Jeanne d'Arc

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
a historical fiction about a time in Joan of Arc's life

Submitted: October 29, 2011

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Submitted: October 29, 2011

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Jeanne d’Arc

“...France, ruined by a woman, would be restored by a maid from the borders of Lorraine”

Summer 1428

“The Burgundians are coming!” a man riding a black workhorse shouted as he flew through the streets.

...

Crowed around the back of the destroyed keep woman and children huddled together giving solace to the crying. Bringing the horses around to the posts, I felt a hand grab my shoulder. Tears filled her eyes as she gasped for air.

“Have you seen Mason?” she asked hoping that I would know.

“I have not, Madam,” I said looking at her with confusion. “I thought he was with you.”

“Joan, we got separated when everyone rushed up the path,” she wept as the look of hope thatshe held fell and was replaced with fear.

Turning from her, I untied one of the horses from the post and got on the dark chestnut. Turning him around I looked back as I called to Mason’s mother.

“Tell my Maman that I’m going back to the village.” Digging my heals into his side we where off.

Trying to catch up to me, she called, “but the soldiers.”

“He is my only friend,” I called back, the keep slowly dissolving into the far distance as I came closer to the village.

Fire consumed most of the thatch rooftops spreading across all of the houses. Sliding off the back of the horse, I ran down the dirt path calling out Mason’s name. Coming closer to the center squire, I heard his voice calling my name.

“Joan! Where are you?” he called, running just a little farther down I saw him. Dark brown hair matted on top of his head the maple walking staff he clutched onto bowed under his bulky weight.

“Mason, come towards my voice,” I called trying to get to him the skirts of my dress tripping me up.

“Joan, I’m in so much pain,” he said as I noticed the dried blood that covered the side of his face.

Grasping his arm his clouded blue eyes looked straight out in front of him as he fumbled to find my other hand. The sounds of the fire destroying the houses around us grew louder. The wind picking up slightly making the fire blaze even higher and quickly engulfed what at first the fire spared.

Out of the corner of my eye, a man on a black horse sat off in the distance drawing his bow ready to strike. Trying to pull Mason to the ground an arrow flew and brushed past my shoulder hitting Mason in the chest. Letting go of the staff he crumbled to the ground choking for air.

Sitting back up I crawled towards him my body shaking in fear. Mason's body quivered as he tried to grasp for breath sputtering blood as he coughed in the process.

“Joan... take me to my Maman,” he said using what little energy he had left to find me.

“I will,” I told him as I grasped his wondering hand. “Try to stay with me.”

Letting out another cough the pain from his face lightened and he gently smiled. Trying to taken in a deep breath he made a choking noise in his throat.

“I’m safe now Joan... God is here with me,” he said with a gargling rasp, with that he stopped breathing the tight grip that he had on my hand relaxed growing stiff and cold. His clouded blue eyes grew dark; reaching my hand out it shook as I gently closed his eyes and began to weep.

The hot tears burnt my face as they ran down. My vision blurred as I tried to focus on the stone church that stood in the distance. The stained glass window showed the flames off from inside making the picture of Michael glow. My chest heaved with pain as I lifted my head and cried to God, the saints, and angels of the heavens. Hoping that they heard my cry of despair I shook with anger. I stood up and ran towards the church clutching my cape to me so I would not trip over it. The closer I got to the church the more the tears ran down my checks; the taste of salt covered my tongue and senses as I crumbled less than twenty paces in front of the first step.

“Why!” I screamed. “What did he do wrong?”

Grey clouds rolled in with the fiercely growing wind and along with it, the smell of rain came. The once blue sky has turned black as night and thunder rolled in the distance. Looking up to the sky, I closed my eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” I whispered as I felt a warm light flood over me. Opening my eyes, the outlined figure of an angel flooded over me.

“Daughter of god go help the people of France they need you and so does the Dauphin. He needs your help to gain the throne go and save France.” the voice told me as it disappeared with the light leaving me cold as it started to rain.

At first it was gentle but as it continued it grew harder and felt like needles against what skin I had that was not covered. The fire inferno of reds and oranges now extinguished and the smell of ash and rain made me feel empty as I stood to leave. Looking one last time at Mason’s body a single tear escaped from me; walking to the horse that I left a little beyond the village I said my final goodbye to my home and my dear friend that lay on its now muddy street.

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