The enemies were friends … just for Christmas day.


* * *

There was a certain air of excitement among the Bastard and his friends for their spies reported that the English army was very short of food and that it had been arranged that a large quantity of victuals was to be brought to them from Paris.

‘They are in dire need of these supplies,’ said the Bastard. ‘If we could intercept them and prevent their arriving, we should be turning the tables. They cannot go on without food. This could be the saving of Orléans.’

God was indeed on their side. They were sure of it now. It should not be difficult to waylay the convoy and capture it. It could be put to very good use in Orléans.

The Bastard left the city in a mood of hope and people crowded into the churches to pray. It was another sign, they said. They only had to be patient, believe in God and His miracles and not only Orléans would be saved but the whole of France.

In Paris the Bastard encountered the Count of Clermont, a young man of royal blood and exceptional good looks and charm of manner, who had received his spurs and was full of his own importance. The Bastard instructed him to take his men and watch along the road for the coming of Sir John Fastolf, a seasoned English warrior who was in charge of the convoy.

Clermont was determined to distinguish himself and he wanted the honour of capturing the stores to be his alone. He was not going to let the Bastard of Orléans take all the glory. The importance of this encounter was clear. To stop that convoy reaching the English would starve them out. They would have to give up the siege and the glory of saving Orléans would be his.

The Bastard parted company with him to go off in another direction and as Clermont was riding merrily along at the head of his troops so certain of victory, a messenger came galloping up to them. Some Gascon soldiers had sighted the convoy. They believed they could take it easily for the English were quite unaware of any danger. They could at this time catch them ill prepared for an attack.

‘Make no attempt to before I arrive,’ cried the jaunty young Count. This was going to be an easy victory, but it was his.

Meanwhile the English realised they had been sighted and that an attack was imminent. They had three hundred carts and wagons full of much needed provisions, and they were accompanied only by a few guards, archers and cavalry men with some merchants who had supplied the goods and a few peasants to help unload them.

Sir John Fastolf, with Sir Richard Gethyn, knew they were in a very dangerous situation from which a great deal of ingenuity would be needed to extricate them. They were in the worst possible country as they were completely unprotected and if a strong force came against them they would be quickly overcome.

But Sir John was a seasoned warrior. This was not the first difficult position he had been in and he was ready to try any expedient which might be of use.

They had seen the Gascons and wondered why they did not atttack. If they had done so the convoy could have been lost.

‘God has given us time,’ cried Sir John. ‘It is what we needed, and with His help we may pull through.’

He then outlined his plan. The wagons should provide that defence which their position in the plain denied them. There were three hundred wagons – one hundred and fifty a side when they were lined up with a narrow passage between them. All around the wagons they placed stakes pointing towards the attackers; behind the stakes stood the archers so when Clermont arrived full of confidence, the English were prepared. He gave the order for his cavalry to advance, which they did. A shower of arrows met them; the horses stumbled on and broke their legs on the stakes. It was then not a difficult matter to rout Clermont’s men after that, and when the Bastard arrived he was wounded in the foot and narrowly escaped being taken prisoner.

Clermont, seeing his glory vanishing, sulked and refused to go to the aid of the wounded Bastard. Three hundred Frenchmen lost their lives in the battle before the wagons – very little the worse for their part as fortifications – were trundled on to the walls of Orléans.

There was great rejoicing among the English when the outcome of the battle was known. They had their supplies – the loss of which could have meant the need to abandon the siege.

Sir John Fastolf was a hero and when the wagons were unloaded and their contents seen to consist largely of herrings, this encounter was known from henceforth as the Battle of the Herrings.


* * *

The Orléannese were dismayed. God had not been on their side this time. He had allowed that silly young Comte de Clermont to deprive them of victory.

The little miracles of the cannon balls were losing their power to comfort.

The Comte de Clermont might be the King’s cousin but when he entered Orléans he was received with contempt. Even the Bastard recovering from his wounds was disconsolate and Maréchal de Boussac who had returned with him was hinting that his presence was needed elsewhere.

The Orléannese were losing that buoyant hope. They sadly needed a miracle.

The citizens talked together. They were being abandoned by those who had come to help them and that could mean only one thing. These men believed that the case was hopeless.

Some of the forces of the Duke of Burgundy were outside the walls with the English. Suppose they offered to surrender to Burgundy? That would prevent their town falling into the hands of the English.

It seemed to them that there was nothing else to be done. They could not go on starving and holding out against desperate odds. They would offer then to surrender themselves to Burgundy.

Philip of Burgundy was by no means displeased. He would be happy to take Orléans, he declared, and the town should be surrendered to him.

But it was hardly to be expected that the Duke of Bedford would stand quietly by and see Burgundy walk into Orléans. Why should he agree to this when it was clear that the Orléannese were on the point of surrender? He and Burgundy were allies it was true, but uneasy ones. Burgundy was already too powerful. Why should he, Bedford, make him more so? When he thought of all the men, time and money he had wasted on this siege he was incensed.

‘Indeed this shall not be,’ he said. ‘I do not care to beat the bushes so that another may get the birds.’

Burgundy, all prepared to march into Orléans, was furious. He immediately withdrew his troops and there was a rift between the allies.

‘We will continue with the siege,’ said Bedford grimly, and the Orléannese were as stubborn as ever. They would go on enduring hardship rather than give way to the English.

Then even he became aware of the rumours in the air. He paid little heed to them. He had learned from his ancestors that leaders only believed in superstitions when they worked in their favour.

This one was set about by the French. And a lot of nonsense it was. He laughed to think of it for it showed how desperate they were to fabricate and circulate such stories in the vain hope of bringing comfort to a people who had had their fill of suffering.

There was a young maid, said these rumours. She had heard voices telling her that God had chosen her to save France.

John laughed aloud. Let them indulge in their fantasies. Poor things, perhaps it could bring a little comfort to their hungry bodies; their good sense must tell them that defeat was in sight.

A peasant girl indeed. A virgin. They stressed that. She was going to ride into battle and drive the English out of France.

He was surprised that the French allowed themselves to indulge in such superstition.

The weary siege continued but as the weeks passed the name of Joan of Arc was heard more and more frequently and even John, Duke of Bedford could not ignore it.


* * *

Katherine was at Hadham in Hertfordshire. It was quiet there and she could rest in peace and make plans.

She had sent for Dame Alice Butler and Joan Astley. They knew why before she told them. Dame Alice said she could see it in her face.

‘As you know,’ said Katherine, ‘I have taken a husband.’

They bowed their heads and waited.

‘Our union must of course remain secret … for the time. But now I find I am to have a child.’

‘We shall look after you, my lady.’

‘I knew you would,’ replied Katherine. ‘You loved my son so much. It is a pity these men see fit to take children from those who have nurtured and loved them.’

‘They will make a King of him before he is a child,’ said Dame Alice.

Joan nodded.

‘We must perforce keep quiet about this matter,’ went on the Queen, ‘until I know what the Council will do about it. I would not wish ill to befall my husband.’

The women understood well. Owen could be taken from her. He could be imprisoned for what he had done and being of humble birth his actions might be construed as treason. He might be sentenced to the traitor’s horrible death.

These women understood very well the delicacy of the situation; but their chief concern would be to bring the baby safely into the world.

Joan was handy with her needle and she was able to arrange Katherine’s garments so that her pregnancy was not as obvious as it would otherwise have been.

Katherine sent for her priest. She told him that she was going to take Owen Tudor for her husband and that she wished him to perform the ceremony without delay.