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ten, she was greatly touched. She pulled off the ring, having nothing else valuable of her own and said,
Send this. She is so impulsive.
You remember I wrote you how Compiegne was recovered for the King and how, ever since, it has fain
under the cannon of the Burgundians? Duke Philip is greatly wroth at his lost city s resistance. It is said
here he has sworn that unless the city surrenders immediately, no one in it over seven years of age shall
remain alive when it is taken.
The maid has been deeply concerned. The King has refused to grant her money and soldiers for relief.
He hopes for a bloodless peace with Burgundy. Alas, it would be the peace the mouse enjoys, after the
cat has dined.
At any rate, without the King s sanction or support, the Maid has left the court, for whence we can only
suspect. She took with her no more than her own Household. Old faithful D Aulon, of course, her
confessor, Pasquerel, her two brothers, and that odd white-haired man I told you about, whose face
looks so young and grim.
That last, I might have guessed. He follows her wherever she goes. Most of us are afraid of him. Some
say that he must be in love with her.
When she left, she said that she meant to go out riding at her pleasure. I know not if that were true but
she has not returned.
Written at Senlis, this third day of April, hi the Year of Our Lord, 1430.
By my baton! We are enough! I will go to my good friends of Compiegne! Let those who love me,
follow!
So the banner took the wind for the last time. It flew above her tent at Lagny, where many who loved her
rallied to it. Scots, Catalans, Italians, and French came riding in, asking for nothing except that they be
led, in good faith, by one they could trust.
The banner rippled out above the moving column, marching on Compiegne, and, in good omen,
Gwalchmai saw what he had seen when a larger army left Rheims for Paris a green butterfly that came
down upon the peak of the standard, to ride mere for some while, to circle about his own head, and then
to flutter onward and disappear.
You are still with me, little fay? Bring good fortune to the one I love and you will bring happiness to me.
He fondled the hilt of his sword. On the morn, Jeanne had called him as Captain of her Battle to
receive his orders of the day. She looked pensive and sober. She picked up her beloved blade from the
camp table and said, Basque, take this sword of Fierbois and carry it in the campaign.
I will exchange for yours. It will be safer with you, when I fall into the hands of the English.
Gwalchmai was aghast. God forbid,, Maid, that such should be.
It is beyond doubt. My Voices have announced that I shall be taken before St. John s Day. They have
never lied.
Then give up the campaign, I pray you, until after that time.
Her smile was wan. It would avail nothing. To do my devoir is my destiny. They say although they do
not explain that it is necessary, so that a great victory shall later be won. What befalls me is of little
import. It is for this that I was born.
Did you ask your Saints to intercede for you, that you might be spared? ,
Jeanne hesitated, then answered slowly, I asked only that I die quickly and not suffer long. They told me
that it should be as I asked. Afterward I should be with them in Paradise.
When the column moved out the sword Durandal hung at his side. Legend held that Charles Mattel used
it against the Saracens at Poitiers, long before it fell into the possession of Roland. Gwalchmai did not
know if that was true. He was certain that two Paladins had warmed its hilt, and one rode before him on
the road to Compiegne.
He raised the blade reverently and kissed the cross of the hilt. His eyes fell upon Merlin s ring. It was
cool upon his finger. He found it hard to believe that he was riding into personal danger. He formed a
sudden resolution.
Urging his horse forward, he pushed between Jeanne s two brothers. He held out the ring to Pierre.
I have noticed that your sister now wears only one ring. If I offered her another, even for remembrance
and the affection you know I hold for her, she would not accept it. She fears sorcery and I must be
honest with you this ring does have certain properties that could be most useful to her were she in
danger.
It will become warm on her finger and warn her of peril. It will unlock doors and loosen chains. If this
gift comes through you, she may accept it and be protected.
Why not keep it for yourself?
Gwalchmai searched his soul for the answer and then he too heard a Voice. It sounded like little golden
bells. A great peace came over him.
I do not need it any longer. I shall never need it again. On the morning of the twenty-second of May,
when the Maid brought her small force into Compiegne, by breaking through the thinnest gap in the
Burgundian line, Gwalchmai, riding close in her protection, saw that she wore a ring on each hand.
Destiny came, as predicted, on St John s Day. After a sally out of the city, to destroy the enemy s supply
dump, the five hundred men that Jeanne had led out out to war turned to fight their way back, through an
immensely augmented intercepting force.
Harried on all sides and intermixed thoroughly with the enemy, her force struggled almost to the open city
gates. Gwalchmai struck aside many lances aimed at Jeanne, acting as rearguard.
Do but play your part and they will be beaten! Turn! Strike back and we shall have them!
Her surcoat of scarlet and gold and her waving banner made her the object of the main attack. Up went
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