“My voices warned me,” answered the Maid gently.  “It was not much; yet a little leaven often leavens the whole lump.  They needed just the leader’s eye and voice to recall them to their duty.”

“Truly that is just how the matter stood,” spoke Sir Guy in low tones to us twain, Bertram and I, who sat on either side of him at the other end of the board.

He had been one to depart and return with Dunois, and we looked eagerly to him for explanation.

“There are ever timid spirits in all ranks, and traitors or faint-hearted friends are never far away in such times as these.  The army which would have followed the Maid to the death with joy, felt depression and disappointment at being parted from her.  Had they been able to ford the river and march straight into the city, there would have been no trouble, no tremors or doubts; but the turning back was a discouragement, and alas! the French have had too much of this of late.  There were whisperers at work seeking to undermine faith in the Maid and her mission.  As she says, no great hurt was done; it was but the work of a few—­and some of these priests, who should better have understood the counsels of God—­but a little leaven will work mightily in the lump, as she herself did justly remark; and ere we reached Blois, we had heard rumours that the army was talking of disbanding itself and dispersing hither and thither.  The truth was not so bad as that; but there was wavering and doubt in the ranks.

“Our appearance with the message from the Maid worked like a charm.  The soldiers, when they knew that she had been told of their hesitation, were instantly horribly ashamed.  They clamoured to be led back to her, to show the mettle of which they were made.  I trow they will not waver again, now that she hath them beneath her eye.”

“It is marvellous how she doth hold them by the power of her glance, by her gentleness and devotion.  And, look you, what hath she done to the English?  It was rumoured through the city that so soon as the relief army approached the English lines, there would be an attack in force, and our comrades would be driven back at the sword’s point, and have to fight every inch of the way.  Yet what has been the truth?  The Maid led us to the spot which commanded the road—­well in the heart of the English lines.  Their fortresses were humming like hives of bees disturbed.  The English knew what was being done, and watched it all; yet not a gun was fired, not an archer launched his shaft, not a man moved out to oppose the entrance of the relief force nor even the convoy of provisions for the garrison.  They watched it all as men in a dream, not a dog moved his tongue against us.”

“She told us it would be so,” spoke I, leaning towards Sir Guy, “there will be fighting anon; but it was not to be then.  Surely their arms were holden by a power they wot not of.  If she herself had not gone forth to guard the way—­standing like the flaming cherubim with the sword which turned every way—­I misdoubt me but that a heavy action must have been fought, ere the army was suffered to enter the gates.”