aintrailles plundered, for their own
hand, the lands of the Duke of Burgundy, and indeed on every side there
was no fair fighting, such as the Maid loved, but a war of wastry, the
peasants pillaged, and the poor held to ransom. For her part, she spent
her days in prayer for the poor and the oppressed, whom she had come to
deliver, and who now were in worse case than before, the English harrying
certain of the good towns that had yielded to King Charles.

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