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Through the silent streets of Paris a slender line of steel moved slowly the thread of which Master François Villon was the needle pricked to sew the realm of France together. The Grand Constable rode at the head with the Lords of Lau, of Riviere, and of Nantoillet, and somewhere at the tail rode the five released rascals and babbled beneath their breaths as they rode.
Nantoillet answered cordially: "God knows where he came from and God knows where he will go to, but I would ride with him to the world's end." "My father," said Poncet de Riviere, "told me often of the Maid of Orleans and her power with bearded men. He must be of her kindred, for he wins me against my will."
"If we can lure the Burgundians to that hollow, the day is ours. The sloping ground above it will mask a thousand men." Poncet de Riviere leaned forward questioningly. "Are you sure of the lay of the land?" Villon answered positively: "Sure. I played truant there when I was no higher than your sword belt." Nantoillet spoke as a man who weighs his words: "The scheme seems feasible, sire."
The dream is over. But you bade me serve France, and I ride and fight for you to-night." While he spoke the Lords of Lau, of Eiviere and of Nantoillet in panoply of war came from the palace with their immediate followers. The garden began to fill with the picked men of the enterprise hurrying on the summons of the warning bell to follow their leader on his sortie.
On the table by which the king and Villon were seated lay a large chart of the country in the immediate neighbourhood of Paris, and in front of the table stood three of the king's most trusty commanders, the Lord du Lau, the Lord Poncet de Riviere and the Lord of Nantoillet.
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