“Brother Thomas should burn for this,” quoth Barthelemy; “but not while the siege endures.  He carries too many English lives in his munition-box.  Nor can you slay him in single combat, or at unawares, for the man is a priest.  Nor would Flavy, who knows you not, listen to such a story.”

So there he sat, frowning, and plucking at his beard.  “I have it,” he said; “D’Aulon is no further off than Beaulieu, where Jean de Luxembourg holds him till he pays his ransom.  When the siege is raised, if ever we are to have succour, then purchase safe-conduct to D’Aulon, take his testimony, and bring it to Flavy.”

As he spoke, some stir in the still air made me look up, and suddenly throw my body aside; and it was well, for a sword swept down from the low parapet above our heads, and smote into the back of that settle whereon we were sitting.

Ere I well knew what had chanced, Barthelemy was on his feet, his whinger flew from his hand, and he, leaping up on to the parapet, was following after him who smote at me.

In the same moment a loud grating voice cried—­

“The Maid shall burn, and not the man,” and a flash of light went past me, the whinger flying over my head and clipping into the water of the moat below.

Rising as I best might, but heedfully, I spied over the parapet, and there was Barthelemy coming back, his naked sword in his hand.

“The devil turned a sharp corner and vanished,” he said.  “And now where are we?  We have a worse foe within than all the men of Burgundy without.  There goes the devil’s tally!” he cried, and threw the little carven rod far from him into the moat, where it fell and floated.

“No man saw this that could bear witness; most are in church, where you and I should have been,” I said.

Then we looked on each other with blank faces.

“My post is far from his, and my harness is good,” said Barthelemy; “but for you, beware!” Thenceforth, if I saw any cowl of a cordelier as I walked, I even turned and went the other way.

I was of no avail against this wolf, whom all men praised, so serviceable was he to the town.

Once an arbalest bolt struck my staff from my hand as I walked, and I was fain to take shelter of a corner, yet saw not whence the shot came.

Once a great stone fell from a turret, and broke into dust at my feet, and it is not my mind that a cannon-ball had loosened it.

Thus my life went by in dread and watchfulness.  No more bitter penance may man dree than was mine, to be near this devil, and have no power to avenge my deadly quarrel.  There were many heavy hearts in the town; for, once it was taken, what man could deem his life safe, or what woman her honour?  But though they lay down and rose up in fear, and were devoured by desire of revenge, theirs was no such thirst as mine.