They were now in a country holding for the Dauphin, and naturally it would be supposed that it was friendly territory; this, however, was not the case. Indeed, it was after the passage of the Loire that they were exposed to the greatest danger. Far and wide the tidings had flown that a girl was coming toward the King with wonderful proffers of aid from Heaven and the Holy Saints. There were people about the King to whom such news was not welcome. Here also in the King's country were freebooters who, when they pillaged travellers, asked not whether they were Armagnacs or Burgundians, and such men would not scruple to waylay the girl at a word from those about the King. So it happened that certain men-at-arms of the French party lay in ambush awaiting the appearance of Jeanne's little company to surprise them. It was the intention to capture the maiden, cast her into a pit, and keep her there under a great stone trap door, in the hope that the King who had sent for her would give a large sum for her rescue. But of all this neither Jeanne nor her escort knew until long afterward. Being in the Dauphin's territory Jeanne rode fearlessly in front of the little company while the knights, who lacked her confidence, followed close behind, keeping a keen watch the while, for they were passing through a deep wood, and both Bertrand and De Metz were aware of the character of the miscreants who infested it. Suddenly, from out of the inner wood, there burst a party of men who with wild yells dashed forward and surrounded them. There was a clash of steel as the knights met the onset, when high above the noise of swords sounded Jeanne's voice, clear and bell-like: "Hold! Let not French blood be spilled by Frenchmen while the English wait us at Orléans. Forbear, friends! 'Tis not God's will that you should slay each other." Involuntarily the men of both parties stayed their uplifted hands. The leader of the attacking band bent a searching, curious glance upon the maiden, which she met calmly and tranquilly. There was something winning and persuasive and convincing in her manner; something so pure and unearthly in her look that presently the man's eyes dropped, and he hastily crossed himself. "Pass on," he said, and at a sign his fellows fell back, and the seven rode on in safety. Sire Bertrand leaned over to Jean de Metz and spoke in an awed tone: "Saw you that, Jean? Those rascals could do naught after she cried out. Truly the child is sent from God." "She is in very truth, Bertrand, but it needed not this to prove it. Witness how we have come these many leagues though threatened with dire perils without hap of any kind. 'Tis nothing short of miraculous." But Jeanne heard them wondering, and smiled at them. "Marvel not," she said. "God clears the way for me. I was born for this." And so they came to the green slopes of Fierbois, from which place they would proceed to Chinon, where the King lay. CHAPTER XVI JEANNE COMES TO HER KING