“By my baton, I will never go back till I take that city.” {31}

These words Percival de Cagny also heard, a good knight, and maitre d’hotel of the house of Alencon.  Thereon arose some dispute, D’Alencon being eager, as indeed he always was, to follow where the Maiden led, and some others holding back.

Now, as they were devising together, some for, some against, for men-at-arms not a few had fallen in the onfall, there came the sound of horses’ hoofs, and lo!  Messire de Montmorency, who had been of the party of the English, and with them in Paris, rode up, leading a company of fifty or sixty gentlemen of his house, to join the Maid.  Thereat was great joy and new courage in all men of goodwill, seeing that, within Paris itself, so many gentlemen deemed ours the better cause and the more hopeful.

Thus there was an end of all dispute, our companies were fairly arrayed, and we were marching to revenge ourselves for the losses of yesterday, when two knights came spurring after us from St. Denis.  They were the Duc de Bar, and that unhappy Charles de Bourbon, Comte de Clermont, by whose folly, or ill-will, or cowardice, the Scots were betrayed and deserted at the Battle of the Herrings, where my own brother fell, as I have already told.  This second time Charles de Bourbon brought evil fortune, for he came on the King’s part, straitly forbidding D’Alencon and the Maid to march forward another lance’s length.  Whereat D’Alencon swore profane, and the Maiden, weeping, rebuked him.  So, with heavy hearts, we turned, all the host of us, and went back to quarters, the Maid to pray in the chapel, and the men-at-arms to drink and speak ill of the King.

All this was on the ninth of September, a weary day to all of us, though in the evening word came that we were to march early next morning and attack Paris in another quarter, crossing the river by a bridge of boats which the Duc d’Alencon had let build to that end.  After two wakeful nights I was well weary, and early laid me down to sleep, rising at dawn with high hopes.  And so through the grey light we marched silently to the place appointed, but bridge there was none; for the King, having heard of the Maid’s intent, had caused men to work all night long, destroying that which the gentle Duke had builded.  Had the King but heard the shouts and curses of our company when they found nought but the bare piles standing, the grey water flowing, and the boats and planks vanished, he might have taken shame to himself of his lack of faith.  Therefore I say it boldly, it was because of men’s unbelief that the Maid at Paris wrought no great works, save that she put her body in such hazard of war as never did woman, nay, nor man, since the making of the world.