No era como era antes, the plain was now fields and the path a road, black and smooth which made the walking easy just like the dying was then.
She had been in the saddle since 1 AM the previous night, but she always looked the same. She was our Angel of Light and wherever she shone the Light of her gave all France courage.
The old women were there, LaHire, Poton, the Bastard, army which came with her, the army of Orleans, the army of Meung, we were all there and marching forward as we had not marched, since Agincourt, when we were not yet natives of this world or any other.
The English had presented themselves on the 17th, but it was late in the day and the Maid refuse their offer of sending out knight against knight to settle the battle. It was a far cry different from the day she warned King Henry's own to give up the keys to France and they had threatened her if she did not return to minding her cows, they would burn this witch at the stake.
It was raining when we left the camp so many miles before and another age before. In that night, we were the children of Crécy, Poitiers and Agincourt in that swaddling shroud of the night, but in dawn we were resurrected by the Maid in a Light transfigured upon the brier plain.
For 100 years we had war with England and for 100 years we had died in more numbers than I could then count in 100,000 French dead. We bled, we fought, we died, we retreated, we hid, we marched, we bled, we fought and we died and more and more of France became English and King Henry's bands.
The Maid took Meung as Talbot and Fastolfe fell back toward Paris. She had smashed those English Lords who owned our land and fathered our new breed of bastard French at Orleans, and now Paris was where these English would return as the land was becoming ours again.
The Angles plunged into that brier of plain with LaHire's cavalry following, feeling for them in that vast waste. They had been at it since 8 the previous night, and after the Maid's report to them of taking their prizes, they thought the French would enjoy the prize and not march as siege was the machine their defeated hearts always fell back on.
She was in back with LaHire in the front when they came to Patay. The advance had put up a stag and it ran into the English lines hidden there, and the English so imprisoned in their walls with moulded bread and rancid meat saw the stag as their salvation, but their cry only betrayed the grave they had dug.
They were confident yet, and did not think we would follow, but the Maid told us to ride hard to those plains of La Beuace.
"Trouvé", was what the advance told LaHire simply as he sent word back to the Maid that the English had been found.
By the time orders came to attack, the English were now aware of their battle come to them, but it was too late as the archers were in position where we would pass, but their stakes were not their curtain of spikes protecting them and when LaHire smashed into that flank, it was like a mastiff grabbing a boar, and in savage shudder the big dog of satan shook that animal which had rooted all of France, and in minutes the pig lay dead.
Falstofe arranged the majority of his forces on a ridge before the old Roman road, but as LaHire and the main battle van came upon the scene, Falstofe was falling back to the Angles advance guard, which mistakenly thought he was in full retreat and began retreating. The old general cursing it all moved on with them, as the French now poured death upon England.
The English die well. It is what they always have done. In three hours the bugle sounded an end, and there laid before us were the piles of the best the Angles had, all dead, all 4000 of them they said. More English and more dead than I had ever seen. All dead and dying, and there were Talbot and Scales now in the Maid's protection as Falstofe escaped in disgrace.
Nom de Dieu, it was beautiful seeing France bathed in that cleansing English blood, crimson upon our soils with flies in symphony adding a melody of chorus.
Five dead French and thousands of dead English.
"Bien qu'ils ont accroché vers les nuages, nous obtiendrions eux." That is what she said and this Angel of Light was right. We would get these English and France would not see King Henry's rule for a 1000 years as that iron fist was broken.
We would have marched on Jerusalem, but treachery from satan and France took this Angel soon enough and her dwarf, along with her guard. Sold to the collaborators and French priests, they would burn her at the stake and we would as she said continue our war.
She and her voices though gave us Patay. She gave us France. There was whispered to me by an unknown wind that the our Maid gave the world a people of us I could not understand, la Nouvelle-Orléans
I would to be there in the old days, the way it looked then.
Ce n'est pas ce que je retiens et ce n'est pas ce que c'était. Je voudrais qu'il s'agissait du brier et la Femme de chambre étaient nous commandant. Je veux qu'il s'agissait de Patay.
I would have given all France had died, if she had just lived. She lives now, but in different form.
I want that it was Patay.
agtG 257
