Long afterwards it was told me by one of mine own men-at-arms that
there had been a regular plot amongst the rougher of the soldiers
at the outset to do her a mischief, and to sell her into the hands
of the Burgundians or the English. But even before leaving
Vaucouleurs the men had wavered, half ashamed of their own doubts
and thoughts, and before we had proceeded two days' journey
forward, all, to a man, would have laid down their lives in her
service.
The only matter that troubled the Maid was that we were unable to
hear Mass, as she longed to do daily. The risk of showing ourselves
in town or village was too great. But there came a night, when, as
we journeyed, we approached the town of Fierbois, a place very well
known to me; and when we halted in a wood with the first light of
day, and the wearied soldiers made themselves beds amid the dried
fern and fallen leaves, I approached the Maid, who was gazing
wistfully towards the tapering spire of a church, visible at some
distance away, and I said to her:
"Gentle Maid, yonder is the church of Sainte Catherine at Fierbois,
and there will be, without doubt, early Mass celebrated within its
walls.
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