About noon of the succeeding day the army came upon the heights of Olivet, two miles south of Orléans, from which the city and the position of the besieging army could be plainly seen. Then Jeanne saw how she had been deceived. Between her and the town of Orléans lay the wide river, the broken bridge, and the camps of the English.
How the cattle and so great a company of men-at-arms were 209 to be ferried across under the artillery of the English, who held the bridge and the strong keep of Les Tourelles which guarded passage at this point, was a problem. On the further shore the people swarmed the walls and quays of the city, laboring to launch boats with sails, and so purposing to ascend the stream and meet the relieving army. But a strong wind was blowing down stream and it was impossible to bring up the heavy barges needed to transport men and provisions, while the army and the convoy seemed open to attack by Suffolk and Talbot, who could cross the river safely under the guns of the fort on the island and the bridge.
Jeanne was bitterly indignant, and spoke her mind pretty plainly to the generals, to whom the absurdity of their plan was now apparent. She wished to attack the bastilles of the English on this side of the river at once, and the soldiers were eager to follow her, but the generals implored her not to think of it, as even though these were taken they would not have the strength to hold them. So again the army took up its march from Olivet and wended its way up the river to a point six miles above the city. The march was watched anxiously from the leaguered city, and so flat was the country that every movement could be marked after the troops left Olivet. When the expedition stopped, the Count of Dunois, natural half brother of the Duke of Orléans and commander of the city, took boat and rowed up stream and across to meet it. Jeanne spurred forward to meet the hardy young man, brown of visage, who leaped from the boat.
“Are you the Count of Dunois?” she asked.
“I am,” said he, “and right glad of your coming.”
“Was it you that gave counsel that I should come by this bank and not by the other side, and so straight against Talbot and the English?”
“I and wiser men than I gave that advice, believing it to be best and safest,” he returned mildly.
“In God’s name, the counsel of Messire is safer and wiser than yours.” She pointed to the water running rough and strong, a great wind following it, so that no sailing boats could come from the town.
“You thought to deceive me, and you rather deceived yourselves, for I bring you better help than ever came to any captain or city, the help of the King of Heaven. It is not given for love of me, but comes from God himself, who at the prayer of Saint Louis and Saint Charlemagne has had pity on the city of Orléans, and will not suffer that enemies shall have the body of the duke and his city also. But have patience. By the help of God all will go well.”