joan, far away in domremy, would hear of the danger in which orleans lay, now and then, and her voices kept insisting that she must go and drive away the english. she used to cry, and say that she would be quite useless, as she could not ride or fight, and people would think her mad, or bad, and laugh at her.
the voices told her to go to the nearest strong-walled french town, vaucouleurs, and ask the commander there, robert de baudricourt, to send her to the dauphin, who was then far away, at chinon, a castle on the loire, south of orleans. when she saw the king, she was to tell him that she had come to save france.
this seemed quite a mad proposal. baudricourt was a greet, rough, sensible soldier, and how could joan go to him with a message of this kind? he would merely laugh at the sunburned girl in her short red kirtle—a girl who, probably, had never spoken to a gentleman before.
perhaps this was the hardest part of joan’s duty, for she was modest, and she was very quick to notice anything absurd and ridiculous. now nothing could seem more laughable than the notion that a little country wench of sixteen could teach the french to defeat the english. but there was no help for it. the voices, and the shining cloud, and the faces of saints and angels came, several times every week, and a voice said, “daughter of god, go on! i will be with you.”
joan had an uncle who lived near vaucouleurs, and she went to stay with him. it seems that she told him she must go to the dauphin, and the first thing needful was to get robert de baudricourt to lend her a few men-at-arms, who would protect her on her long journey to chinon. the uncle must have been very much astonished, but it seems that he believed in her, for he took her to robert. of course robert laughed, and told joan’s uncle to take her away, and box her ears. but she came again, and then a priest wanted to exorcise her, that is to frighten the devil out of her, with religious services and holy water, as if she had been “possessed,” like people in the new testament. but joan was not possessed, and the priest, after trying the holy water, could only say so.
by this time the month of february 1429 had come round. the besieged french in orleans had now a great misfortune. the season of lent was coming; that is, a time when they were not allowed to eat beef and mutton, but only fish, and eggs, and vegetables. now a great number of waggons loaded with herrings were being sent to feed the english who were besieging orleans. the general of the french in orleans knew that, and he determined to send out soldiers to attack the english who would be guarding the long line of waggons full of herrings. they would wait for the english on the road, cut them up, and carry the fish into the town for their own use.
so a great many of the scots and some french slipped out of orleans by night, and went to a place called rouvray, on the road by which the herrings were to pass. here they were to be joined by another small french army, under a general named clermont. so they reached rouvray, where they did not find clermont and his men, but did see the english soldiers far away, marching by the side of the long line of waggons.
instead of waiting hidden under cover till the english passed, by, and then rushing among them unexpectedly, stewart of damley cried, “charge!” and rode, with his lance in rest at the english front. the scots were always in too great a hurry to fight. the english saw them, coming, arranged the heavy waggons in a square, and went inside the square, so that the scots could not get at them. safe behind their carts, the english archers shot down the scots, who thought bows and arrows rather mean weapons, and wanted to cut down their enemies with the sword. but they could not reach the english; they fell in piles of slain men round the square, and clermont, the french general who was to have joined them, would not fight, and took away his army. so very many brave scots were killed, with stewart of darnley at their head, and the rest retreated sadly to orleans, where they heard the english hurrahing in their camp.
this was called the battle of rouvray, or the battle of the herrings. it was fought on february 12, 1429. now, on february 12, joan went to baudricourt, and told him that a terrible misfortune had happened that day to the army of the dauphin, near orleans. the news could not possibly reach vaucouleurs for several days, for the distance between vaucouleurs and orleans is great, and the roads were dangerous, and might be beset by english soldiers and by robbers, who would stop messengers. joan had been told of the defeat by her voices.
at last, however, the bad news did come. joan had been right, the french and scots had been defeated on the day when she told baudricourt of it, february 12.
so baudricourt saw there was something uncommon in this country girl, who knew what was happening far away, and he lent her two young: gentlemen and a few men-at-arms to guide her and guard her on her way to the dauphin. somebody gave her a horse, which, to the surprise of all men, she rode very well. she had her long black hair cut short and close, as soldiers wore it; she dressed in a grey doublet and black hose, like a boy (she wore this kind of dress till the end of her life); and then she rode through the gate of vaucouleurs which is still standing, and away to seek the dauphin. this was on february 23, 1429.
after riding for several days, joan and her company reached a little town called fierbois, near chinon. here was the chapel dedicated to st. catherine of fierbois, who was a favourite saint of the french and scots soldiers, and of joan. in the chapel was a book in which the miracles of the saint were written down. at this very time a scottish archer, michael hamilton, from shotts, was caught by some country people, and was hanged by them. during the night a voice came to the priest of the village, saying, “go and cut down that scot who was hanged, for he is not dead.” however, the priest was sleepy, and he did not go. next day was easter day, and the priest went to church and did the services. after that, he thought he might as well see about the scot who was hanging from a tree, and seemed quite dead. to make certain, the priest took his penknife, and cut the dead man’s toe. on this the man gave a kick, so the priest cut the rope, and took good care of michael hamilton. when he was able to ride, michael went to this chapel of fierbois, and took his oath that he had prayed to st. catherine before he was hanged up, and now he came to thank her for his escape at her chapel. the book of the chapel is full of these strange stories, and probably some of them were read aloud to joan, who could not read, and said that she “did not know a from b.” she attended three masses at fierbois, and get some learned clerk to write a letter to the king, to say that she was coming. she also had a letter written to her father and mother, asking them to pardon her for going away without their permission. her father she was to see once more, her mother she never saw again.
as to michael hamilton, you may believe his story or not, as you like. many of the other stories told in the chapel book by scots soldiers, and french men and women, are just as curious. i only know that the people made long journeys to thank madame saint catherine in her church at fierbois, and that their stories were written down in the book there.
