t at the chime of
curfew I heard rude voices below, and a heavy step on the stairs. It was
a man-at-arms of the basest sort, who, lurching with his shoulder against
my door, came in, and said that he and his fellows waited my pleasure.
Thereon I showed him the best countenance, and bade my host fill a
pannier with meat and cakes and wine, to pass the hours in the prison
merrily. I myself ran down into the host's cellar, and was very busy in
tasting wine, for I would have the best. And in making my choice, while
the host stooped over a cask to draw a fresh tankard, I poured all the
drugs of my phial into a large pewter vessel with a lid, filled it with
wine, and, tasting it, swore it would serve my turn. This flagon, such
as we call a 'tappit hen' in my country, but far greater, I bore with me
up the cellar stairs, and gave it to one of the guard, bidding him spill
not a drop, or he should go thirsty.

The lourdaud, that was their captain, carried the pannier, and, laughing,
we crossed the street and the moat, giving the word "Bedford." To the
porter I showed my pass, telling him that, though I was loath to disturb
him, I counted not to watch all night in the cell, wherefore I gave him a
gold piece for the trouble he might have in letting me go forth at an
hour untimely. Herewith he was well content, and so, passing the word to
the sentinel at each post, we entered.

And now, indeed, my heart beat so that my body seemed to shake with hope
and fear as I walked. At the door of the chamber wherein the Maid lay we
met her guards coming forth, who cried roughly, bidding her good even,
and to think well of what waited her, meaning the torments. They tumbled
down the stairs laughing, while we went in, and I last. It was a dark
vaulted chamber with one window near the roof, narrow and heavily barred.
In the recess by the window was a brazier burning, and casting as much
shadow as light by reason of the smoke. Here also was a rude table,
stained with foul circles of pot-rims, and there were five or six stools.
On a weighty oaken bed lay one in man's raiment, black in hue, her face
downwards, and her arms spread over her neck. It could scarce be that
she slept, but she lay like one dead, only shuddering when the lourdaud,
the captain of the guard, smote her on the shoulder, asking, in English,
how she did?

"Here she is, sir, surly as ever, and poor company for Christian men. See
you how cunningly all her limbs are g