her. But, as now, they showed no dread where honour was to be
won, but rather pride and disdain. On this very Saturday, the morrow of
our arrival, La Hire, with Florent d'Illiers and many other knights,
pushed forth a matter of two bowshots from the city walls, and took a
keep that they thought to have burned. They were very hardy men, and
being comforted by the Maid's coming, were full of courage and goodwill;
yet the English rallied and drove them back, with much firing of guns,
and now first I heard the din of war and saw the great stone balls fly,
scattering, as they fell, into splinters that screamed in the air, with a
very terrible sound. Truly the English had the better of that fray, and
were no whit adread, for at sunset the Maid sent them two heralds,
bidding them begone; yet they answered only that they would burn her for
a witch, and called her a ribaulde, or loose wench, and bade her go back
and keep her kine.

I was with her when this message came, and her brows met and her eyes
flashed with anger. Telling us of her company to follow, she went to the
Fair Cross on the bridge, where now her image stands, fashioned in
bronze, kneeling before the Cross, with the King kneeling opposite. There
she stood and cried aloud to the English, who were in the fort on the
other side of the bridge that is called Les Tourelles, and her voice rang
across the water like a trumpet, so that it was marvel. Then came out on
to the bridge a great knight and a tall, Sir William Glasdale; no bigger
man have I seen, and I bethought me of Goliath in Holy Scripture. He
spoke in a loud, north-country voice, and, whereas she addressed him
courteously, as she did all men, he called her by the worst of names,
mocking at her for a ribaulde. She made answer that he lied, and that he
should die in four days' time or five, without stroke of sword; and so,
waving her hand haughtily, turned and went back. But I, who walked close
by her, noted that she wept like any girl at his evil and lying
accusations.

Next day was Sunday, and no stroke was struck, but the Bastard of Orleans
set forth to bring back the army from Blois. And on Monday the Maid rode
out and under the very walls of the English keeps, the townsfolk running
by her rein, as if secure in her company; yet no man came forth against
them, which was marvel. And on the Wednesday, the Maid, with many
knights, rode forth two leagues, and met the Bastard of Orleans and all
the