“Yours, then, is a very large country?”

“About the bigness of France, or, may be, not so big.  And the main part of it, and the most lawful and learned, is by itself, in a sort, a separate kingdom, namely Fife, whence I come myself.  The Lothians, too, and the shire of Ayr, if you except Carrick, are well known for the lands of peaceful and sober men.”

“Whence comes your great captain, Sir Hugh Kennedy?”

“There you name an honourable man-at-arms,” I said, “the glory of Scotland; and to show you I was right, he is none of your marchmen, or Highlanders, but has lands in Ayrshire, and comes of a very honourable house.”

“It is Sir Hugh that hath just held to ransom the King’s good town of Tours, where is that gracious lady the mother of the King’s wife, the Queen of Sicily.”

Hereat I waxed red as fire.

“He will be in arrears of his pay, no doubt,” I made answer.

“It is very like,” said Father Francois:  “but considering all that you tell me, I crave your pardon if I still think that the Blessed Maid has won you from the common ways of your countrymen.”

To which, in faith, I had no answer to make, but that my fortune was like to be the happier in this world and the next.

“Much need have all men of her goodness, and we of her valour,” said the father, and he sighed.  “This is now the fourth siege of Compiegne I have seen, and twice have the leads from our roofs and the metal of our bells been made into munition of war.  Absit omen Domine!  And now they say the Duke of Burgundy has sworn to slay all, and spare neither woman nor child.”

“A vaunt of war, father.  Call they not him the Good Duke?  When we lay before Paris, the English put about a like lying tale concerning us, as if we should sack and slay all.”

“I pray that you speak sooth,” said Father Francois.

On the next day, being May the twentieth, he came to me again, with a wan face.

“Burgundians are in Claroix,” said he, “across the river, and yet others, with Jean de Luxembourg, at Margny, scarce a mile away, at the end of the causeway through the water meadows, beyond the bridge.  And the Duke is at Coudun, a league off to the right of Claroix, and I have clomb the tower-top, and thence seen the English at Venette, on the left hand of the causeway.  All is undone.”

“Nay, father, be of better cheer.  Our fort at the bridge end is stronger than Les Tourelles were at Orleans.  The English shot can scarce cross the river.  Bridge the enemy has none, and northward and eastward all is open.  Be of better heart, Heaven helps France.”

“We have sent to summon the Maid,” said he, “from Crepy-en-Valois.  In her is all my hope; but you speak lightly, for you are young, and war is your trade.”

“And praying is yours, father, wherefore you should be bolder than I.”

But he shook his head.