CHAPTER I.
THE COUNCIL OF CHARLES VII.
Three of the principal members of the Council of King Charles VII—George of La Tremouille, chamberlain and a despotic, avaricious and suspicious minister; the Sire of Gaucourt, an envious and cruel soldier; and Regnault, Bishop of Chartres, a double-dealing and ambitious prelate—were assembled on the 7th of March of 1429 in a hall of the Castle of Chinon.
"May the fever carry off that Robert of Baudricourt! The man's audacity of writing direct to the King inducing him to receive that female cowherd!" cried George of La Tremouille. "And Charles considers the affair a pleasant thing and wants to have a look at the crazy girl! The fools claim she is sent by God—I hold she has been sent by the devil to thwart my plans!"
"There is but one way of eluding the formal orders of the King," observed the Bishop of Chartres. "That accursed John of Novelpont has made so much noise that our Sire is determined to see the vassal whom, since her arrival, we have kept confined in the tower of Coudray to await the royal audience. The brazen and vagabond minx feels greatly elated at the imbecile enthusiasm that she has been made the object of by the clouts of Lorraine, and is surprised at not having been presented to Charles VII! Blood of Christ! Our do-nothing King is quite capable, as a means both of ridding himself of us and of dropping all care on the score of the kingdom's safety, of tempting God by accepting the aid of this Joan—In that event, my seigneurs, it will be all over with the influence of the royal council! All that will be left for us to do will be to quit our posts."
"And I, Raoul of Gaucourt, who served under Sancerre and under the Constable of Clisson, I who vanquished the Turks at Nicopolis, I am to take orders from a woman who tended cattle! Death and massacre! I sooner would break my sword!"
"These are hollow words, Raoul of Gaucourt," said the Sire of La Tremouille thoughtfully; "words are powerless against facts. Our Sire, indolent, fickle and cowardly, may, at the desperate pass his affairs are in, wish to try the supernatural influence of this female cowherd. Let us not deceive ourselves. Since the day that Joan was at my orders relegated to the tower of Coudray, half a league from here, the outcry raised by John of Novelpont has had its effect upon a part of the court. His enthusiasm for the said Joan, his reports of her beauty, her modesty, her military genius, have awakened a lively curiosity among a number of courtiers."
"Mercy!" cried Raoul of Gaucourt. "The idea of pretending that peasant possesses military genius! The man must be crazy enough for a strait-jacket."
"Raoul, collect yourself," replied the Bishop of Chartres; "my son in God George of La Tremouille, has stated the facts. He is right. A part of the court, greedy after novelties, jealous of our power, and tired of seeing a portion of their domains in the hands of the English has given an ear to the excited reports of John of Novelpont upon the visionary girl. A goodly number of these courtiers have beset the King. He wishes to see her. It would be absurd and impolitic to try to struggle against the current that has set in."
"So, then, we are to yield, are we?" cried Raoul of Gaucourt, wrathfully striking the table at which they were seated. "Yield before this sorceress who should be roasted on fagots!"
"We may avail ourselves of the fagots later on, my brave Raoul; but at present we must yield.—You know it better than I in your capacity of an experienced captain, Sire of La Tremouille; the position that can not be carried by a front attack, may yet be flanked."