arrying purses; I have no skill in that art, and the
dice draw me when I hear the rattle of them. But look at the cordelier's
tally: four men to-day, three yesterday; faith, he thins them!"

Indeed, to shorten a long story, by the end of Barthelemy's count there
were two hundred and thirty-nine notches on the rod. That he kept a true
score (till he stinted and reckoned no more), I know, having proof from
the other side. For twelve years thereafter, I falling into discourse
with Messire Georges Chastellain, an esquire of the Duke of Burgundy, and
a maker both of verse and prose, he told me the same tale to a man, three
hundred men. And I make no doubt but that he has written it in his book
of the praise of his prince, and of these wars, to witness if I lie.

Consider, then, what hope I had of being listened to by Flavy, or by the
attournes (or, as we say, bailies), of the good town, if, being recovered
from my broken limbs, I brought my witness to their ears.

None the less, the enemy battered at us every day with their engines,
destroying, as Barthelemy had said, the houses on the bridge, and the
mills, so that they could no longer grind the corn.

And now came the Earls of Huntingdon and Arundel, with two thousand
Englishmen, while to us appeared no succour. So at length, being smitten
by balls from above, and ruined by mines dug under earth from below, our
company that held the boulevard at the bridge end were surprised in the
night, and some were taken, some drowned in the river Oise. Wherefore
was great sorrow and fear, the more for that the Duke of Burgundy let
build a bridge of wood from Venette, to come and go across Oise, whereby
we were now assailed on both hands, for hitherto we had been free to come
and go on the landward side, and through all the forest of Pierrefonds.
We had but one gate unbeleaguered, the Chapel Gate, leading to Choisy and
the north-east. Now were we straitened for provender, notably for fresh
meat, and men were driven, as in a city beleaguered, to eat the flesh of
dead horses, and even of rats and dogs, whereof I have partaken, and it
is ill food.

None the less we endured, despite the murmuring of the commons, so strong
are men's hearts; moreover, all France lay staked on this one cast of the
dice, no less than at Orleans in the year before.

Somewhat we were kept in heart by tidings otherwise bitter. For word
came that the Maid, being in ward at Beaurevoir, a strong place of