eet us two leagues beyond the English lines. But this they
might not do, for a strong wind was blowing down stream, and all their
vessels were in disarray.

The Maid spurred to the front, where were De Rais, Lore, Kennedy, and La
Hire. We could see her pointing with her staff, and hear speech high and
angry, but the words we could not hear. The captains looked downcast, as
children caught in a fault, and well they might, for we were now as far
off victualling Orleans as ever we had been. The Maid pointed to the
English keep at St. Jean le Blanc, on our side of the water, and, as it
seems, was fain to attack it; but the English had drawn off their men to
the stronger places on the bridge, and to hold St. Jean le Blanc against
them, if we took it, we had no strength. So we even wended, from the
height of Olivet, for six long miles, till we reached the stream opposite
Checy, where was an island. A rowing-boat, with a knight in glittering
arms, was pulled across the stream, and the Maid, in her eagerness,
spurred her steed deep into the water to meet him. He was a young man,
brown of visage, hardy and fierce, and on his shield bore the lilies of
Orleans, crossed with a baton sinister. He bowed low to the Maid, who
cried--

"Are you the Bastard of Orleans?"

"I am," he said, "and right glad of your coming."

"Was it you who gave counsel that I should come by this bank, and not by
the other side, and so straight against Talbot and the English?"

She spoke as a master to a faulty groom, fierce and high, and to hear her
was marvel.

"I, and wiser men than I, gave that counsel," said he, "deeming this
course the surer."

"Nom Dieu!" she cried. "The council of Messire is safer and wiser than
yours." She pointed to the rude stream, running rough and strong, a
great gale following with it, so that no sailing-boats might come from
the town. "You thought to beguile me, and are yourselves beguiled, for I
bring you better succour than ever came to knight or town--the help of
the King of Heaven."

Then, even as she spoke, and as by miracle, that fierce wind went right
about, and blew straight up the stream, and the sails of the vessels
filled.

"This is the work of our Lord," said the Bastard of Orleans, crossing
himself: and the anger passed from the eyes of the Maid.

Then he and Nicole de Giresme prayed her to pass the stream with them,
and to let her host march back to Blois and so come to Orleans, crossing
b