Chapter 44

Jargeau was a major stronghold, practically a small city in its own right.

A few years earlier, the English had occupied the town and turned it into a forward base for their invasion of France.

Its defenses were formidable. Several towers and fortified gates stood behind the surrounding walls. Directly beneath the walls ran a moat, dug into the earth and filled with water to keep intruders at bay. Troops armed with gunpowder weapons had also established defensive positions.

And because Jargeau was important enough to warrant a sizable garrison, the English occupation forces had spilled beyond the walls into the surrounding outskirts. Most of the troops stationed there were responsible for transporting supplies.

“Let those French bastards come. They’ll smash themselves to pieces on our stakes.”

“Knights? We’ll roast them in the mud. We crushed them before, and we’ll crush them again.”

“You heard the news, right? They say if you hunt down the witch or the wizard, the reward’s enough to set yourself up with a shop in town. Wonder who the lucky bastard’s going to be.”

The strength of cavalry lay in the charge. But a fortress surrounded by solid walls rendered that advantage useless.

During a siege, there was little cavalry could do beyond patrolling the surrounding area or intercepting reinforcements headed for the fortress.

“Honestly, I bet we’d beat them cavalry against cavalry too. They were the ones who attacked first during the Rouvray supply convoy, but our cavalry still smashed them and their artillery to pieces. Then they ran off like frightened rabbits. Everyone says all we ever saw were their stinking backsides.”

The English soldiers trusted the experience they had accumulated across countless battlefields almost like an article of faith. In their eyes, France was already a nation accustomed to defeat, and the much-rumored witch and wizard were nothing more than creatures to be purified by holy fire.

The victory at Orléans had been a fluke. The French had won once and let it go to their heads. To the English, it was simply laughable.

***

“But is attacking Jargeau really our best move?”

“Jargeau lies to the east, while Meung and Beaugency lie to the south. If we attack south first, the forces from those two strongholds will be able to converge. We should strike Jargeau first and defeat their forces separately.”

“I see.”

“We will delay our decision no longer. Let us advance.”

“I agree. We should attack.”

The French commanders made their decision.

They would not, however, advance with the entire army. The theater of war was too broad for that. Concentrating every soldier in one place would mean abandoning defensive lines and key positions, foolishly exposing their vulnerabilities to the enemy. There was also no telling when the enemy might launch a counterattack elsewhere.

Orléans therefore organized one-third of its total forces into an assault force for the attack on Jargeau. A large number of elite troops were included.

It was a rational decision that also took the available “combat space” into account. There was a limit to the geographical area in which any given unit could effectively bring its fighting strength to bear. Ignore that limitation, and friendly troops would only become tangled with one another and suffer unnecessary losses.

Maxime distributed plate armor to the commanders leading the army, then used the remaining horse armor and plate armor to form a thirty-man cavalry unit.

“I will temporarily place my cavalry under La Pucelle’s command.”

In front of the assembled commanders, Maxime formally handed Jeanne d’Arc command of his cavalry. Jeanne readily accepted with a nod.

None of the other commanders objected to the transfer of troops. The king had granted Maxime that authority in the first place. Besides, when it came to commanding troops on the battlefield, they trusted the Saintess more than the Saint.

“Move it, move it!”

“I can see your hands! Keep those hands moving!”

As the time for departure approached, the camp bustled with activity. Soldiers gathered their weapons and fitted bits into their horses’ mouths.

Amid the commotion, Jeanne stopped for a moment.

…I can’t get him out of my mind.

At the last moment before departure, she deliberately made time to find Maxime. It was an inconvenience, but she did not hesitate in the slightest.

Maxime was at the powder magazine, inspecting supplies while jotting something down. When Jeanne came running up, he set down the parchment.

“I’ll be back.”

“I’m counting on you. Be careful.”

Maxime gave her an awkward smile tinged with concern.

“…Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going there to die.”

Maxime was not joining the expedition this time.

Sending the man in charge of the technical unit onto the battlefield for every battle would be a waste of manpower.

The war between England and France was clearly going to be a long one. If he ran forward thinking only about what lay immediately ahead, he was bound to stumble. He had to prepare for the future and keep moving at a steady pace, as if running a marathon.

“I know. My head knows that, but I can never quite shake this feeling. Come back safe.”

Maxime curled his hand into a fist and gently tapped the armor Jeanne was wearing.

With that, the two parted ways. On her way back, Coat Blanche, who had been secretly hiding nearby and watching them, approached Jeanne.

“At this rate, the whole town is going to know.”

“……”

“Maxime’s part of the problem too. He acts like there’s nothing going on, but he definitely treats you differently, you know? He probably thinks he’s not showing it… but no matter how good an actor he is, he can’t fool someone who’s been around him for years.”

“…What do you mean?”

Coat gave her a mischievous grin.

“You seriously don’t know? Maxime’s turned down every romance and marriage proposal that’s ever come his way. The way I see it… maybe he’s been waiting for someone to grow up?”

Coat genuinely believed that Maxime cared about Jeanne. But assuming that he was thinking as far ahead as marriage was reading far too much into it. In truth, Coat had only said it to tease her.

Wonder if she’ll blush?

But Jeanne’s reaction was nothing like what he had expected.

“…Why aren’t you saying anything?”

She was usually quick to read her surroundings, but when it came to matters involving herself, emotion clouded her judgment.

Maxime… might be interested in me?

Her thoughts began racing in strange directions.

Jeanne herself had felt that she and Maxime had grown much closer since leaving Domrémy.

Still, she had never had the courage to take the thought beyond idle fantasy. But now that someone else had said it aloud, a flicker of desire began to take root.

Even for a virtuous Saintess, a longing built up over many years could not easily be satisfied.

…Then maybe I can get a little closer to him.

The seed had already been planted.

***

“Woof!”

“You’re back?”

Walter, who had followed the marching army, returned. Once he realized Maxime was not with them, he had turned back.

Walter lay down at Maxime’s feet. Maxime showed Coat the neatly organized parchment and called out.

“All right, everyone, gather around. We’re going to completely overhaul this disaster of a storeroom.”

Explosives management in the fifteenth century was a complete mess. Explosions occurred frequently, and a single tiny spark could blow apart fortifications along with nearby warehouses. There was a reason gunpowder was stored on the outskirts, far from populated areas.

Proper storage is just as important as knowing how to make it. Even if there isn’t an accident, poor storage can seriously degrade its performance.

When humidity rose, gunpowder absorbed moisture and clumped together. Its effectiveness also dropped considerably.

Temperature was just as important as humidity. Direct exposure to sunlight or heat sources such as braziers could weaken the gunpowder as the saltpeter within it deteriorated.

Gunpowder was not something to be taken lightly.

“There are a lot of precautions we need to follow. First, we’ll wear cotton gloves to protect against mysterious sparks. Change into clothing that produces as little friction as possible too.”

Modern gunpowder was coated with graphite to prevent ignition from static electricity, but in the Middle Ages, the very concept of electricity did not exist. Handle it with dry hands, and a static spark could easily set it off.

“Only use enclosed lanterns. And when moving supplies, don’t get greedy. Move only small amounts at a time. Try to carry too much at once, and you could set off everything around you.”

“Yes, sir!”

“To borrow Vice Commander Coat’s favorite saying, consider yourselves dead for the day. Better to lose one day of your lives to caution than actually die because you got careless.”

“…Gulp.”

Maxime chose safety over efficiency. He spared no manpower when it came to the complicated procedures required to keep everyone safe.

Having recently been granted full authority over everything related to black powder in Tours, Maxime exercised that authority without hesitation.

“You there, stop. The lid is open. Even when transporting supplies, the containers must remain sealed. Keep them tightly closed at all times, and if you see anything exposed, seal it immediately so none of the contents can spill out.”

“I’ll fix it right away!”

“This time, it’s only a warning. If I catch you doing it again, you’re off this assignment and getting sent to manual labor.”

“I-I’ll make sure it never happens again!”

The workers had been thoroughly briefed beforehand. Safety procedures were repeatedly drilled into them, and duties were assigned according to the rules. The role of the supervisors was equally important. Apprentices with no knowledge of gunpowder had been excluded from the outset, but Maxime’s standards were so strict that some workers still failed to meet them during the job and were dismissed from the task.

“We’ve moved all the gunpowder.”

“Good. Sweep the floor just to be safe, then let’s renovate the storeroom.”

A powder magazine needed to be built with fire-resistant materials. The existing storeroom was already fire-resistant, but there were still many areas that needed improvement.

They covered the brick walls with a thick layer of earth. This would reduce damage in the event of an explosion while also reinforcing the structure.

“We need ventilation too. Let’s cut vents into the storeroom facing the direction the wind usually blows from. And keep the center of the room completely clear.”

“Making the openings won’t be difficult.”

“Take it apart carefully without using hammers. We cleared everything out, but metal tools could still cause a spark if there’s anything left behind.”

“Damn it…”

They also switched to ceramic containers for storing the gunpowder to ensure a reliable seal. The tools used to scoop the powder were replaced as well. Metal tools could strike against something and create sparks, potentially causing an explosion. For that reason, they made dedicated wooden scoops specifically for handling gunpowder.

We should cover the ceiling with straw and earth too, to create an insulating layer.

One worker who was caught violating Maxime’s standards and removed from the job that day quietly swallowed his tears beneath the Saint’s icy glare.

***

Jeanne d’Arc willingly took the lead during the march as well.

Maintaining formation was crucial while on the move. Cavalry were positioned at the front and rear so they could respond quickly in an emergency. Mounted patrols also guarded the flanks against surprise attacks.

Archers were stationed with the vanguard or along the flanks so they could immediately fire on any enemy they encountered and buy time. While they disrupted the enemy, the infantry and knights would straighten their lines and transition into battle formation.

“Jeanne, I’m still not used to your new armor. Would you mind if I kept a little distance from you? My eyes keep drifting toward it, and I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on shooting.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

The pavise soldiers who protected the crossbowmen normally transported their shields separately during marches because they were too heavy to carry. The Nest Keepers of Domrémy were an exception, carrying their shields on their backs even while marching.

There was good reason to keep the shields close to the crossbowmen. There had been cases where crossbowmen, forced into a rapid march, entered battle after leaving their shields behind on the wagons and suffered heavy losses to English longbowmen. The Nest Keepers completely compensated for that weakness.

“You there, left column! Watch your spacing!”

“Montjoie Saint Denis!”

The center column formed the heart of the marching formation. The bulk of the infantry was positioned here. With the largest concentration of troops, this section was especially prone to becoming stretched out. Maintaining proper spacing was therefore particularly important. Commanders used shouted calls to keep a consistent distance between the units ahead and behind.

“Hey, rookie. Your longsword or my halberd….which one looks cooler?”

“…The halberd does.”

“Kid, you’ve got a good eye.”

Finally, the rear column was responsible for guarding the rear and escorting the supply train.

“We’ve reached our destination! Halt!”

““Halt!””

They had arrived near Jargeau. The French commanders planned to stop for the time being, reorganize their formation, and establish camp first.

The battle came without warning.

“Godon! Godon is here!”

“It’s an English surprise attack!”

The English launched a surprise attack on the French forces as they were setting up camp on the outskirts.