Now the men who went about raising these cries were emissaries of Messire Charles of Valois. In fact, at that very time, the Company of the Marechal de Rais was making a.s.sault on the Walls near by the Porte Saint-Honore. The Armagnacs had brought up in carts great bundles of f.a.ggots and wattled hurdles to fill up the moats, and above six hundred scaling-ladders for storming the ramparts. The Maid Jeanne, who was nowise as the Burgundians believed, but lived a pious life and guarded her chast.i.ty, set foot to ground, and was the first down into a dry moat, which for that cause was easy to cross. But thereupon they found themselves exposed to the arrows and cross-bolts that rained down thick and fast from the Walls. Then they had in front of them a second moat.
Wherefore were the Maid and her men-at-arms sore hampered. Jeanne sounded the great moat with her lance and shouted to throw in f.a.ggots.
Inside the town could be heard the roar of cannon, and all along the streets the citizens were running, half accoutred, to their posts on the ramparts, knocking over as they went the brats playing about in the gutters. The chains were drawn across the roadways, and barricades were begun. Tribulation and tumult filled all the place.
But neither the Brother Joconde nor his Penitents saw aught of it, forasmuch as they took heed only of eternal things, and deemed the vain agitation of men to be but a foolish game. They marched through the streets singing the "Veni creator spiritus," and crying out: "Pray, for the times are at hand."
Thus they made their way in good array down the Rue Saint-Antoine, which was densely crowded with men, women, and children. Coming presently to the Place Baudet, Brother Joconde pushed through the throng and mounted a great stone that stood at the door of the Hotel de la Truie, which Messire Florimont Lecocq, the master of the house, used to help him mount his mule. This Messire Florimont Lecocq was Sergeant at the Chatelet Prison and a partisan of the English.
So, standing on the great stone, Brother Joconde preached to the people.
"Sow ye," he cried, "sow ye, good folk; sow abundantly of beans, for He which is to come will come quickly."
By the beans they were to sow, the good Brother signified the charitable works it behoved them accomplish before Our Lord should come, in the clouds of heaven, to judge both the quick and the dead. And it was urgent to sow these works without tarrying, for that the harvest would be soon. Guillaumette Dyonis, Simone la Bardine, Jeanne Chastenier, Opportune Jadoin, and Robin the gardener, stood in a ring about the Preacher, and cried "Amen!"
But the citizens, who thronged behind in a great crowd, p.r.i.c.ked up their ears and bent their brows, thinking the Monk was foretelling the entry of Charles of Valois into his good town of Paris, over which he was fain--at any rate, so they believed--to drive the ploughshare.
Meanwhile the good Brother went on with his soul-awakening discourse.
"Oh! ye men of Paris, ye are worse than the Pagans of old Rome."
Just then the mangonels firing from the Porte Saint-Denis mingled their thunder with Brother Joconde"s voice and shook the bystanders"
hearts within them. Some one in the press cried out, "Death! death to traitors!" All this time Messire Florimont Lecocq was within-doors doing on his armour. He now came forth at the noise, before he had buckled his leg-pieces. Seeing the Monk standing on his mounting-block, he asked: "What is this good Father saying?" And a chorus of voices answered: "Telling us that Messire Charles of Valois is going to enter the city,"
while others cried:
"He is against the folk of Paris," and others again:
"He would fain cozen and betray us, like the Brother Richard, who at this very time is riding with our enemies."
But Brother Joconde made answer: "There be neither Armagnacs, nor Burgundians, nor French, nor English, but only the sons of light and the sons of darkness. Ye are lewd fellows and your women wantons."
"Go to, thou apostate! thou sorcerer! thou traitor!" yelled Messire Florimont Lecocq,--and lugging out his sword, he plunged it in the good Brother"s bosom.
With pale lips and faltering voice, the man of G.o.d still managed to say:
"Pray, fast, do penance, and ye shall be forgiven, my brethren..."
Then his voice choked, as the blood poured from his mouth, and he fell on the stones. Two knights, Sir John Stewart and Sir George Morris, threw themselves on the body and pierced it with more than a hundred dagger thrusts, vociferating:
"Long life to King Henry! Long life to my Lord the Duke of Bedford! Down with the Dauphin! Down with the mad Maid of the Armagnacs! Up, up! To the Gates, to the Gates!"
Therewith they ran to the Walls, drawing off with them Messire Florimont and the crowd of citizens.
Meanwhile the holy women and the gardener tarried about the bleeding corse. Simone la Bardine lay prostrate on the ground, kissing the good Brother"s feet and wiping away his blood with her unbound hair.
But Guillaumette Dyonis, standing up with her arms lifted to heaven, cried in a voice as clear as the sound of bells:
"My sisters, Jeanne, Opportune and Simone, and you, my brother, Robin the gardener, let us be going, for the times are at hand. The soul of this good Father holds me by the hand, and it will lead me aright.
Wherefore ye must follow along with me. And we will say to those who are making cruel war upon each other: "Kiss and make peace. And if ye must needs use your arms, take up the cross and go forth all together to fight the Saracens." Come! my sisters and my brother."
Jeanne Chastenier picked up the shaft of an arrow from the ground, brake it, and made a cross, which she laid on good Brother Joconde"s bosom.
Then these holy women, and the gardener with them, followed after Guillaumette Dyonis, who led them by the streets and squares and alleys as if her eyes had seen the light of day. They reached the foot of the rampart, and by the stairway of a tower that was left unguarded, they mounted onto the curtain-wall. There had been no time to furnish it with its h.o.a.rdings of wood; so they went along in the open. They proceeded toward the Porte Saint-Honore, by this time enveloped in clouds of dust and smoke. It was there the Marechal de Rais and his men were making a.s.sault. Their bolts flew thick and fast against the ramparts, and they were hurling f.a.ggots into the water of the great moat. On the hog"s-back parting the great moat from the little, stood the Maid, crying: "Yield, yield you to the King of France." The English had abandoned the top of the wall in terror, leaving their dead and wounded behind them.
Guillaumette Dyonis walked first, her head high and her left arm extended before her, while with her right hand she kept signing herself reverently. Simone la Bardine followed close on her heels. Then came Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin. Robin the gardener brought up the rear, his body all shaking with his infirmity, and showing the divine stigmata on his hands. They were singing canticles as they walked.
And Guillaumette, turning now toward the city and now toward the open country, cried: "Brethren, embrace ye one another. Live in peace and harmony. Take the iron of your spearheads and forge it into ploughshares!"
Scarce had she spoken ere a shower of arrows, some from the parapet-way where a Company of Citizens was defiling, some from the hog"s-back where the Armagnac men-at-arms were ma.s.sed, flew in her direction, and therewith a storm of insults:
"Wanton! traitress! witch!"
Meanwhile she went on exhorting the two sides to stablish the Kingdom of Jesus Christ upon earth and to live in innocency and brotherly love, till a cross-bow bolt struck her in the throat and she staggered and fell backward.
It was which could laugh the louder at this, Armagnacs or Burgundians.
Drawing her gown over her feet, she lay still and made no other stir, but gave up her soul, sighing the name of Jesus. Her eyes, which remained open, glowed like two opals.
Short while after the death of Guillaumette Dyonis the men of Paris returned in great force to man their Wall, and defended their city right valorously. Jeanne the Maid was wounded by a cross-bow bolt in the leg, and Messire Charles of Valois" men-at-arms fell back upon the Chapelle Saint-Denis. What became of Jeanne Chastenier and Opportune Jadoin no one knows. They were never heard of more. Simone la Bardine and Robin the gardener were taken the same day by the citizens on guard at the Walls and handed over to the Bishop"s officer, who duly brought them before the Courts. The Church adjudged Simone heretic, and condemned her for salutary penance to the bread of suffering and the water of affliction. Robin was convicted of sorcery, and, persevering in his error, was burned alive in the Place du Parvis.
FIVE FAIR LADIES OF PICARDY, OF POITOU, OF TOURAINE, OF LYONS, AND OF PARIS
[Ill.u.s.tration: 090]
ONE day the Capuchin, Brother Jean Chavaray, meeting my good master the Abbe Coign-ard in the cloister of "The Innocents," fell into talk with him of the Brother Olivier Maillard, whose sermons, edifying and macaronic, he had lately been reading.
"There are good bits to be found in these sermons," said the Capuchin, "notably the tale of the five ladies and the go-between..." You will readily understand that Brother Olivier, who lived in the reign of Louis XI and whose language smacks of the coa.r.s.eness of that age, uses a different word. But our century demands a certain politeness and decency in speech; wherefore I employ the term I have, to wit, _go-between_.
"You mean," replied my good master, "to signify by the expression a woman who is so obliging as to play intermediary in matters of love and love-making. The Latin has several names for her,--as _lena, conciliatrix_, also _internuntia libidinum_, amba.s.sadress of naughty desires. These prudish dames perform the best of services; but seeing they busy themselves therein for money, we distrust their disinterestedness. Call yours a _procuress_, good Father, and have done with it; "t is a word in common use, and has a not unseemly sound."
"So I will, Monsieur l"Abbe," a.s.sented Brother Jean Chavaray. "Only don"t say _mine_, I pray, but the Brother Olivier"s. A procuress then, who lived on the Pont des Tournelles, was visited one day by a knight, who put a ring into her hands. "It is of fine gold," he told her, "and hath a bala.s.s ruby mounted in the bezel. An you know any dames of good estate, go say to the most comely of them that the ring is hers if she is willing to come to see me and do at my pleasure."
"The procuress knew, by having seen them at Ma.s.s, five ladies of an excellent beauty,--natives the first of Picardy, the second of Poitou, the third of Touraine, another from the good city of Lyons, and the last a Parisian, all dwelling in the Cite or its near neighbourhood.
"She knocked first at the Picard lady"s door. A maid opened, but her mistress refused to have one word to say to her visitor. She was an honest woman.
"The procuress went next to see the lady of Poitiers and solicit her favours for the gallant knight. This dame answered her:
""Prithee, go tell him who sent you that he is come to the wrong house, and that I am not the woman he takes me for."
"She too is an honest woman; yet less honest than the first, in that she tried to appear more so.
"The procuress then went to see the lady from Tours, made the same offer to her as to the other, and showed her the ring.
""I" faith," said the lady, "but the ring is right lovely."
"""T is yours, an you will have it."
""I will not have it at the price you set on it. My husband might catch me, and I should be doing him a grief he doth not deserve."
"This lady of Touraine is a harlot, I trow, at bottom of her heart.