selected five hundred skilled archers, and proceeded to instal them behind the hedges, declaring that he would hold the pass till his main and rear guard came up.
"But another thing befell him!" says the old chronicle.
On came La Hire and his eighty cavaliers, dashing across the open, crashing through the woods, who so merry as they?
Now these woods held other living things beside English archers. At the sound of crackling and rending branches, up sprang a noble stag, startled from his noonday rest, and fled through the forest as if the hounds were at his heels. So fleeing, the frightened creature rushed full into the main body of the English, hurrying to join Talbot. An Englishman is an Englishman, the world over. They did not know the French were near, but I am not sure that it would have made any difference if they had. Clear, loud, and triumphant, every man of them raised the "view halloo," as good sportsmen should. La Hire heard, and checked his horse instantly; sent back a message to Alençon and the Maid, the one word "Found!" formed his eighty in order of battle, and charged with such fury down Talbot's lane that the English archers were cut to pieces before they could loose a shaft.
Fastolf now came rushing up to join Talbot, but finding himself too late, drew rein, and suffered himself to be led—somewhat ignominiously, it was thought—from the field; "making the greatest dole that ever man made."
Well might he lament. The battle of Patay was followed by a massacre of the English, which the Maid was powerless to prevent. The French had suffered too long; the iron had entered too deep into their souls. As the world stood then, they would have been more or less than human to have held their hand from the slaughter. It seemed probable that Joan did not see all of the butchery, but she saw more than enough. "She was most pitiful," says the page d'Aulon, "at the sight of so great a slaughter. A Frenchman was leading some English prisoners; he struck one of them on the head; the man fell senseless. Joan sprang from her saddle and held the Englishman's head in her lap, comforting him; and he was shriven."[56]
Talbot was taken by Xaintrailles, and led by him before Alençon, the Maid and de Richemont.
"You did not look for this in the morning, Lord Talbot!" said Alençon, who had been a prisoner in England.
"It is the fortune of war!" said the old lion; and no other word of his is recorded.
The Week of Victories was over, and once more Joan returned to her Orleans, to joy-bells and masses, adoring crowds and friendly hearthstones. This time she found a present awaiting her at the house of Père Boucher, a present at once quaint and pathetic.