“The Maid shall burn, and not the man,” and a flash of light went past me, the whinger flying over my head and clipping into the water of the moat below.
Rising as I best might, but heedfully, I spied over the parapet, and there was Barthélemy coming back, his naked sword in his hand.
“The devil turned a sharp corner and vanished,” he said. “And now where are we? We have a worse foe within than all the men of Burgundy without. There goes the devil’s tally!” he cried, and threw the little carven rod far from him into the moat, where it fell and floated.
“No man saw this that could bear witness; most are in church, where you and I should have been,” I said.
Then we looked on each other with blank faces.
“My post is far from his, and my harness is good,” said Barthélemy; “but for you, beware!” Thenceforth, if I saw any cowl of a cordelier as I walked, I even turned and went the other way.
I was of no avail against this wolf, whom all men praised, so serviceable was he to the town.
Once an arbalest bolt struck my staff from my hand as I walked, and I was fain to take shelter of a corner, yet saw not whence the shot came.
Once a great stone fell from a turret, and broke into dust at my feet, and it is not my mind that a cannon-ball had loosened it.
Thus my life went by in dread and watchfulness. No more bitter penance may man dree than was mine, to be near this devil, and have no power to avenge my deadly quarrel. There were many heavy hearts in the town; for, once it was taken, what man could deem his life safe, or what woman her honour? But though they lay down and rose up in fear, and were devoured by desire of revenge, theirs was no such thirst as mine.