All over Lorraine and Barrois internecine war was rife; noble rose against noble, and yeoman and peasant joined the fray. The most serious was the rivalry of René, the young Duke of Bar, and Antoine, Count of Vaudémont, concerning the rights of succession to the dukedom of Lorraine. Metz, into which de Vaudémont had thrown himself, was invested by the Barrois troops, splendidly led by the boy-warrior—he was but twenty years of age. A messenger from Charles requested a truce, and invited both commanders to join him at Nancy to take counsel with their peers upon the strange claims of a shepherd-girl from Domremy. With Duke René rode a score of knights and nobles; Count Antoine was accompanied by a like company. Upon the morrow of their arrival at the capital, Duke Charles assembled them and others in the great courtyard of the castle, and sent for Jeanne, who, still attired in her peasant garb, knelt at his feet and kissed his hand. Then she surveyed the assembly furtively, as though prepared for insult or worse, and quietly repeated her strange story amid general scoffs and impatience. One noble knight alone gave serious heed,—René, Duke of Bar. Duke Charles taunted her with her inability to mount a horse, much more to lead an army.
“Jeanne,” said he, “thou hast never bestridden a charger, thou canst not bear a lance!”
“Sire,” she replied, “mount me, and see if I cannot both ride and hold my own.”
A quiet palfrey,—the property of Duchess Marguerite,—was led into the courtyard by its groom, but Jeanne refused to mount. “Give me,” she demanded, “the charger of that Prince yonder,” pointing to René of Sicily-Anjou and Bar. The Prince lifted her into the saddle, and his gentleness, reverence, and good looks, differentiated him from the rest of that knightly assemblage.
“What is thy name, brave Prince?” she asked.
“René de Bar,” he said.
“What!” the Maid replied, “the noble Duke of Bar, the gallant son of good Queen Yolande of Anjou. You shall be my escort into France.”
With that she laid firm hold of the heavy lance, offered by a young esquire, placed it correctly in stay, and smartly gathered up the reins. Saluting Dukes Charles and René, she drove the heels of her wooden shoes into the horse’s sides, and dashed round and round the courtyard, the lance in position, and then out into the open. Astonishment marked each noble countenance, and then loud applause greeted this quite unexpected display; it enlisted to her cause most of the spectators, who had meant to cry down the girl’s ineptitude, but now were perfectly ready to follow her. With difficulty Jeanne reined in her mount, and slowly cantered into the courtyard again. Saluting in correct knightly fashion the Duke, her Sovereign, and beckoning René once more to her side, she dismounted with his help, rendered up her lance, and fell at Charles’s feet.