And now, indeed, my heart beat so that my body seemed to shake with hope and fear as I walked.  At the door of the chamber wherein the Maid lay we met her guards coming forth, who cried roughly, bidding her good even, and to think well of what waited her, meaning the torments.  They tumbled down the stairs laughing, while we went in, and I last.  It was a dark vaulted chamber with one window near the roof, narrow and heavily barred.  In the recess by the window was a brazier burning, and casting as much shadow as light by reason of the smoke.  Here also was a rude table, stained with foul circles of pot-rims, and there were five or six stools.  On a weighty oaken bed lay one in man’s raiment, black in hue, her face downwards, and her arms spread over her neck.  It could scarce be that she slept, but she lay like one dead, only shuddering when the lourdaud, the captain of the guard, smote her on the shoulder, asking, in English, how she did?

“Here she is, sir, surly as ever, and poor company for Christian men.  See you how cunningly all her limbs are gyved, and chained to the iron bolts of the bed?  What would my lady Jeanne give me for this little master-key?”

Here he showed a slender key, hung on a steel chain about his neck.

“Never a saint of the three, Michael, Margaret, and Catherine, can take this from me; nay, nor the devils who wear their forms.”

“Have you seen this fair company of hers?” I whispered in English, crossing myself.

“No more than she saw the white lady that goes with that other witch, Catherine of La Rochelle.  But, sir, she is sullen; it is her manner.  With your good leave, shall we sup?”

This was my own desire, so putting the pannier on the table, I carved the meat with my dagger, and poured out the wine in cups, and they fell to, being hungry, as Englishmen are at all times.  They roared over their meat, eating like wolves and drinking like fishes, and one would sing a lewd song, and the others strike in with the over-word, but drinking was their main avail.

“This is better stuff,” says the lourdaud, “than our English ale.  Faith, ’tis strong, my lads!  Wake up, Jenkin; wake up, Hal,” and then he roared a snatch, but stopped, looking drowsily about him.

O brothers in Christ, who hear this tale, remember ye that, for now four months and more, the cleanest soul in Christenty, and the chastest lady, and of manners the noblest, had endured this company by night and by day!

“Nay, wake up,” I cried; “ye are dull revellers; what say ye to the dice?”

Therewith I set out my tablier and the dice.  Then I filled up the cup afresh, pretending to drink, and laid on the foul table a great shining heap of gold.  Their dull eyes shone like the metal when I said—­

“Myself will be judge and umpire; play ye, honest fellows, for I crave no gains from you.  Only, a cup for luck!”

They camped at the table, all the five of them, and some while their greed kept them wakeful, and they called the mains, but their drought kept them drinking.  And, one by one, their heads fell heavy on the table, or they sprawled on their stools, and so sank on to the floor, so potent were the poppy and mandragora of the leech in Tours.