Joan: The Mysterious Life of the Heretic Who Became a Saint by Donald Spoto

down to sleep with Joan and the soldiers,” Alençon recalled. “We were all in the straw together, and sometimes I saw Joan prepare for the night. Sometimes too I looked at her breasts, which were beautiful. And yet I never had any carnal desire for her.”
    Gobert Thibault, a royal squire, confirmed the soldiers’ uncommon reaction to so appealing a young woman. “I heard many of those closest to her say that they sometimes felt a carnal urge for her, but they never dared to act on it. Often when they were speaking among themselves about fornication and saying things that might arouse desire, they were not able to continue such talk if they saw her or if she came near. I questioned several of those who sometimes slept the night in Joan’s company, and they answered as I have.” These recollections do not contradict the testimonies that earlier Joan had slept fully dressed on the way from Vaucouleurs to Chinon; she was now wearing heavy armor, which had to be removed at night.
    On April 27, in a long procession headed by priests carrying the crucifixion banner and leading them in singing hymns, Joan and the men left Blois and headed toward Orléans. Up to this time some important and influential military leaders had firmly avoided support of any effort to liberate Orléans, but now the general attitude had shifted in favor of Charles and the Maid.

The New Deborah
    (April–June 1429)
    O ne of the most appealing cities of France, Orléans lies on the north bank of the Loire, sixty miles south of Paris. By 1429 it had been capital of a duchy for over a century and was fortified by ramparts, with towers at regular intervals. Ordinarily protected by its resident duke, Orléans suffered a profound loss of morale when he was imprisoned in England; the defense of the city was then undertaken by his half-brother, Jean, Count of Dunois.
    The ramparts of the walled city were strategically maintained, as were the city’s five gates: the Burgundy gate, through which ran the road southeast to Gien; the Paris gate, only for pedestrians at the time of the siege; the Bernier gate, with its road north to Paris; the Renard gate, through which travelers proceeded southwest toward Blois; and the Saint Catherine gate, on the harbor, which connected to the bridge and to the south or left bank of the Loire. Each gate had two towers connected by a drawbridge.

    D URING THE SUMMER of 1428 the English had sailed from Southampton to Harfleur in Normandy. From there they marched to Paris and onward to Chartres. Establishing footholds west and south of Orléans, the invaders—in a four-week period from early September to October—took the nearby towns of Meung, Beaugency, and Jargeau. Now began the formation of siege positions around Orléans.
    That winter the forces of Dunois and of La Hire tried unsuccessfully to break the stranglehold around Orléans and to prevent the English advance toward the dauphin while other French troops attempted to intercept a major English supply caravan near Rouvray. These maneuvers failed miserably, and most of the king’s men retreated south to Tours, Chinon and Bourges. By the spring of 1429 French morale could not have been lower.
    As one noted historian has rightly observed about the months leading up to the liberation of Orléans, “To describe this series of events in terms of a strategic plan is probably wrong. What the French commanders did with brilliant success was to take prompt advantage of rapidly changing circumstances. In doing so, they showed themselves to be military leaders of the finest quality.” As for Joan, she “ensured that the French assaults maintained their momentum despite heavy casualties. What was, however, new was the degree of French commitment to the capture of such siege-works in the face of the large number of guns which they contained.”
    That commitment would not have been effective without Joan, who was regarded as a daughter of God—a girl blessed with a mystical gift