Epitaph for Three Women (19 page)

They formed into an orderly procession and, with priests and merchants, women and children, rich and poor, marched through the streets singing psalms as they went into the churches to ask God and their patron saints to come to their aid.

They would need it, for Salisbury had brought with him the flower of the English army. The result of the battle for Orléans could be decisive in settling the outcome of the war. Salisbury had convinced Bedford of this and he was now as certain of it himself as he was of anything. With him rode Thomas, Lord of Scales, William Neville, his nephew Lord Richard Grey, William Pole, Earl of Suffolk and William’s brother John Pole and many other nobles. One of the best captains in the army was also there – William Glasdale, a squire of more humble birth than the noblemen, but one on whom Salisbury relied as he did on few others.

Salisbury saw at once that the little castle of Tourelles, which was really a fort, prevented their crossing the bridge and his first move, therefore, must be to take it.

The Orléannese put up a desperate fight for Les Tourelles, but after a few days were unable to hold out against the superior strength of the English and when they were forced to abandon Les Tourelles they had to face the fact that they had lost one of their most effective defences.

It was a Sunday afternoon when the strange event occurred.

The flag of St George was flying from the fort. The French turned their eyes from it in rage and dismay while the Earl of Salisbury eyed it with the utmost pleasure because now he had a vantage point. From the topmost point of the tower he could see right over the walls and into the city.

He ascended the tower in the company of Captain William Glasdale and a few others and for some moments they stood overlooking the city. Then suddenly the window was shattered. A cannon ball had taken off a corner of the window; a paving stone came away and this struck the Earl carrying off half his face. He fell senseless to the ground.

While his companions picked him up Glasdale looked round and realised that the shot must have come from the nearby tower of Notre Dame which appeared to be deserted apart from one small child casually standing there.

It was a very mysterious event, and disastrous for the English and within a few hours of being taken to Meung-Sur-Loire Salisbury was dead, never having regained consciousness since the blow struck him.

They had lost their leader, the man who was certain of victory, and they were appalled. It was more than the loss of a great General, for this was the beginning of the strange stories which were to be circulated in Orléans and the surrounding countryside.

People who had been near Le Tour Notre Dame when the cannon had been fired swore that no one had been there, except a young boy who had been playing quietly.

Had he fired the cannon which killed Salisbury? He could not be found that he might be asked. He had appeared briefly and slipped away.

Could it be a sign from Heaven? asked the desperate Orléannese. It must be. They had to believe it. They needed help so badly and who better than Heaven could supply the kind of help they needed. Orléans was thirsting for miracles. So when something happened that might be one they glorified and magnified it.

It was a sign from Heaven, they said. They would yet be saved.

Winter was coming in. The people of Orléans still refused to surrender and the English living uncomfortably outside the walls of the city suffered as many hardships as those within the city. The Bastard of Orléans had been sent to the aid of the Orléannese. He was a warrior of great skill and charm and he brought new heart to them. The son of the Duke of Orléans and his mistress Madame de Cany-Dunois, he was a man of power in France. His bastardy had been of small inconvenience to him; he was after all a Prince’s bastard. He was at this time advancing in his twenties and he had many successes behind him. He brought further hope to the city, for with him were warriors of great reputation such as Maréchal de Boussac and the Lord of Chaumont. Lord Scales, William Pole and Sir John Talbot had taken over command of the siege since the death of Salisbury and as Christmas was coming on they sent messages into the city to suggest to the Bastard of Orléans that they should call a halt to hostilities for Christ's birthday.

There was an air of expectation within the city. They believed that their prayers had been answered. The story of the death of Salisbury was discussed constantly. It had now become a miracle. The cannon, it was believed, had been fired from an empty tower. The only one who had been seen there was a small child. Could a child have fired a cannon? It was hardly likely. A mysterious hand had removed Salisbury from their path. Heaven was helping them.

One story in circulation was that an English cannon ball had fallen on a table where several people sat at dinner. The cannon ball bounced off the table and no one was hurt.

A better story was of the cannon ball which had fallen near La Porte Bannière for in that spot there had been several hundred people yet it had done no harm except knock off the shoe of one man. Laughingly he cried: ‘The English go to a great deal of trouble to make me put on my shoe twice in one day.’

These stories multiplied and the wonder of them increased with the telling. The people of Orléans were looking for a miracle. It was very comforting indeed to believe that God or the saints were giving them these signs.

So on Christmas day they were all ready to call a halt for the sake of Jesus Christ who was born on that day.

The Bastard himself sent his best musicians over to Les Tourelles; and all through the day there came the sound of their music and the singing of English carols.

The Orléannese stood on the city walls listening, without fear, and the English forgot the hardships they were enduring.

The enemies were friends … just for Christmas day.

There was a certain air of excitement among the Bastard and his friends for their spies reported that the English army was very short of food and that it had been arranged that a large quantity of victuals was to be brought to them from Paris.

‘They are in dire need of these supplies,’ said the Bastard. ‘If we could intercept them and prevent their arriving, we should be turning the tables. They cannot go on without food. This could be the saving of Orléans.’

God was indeed on their side. They were sure of it now. It should not be difficult to waylay the convoy and capture it. It could be put to very good use in Orléans.

The Bastard left the city in a mood of hope and people crowded into the churches to pray. It was another sign, they said. They only had to be patient, believe in God and His miracles and not only Orléans would be saved but the whole of France.

In Paris the Bastard encountered the Count of Clermont, a young man of royal blood and exceptional good looks and charm of manner, who had received his spurs and was full of his own importance. The Bastard instructed him to take his men and watch along the road for the coming of Sir John Fastolf, a seasoned English warrior who was in charge of the convoy.

Clermont was determined to distinguish himself and he wanted the honour of capturing the stores to be his alone. He was not going to let the Bastard of Orléans take all the glory. The importance of this encounter was clear. To stop that convoy reaching the English would starve them out. They would have to give up the siege and the glory of saving Orléans would be his.

The Bastard parted company with him to go off in another direction and as Clermont was riding merrily along at the head of his troops so certain of victory, a messenger came galloping up to them. Some Gascon soldiers had sighted the convoy. They believed they could take it easily for the English were quite unaware of any danger. They could at this time catch them ill prepared for an attack.

‘Make no attempt to before I arrive,’ cried the jaunty young Count. This was going to be an easy victory, but it was his.

Meanwhile the English realised they had been sighted and that an attack was imminent. They had three hundred carts and wagons full of much needed provisions, and they were accompanied only by a few guards, archers and cavalry men with some merchants who had supplied the goods and a few peasants to help unload them.

Sir John Fastolf, with Sir Richard Gethyn, knew they were in a very dangerous situation from which a great deal of ingenuity would be needed to extricate them. They were in the worst possible country as they were completely unprotected and if a strong force came against them they would be quickly overcome.

But Sir John was a seasoned warrior. This was not the first difficult position he had been in and he was ready to try any expedient which might be of use.

They had seen the Gascons and wondered why they did not atttack. If they had done so the convoy could have been lost.

‘God has given us time,’ cried Sir John. ‘It is what we needed, and with His help we may pull through.’

He then outlined his plan. The wagons should provide that defence which their position in the plain denied them. There were three hundred wagons – one hundred and fifty a side when they were lined up with a narrow passage between them. All around the wagons they placed stakes pointing towards the attackers; behind the stakes stood the archers so when Clermont arrived full of confidence, the English were prepared. He gave the order for his cavalry to advance, which they did. A shower of arrows met them; the horses stumbled on and broke their legs on the stakes. It was then not a difficult matter to rout Clermont’s men after that, and when the Bastard arrived he was wounded in the foot and narrowly escaped being taken prisoner.

Clermont, seeing his glory vanishing, sulked and refused to go to the aid of the wounded Bastard. Three hundred Frenchmen lost their lives in the battle before the wagons – very little the worse for their part as fortifications – were trundled on to the walls of Orléans.

There was great rejoicing among the English when the outcome of the battle was known. They had their supplies – the loss of which could have meant the need to abandon the siege.

Sir John Fastolf was a hero and when the wagons were unloaded and their contents seen to consist largely of herrings, this encounter was known from henceforth as the Battle of the Herrings.

The Orléannese were dismayed. God had not been on their side this time. He had allowed that silly young Comte de Clermont to deprive them of victory.

The little miracles of the cannon balls were losing their power to comfort.

The Comte de Clermont might be the King’s cousin but when he entered Orléans he was received with contempt. Even the Bastard recovering from his wounds was disconsolate and Maréchal de Boussac who had returned with him was hinting that his presence was needed elsewhere.

The Orléannese were losing that buoyant hope. They sadly needed a miracle.

The citizens talked together. They were being abandoned by those who had come to help them and that could mean only one thing. These men believed that the case was hopeless.

Some of the forces of the Duke of Burgundy were outside the walls with the English. Suppose they offered to surrender to Burgundy? That would prevent their town falling into the hands of the English.