by D. J. Holmes
Flowers of all varieties begin to break through the ground, bringing with them new life and a new beginning.
“Isabelle, my men and I are going into the forest to practice our tactical skills. I’ll be back by sundown.”
“I will watch for your return, Jacque. Dinner will be waiting for you.”
Walking around their yard, Isabelle picks some of her favorite flowers. With Jehanne by her side, she says, “Jehanne, look at these beautiful flowers. Since Jacquemin is with the sheep, let’s go get Pierre and Jean. We’ll take all these flowers to the church, to share them with the Lord. What do you think about that?”
“Yes, go. Go.” Jehanne holds out her tiny hand to take the flowers, as she smiles and giggles at her mother, her rosy cheeks accentuating her beautiful smile.
Taking Jehanne’s other small hand, Isabelle calls her sons. “Pierre…Jean, come here, please.” Hearing the patter of small feet, her sons quickly appear. “We are going to the church. Would you like to go?”
“Today isn’t Sunday, is it?”
“I didn’t hear the bells ring.”
“No. It isn’t Sunday, and the bells didn’t ring. But I’d like to take some flowers to the church.”
“Do we have to go Mother?” Jean said with a woman’s-stuff attitude.
“No. Jacquemin will be back soon. I’ll take Jehanne. As long as both of you stay in the cottage, you can stay here. We won’t be very long.”
“Alright, Mother.” Pierre promises. “We’ll play our war games inside.
“If you need me boys, you know where I’ll be.”
Realizing that Jehanne would insist on walking by herself, Isabelle makes sure that she paces herself to her daughter’s short stride. Jehanne’s little feet kick every rock out of her path with her hands out to her side for balance, clearing the way to the chapel as they enjoy the fresh air, and finally, the serenity of the church.
Slowly picking up her daughter, Isabelle asks, “Do you see this vase, Jehanne?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“This is where we will put the flowers. Look up there,” she says pointing to the cross. “We put our flowers in this vase, in remembrance of the love that is given to us each day from Heaven.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Jehanne says as she looks up at the cross, putting both of her small hands over her mouth, covering her smile.
“Yes, my sweet little one. He will always be by your side.”
While Isabelle and Jehanne are in the church, the bells begin to ring wildly. Looking to the sound of the bells above her, Isabelle exclaims, “The English! The bells are telling us that the English are not far from our town, Jehanne.”
Running out of the church, carrying Jehanne back to her cottage, she begins yelling, “PIERRE, JEAN, IS JACQUEMIN BACK?”
Quickly closing the barn door, Jacquemin yells, “I’M HERE, MOTHER.”
“JACQUEMIN, TAKE THE SHEEP. RUN AHEAD OF THEM TO THE OLD FORT. THEY SHOULD FOLLOW YOU IF YOU GET AT LEAST TWO OF THEIR LEADERS TO COME WITH YOU. IF ANY GET BEHIND, DON’T WAIT FOR THEM. JUST KEEP RUNNING. I’LL BRING YOUR BROTHERS AND SISTER. NOW RUN, SON, AND BE CAREFUL. THE BELLS TELL US THAT THE ENGLISH ARE CLOSE!”
All of the inhabitants of Domremy are either running on foot, or riding their horses to the Old Fort for safety. As the church bells continue to ring their warning, fear grips each villager’s heart. Images of the English racing toward them full speed on their horses, with swords and other weapons brandished to do their job, flash in their minds; the noises, the smell and feeling of fear, all reminding them of the many times that the English have ravaged their village before.
Jacquemin quickly arrives at the Old Fort with most of his sheep. Putting them into the livestock area, he climbs the stairs to the parapet walk to see if he can see where his mother is. From his perch he sees all of his neighbors running for the safety of the Fort, and hears their loud fearful screams. Though he is young he understands that the screams are an instinctual sound to express, and hopefully defuse, the fear felt throughout their bodies. On the horizon, he can see the standards of the English quickly moving in their direction.
“Mother, where are you?” he asks himself as he carefully scans the faces of all of the people running to safety. “Mother, I thought that you were leaving at the same time that I did?” Tears begin to fill his eyes, as he continues to scan the flat ground around the Old Fort. “Everyone else is close to the fort, Mother. Where are you?”
Putting his head down into his hands so that his tears won’t be seen, he hears, “SHUT THE GATES! EVERYONE IS IN. THE ENGLISH ARE COMING OVER THE RIDGE.”
Yelling back, he says, “BUT MY MOTHER, MY BROTHERS AND SISTER AREN’T HERE YET!” No matter how loud he yelled, no matter how many times he says the same thing, no one hears him. There is so much noise. Everyone is busy preparing for their battle with the English.
Jacquemin continues to watch for any sign of his family. “I never should have left without the rest of you. I am the oldest man at home. It was my responsibility.…” To his right he sees movement. “They came through the river. They didn’t come the same way that everyone else did. RUN, MOTHER, RUN! YOU CAN MAKE IT!”
Though Jacquemin can finally see his family, the English also see them, and begin riding in their direction. Shouting with all his might Jacquemin, points with his index finger, “BEHIND YOU, MOTHER. RUN FASTER! THE ENGLISH ARE CLOSE BEHIND YOU!”
Looking to his left on the parapet walk, he sees someone with a bow and arrow. Reaching over, he grabs the archer’s sleeve asking, “Sir, can you help me? My mother, my brothers and sister are right over there,” pointing in their direction. “The English are going to overtake them if we don’t help them.”
Surveying the situation, the archer states, “If they get another hundred yards closer, I’ll be able to hit the English. Right now they are too far away.”
“But they are getting too close to my family!”
“The only thing that I can promise is that I will have my bow ready. The instant that they are close enough, I will begin my assault.”
“What if they catch up to them before you are able to shoot your arrows?”
“I’m sorry, son. I’ll shoot as soon as I can.”
Watching from the parapet walk, Jacquemin can hardly bare it. His mother has tied a shawl around her shoulders and waist to carry Jehanne securely in front. She is carrying his two little brothers, one on each hip, and running as fast as she can through the tall grass. Thinking sadly to himself he says, “All that my mother has done to save her family, and it is not enough. The English are catching up to her. I should never have left. She’s not strong enough to carry all three of them by herself. I could have helped. I should have left the sheep, and stayed with my family.” Fraught with emotion, he turns to the archer again, “How much longer until you can start shooting?”
“We have about twenty yards yet, son.” Knowing what Jacquemin is feeling the archer adds, “There is nothing that we can do until they are in range of our weapons. All we can do is our best; the ultimate outcome is left up to the Lord.”
Desperately looking up to the sky, Jacquemin begins to pray as his mother has taught him. His voice is in a whisper, but his heart is shouting. “FATHER IN HEAVEN, MY MOTHER IS DOING EVERYTHING THAT SHE CAN TO SAVE MY BROTHERS AND SISTER. I AM ASKING FOR YOU TO HELP HER. PLEASE FATHER, HELP HER CARRY MY FAMILY. HELP HER TO GET TO THE FORT SAFELY,” he pleads.
To his utter surprise, he sees his father’s standards quickly riding in-between the English and his mother, allowing her to run to the Old Fort unimpeded. A battle between the French and the English begins, with standards of sky blue and gold Fleur de lis’ mixed in with dark red crosses on white cloth twisting and curling with the currents of the wind. Strange as it might seem, it looks more like a dance of colors moving to the sounds of war: steel hitting steel, screams, war chants, drums, horses whinnies’ and arrows splitting the air currents on their way to their intended victim, and finally the dull thud as the target is hit.
All of these sounds reverberate throughout the valley as tyranny and freedom fight for their ultimate place in history.
As Isabella nears the doors of the fort, Jacquemin runs down to meet her as he hears the order shouted.
“OPEN THE GATES! OPEN THE GATES!”
Exhausted Isabelle falls to her knees as soon as the doors are closed. Her neighbors run to help her with her children. Seeing Jacquemin, she grabs him and begins to cry. “Oh Jacquemin, you’re safe…I was running as fast as I could.”
“I thought that you were right behind me, Mother?”
“I was. Then Jean dropped his Flute on the floor. I bent down to pick it up, and just then, I saw an English standard out of the corner of my eye and heard his horse next to our cottage. Crawling on my knees, with Jehanne secured in my shawl and the boys crawling next to me, we went through the back door, over to the barn and out the side door to the river’s edge. We waded through the water behind the bushes, near the shallow area, while we crossed it. Once we were on dry ground I picked the boys up and began to run as fast as I could, but the English saw me. They were riding toward us. I thought that they would get us for sure, but then they stopped. I don’t know why, but they stopped,” she says with relief. “We made it, Jacquemin, we made it!”
As his mother cries out of relief that she and her family are safe, while trying to catch her breath, Jacquemin has extreme feelings of happiness that his mother, brothers and sister are safe, but extreme sorrow not knowing if his father would survive the battle that is now taking place a short distance outside the Old Fort.
Not wanting to tell his mother but knowing that he had to, Jacquemin quietly states, “Mother… Father and his men rode in-between you and the English!”
Isabelle’s eyes widen as her relief turns to horror. She knew that Jacque fought for their safety, but she had never seen him in battle. She always had faith that he would return from all of the incessant wars, and rarely thought anything about it before.
“Jacque is here?” she questions, trying to get it clear in her mind.
“Yes, Mother, he must have heard the bells. He is fighting the English right now.”
Frantically running to the parapet walk to see the battle, she climbs the stairs. Within her heart, she begins to shout, “FATHER IN HEAVEN, PLEASE, I HAVE TAUGHT MY CHILDREN OF YOU. MY HUSBAND AND I ARE GOOD CHRISTIANS. I HAVE ALWAYS DONE WHAT YOU HAVE ASKED ME TO DO, AND I WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO. I AM ASKING YOU TODAY FOR THE SAFETY OF MY HUSBAND AND HIS MEN. PLEASE, FATHER, I BEG OF YOU!”
Jacquemin runs up to the parapet walk behind his mother. Tugging on the sleeve of the archer that he had talked with before, he quickly asks, “How many more yards?”
“There are only about five more yards.”
Jacquemin continues, “Sir, I asked for your help with my mother. She made it to the fort. Now I ask you to help my father.” Pointing to the standards he adds, “You see those standards? They are my father’s. Jacque d’Arc needs your help. He is out numbered, and there are more and more English standards coming from all directions toward him.”
“You are Jacque’s son? I was only visiting your village when this all happened.” Starring at Jacquemin he says, “But I have fought with him. I can see now, you are an exact duplicate of your father.”
“Yes Sir. Would you please help him?”
“Of course… now they are close enough for me to shoot and I know exactly what he’ll do…” Yelling, he says “ARCHERS GET YOUR BOWS AND ARROWS READY. JACQUE WILL SPLIT HIS TROOP IN HALF AND RIDE BACK TO THIS FORT BRINGING THE ENGLISH WITH HIM. THAT’S WHEN WE WILL HAVE OUR CHANCE.”
Within minutes, Jacque does exactly what the archer said that he would do. “OPEN THE GATES FOR JACQUE AND HIS TROOPS. WE’LL KEEP THE ENGLISH AWAY WITH OUR ARROWS.”
As the gates open, and Jacque’s troops near the entrance of the fort, hundreds of arrows are shot over their heads, aimed directly at the English. Jacquemin and the other boys his age run to help with the horses. After dismounting their horses, Jacque and his troops quickly run to the parapet walk to add their arrows and skill to the battle. Seeing Isabelle, he quietly says, “I’m so glad that you are safe.” Kissing her on the forehead he says, “Please go, stay with the children, and we will talk later.”
Doing what her husband has asked her to do Isabelle finds her children and tries to quiet them by singing their favorite songs. The other women from her village begin singing with her. Soon the children are singing also.
As the soldiers hear their women and children sing, with Jean’s flute playing in the background, they are renewed with purpose and courage to protect their families and the future of France, as they defend the Old Fort.
The siege continues for a week. Within the Old Fort, the women take on different chores. Some cook, others take care of the wounded, and still others watch the children. All of this happens while the men continue to fight and maintain watch over the fort, keeping their families safe. Each evening, fires can be seen throughout their village, each day the English are back to try to take the Old Fort. With the skills that Jacque and his men display, the English are not able to add the Fort to their possessions.
One morning, as everyone prepares for yet another battle, Jacque looks out to the battle field to survey the possible dynamics that would be needed for the day’s battle. To his shock, the English have left. As he walks the full length of the parapet walk, he can see no English standards. Every soldier within the Old Fort looks carefully for any sign that the English are still around. But they see nothing.
“It looks like they have left,” Jacque announces. “I want to make sure that it is safe…get ready men. We will ride the boundaries of our village.”
After their horses are ready, the gates are opened, and Jacque and his men ride out to see if this is an English trick. Throughout the day as they ride in search of the English, they find that not one cottage in their village has been spared the English fire.
“Jacque, our women and children are going to be terribly upset.”
“It’s better to lose your home than your family, don’t you think?”
“I agree with you, Jacque, but it’s so hard to start over again.”
“Yes, but how many times have we done this all ready?”
“The next thing that you are going to say is that, if we did it once, we can do it again.”
“Ha! You are getting to know me quite well, aren’t you?”
“You are my commander, Jacque.”
“So, are you ready to ride back to the Old Fort, and tell everyone what we have seen?”
“I don’t think that I am ready for that.”
“It’s getting dark. It’s best that we get back to it anyway.”
As they near the fort, the order, “OPEN THE GATES, OPEN THE GATES,” can be heard loud and clear.
Jacquemin looks up at his mother. “Did you hear that Mother?”
“I did, my brave Son. Shall we go to see if it is Father?”
Pierre and Jean run to their mother. “Mother, Father is here.”
“How do you know, my little ones?”
“We heard the orders for the gate to be opened, and we looked out the window of the room that we were in. We saw father’s standards.”
“Shall we all go then?” Isabelle says, holding Jehanne in her arms, while Jacquemin holds the hands of his little brothers.
Everyone in the fort has gathered. Jacque has just begun to speak. “We believe that the English have gone.”
Everyone yells, “Yea, the English have left.”
“The problem,” he continues, “is that not one of our cottages has escaped the English fire.”
Where happiness was being expressed just seconds before, sadness can now be felt in the air as tears fill their eyes.
To renew their spirits, Jacque begins again. “The English have taken our homes away from us before, and we rebuilt. We can do this again. We are a free people. No one is going to tell us that we can’t live on our own prope
rty. Let us rebuild our community to let the English know, that what they do to us will not determine where, or how, we will live! While we hold the hand of God, no one will ever take our land, our homes, or our religion from us, for all of this dwells within our hearts. We are masters of our own destiny. God has willed it so.”
Smiles and courage begin to show on the faces of all who listen to Jacque. Within their hearts, they know that he is right.
“Tomorrow, we will draw sticks to see whose cottage will be built first. We will continue to draw sticks until every last cottage is completed. If we stand together it will not take us long to rebuild our village.”
Isabelle walks up to Jacque and whispers into his ear.
“My wife is right. To show our thankfulness to God for sparing our lives, tomorrow we will begin rebuilding the church first. After that is finished, we will start with our cottages. Are you all in agreement?”
Everyone agrees with enthusiasm. “Yes. Yes, Jacque, you are right.”
Working together, neighbor helping neighbor everyday from dawn to dusk, within three months the village is completely restored.
Days later, Isabelle is out in the sun talking to several village women who have stopped by her home. “We wanted to thank you and your husband, for all that both of you have done for our village.”
“It was our pleasure.”
“Mommy,” Jehanne calls.
Looking at her daughter, Isabelle smiles; the neighbor women look over at her also.
“Look at cute little Jehanne over there by the flowers. Her black hair is as beautiful today as it was the day that she was born,” a neighbor comments.
“I remember the day that she was born, Isabelle, the roosters woke us up so early that morning,” another neighbor states.
Another neighbor cuts in. “I know. I felt as though I had been asleep for just a few hours. And it wasn’t just my rooster. It was every rooster in our village.”
“I don’t think that it was just our village either. I could hear every rooster in the surrounding villages. I was about ready to take my walking stick and hit every one of them over the head. I finally looked over at your home, Isabelle, and saw the candles burning through the windows,” a close neighbor reminisces.
While Isabelle listens to her friends Jehanne walks up, takes her mother’s hand and begins to pull her. Looking down at her daughter Isabelle states, “My sweet little daughter has picked some flowers and wants to take them to the church. With her daughter continuing to pull on her hand, she looks back and waves, “Sorry, I must go.”
As Isabelle and Jehanne take what has become their daily walk, the neighbors comment “Look at that. Have you ever seen a child want to take flowers to the church?”
“None of my children have done anything like that.”
“Mine, either.”
