Guy de Laval was able to answer these questions, for he had himself ridden from Chinon to Orleans with messages to the Generals in the beleaguered city.  He reported that the blockade was not perfected; that provisions could still find their way—­though with risk, and danger of loss—­into the town, and that messengers with letters could pass to and fro by exercising great caution, and by the grace of Heaven.  He told her of the great fortresses the English had built, where they dwelt in safety, and menaced the town and battered its walls with their engines of war.

The garrison and the city were yet holding bravely out, and the Generals Dunois and La Hire were men of courage and capacity.  But when the Maid asked how it came about that the English—­who could not be so numerous as the French forces in the town—­had been suffered to make these great works unmolested, he could only reply with a shake of the head, and with words of evil omen.

“It is the terror of the English which has fallen upon them.  Since the victory of Agincourt, none have ever been able to see English soldiers drawn up in battle array without feeling their blood turn to water, and their knees quake under them.  I know not what the power is; but at Rouvray it was shown forth again.  A small force of soldiers—­but a convoy with provisions for the English lines—­overcame and chased to destruction a French army ten times its own strength.  It is as though the English had woven some spell about us.  We cannot face them—­to our shame be it spoken!  The glorious days of old are past.  If Heaven come not to our aid, the cause of France is lost!”

“Heaven has come to the aid of France,” spoke the Maid, with that calm certainty which never deserted her; “have no fear, gentle knight.  Let the Dauphin but send me to Orleans, and the English will speedily be chased away.”

“It will need a great army to achieve that, fair Maid,” spoke Sir Guy; “and alas, the King has but a small force at his disposal, and the men are faint hearted and fearful.”

“It is no matter,” answered the Maid, with shining eyes; “is it anything to my Lord whether He overcomes by many or by few?  Is His arm shortened at all, that He should not fulfil that which He has promised?  France shall see ere long that the Lord of Hosts fights for her.  Will not that be enough?”

“I trow it will,” answered De Laval, baring his head.

It was not until the evening was drawing on that we entered the fortress of Chinon, where the King held his Court.  A very splendid castle it was, and when, later in my life, I once visited the realm of England, and looked upon the Castle of Windsor there, it did bring back greatly to my mind that Castle of Chinon, with its towers and battlements overhanging, as it were, the river, and the town clustered at its foot.

We had delayed our approach that our wearied and way-worn men might rest and give a little care to their clothes and arms, so that we presented not too travel-stained and forlorn an appearance.  We desired to do honour to the Maid we escorted, and to assume an air of martial pomp, so far as it was possible to us.