My return was awaited with some stir of interest, and before I had
well dismounted I was hurried, all travel stained as I was, into
the presence of the King. There was the Maid waiting also, calm and
serene, and when she saw the thing which I carried in my hands, her
face lighted; she took several steps forward, and bent her knee as
she reverently took the sword, as though she received it from some
Higher Power.
"It was even as she said?" questioned the King, quickly.
"Even so, Sire; the sword of which no man knew aught, was lying
buried beneath the high altar of St. Catherine's Church, in
Fierbois."
A murmur of surprise and gratification ran through the assembly.
But there was no surprise upon the Maid's face.
"Did you doubt, Sire?" she asked, and he could not meet the glance
of her clear eyes.
CHAPTER VIII. HOW THE MAID MARCHED FOR ORLEANS.
Methinks the Maid loved that ancient sword better than all her
shining armour of silver! Strange to say, the jewelled sheath of
the King's Toledo blade fitted the weapon from Fierbois, and he
supplemented the priests' gift of a scabbard by this second rich
one.
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