Scots that found me,weak and bleeding,by the riverside,were sent by the Maid,in hopes that I had saved Glasdale,whereas it was the accursed cordelier I had won from the water.What they did with him I knew not then,but me they laid on a litter,and so bore me to a boat,wherein they were ferrying our wounded men across to Orleans.The Maid herself,as she had foretold,returned by way of the bridge,that was all bright with moving torches,as our groaning company were rowed across the black water to a quay.
Thence I was carried in a litter to our lodgings,and so got to bed,a physician doing what he might for me.A noisy night we passed,for I verily believe that no man slept,but all,after service held in the Church of St.Aignan,went revelling and drinking from house to house,and singing through the streets,as folk saved from utter destruction.
With daybreak fell a short silence;short or long,it seemed brief to me,who was now asleep at last,and I was rueful enough when a sound aroused me,and I found the Maid herself standing by my bedside,with one in the shadow behind her.The chamber was all darkling,lit only by a thread of light that came through the closed shutters of wood,and fell on her pale face.She was clad in a light jaseran of mail,because of her wound,and was plainly eager to be gone and about her business,that is,to meet the English in open field.
"Leslie,my friend,"she said,in her sweet voice,"there were many brave men in the fight yesterday,but,in God's name,none did a braver deed than thou!Nay,speak not,"she said,as I opened my lips to thank her,"for the leech that tended thee last night forbids it,on peril of thy very life.So I have brought thee here a sheet of fair paper,and a pen and horn of ink,that thou,being a clerk,mayst write what thou hast to say.Alas!such converse is not for me,who know not A from his brother B.But the saints who helped thee have rewarded thee beyond all expectation.Thou didst not save that unhappy Glacidas,whom God in His mercy forgive!but thou hast taken a goodlier prize--this holy man,that had been prisoner in the hands of the English."Here she stood a little aside,and the thread of light shone on the fell face of Brother Thomas,lowering beneath his hood.
Then I would have spoken,leech or no leech,to denounce him,for the Maid had no memory of his face,and knew him not for the false friar taken at St.Loup.But she laid her mailed finger gently on my lips.
"Silence!Thou art my man-at-arms and must obey thy captain.This worthy friar hath been long in the holy company of the blessed Colette,and hath promised to bring me acquainted with that daughter of God.Ay,and he hath given to me,unworthy as I am,a kerchief which has touched her wonder-working hands.Almost I believe that it will heal thee by miracle,if the saints are pleased to grant it."Herewith she drew a kerchief across my lips,and I began,being most eager to instruct her innocence as to this accursed man -"Lady--"but alas!no miracle was wrought for a sinner like me.
Howbeit I am inclined to believe that the kerchief was no saintly thing,and had never come near the body of the blessed Colette,but rather was a gift from one of the cordelier's light-o'-loves.
Assuredly it was stained red with blood from my lungs ere I could utter two words.
The Maid stanched the blood,saying -
"Did I not bid thee to be silent?The saints forgive my lack of faith,whereby this blessed thing has failed to heal thee!And now I must be gone,to face the English in the field,if they dare to meet us,which,methinks,they will not do,but rather withdraw as speedily as they may.So now I leave thee with this holy man to be thy nurse-tender,and thou canst write to him concerning thy needs,for doubtless he is a clerk.Farewell!"With that she was gone,and this was the last I saw of her for many a day.
Never have I known such a horror of fear as fell on me now,helpless and dumb,a sheep given over to the slaughter,in that dark chamber,which was wondrous lown,{26}alone with my deadly foe.
Never had any man more cause for dread,for I was weak,and to resist him was death.I was speechless,and could utter no voice that the people in the house might hear.As for mine enemy,he had always loathed and scorned me;he had a long account of vengeance to settle with me;and if--which was not to be thought of--he was minded to spare one that had saved his life,yet,for his own safety,he dared not.He had beguiled the Maid with his false tongue,and his face,not seen by her in the taking of St.Loup,she knew not.But he knew that I would disclose all the truth so soon as the Maid returned,wherefore he was bound to destroy me,which he would assuredly do with every mockery,cruelty,and torture of body and mind.Merely to think of him when he was absent was wont to make my flesh creep,so entirely evil beyond the nature of sinful mankind was this monster,and so set on working all kinds of mischief with greediness.Whether he had suffered some grievous wrong in his youth,which he spent his life in avenging on all folk,or whether,as I deem likely,he was the actual emissary of Satan,as the Maid was of the saints,I know not,and,as I lay there,had no wits left to consider of it.Only I knew that no more unavailing victim than I was ever so utterly in the power of a foe so deadly and terrible.
The Maid had gone,and all hope had gone with her.For a time that seemed unending mine enemy neither spoke nor moved,standing still in the chink of light,a devil where an angel had been.
There was silence,and I heard the Maid's iron tread pass down the creaking wooden stairs,and soon I heard the sound of singing birds,for my window looked out on the garden.
The steps ceased,and then there was a low grating laughter in the dark room,as if the devil laughed.