The Crown of the Hundred Years' War

Chapter 35 Reinforcements

Although forced back by the French army from the vicinity of the camp, the British reinforcements successfully entered the city—they circled around, found a shallow spot to cross the Loire River, and then crossed the stone bridge, which was still controlled by the garrison, from the north bank into Jarjos.

The British troops in the city, who had just emerged from the shadow of their failed attempt to relieve the siege, cheered when they saw reinforcements arrive.

Henry, the garrison commander of Jarrod, also came down to greet them. Upon seeing the newcomer, he paused, then hurriedly bowed: "Lord Earl of Suffolk! Why are you leading the troops yourself?"

Suffolk dismounted and removed his helmet: "What, Sir Henry, you don't welcome me? I've brought five hundred warriors with me."

Henry rubbed his nose. "Welcome, of course you're welcome. But sir, you are the commander-in-chief of the siege of Orléans. The French army didn't even touch the walls during their several attacks. How could we dare trouble you to come to the rescue personally?"

Suffolk and the men behind him exchanged glances, then put his arm around Henry's shoulder and lowered his voice: "Orléans can't be held. The Duke has ordered me to hold Jarrod for now. We'll figure out a way to besiege it again once reinforcements arrive from the homeland."

Henry's expression changed slightly, but seeing that Suffolk didn't seem to be joking, he could only nod and force a smile: "Your Excellency, would you like to inspect the city's defenses? I'll show you the way."

Suffolk glanced at him, then led a few men to follow Henry up the city wall.

Jarrod's walls weren't high, and they'd been besieged by the English a few months earlier. But Henry had repaired them quite thoroughly—the gaps had been filled with bricks and stones, a deep moat surrounded the city, and a bridgehead had been added to the stone bridge that led directly to the north bank. Suffolk walked around the top of the wall and saw bundles of arrows and piles of stones behind the crenellations. He reached out and touched a bullet hole; the marks were shallow and sparse.

"You mean those Frenchmen didn't dare to launch a proper attack on the city all winter?" he asked.

Henry, having already processed the news, added from the side, "Those allied forces of the great nobles are the most cowardly and incompetent. They've been besieging the city for months, and apart from occasionally firing a few cannon shots, they haven't even set up any siege ladders."

Suffolk nodded: "Three hundred militiamen will bring cannons from the north bank tonight. We can definitely hold out until reinforcements arrive from the homeland."

At that moment, a soldier ran up the city wall: "My lords, the French army has sent a messenger."

Everyone looked at Suffolk. Suffolk nodded and told Henry to hoist the man up.

The messenger was a young, pale-faced monk holding a letter, which he said was from a young woman from Orleans to the English commander in the city. Suffolk took the letter, but didn't open it, simply asking, "Does she want us to surrender?"

The messenger nodded.

Suffolk remained silent for a moment. Henry was already prepared to have the monk stripped naked and thrown back, but Suffolk didn't get angry. He simply waved his hand, signaling the messenger to return the way he came. Henry was somewhat surprised, but he still obeyed and sent the messenger away. Only after the messenger had gone some distance did he approach and ask, "Lord Suffolk, who exactly is this girl from Orleans? I heard the messenger say she's some kind of witch, is that true?"

Suffolk glanced at him. "What witch? It's just a village woman the French hired to create some illusions." He paused, gazing at the French army camp faintly visible in the distance below the city. "But be careful of her and that big flag. You saw it yesterday; the French believe in this stuff. She can drive them crazy just by waving the flag."

Henry nodded as if he understood, and seeing Suffolk's low spirits, he tactfully withdrew.

The supply train entered the city smoothly during the night. However, the French did not give the British much time to set up their cannons. Early the next morning, the artillery deployed by the French overnight roared in from both the opposite bank of the river and the outskirts of the city.

Suffolk climbed the city wall and watched as cannonballs pounded against it, sending shards of stone flying and dust billowing. He frowned and ordered Henry to quickly set up the cannons and begin the counterattack.

Before sunrise, Henry finally got the slingshots in place, and the cannons began to fire. But Suffolk found something amiss—the heavy artillery brought by the supply convoy the previous night was indeed firing, but the battlefield hadn't become any noisier. How many cannons had the French actually deployed?

Ignoring Henry's objections, he climbed the turret and risked sticking his head out to look at the French positions. On the north bank of the river, as far as the eye could see, the French had set up more than a dozen cannons. Shells rained down on him as if they were free. He even recognized a few of them—the main guns he had personally arranged to be taken from the turrets of Rouen and installed on the Château de Tourelles; they were all cast from single pieces of bronze, gleaming green in the sunlight.

Suffolk clenched his fist and slammed it against the city wall. The British's best cannon was now pointed directly at their own city wall!

But even after Henry pulled him off the turret and he hid behind the rammed earth slope, he couldn't utter a single word.

The walls of Jarrod trembled all morning, but thanks to the rammed earth slopes that Henry had dug earlier, which supported the stone walls, no section collapsed. The French army was clearly dissatisfied with this result, so they increased the pressure.

In the afternoon, a massive catapult was dragged onto the battlefield by four oxen. Its cast-iron barrel was thick enough to fit a baby, and a large group of shouting soldiers followed behind. The British soldiers on the city walls watched as the behemoth was slowly pulled to its position and aimed at the wall. When the French were about to fire, even the most daring British soldiers fled down from the turret.

Suffolk swallowed hard, his heart sinking.

The cannon fired only three times throughout the entire afternoon.

The first time, the entire city wall trembled. The second time, rubble flew, revealing the rammed earth beneath. The third time, the tallest tower atop the city wall collapsed with a deafening roar, bricks and stones tumbling into the moat, dust billowing up and obscuring half of the wall.

Suffolk stood motionless in the smoke and dust.

Henry, impatient for the order, hastily ordered his soldiers to use pre-prepared sandbags to plug the breach. Just as he had assembled his cavalry and was about to ask for permission to launch a counterattack, Suffolk approached: "Henry, send a messenger to the French! Fifteen days—give us fifteen days, and we'll surrender!"

Henry stared in disbelief, and the soldiers around him looked at Suffolk in confusion. Suffolk explained somewhat impatiently, "Reinforcements from home will arrive in fifteen days. The French have too many artillery pieces; we can't hold out! We have no choice but to feign surrender and buy some time."

Henry then realized what was happening and hurriedly raised a white flag, sending a priest from the army to deliver the message.

Before long, the priest returned. Seeing that he hadn't been insulted, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Suffolk, noticing his empty hands, frowned and asked, "The French didn't even send a letter? What did they say?"

The priest hesitated for a moment: "I don't know if it was the French commander... A young girl sent me back. She just told me to deliver a message—'If you don't have fifteen days, either surrender immediately, or continue the siege.'"

Suffolk slumped to the ground. The crowd exchanged glances, none daring to help him up.

Outside the city, the French heavy artillery roared again.

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The entire beginning of June was spent in court in disputes, with the question of whether to reclaim lost territory or advance on Reims, far away in Champagne, nearly tearing the royal council in two.

Ultimately, it was my teacher and his superior, His Excellency Chartres, who mediated in his capacity as Archbishop of Reims, and the two sides finally reached an agreement—at least to reclaim the crossings along the Loire River.

Considering the strong resistance of the British troops in the direction of Meun, Marshal Arthur transferred some of the royal cavalry to supplement Joan of Arc, allowing her to go to Jarrod in the east with the Duke of Alençon and General La Hire to cooperate with the noble coalition. Lord Dunois led the main force north to recapture Jeanville and block the road south from Paris once again. The Marshal himself remained in the west to confront Talbot.

The key to this battle was to recapture the various crossing points for the army's northward advance, hence His Majesty called it the Battle of the Recapture of the Royal Valley.

The entire court moved to Blois, closer to the front lines, where I met dozens of merchant houses that had come from all over hoping to join the Royal Merchant Guild, which His Majesty planned to take on the role of transport and logistics.

But a few days later we received an unbelievable message from Lord Dinois: the British army was assembling in Normandy on a large scale, probably numbering four or five thousand.

Bedford seemed unaffected by the defeat at Orleans, instead plotting a larger counterattack. This caused great anxiety throughout the court, but His Majesty remained unperturbed, continuing his work with renewed vigor. He frequently visited the docks to meet openly with merchants, and all who saw him were impressed by his regal bearing, which restored their morale from its initial hesitation.

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Charles VII [France] Jean-Jacques de Uyssen