles over again. Friend and foe had seen her struck down, only to spring up anew and lead the charge. The French rushed at the walls; the English made a feeble then fled for the bridge across the Loire. A few reaped, the rest were killed and captured. Suffolk himself was made prisoner, with one of his brothers; the other, Alexander de la Pole, was killed. There is a story that Suffolk declared he would surrender only to the Maid herself, but

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this seems to be a fable. Joan and Alencon with their army and prisoners returned to Orleans. English power at Jargeau had been utterly destroyed.

At Orleans the Maid was received with the usual celebration. To the people she seemed as marvelous as an angel from the skies. Captains and soldiers were grandly feted; reinforcement came pouring in.

Exalted by her victories, the Maid was not without moments of deep sorrow, for she loathed the shedding of blood. The shouting people, the waving banners, the festooned streets that everywhere greeted her, tribute to glorious conquest, had been paid for with the lives of brave men. At Orleans, however, there was waiting one reward that must have given her a special satisfaction. This was an order from the poet Duke Charles, prisoner in England, to his treasurer, Jacques Boucher, to pay thirteen ecus of gold to a merchant and a tailor for the cloth and the making of two fine garments, one of crimson and the other of green, both to be richly lined and finished with white satin and other materials, _all very costly as shown by the price--the same to be completed and delivered to Joan the Maid, "in consideration of the good and agreeable services that the said Maid has rendered us in the encounter

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with the English, ancient enemies of my lord the King, and of ourselves."

The garments were named as "a robe and a huque," and we are not entirely clear today as to their form, but one of them was a kind of overdress, slashed at the sides, to be worn above her armor. Joan could hardly have been less than happy in this fine remembrance from the duke in exile, and she was human enough and girl enough to love the gift for its own sake. She had a taste for the choice in dress, and became passionately fond of beautiful armor. How different this new robe from the patched red gown she had worn to Vaucouleurs!

The Maid could not be persuaded to linger at Orleans. Alencon's squire, Perceval de Cagny, who kept a record of events, and later wrote a memoir, says that on the evening of the second day, she called her beau duc, and said to him:

"I wish tomorrow, after dinner, to see those of Meung. Give orders that the company be ready to leave at that hour."

Meung, twelve miles below Orleans, was another town in English hands. The army marched according to orders by the south bank, arriving in time to capture the bridgehead, after a skirmish. They camped there, and leaving a detachment to hold the bridge, next morning pushed on four miles farther to the English stronghold of Beaugency, where they expected stout resistance. But at the first attack the English withdrew to the great square tower of the chateau, and that

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night offered to abandon the town at daybreak with certain of their belongings. The agreement was made, and they gladly enough left at the hour named.

Just here occurred an event, important at the moment and to become far more so, as time passed. Some years before, the King's chief officer, Arthur of Richemont, Constable of France, had been the means of connecting Georges de La Tremoille with Charles's court. The plotting La Tremoille had lost no time in undermining his patron and sponsor. Always at Charles's ear, he invented such reports as presently caused the weak, persuadable King to estrange Richemont and deny him the court. So bitter toward Richemont did Charles become that his powerful military aid was rejected, his friendship with any member of the court forbidden. The Constable, however, on his own account had continued the fight for France. Now, suddenly, on this June morning at Beaugency, he appeared with his lords, at the head of a thousand picked men, to petition Joan to make his peace with the King.

The situation was a difficult one. All well knew the King's orders. When Richemont's approach was reported, Alencon went so far as to declare that if the Constable came he would go. The Maid seems to have said very little. A great decisive battle with the English was likely to occur at any hour. Fastolf's force, so long reported, was not far away, and had

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been joined by troops under Talbot, a part of those driven from Orleans. This army Joan meant to destroy. Richemont was a distinguished leader, his aid most important. Her business was to secure it—to reconcile the French captains. A fortunate circumstance furnished an opportunity.

The Constable with his lords having arrived on the scene, Joan drew him a little away from the others to discuss the matter. It is said that Richemont knelt to the Maid, which in courtesy he may well have done. They were talking quietly, when one of La Hire's men reported to Alencon that a body of English were approaching:

"The enemy is marching on us," he said. "We are going to have him facing us."

Joan, within earshot, was not so deeply engaged that she did not catch the drift of the messenger's report. Calling to Alencon, she asked:

"What did that soldier say?"

The message was made known to her. Whereupon, addressing herself to Richemont, she said:

"Ah, fair Constable, you did not come because of me, but since you are come, you are welcome."

Such was the beginning of what was to prove of great moment in the history of France. It would take time, for La Tremoille would long and bitterly oppose it. But a day of full reconciliation would arrive, and its beginning was that morning at Beaugency in the face of a threatening army.

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Talbot, with a small body of men, had met Fastolf at Janville, a village to the north of Orleans, and urged him at once to march to Meting, where his own main army was quartered, the French holding the captured bridgehead across the river. Talbot and Fastolf united would then give battle to the Maid's forces.

Fastolf did not like the idea. He said that with the French exalted by their recent victories and the English in a like manner frightened and discouraged, such a battle might well prove a disaster. His idea was to let the Loire troops make the best terms they could, while he and Talbot waited further reinforcement from Bedford in Paris. Talbot, smarting from his defeat at Orleans, vowed that with the aid of God and Saint George and such men as would follow him he would push on, and fight. A month earlier he had withdrawn his army from the bastiles before Orleans, showing no fight whatever; what had caused this sudden change of heart? That Talbot was held as a wise and valiant soldier, is certain, and Fastolf finally yielded. The captains were ordered to be ready next morning to march on Meting and Beaugency. They departed in the dawn, pennons flying, making a brave sight, though sick at heart, riding to meet the "witch of Orleans and Jargeau," and therefore to their death, as most of them

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believed. When they had gone a little way, Fastolf again protested, declaring that they were but a handful and in no wise fit to stand against the Maid's army. One cannot help comparing such admonition with Joan's fearless: "Forward boldly! Have good heart, they are ours!" whether her troops were few or many, and when for years they had known nothing but defeat.

Surely no army ever went forward with so little heart as Fastolf's. Yet, Talbot insisting, they moved on in perfect order, taking the straight road for the Loire. This was the force reported by La Hire's soldier to Alencon at the moment when the Maid spoke with Richemont, at Beaugency.

In spite of their victories, the French captains were not without doubts. Alencon, military commander of the expedition, said to Joan:

"What shall I do?"

The Maid answered, loudly enough for all to hear:

"Have good spurs, all of you."

At this some of the captains asked:

"What did you say? Are we, then, to turn our backs?"

"No, the English will turn their backs. They will not defend themselves, and will be beaten. You will need good spurs to follow them." Again she said: "Strike boldly, they will take^-o flight." She added that it would not take long.

The captains disposed themselves in order of battle, and after waiting a considerable time for the English, moved

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forward to meet them, taking a position on a low hilltop, about a mile from Beaugency. The English believing that they were at once to be attacked, dismounted and planted their spears, butts in the ground, points forward, tactics which had won for them earlier in the year, at Rouvray. They now sent forward two heralds, proposing that three knights be chosen from each side to try the justice of their cause. This did not suit Joan. To her mind the only thing to do with this English army was to destroy it. She said:

"Go to your camp for today, for it is late enough; but tomorrow, at the pleasure of God and Our Lady, we shall see you nearer."

The English did not keep their position. During the night they withdrew to Meung, where they bombarded the French garrison across the river. By morning even Talbot was no longer recklessly brave. The French force of the day before had looked very large to him. Joan's words had sounded ominous; they reminded him of her warnings at Orleans. Moreover, with morning came news of the English surrender at Beaugency, unknown to him the day before. He agreed with Fastolf to retreat. Gathering up the force that had been holding Meung, the combined armies set out across the level land called the "Beauce," toward Paris. Knowing the French would be quickly after them, they took the field hastily, but as they retreated northward disposed themselves in good marching order, their retreat led by an English knight, bearing

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a white standard. Joan's banner of victory was white; the English may have thought there was some special virtue in that color.

We left the French army in battle order on a low hill, but they seem to have camped at Beaugency. During the night they must have heard the bombardment of the bridgehead at Meung, four miles distant, but it was eight next morning before they were in marching order, which would bring them to Meung about nine. The guns had long since ceased there and the enemy had vanished. Gathering up her detachment, left to hold the bridgehead, the Maid prepared to follow them.

But now again there was doubt and hesitation. Some of the captains had no taste for the combined forces of Fastolf and Talbot. The Maid's intent was clear enough; according to Alencon, she said:

"In God's name we must fight them! If they were hung to the clouds we would have them! The noble King will have today the greatest victory he has known in a long time. My Council has told me they are all ours."

"Where shall we find them?" she was asked. To which she answered:

"Ride with confidence; we shall have good guidance."

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The level Beauce, now a plain of wheat, was in that day covered with a bushy growth that could easily conceal an army. The French captains may have feared ambush, but they now rode forward, an advance guard of sixty or eighty picked warriors, mounted on "flowers of horses," riding ahead to make discovery. Joan had wished to lead this guard, but was persuaded to leave it to La Hire, on the grounds that her presence would be of more value to the main army.

It is eighteen miles from Meung to the village of Patay, and across this wide level, under a June sky, concealed from each other though but a little way apart, the two armies moved, pursuer and pursued. To report any approach of the French, the English had scouts in the rear; and early in the afternoon, when their army was about three miles from Patay, these brought in word that the Maid's army was coming, riding swiftly and in great strength.

Realizing that with their provision train and foot soldiers they could not escape, Talbot and Fastolf hastily prepared for battle. Orders were given to place the wagons along the hedges near Patay, behind a forefront of spears, planted in the favorite English fashion, butts in the ground; Talbot, meantime, with five hundred picked archers, would range himself along an open way by which the French were expected to come, thus hoping to hold them in check until the main defense could be formed. It was a good plan, but the unexpected happened.

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Joan had told her captains that they would have "good guidance." Probably she had no idea what it would be, but she never made a truer prophecy. The French advance guard, La Hire at its head, had not yet sighted the English, when suddenly in front of them a stag sprang up from among the bushes and bounded straight into the very midst of the English army. The soldiers, taken by surprise, eager to catch it and forgetful of the French, raised a great cry. La Hire and his eighty picked men dashed forward, sending back word to the main army that the enemy was found. Fastolf's defenses along the hedges were not yet formed. Talbot's archers were not yet in position. Seeing the French approach, the English army became a wild scramble of preparation.

At this point everything fell into confusion. The French, now fully aware of the English, came thundering forward. The picked eighty under La Hire, the Constable, de Boussac, and Poton Saintrailles, that terrible quartette, struck Talbot's lane of archers, and cut straight through them before they could fix their arrows. The English already forming at the hedges, seeing Fastolf hurrying with others to join them, thought him in full retreat, the battle already lost; at this the captain of the English advance guard, he of the white standard, without another look behind, abandoned the hedges, and with his men joined in a wild stampede of flight.

Nobody was more to blame than Fastolf. A day or two before he had frightened his men half to death, and this was

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the result. The soldiers—those who could not escape--overwhelmed by fear and the suddenness of it all made a poor defense. La Hire and his eighty rode among them like demons. Talbot's archers were annihilated, Talbot himself was made prisoner. The main army under Joan and Alencon came up and completed the work. An old Burgundian chronicler, who was present, wrote of the scene:

"They could at their will kill or capture as seemed good to them. The English were discomfited with small loss to the French. So there died of the said English fully two thousand men, and there were taken two hundred prisoners."

Besides Talbot, a number of English leaders were captured, including Lord Scales, son of the Earl of Warwick, whom we shall meet later. Fastolf was not captured, but after watching the battle from a safe distance, and according to our old chronicler "making the greatest dole ever man made," he joined the escaping remnant of his army and set out for Paris.

Little is known of Joan's active part in the Battle of Patay. That with her banner she was at the head of the main army is all we can be sure of, except one incident told by her page, Louis de Contes. A French soldier who conducted some English captives struck one of them on the head with such force that the man fell to the ground, dying. Joan, seeing this, quickly dismounted, and hurrying to the fallen man had him confessed, meantime supporting his head on her arm, consoling him as much as was in her power. That is all we really know

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of Joan on the field of Patay, all we need to know. Exalted by victory, yet in the midst of it, merciful and compassionate.

Talbot, a prisoner, was brought before Alencon—the Maid and Richemont being present. Alencon said to him:

"You did not think this morning that this would happen to you."

Talbot replied:

"It is the fortune of war."

Joan and Talbot must have spoken together, but there is no record of their words.

It was the afternoon of a long summer day that Patay was fought, Saturday, June 18, 1429. Exactly a week earlier the Maid had attacked Jargeau, which had fallen next day. From Jargeau she had proceeded in the most workmanlike manner to envelop Meung and Beaugency, and to strike Fastolf's impending army at Patay. Her plan had long included Fastolf. Six weeks earlier at Orleans, she had playfully threatened to have Dunois' head, if he let Fastolf pass without her knowledge. Now at last she had met Fastolf's army and destroyed it. Talbot's army was likewise scattered, Talbot himself a prisoner. Her prophecy that the King would have

that day the greatest victory he had known "in a long time" had been more than fulfilled. Not in his lifetime had the King known such a victory. English power below Paris was that day the greatest victory he had known "in a long time" had been more than fulfilled. Not in his lifetime had the King known such a victory. English power below Paris was broken forever.