And now the English in the meadow were within four lances’ lengths of the causeway between her and safety.  Say it I must, nor cannon-ball nor arrow-flight availed to turn these English.  Still the drawbridge and the inlet of the boulevard were choked with the press, and men were leaping from bank and bridge into the boats, or into the water, while so mixed were friends and foes that Flavy, in a great voice, bade archers and artillerymen hold their hands.

Townsfolk, too, were mingled in the throng, men who had come but to gape as curious fools, and among them I saw the hood of a cordelier, as I glanced from the fight to mark how the Maid might force her way within.  Still she smote, and D’Aulon and Pierre du Lys smote manfully, and anon they gained a little way, backing their horses, while our archers dared not shoot, so mixed were French, English, and Burgundians.

Flavy, who worked like a man possessed, had turned about to give an order to the archers above him; his back, I swear, was to the press of flying men, to the inlet of the boulevard, and to the drawbridge, when his own voice, as all deemed who heard it, cried aloud, “Up drawbridge, close gates, down portcullis!” The men whose duty it was were standing ready at the cranks and pulleys, their tools in hand, and instantly, groaning, the drawbridge flew up, casting into the water them that were flying across, down came the portcullis, and slew two men, while the gates of the inlet of the boulevard were swung to and barred, all, as it might he said, in the twinkling of an eye.

Flavy turned in wrath and great amaze:  “In God’s name, who cried?” he shouted.  “Down drawbridge, up portcullis, open gates!  To the front, men-at-arms, lances forward!”

For most of the mounted men who had fled were now safe, and on foot, within the boulevard.

All this I heard and saw, in a glance, while my eyes were fixed on the Maid and the few with her.  They were lost from our sight, now and again, in a throng of Picards, Englishmen, Burgundians, for all have their part in this glory.  Swords and axes fell and rose, steeds countered and reeled, and then, they say, for this thing I myself did not see, a Picard archer, slipping under the weapons and among the horses’ hoofs, tore the Maid from saddle by the long skirts of her hucque, and they were all upon her.  This befell within half a stone’s-throw of the drawbridge.  While Flavy himself toiled with his hands, and tore at the cranks and chains, the Maid was taken under the eyes of us, who could not stir to help her.  Now was the day and the hour whereof the Saints told her not, though she implored them with tears.  Now in the throng below I heard a laugh like the sound of a saw on stone, and one struck him that laughed on the mouth.  It was the laugh of that accursed Brother Thomas!

I had laid my face on my hands, being so weak, and was weeping for very rage at that which my unhappy eyes had seen, when I heard the laugh, and lifting my head and looking forth, I beheld the hood of the cordelier.