Bertrand was known for the kinsman of De Baudricourt and all the
countryside knew well the tale, how that Jeanne d'Arc had gone to
him in the springtide of the year, demanding an escort to the
Dauphin King of France, for whom she had a message from the King of
Heaven, and whom she was to set upon his throne.

"When she came home again, having accomplished nothing," spoke the
innkeeper, leaning his hands upon the table and greatly enjoying
the sound of his own voice, "all the village made great mock of
her! They called her the King's Marshal, the Little Queen, Jeanne
the Prophetess, and I know not what beside. Her father was right
wroth with her. Long ago he had a dream about her, which troubled
him somewhat, as he seemed to see his daughter in the midst of
fighting men, leading them on to battle."

"Did he dream that? Surely that is something strange for the vision
of a village prud'homme anent his little daughter."

"Ay truly, though at the time he thought little of it, but when all
this came to pass he recalled it again; and he smote Jeanne upon
the ear with his open hand, and bid her return to her needle and
her household tasks, and think no more of matters too great for
her. Moreover, he declared that if ever she were to disgrace
herself by mingling with men-at-arms, he would call upon her
brothers to drown her, and if they disobeyed him, he would take and
do it with his own hands!"

"A Spartan father, truly!" murmured Bertrand.