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EXCERPT

Chapter 47

SHOUTING AND THE SOUND OF CLANGING metal woke Jehanne from a deep sleep, but she could not move because Julien was lying on top of her, covering her mouth with his hand.

“Quiet, Jehanne,” Julien whispered in her ear. “Do not get up or utter a word. We are under attack. Take this,” he whispered as he placed a dagger in her right hand, “and use it if you need to. I am going to conceal you under the bedding, and you must not move.”

            Jehanne pulled her left hand up to cover her mouth and nose to create a space so she could breathe as Julien piled several blankets over her. He also bunched up some of the blankets on either side of her to camouflage the fact that there was a body under the mound. Then she heard Julien lean over and whisper to her again, “Remain in here, no matter what. Do not come out until we tell you ’tis safe.” She felt, rather than saw, Julien leave the meager protection of their tent.

            Outside, she could hear grunts and the sound of metal hitting metal, what she now knew it was the sound of sword clashing against sword. With her heart racing so loudly she feared it would betray her presence, she silently called upon Saint Michael for protection, not only for herself but for her little army of valiant soldiers. Particularly Katelyn. She had come so far after so much tribulation, and she knew she could not have done it without Katelyn’s assistance. Surely, the Archangel would not allow them to be harmed this close to their destination.

            After her prayer, she turned her attention to the sounds of the battle outside the tent. She realized she was holding her breath until she could distinguish Katelyn’s voice in the fracas.

            “Jean,” she heard Katelyn scream, “behind you!”

            Katelyn was alive. Jehanne released her breath and then had to pant to fill her starving lungs with oxygen. It was torture to remain here and not come to the aid of her companions, but she was not foolish enough to think she could really be of any assistance. She was not versed in sword fighting, and she would just become a distraction for her protectors. Even though she would have willingly sacrificed her life to save one of her friends, she also knew she did not have that choice. She had been chosen for a higher purpose, and regardless of her personal feelings, she could not fail God. She had to do everything in her power to fulfill her destiny. When she had done what she was sent to do, God could do with her as He wished. As long as she could assist the Dauphin in his quest to be crowned in Reims, that was all she hoped to achieve. Nothing else mattered.

            As a way to cope with the sacrifices being made by her friends to protect her at all costs, Jehanne blocked out the reality of the battle from her senses. She did not listen to Colet de Vienne cursing. She did not hear the recognizable sound of metal on metal changing to a less-recognizable tone when metal hit bone. She did not feel Olg’s great bulk trampling along every edge of the tarp in an attempt to prevent the enemy from diving into the heart of her hiding place. She did not hear the squires Jean or Julien shouting out that the horses had to be protected at all cost, or the sound of branches breaking and the pounding of horses’ hooves. She did not see the sunlight that filtered through the tarp and her wool coverings blocked as Olg’s ever-present hulk dashed in and out of the rays. She did not pick out the sounds of Bertrand or Jean de Metz crashing through the brush in pursuit of their assailants, or the howling of unknown voices, in pain and shock. She did not see Katelyn duck her head into the tent to make certain Jehanne was still there and still safe. She did not even hear Katelyn scream, or feel the thud of a body hitting the ground just a hand span from her feet. She did not smell the coppery odor of blood seeping into the ground all around her.

            No, instead, Jehanne focused on her voices. Her voices had guided her and protected her thus far, and she heard them now telling her to have faith and be still. She obeyed the voices. She had faith and was still, but she also found her mind reviewing her short life.

            From the time she was a little girl, Jehanne had never aspired to anything greater than being a wife and mother, like her own beloved mother. She had always fully expected to follow in her mother’s footsteps, and consequently, she had carefully learned the skills necessary to be a productive and frugal homemaker. But even at that young age, there was something that was more important to her than thoughts of motherhood. It was her devotion to God. And then the voices had come, and she had cast off all thoughts of her future. Her only motivation was to obey her voices. Did it mean she no longer wanted to be a wife and mother? No. In fact, when Katelyn had spoken of the man she loved, Jehanne had felt a twinge of envy. But she knew that until her mission was complete, she had to remain virginal and pure. This is what God expected of her, and she had submitted her own desires to God’s will. Her future was in God’s hands, and come what may, she would follow the path she had been given.

            At that moment, she knew she would survive this ordeal, and others to come. In her mind’s eye, she even saw crowds hailing the new King Charles VII in a magnificent edifice she knew must be Notre-Dame de Reims. She saw herself kneeling at his side. However, as she sought to see beyond that glorious vision, as she struggled to envision babes in her arms, or a husband at her side, she saw only dark prison walls closing in upon her. She heard a harsh, unpleasant voice ordering her over and over and over again to answer his questions, and she felt the heartache of humiliation and scorn, which threatened to eat her from the inside out.

            And then, she smelled smoke.