“Make peace, Sire; but––”
“But what, dear Maid?”
“Make it at the point of the lance,” she cried. “None other will be so lasting. A quick advance, Sire, and Paris is ours, and with it all France.”
“Would it not be best to take it without bloodshed?” he asked. “By your way much Christian blood must perforce be spilled. By this truce with our cousin the city will be ours peaceably. Is not that best?”
“It may be,” she agreed sorrowfully.
There was no more to be said, so with heavy heart she went from the presence to report to the captains. Silently they heard her; for none of them believed that Philip of Burgundy would ever deliver Paris to the King. So “turning first the flanks, then the rear of his army towards Paris, dragging with him the despairing Maid, the King headed for the Loire.”
Beyond that river lay pleasure and amusement; time could be taken for ease and enjoyment, and the unworthy King desired them more than honor. In this he was encouraged by La Trémouille and his party.
Reims, Soissons and other cities that had made submission were alarmed because the King was abandoning them to the mercy of Burgundy, and the men of Reims wrote to Jeanne telling her their fears. To which she made answer:
“Dear good friends, good and loyal Frenchmen, the Maid sends you news of her.... Never will I abandon you while I live. True it is that the King has made a fifteen days’ truce with the Duke of Burgundy, who is to give up to him the town of Paris peacefully on the fifteenth day.