Now her voices ever bade the Maid go back to the Isle of France, and assail Paris, where lay no English garrison, and the Armagnacs were stirring as much as they might.  But Paris, being at this time under the government of the Duke of Burgundy, was forsooth within the truce.  The King’s counsellors, therefore, setting their wisdom against that of the Saints, bade the Maid go against the towns of St. Pierre le Moustier and La Charite, then held by the English on the Loire.  This was in November, when days were short, and the weather bitter cold.  The Council was held at Mehun sur Yevre, and forthwith the Maid, glad to be doing, rode to Bourges, where she mustered her men, and so marched to St. Pierre le Moustier, a small town, but a strong, with fosses, towers, and high walls.

There we lay some two days or three, plying the town with our artillery, and freezing in the winter nights.  At length, having made somewhat of a breach, the Maid gave the word for the assault, and herself leading, with her banner in hand, we went at it with what force we might.  But twice and thrice we were driven back from the fosse, and to be plain, our men were fled under cover, and only the Maid stood within arrow-shot of the wall, with a few of her household, of whom I was one, for I could not go back while she held her ground.  The arrows and bolts from the town rained and whistled about us, and in faith I wished myself other where.  Yet she stood, waving her banner, and crying, “Tirez en avant, ils sont a nous,” as was her way in every onfall.  Seeing her thus in jeopardy, her maitre d’hotel, D’Aulon, though himself wounded in the heel so that he might not set foot to ground, mounted a horse, and riding up, asked her “why she abode there alone, and did not give ground like the others?”

At this the Maid lifted her helmet from her head, and so, uncovered, her face like marble for whiteness, and her eyes shining like steel, made answer—­

“I am not alone; with me there are of mine fifty thousand!  Hence I will not give back one step till I have taken the town.”

Then I wotted well that, sinful man as I am, I was in the company of the hosts of Heaven, though I saw them not.  Great heart this knowledge gave me and others, and the Maid crying, in a loud voice, “Aux fagots, tout le monde!” the very runaways heard her and came back with planks and faggots, and so, filling up the fosse and passing over, we ran into the breach, smiting and slaying, and the town was taken.

For my own part, I was so favoured that two knights yielded them my prisoners (I being the only man of gentle birth among those who beset them in a narrow wynd), and with their ransoms I deemed myself wealthy enough, as well I might.  So now I could look to win my heart’s desire, if no ill fortune befell.  But little good fortune came in our way.  From La Charite, which was beset in the last days of November, we had perforce to give back, for the King sent us no munitions of war, and for lack of more powder and ball we might not make any breach in the walls of that town.  And so, by reason of the hard winter, and the slackness of the King, and the false truce, we fought no more, at that season, but went, trailing after the Court, from castle to castle.