wife of Charles of Blois, nephew of Philip VI of France. This
precipitated a conflict between the rival parties which led to years
of bitter strife.

_The War of the Two Joans_

Just as two women, Fredegonda and Brunhilda, swayed the fortunes of
Neustria and Austrasia in Merovingian times, and Mary and Elizabeth
those of England and Scotland at a later day, so did two heroines
arise to uphold the banners of either party in the civil strife which
now convulsed the Breton land. England took the side of Montfort and
the French that of Charles. Almost at the outset (1342) John of
Montfort was taken prisoner, but his heroic wife, Joan of Flanders,
grasped the leadership of affairs, and carried on a relentless war
against her husband's enemies. After five years of fighting, in 1347,
and two years subsequent to the death of her lord, whose health had
given way after his imprisonment, she captured her arch-foe, Charles
of Blois himself, at the battle of La Roche-Derrien, on the Jaudy. In
this encounter she had the assistance of a certain Sir Thomas Dagworth
and an English force. Three times was Charles rescued, and thrice was
he retaken, until, bleeding from eighteen wounds, he was compelled to
surrender. He was sent to London, where he was confined in the Tower
for nine years. Meanwhile his wife, Joan, imitating her rival and
namesake, in turn threw her energies into the strife. But another
victory for the Montfort party was gained at Mauron in 1352. On the
release of Charles of Blois in 1356 he renewed hostilities with the
help of the famous Bertrand Du Guesclin.

_Bertrand Du Guesclin_

Bertrand Du Guesclin (_c._ 1320-80), Constable of France, divides with
Bayard the Fearless the crown of medieval French chivalry as a mighty
leader of men, a great soldier, and a blameless knight. He was born of
an ancient family who were in somewhat straitened circumstances, and
in childhood was an object of aversion to his parents because of his
ugliness.

One night his mother dreamt that she was in possession of a casket
containing portraits of herself and her lord, on one side of which
were set nine precious stones of great beauty encircling a rough,
unpolished pebble. In her dream she carried the casket to a lapidary,
and asked him to take out the rough stone as unworthy of such goodly
company; but he advised her to allow it to remain, and afterward it
shone forth more brilliantly than the lustrous gems. The later
superiorit