But now,forth from Margny,trooped Burgundian men-at-arms without end or number,the banner of the Maid waved wildly,now up,now down,in the mad mellay,and ever they of Burgundy pressed on,and still our men,being few and outnumbered,gave back.Yet still some of the many clubmen of the townsfolk tumbled over as they ran,and the drawbridge was choked with men flying,thrusting and thronging,wild and blind with the fear of death.Then rose on our left one great cry,such as the English give when they rejoice,or when they charge,and lo!forth from a little wood that had hidden them,came galloping and running across the heavy wet meadowland between us and Venette,the men-at-arms and the archers of England.Then we nigh gave up all for lost,and fain I would have turned my eyes away,but I might not.
Now and again the English archers paused,and loosed a flight of clothyard shafts against the stream of our runaways on the bridge.
Therefore it was that some fell as they ran.But the little company of our horsemen were now driven back so near us that I could plainly see the Maid,coming last of all,her body swung round in the saddle as she looked back at the foremost foemen,who were within a lance's length of her.And D'Aulon and Pierre du Lys,gripping each at her reins,were spurring forward.But through the press of our clubmen and flying horsemen they might not win,and now I saw,what never man saw before,the sword of the Maid bare in battle!She smote on a knight's shield,her sword shivered in that stroke,she caught her steel sperthe into her hand,and struck and hewed amain,and there were empty saddles round her.
And now the English in the meadow were within four lances'lengths of the causeway between her and safety.Say it I must,nor cannon-ball nor arrow-flight availed to turn these English.Still the drawbridge and the inlet of the boulevard were choked with the press,and men were leaping from bank and bridge into the boats,or into the water,while so mixed were friends and foes that Flavy,in a great voice,bade archers and artillerymen hold their hands.
Townsfolk,too,were mingled in the throng,men who had come but to gape as curious fools,and among them I saw the hood of a cordelier,as I glanced from the fight to mark how the Maid might force her way within.Still she smote,and D'Aulon and Pierre du Lys smote manfully,and anon they gained a little way,backing their horses,while our archers dared not shoot,so mixed were French,English,and Burgundians.
Flavy,who worked like a man possessed,had turned about to give an order to the archers above him;his back,I swear,was to the press of flying men,to the inlet of the boulevard,and to the drawbridge,when his own voice,as all deemed who heard it,cried aloud,"Up drawbridge,close gates,down portcullis!"The men whose duty it was were standing ready at the cranks and pulleys,their tools in hand,and instantly,groaning,the drawbridge flew up,casting into the water them that were flying across,down came the portcullis,and slew two men,while the gates of the inlet of the boulevard were swung to and barred,all,as it might he said,in the twinkling of an eye.
Flavy turned in wrath and great amaze:"In God's name,who cried?"he shouted."Down drawbridge,up portcullis,open gates!To the front,men-at-arms,lances forward!"For most of the mounted men who had fled were now safe,and on foot,within the boulevard.
