Epitaph for Three Women (28 page)

And here was Jeannette waiting for the call from Durand Laxart.

The English had captured the fort of Les Tourelles and the Earl of Salisbury, who was recognised to be one of the greatest soldiers in Europe, was in charge of operations.

And still there was no summons from Durand.

Then they heard that the Earl of Salisbury had been killed rather mysteriously, through a cannon ball as he looked from Les Tourelles on Orléans, and it seemed that the tower from which it had come had been empty. Someone had seen a young child calmly walking away from the cannon … but that was all and it was impossible for a child to have fired it.

It was the first of the mystic happenings.

Rumours came to Domrémy every day. English cannons had been fired into the city. One ball hit a table where a family was at a meal. It bounced off the table and none was hurt. Another fell in a square where a crowd was gathered and once again no one was hurt.

‘The hand of God is in this,’ said the people.

Jeannette was certain of this. She was in a fever of impatience. Then the summons came from Durand. His wife Jeanne was in labour. Jeannette must come to help them at once. So she left for Petit-Burey.

It was only five miles away and she could walk that easily, so she set out at once and her feelings as she passed through the village were a mingling of sadness and exultation.

She saw Mengette who ran out to embrace her.

‘You’ll soon be back,’ said Mengette.

Jeannette did not answer. She knew that she would never come back.

‘I’ll call Hauviette,’ said Mengette. ‘You will want to say good-bye to her.’

‘No, no,’ cried Jeannette. ‘Not Hauviette…’

That she could not bear. The young girl was very dear to her; if she saw her she might weep; she might even cry out that this was their last farewell.

She must not see Hauviette.

She turned to take one last look at Domrémy before she went on to Petit-Burey.

In the garrison at Vaucouleurs there was great consternation about the possible fate of Orléans.

Robert de Baudricourt was seated at a table drinking wine with one of the commanders in the garrison and naturally the conversation was of Orléans.

‘If the city falls that will be an end to French hopes,’ said the commander Bertrand de Poulengy.

‘Well, a big blow, I admit.’

‘You know, Captain, that Orléans is the key to the Loire. It’s what Paris and Rouen are to the Seine.’

‘The English know that. It is why they are determined to take it.’

‘And we should show an equal determination to hold it.’

Baudricourt looked at his companion and raised his shoulders.

‘Our Dauphin is hardly the man to lead his country to victory.’

The two men fell silent as they went on sipping their wine.

‘Strange things have been happening, Captain.’

‘Oh you mean the death of Salisbury. A blessing for us. That man would have been inside Orléans in a week or two.’

‘He died by that cannon ball. They say it took off half his face. He died in agony two hours later.’

‘Well?’

‘Is it not strange? He died from a cannon that seemed to have been fired from nowhere.’

‘So they tell us.’

‘And there were the English cannon balls that alighted on people and failed to harm them.’

‘H’m,’ murmured Baudricourt.

‘You are sceptical, Captain.’

‘In a way, yes. If you ask me, Do I believe that God or one of His saints fired the cannon that killed Salisbury, the answer is no. Even if you ask me if He put the idea to fire it into the head of a small child, it is still no. But if you ask me whether it is good for people to believe this was so, I will say Yes! Yes! Yes! I tell you this, Poulengy: the people of France are in desperate straits and if they can believe that a helping hand is coming from Heaven it is just possible that they will pull themselves out of the mire into which they have sunk through their own lethargy, their mad King, their scheming Queen and their internal feuds.’

‘Captain, do you remember some months ago a girl came here?’

‘You mean mad Jeannette. Oh, I remember her all right. A pleasant looking creature. Dark hair springing from a high forehead and the most earnest eyes I ever saw in my life. I thought she wanted to be a camp follower at first.’

‘Don’t speak of her in that tone, Captain, I beg of you.’

‘Why? What’s come over you, Poulengy?’

‘I was there in the hall when she came. I heard what she said. I watched her. Do you know, I have often thought of her since.’

‘Well, she’s a tasty little piece, I grant you.’

‘No, no. Do not speak thus. It could bring bad luck. I believed her, Captain. When she said that Messire had sent her and you asked who Messire was she answered that Messire was God. I believed her, Captain. I believe her still.’

‘By all the saints, you amaze me, Poulengy.’

‘There have been these strange happenings in Orléans. There is talk about the girl. They say she is going to crown the Dauphin King and drive the English out of France.’

‘Was that not what she told us?’

‘I believe it to be true.’

Captain de Baudricourt was silent. He poured more wine into his companion’s glass and as he did so they were joined by another of the commanders. This was Jean de Novelempont, who came from Metz and was always known as Jean de Metz. Baudricourt poured him a goblet of wine.

‘Thanks, that’s good,’ said Jean de Metz. ‘You look solemn. Is the news bad?’

‘As bad as it can be without complete disaster,’ said Baudricourt. ‘We were talking about God.’

Jean de Metz looked from one to the other in amazement and Bertrand de Poulengy said: ‘We spoke of Jeannette of Arc. She came here once to see the Captain. He sent her back with orders that she should be returned to her father and soundly beaten for her temerity.’

‘Poulengy believes she was indeed a messenger of God,’ explained Baudricourt.

Jean de Metz looked at the Captain steadily. ‘So do I,’ he said.

Baudricourt leaned back as though to get a better look at them. He was silent for a moment. ‘There was something about the girl,’ he admitted thoughtfully.

Poulengy leaned forward. ‘If she were to come again, Captain, would you listen to her? Would you treat her with respect?’

Baudricourt laughed. ‘Do you know, with so many men in whose wisdom I have some confidence believing in her, perhaps I should. Yes, if she came again, I would see the wench. I would listen to her. I would do what I could to help her.’

There was silence at the table as they went on drinking their wine.

It was January when Jeannette with Durand set out once more for Vaucouleurs. Her cousin’s baby had been safely delivered and because Durand took Jeannette very seriously, so did his wife.

As they set out from Petit-Burey Jeannette and Durand looked an insignificant pair and none would have guessed Jeannette’s great mission. Her smock and thick red skirt were covered by a shepherd’s cloak to shut out the bitter winds and these were the only clothes she possessed, but she was completely unconcerned about her appearance. She knew that this time she would succeed because the voices had told her she would.

Durand had arranged for them to stay for a while at the house of a wheelwright friend. Henri Royer and his wife Catherine immediately fell under Jeannette’s spell. Indeed she had changed from the girl she had been on her first visit to Vaucouleurs. The radiance of her face and the shining purpose in her eyes inspired new confidence in those about her. They were beginning to believe that she had truly been endowed with special powers from Heaven.

The day after their arrival Jeannette with Durand beside her presented herself at the castle.

Baudricourt recognised her at once. ‘So you have come to see me again,’ he said. ‘You did not take my advice and marry.’

‘You must know, sir,’ said Jeannette, ‘that God has told me His will and that is that I must go to the gentle Dauphin who is the true and only King of France, that he may give me fighting men that I may go to Orléans and raise the siege. Then I shall take him to Rheims to be crowned.’

Baudricourt was amazed. Jeannette was so precise in her demands, and they were quite preposterous. A girl go to the Dauphin, take men and lead them against the English outside Orléans!

How could a young girl live with rough soldiers? It was not difficult to guess what would become of her … And if she failed they would laugh at him as a fool for believing in such nonsense. If she succeeded they would say she owed it to witchcraft. He did not think for one moment that the girl was a witch but a woman did not have to be a witch to be accused of being one.

The Court was at Chinon. What would they think of him if he sent a girl to them?

And yet on the other hand … some people believed in miracles. He had been considerably impressed by the views of Poulengy and Jean de Metz. Those two – hardened soldiers both of them – were ready to believe that Jeannette had powers from Heaven!

And what if she had?

He listened to the girl; he talked to her; he tried to trap her, and found that it was impossible. She was simple and direct; she made no mistakes.

He had always found that in such a situation delaying tactics were the wise ones to take.

He would see Jeannette – certainly he would. She should talk to him every day. Meanwhile it might be well that Chinon would hear of her and send for her. What a happy solution that would be. No responsibility to be taken by him.

In the meantime her friendship with Catherine Royer was growing. They would sit spinning together and Catherine was greatly impressed by Jeannette’s skill. She half wished that Jeannette would give up this project of hers and settle in Vaucouleurs. Catherine could foresee many a happy hour exchanging skills.

But Jeannette was getting more and more restive. It had at first seemed wonderful that Baudricourt had seen her and listened to her with respect. Now she was realising that he was playing a game of prevarication.

One day as she went once more to talk to Baudricourt she came face to face with Jean de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengy.

‘Good day to you,’ said Bertrand, bowing with respect. ‘So you are back with us.’

‘What are you doing here in Vaucouleurs?’ asked Jean de Metz.

‘I have come to stop the King of France being driven from his throne and to save this country from the English. You may think my place is in my father’s cottage but it is the will of my Lord that I should be here.’

‘What Lord?’ asked Jean de Metz.

‘The Lord God,’ answered Jeannette.

‘I believe you,’ said Bertrand de Poulengy.

‘Thank you,’ said Jeanette and passed on.

There was another fruitless interview with Baudricourt. She went back to the wheelwright’s house in despair.

‘Durand,’ she said, ‘I shall go by myself because I see I shall find little satisfaction from Baudricourt. Will you come with me?’

Durand hesitated. He had come so far. He had left his home and brought her to Vaucouleurs. She would never make the journey to Chinon on her own, he pointed out. She needed an escort. Did she think the Dauphin would ever receive her if she arrived footsore and weary … a peasant girl? The project was doomed to failure. And he had been long from his family.

Then Jeannette had an idea. She remembered the two young men with whom she had spoken. She went to find them. They were together as though waiting for her.

‘Will you take me to the Dauphin?’ she asked.

‘When do you wish to start?’ asked Jean de Metz.

‘Today if possible. If not, tomorrow.’

‘We will take you,’ said Poulengy, ‘but we are under orders to Captain de Baudricourt and must first give him our resignations.’

‘When will you do that?’ asked Jeannette.

‘Now,’ said Jean de Metz. ‘Go back to your lodging and prepare.’

Jeannette obeyed and the two men went at once to Baudricourt. They told him of the conversation which had taken place and of their intentions.

Baudricourt looked at them solemnly. ‘You are rash, gentlemen,’ he said.

‘I swear this girl is a saint,’ retorted Poulengy.

‘I feel sure she is a good girl,’ said Baudricourt. ‘She has the outward guise of a good girl. But these guises could come from the devil. There is none who more than I would wish to see the siege of Orléans raised, the Dauphin crowned and the English driven back where they belong. But how do you know, gentlemen? How can you be sure?’