“Never will I leave,” she declared, “until the city is taken.”
Alençon was of like mind, but some of the captains thought otherwise. Some of the troops were reluctant to assault again; for there were whispers that the Maid had failed. That she had promised them to enter the city, and Paris had not been taken. They recalled the omen of the mystic sword, and shook their heads. They had forgotten that it took nearly a week to free Orléans from the siege, and Paris was a larger city. Jeanne had had but part of one day for the attack. While the captains were debating the advisability of renewing the assault a cavalcade of fifty or sixty gentlemen under the Baron de Montmorency, who had been a Burgundian for many years, rode up, and offered his services to the Maid. It was a joyful augury, and it was so encouraging that an immediate assault was planned. Just as they were setting forth two gentlemen arrived from St. Denys. They were René Duc de Bar, and Charles de Bourbon, and they bore the King’s orders that no further attack upon Paris should be made, and that the Maid with the other leaders must return at once to St. Denys.
There was a storm of remonstrance and appeal, but the gentlemen were peremptory in their insistence. Such a command could not be disregarded, so with heavy hearts the entire force obeyed the summons. As they had expected that the attack would be renewed the following day the siege material had been left on the field, and there was not time to return for it. The King made no explanation when they reached St. Denys, and disconsolately the captains discussed the matter.
Now Alençon had built a bridge across the Seine above Paris, expecting to make an onset upon the south as well as the north of the city, and Jeanne and he decided secretly to 307 make a new effort in that direction. Accordingly they slipped away very early the next morning, which was September tenth, with a few chosen troops, and rode hastily to the place. The bridge was in ruins. It had been destroyed in the night; not by their enemies, but by the King. Sadly the two with their men rode back to the “City of the Tomb,” which had become the grave of their hopes.
Jeanne’s heart was hot with disappointment and the thwarting of all her plans, and leaving Alençon she crept painfully to the chapel of the Abbey, and knelt for a long time before the image of the Virgin. After a time she rose, and slowly, awkwardly, for she was without her squire, unbuckled her armour, and laid it piece by piece upon the altar, until at length the complete suit lay there. With a gesture of infinite yearning she stretched her hands over it.
“To Saint Denys,” she said with quivering lips. Turning she went slowly from the Abbey.
Jeanne, the invincible Maid, had met her first defeat at the hands of her King.