company of some three hundred lances of hers, had ridden in from Crepy-en-
Valois, she making her profit of the darkness to avoid the Burgundians.

Then I deemed that the enemy would soon have news of her, and all that
day I heard the bells ring merry peals, and the trumpets sounding. About
three hours after noonday Father Francois came again, and told me that
the Maid would make a sally, and cut the Burgundians in twain; and now
nothing would serve me but I must be borne in a litter to the walls, and
see her banner once more on the wind.

So, by the goodwill of Father Francois, some lay brethren bore me forth
from the convent, which is but a stone's-throw from the bridge. They
carried me across the Oise to a mill hard by the boulevard of the Bridge
fort, whence, from a window, I beheld all that chanced. No man sitting
in the gallery of a knight's hall to see jongleurs play and sing could
have had a better stance, or have seen more clearly all the mischief that
befell.

The town of Compiegne lies on the river Oise, as Orleans on the Loire,
but on the left, not the right hand of the water. The bridge is strongly
guarded, as is custom, by a tower at the further end, and, in front of
that tower, a boulevard. All the water was gay to look on, being covered
with boats, as if for a holiday, but these were manned by archers, whom
Guillaume de Flavy had set to shoot at the enemy, if they drove us back,
and to rescue such of our men as might give ground, if they could not win
into the boulevard at the bridge end.

Beyond the boulevard, forth to the open country, lay a wide plain, and
behind it, closing it in, a long, low wall of steep hills. On the left,
a mile and a half away, Father Francois showed me the church tower of
Venette, where the English camped; to the right, a league off, was the
tower of Clairoix; and at the end of a long raised causeway that ran from
the bridge across the plain, because of the winter floods, I saw the
tower and the village of Margny. All these towns and spires looked
peaceful, but all were held by the Burgundians. Men-at-arms were thick
on the crest of our boulevard, and on the gate-keep, all looking across
the river towards the town, whence the Maid should sally by way of the
bridge. So there I lay on a couch in the window and waited, having no
fear, but great joy.

Nay, never have I felt my spirit lighter within me, so that I laughed and
chattered like a fey man. The fresh air, af