The Crown of the Hundred Years' War

Chapter 30 The Girl from Orleans

St. Lupus was the largest monastery in northeastern Orleans, but it was reduced to rubble during the scorched-earth policy initiated by Dinoire. The British occupied the ruins and built an earthen fortress to block northeastern Orleans using the remaining walls, naming the fortress after St. Lupus, the patron saint of Orleans a thousand years ago.

Though called a "fortress," it was more like a cluster of temporary fortifications. Sharpened, thick tree trunks were driven into the ground side by side to form wooden fences, which, together with thick rammed earth walls, were dug in front of deep trenches and supported by stone walls protecting the gun emplacements. These ugly but sturdy positions surrounded the entire city of Orleans.

It must be said that even without Joan of Arc's reconnaissance, Dunois would most likely have chosen this fortress as his primary target: isolated at the easternmost edge of the English defensive line, unlike the fortresses to the west that completely blocked access to and from Orléans, it was more like a surveillance outpost. This is evident from the constant flow of supplies and reinforcements along the Loire River into the city through the east gate, while the fortress's garrison only dared to conduct small-scale harassment of the outer forces. In fact, if the noble coalition hadn't remained stagnant in Jarrod and refused to provide support, Dunois would have preferred to rely on the garrison to remove this thorn in his side.

The sun had just risen, and looking at the report from the previous night's reconnaissance, Dinoire still frowned. Although Fort Saint-Loup had only been fortified by the British after the Burgundians withdrew, the commander hadn't slackened: the wooden walls were ten feet high, the two gun emplacements nearly twenty feet, and they were covered with a thick layer of rubble. Add to that the several-foot-deep moat outside the walls, and taking it would require artillery. But the British weren't fools either; even if he were willing to move a few precious heavy cannons from the walls to breach the fortress, British reinforcements would be arriving soon.

Dinoire repeatedly compared the supply plan he had previously obtained from Giles and concluded that taking the fortress would require two thousand men to besiege it from the front, two thousand men to intercept reinforcements from the outside, and at least ten cannons. He then thought that perhaps in the next couple of days, he could have the girl accompany the troops on a probing attack to find out the speed of the British garrison's reinforcements, thus ensuring success.

He reviewed his plan, nodded, picked up a piece of paper, and prepared to write to Attil, urging him to continue to entangle Talbot. Just then, Alençon burst in.

"Uncle, the Crown Prince's supply convoy started fighting with the British as soon as they landed!"

Dinois didn't look up: "Isn't this the usual practice? Let the guards fight the British to buy time, and let the supplies continue to be sent into the city."

"But," Alençon added, "Joan of Arc said she also wanted to leave the city and join the battle!"

Dinoir frowned, got up, pushed open the small door behind him, and walked towards the top of the tower. His command tower was located near the East Gate, and from there he could see the entire East District without any obstruction.

He looked closely and saw that the conspicuous white flag was indeed leading a small squad toward the east gate. To the northeast of the city, a dozen or so British cavalrymen were engaged in fierce fighting with the French.

Upon noticing that Alençon had also followed, Dinoire pointed to the flag and said, "Let her go. It's just a small harassment force; she knows what's important."

Alençon quieted down and followed Dinois's gaze. The Iris flag had already been raised high outside the city and was heading towards the battlefield.

The transport convoy near the city gate cheered, and dozens of men quickly joined them, rushing northward. Seeing the overwhelming force, the British commander turned and led his troops back to Saint-Loup. The French troops cheered, and Alençon completely relaxed.

Dinois watched for a while longer, then frowned: "What is she trying to do?"

Alençon looked again and found that the flag had not returned to the city, but had continued northward—not only the flag bearer, but also the guards responsible for intercepting her were flanking her, all heading north together. The English army also noticed something amiss; horns sounded from St. Lupp's Castle, and longbowmen scaled the walls. As the French army continued to advance, the cannons on both sides of the fortress began to roar.

The banner didn't stop; instead, it accelerated. Amid the longbowmen's shouts and a hail of arrows, it reached the edge of the trench. The group pulled out several torches from somewhere and threw them at the wooden fence.

Dino's expression hardened: "Go yourself, and tell her to stop making a mess of things."

Alang Song strode down the tower and headed out of the city.

Dunoir continued to observe the battle. He noticed that not only the guards, but other units that had been busy transporting supplies were also heading north to provide support. Gradually, thousands of French soldiers crowded around the large banner, attempting to set fire to the palisades and fill in the trenches, while hundreds of accompanying crossbowmen pinned down the longbowmen on the wall.

Just as Alençon led his men out of the city, they had already pushed over the supply wagons, which, under the command of the large banner, were used to fill the trench. More wagons were brought over and stacked together, gradually forming a gentle slope to climb the wall. The British army's two cannons continued to roar wildly, but because of the stone wall, they could not reach the nearly completed "ladder."

Amidst the cheers of the French troops, the last wagon was piled on top. A troop of armored soldiers stepped over it and scaled the outer wall of St. Lupus Castle. The English troops did not stand idly by; armored soldiers and longbowmen swarmed onto the wall, pushing the French back.

A bloody tug-of-war began on the small, gentle slope, and Alençon's team finally caught up with the besieging crowd.

Dinois watched as the armored soldiers retreated down the gentle slope, and the British dared not pursue them; the fighting gradually ceased. He was secretly relieved—at least the losses would be less. Just as he was waiting for Alençon to return with the banner, he saw it being waved wildly—a silver figure beneath the iris flag charged towards the hillside, holding it high.

The French army was completely out of control. Soldiers scrambled to regroup, rushing up the ramparts before the large flag could be seen, and charged into the fortress. This time, the British failed to hold the breach; instead, they were pushed off the outer wall and forced into the fortress, where the French followed.

Dunoir watched as the French army cheered as they stormed into Saint-Loup. The Plantagenet flag that had been waving before him for three months was cut down, and the Iris flag took its place, unfurling in the wind. He looked up at the sky—the sun was not yet overhead. From the raising of that flag to the capture of Saint-Loup, only half a morning had passed.

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When Saint-Loup Castle fell, the French became enraged, displaying their ravenous nature. The English troops inside, exhausted, surrendered, but the enemy refused to accept them and instead unleashed a massacre. Swords and axes were used, blood and flesh flew everywhere, and everyone, young and old, perished. Among them were over forty English soldiers who, fearing for their lives, hastily donned priestly robes, disguised themselves as clergy, and hoped to escape the massacre.

The French army, however, treated it like a game, binding his hands and driving him into the city of Orléans. They paraded him through the streets, ordering the local children to throw stones and spit on him. The city's inhabitants, already accustomed to cruelty, became even more violent. They surrounded him and rained down bricks, stones, and rubble. In a short time, most of the forty men were dead.

Several people managed to escape, staggering back to their camp, but their expressions were delirious, their speech incoherent, muttering only "The girl released me." When asked about what had happened in the city, they could not answer, but their eyes showed fear, and their whole bodies trembled. What could this not be witchcraft and bewitching?

Alas! The French have long practiced sorcery, summoning a wicked woman named Joan of Arc. Black magic is rampant in their army, using demons as vanguards and illusions to bewitch their soldiers. Seeing their current state, it is clear they are deeply entrenched in demonic possession, beyond redemption. Their army is truly a swarm of blasphemous scoundrels; where is there even a trace of Christian spirit left? The brave warriors of England should take up their swords and fight valiantly to sweep away these demons and restore justice.

—The Wars of Britain and France by Sir John Price