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headquarters, he sheepishly admitted:  When my master and I escorted her here from Vaucouleurs, we
planned to do away with her. She represented a terrible danger. The enemy had been warned to look out
for her. Three hundred miles of enemy country to cross and armed bands out everywhere! We never
thought we could do it.
 Then she grew on us. So patient, never complaining always so sure of herself. All of a sudden, she
was our beloved little sister.
Jeanne, Robert, and Gwalchmai went to the mantelets that had been raised to protect the Origans side of
the broken bridge. They raised a white flag and stood out in the open to parley. Jeanne rolled the script
tightly around an arrow shaft and tied it with a thread. Robert arched the arrow high, and as it fell within
the wall of the Augustinian monastery the English had fortified, Jeanne cried,  Behold, here is news!
 Hearken, all of ye! Beware! mocked a jeering soldier.  Here is news from the Armagnac whore!
Jeanne paled, then grew red. She cried out, indignantly,  You lie! I pity the souls of all of you! The
soldier spat on the message and threw it into the river.
Robert saw the tears in her eyes as she turned away hi shame. He had not caught the words. His grip on
Gwalch-mai s arm was iron.  What did he say to her? What did he say?
Gwalchmai repeated the slander.  I know just which one it was, gritted the archer. Heedless of the
arrows that buzzed around him, Robert stepped out from the protection of the mantelet. He took careful
aim. A scream attested to his accuracy.
 That one won t laugh again! said the man who had himself once plotted her death. They moved back to
safety, knowing that reason and diplomacy had failed and that force of arms was now to be the only
deciding issue.
Next morning the banner went forward to battle, through the Burgundy Gate. Gwalchmai felt himself fey,
looking upon it, as it advanced upon the Augustinian monastery, which, outlined in the fire from spouting
cannon, must be taken before the Tourelles the main objective could be attacked.
Jeanne raised the banner high, trusting it to no one else, her face alight with confidence of victory to
come. It seemed to Gwalchmai that something of this glow was reflected upon the silk itself. It shimmered
like a living thing this banner  as it moved across the water, on a hastily arranged bridge of boats,
fastened together under fire.
It gleamed and rippled. De Rais and the grizzled old guerrilla captain La Hire lowered their lances for
Jeanne s protection as they clattered off the bridge. She spurred her horse and all three advanced upon
the English drawn up in serried ranks before the walls.
Gwalchmai, close behind, under the leadership of De Rais, saw her turn in the saddle, waving them all to
come on, crying,  In God s name, forward! Forward boldly!
Bullets and bolts tore through the cloth and rattled against armor. A few townsmen fell. The untrained
militia faltered in its onrush.
Gwalchmai could not hold back while she was in danger and almost unsupported. He surged out of line.
 Keep your place, Basque! shouted D Aulon.
 You love her as a daughter, Intendant? Come then. She needs help!
A Spaniard, also a man of De Rais company, sneered,  You are brave, Basque, but braver than you are
obeying orders!
 Then do you come with me! We will see who is bravest today! Thus taunted, the Spaniard seized
Gwalchmai s hand. They rushed forward, where a giant Englishman stood in the entrance with a
two-handed brpadsword, covering the retreat inward of the garrison.
By this tinie, Jeanne and De Rais had come under a merciless fire. De Rais thrust her behind him, taking
the brunt of the missiles upon his excellent armor. In the vanguard, neither Gwalchmai nor the Spaniard
could effect an entry. Suddenly, their adversary tottered and fell. Master Jean had come up with his
culverin.
In rushed Gwalchmai, followed by his companion, cutting down those who struggled to close the gate. In
rode Jeanne, striking hard with the flat of her sword, De Rais at her side slashing brutally, offering no
quarter to those who flung down their arms. In swarmed the townsfolk and regulars, with ax, halberd,
and knives. The monastery was soon French.
Next morning, the assault was cried upon the Tourelles the towers at the bridgehead which faltered
about noonday. Ripped, tattered, and pierced, the banner floated close by the wall. Jeanne raised it high,
laughed, and waved the soldiers on.
She sprang to a scaling ladder and mounted a few steps. The banner rose with her into the smoke, and
the English hand guns swung to meet it; an iron curse was bellowed forth from every mouth of fire.
The banner swung and waved and fell. Jeanne fell with it, covered by its folds like a shroud. A clothyard
arrow, driven by the full strength of an archer s arm, pierced her shoulder plate, passing completely
through armor and body.
Gwalchmai and D Aulon were closest. They lifted her tenderly under a hail of arrows and arblast bolts.
Out of range of the guns, they found the point stood out her back a full hand s breadth.
She was conscious. While D Aulon was cutting off the arrowhead, to draw out the shaft, Gwalchmai
said,  Maid, let me cure your wound. I have a sovran remedy at hand.
He showed her Merlin s ring and would have touched her shoulder. She looked at its odd carvings and
shrank away.
 It looks like sorcery. I will have no sorcery.
 Then let me sing over it, he gently insisted:  I know a song of healing. I will get a drum and cure your ill [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]