by D. J. Holmes
***
After thirty minutes, Jacque mounts his horse and anxiously shouts, “Let’s be on our way. Jehanne awaits our arrival. We must not let her down.” Riding even faster than before, Jacque is within a few miles of Rouen. Looking toward his destination he sees a large amount of smoke floating into the sky. After riding another mile he sees groups of people walking away from Rouen.
“What’s the matter? Has your town been burned to the ground?” he questions a passerby.
“No, Sir. They just burnt a witch.”
“…A witch? There was a witch in Rouen?” Jacque asks surprised.
“Yes Sir. But we got rid of her. We burnt her,” the villager says with no remorse. The villager continues his walk as Jacque along with his soldiers, continue riding to Rouen. There has been a large amount of people who have been at Rouen this day and because of the people and carts on the road, his progress is slow. On the outskirts of Rouen is a grove of trees on a ridge looking down into the Market Square. Several townspeople are sitting under the trees, crying as they continue to look at the smoke coming from the square. In-between sobs, they express their disbelief.
“They never came!”
“Her soldiers never came….”
“After all that she did for our country…they just let her die.”
“How could they have done that?”
Riding up to the grove of trees, Jacque dismounts his horse. Walking over to this group of people to see what has happened, he asks, “Why are you crying?”
“We have just killed a saint.”
“Others said that there was a witch in Rouen and you burnt her at the stake,” he responded.
“…Jehanne was no witch, Sir.”
Shocked, and taken back by the name of his daughter, he asks, “What was the name of the person who was burned here?”
Through tears, she answered his question, “…Jehanne…Jehanne d’Arc.”
Disbelief throws a jolt into his brain. Trying to make sense of what he has just heard, he falls to his knees and stares at the smoldering fire.
Looking over at their commander, his soldiers ask, “Why is Jacque on his knees? And why is he now bowing his head?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go see what is happening.”
Needing to get home before it gets dark, several of the townspeople have decided that they need to leave. As they walk by, the soldiers hear them say, “Up to the very moment of her death, she still said that she heard her angels.”
“I know…. Jehanne must have been a saint if she could still say that as the fire burnt her body,” a young woman states.
Stopping this same young woman, one of Jacque’s soldiers asks, “What happened here?”
“They killed, Jehanne. They burnt her at the stake.”
“When did it happen?”
“…About an hour ago. They are going to put her ashes in the River Seine.”
“Thank you,” he says, shocked at what he has just learned. He walks to Jacque and kneels by his side.
The young woman that spoke to the soldier earlier runs back.
“I was walking home with my family, when all of a sudden I had this very strong feeling… something I am supposed to tell you. She wants me to tell you her very last words.” Looking at Jacque and his soldiers, she says, “Jehanne said, ‘I heard my angels. I did hear them. I forgive you…I forgive you all.’”
Hearing those words, Jacque, takes a deep, mournful breath. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he says, “Thank you so much for giving us that message.”
The young woman quickly leaves so she can catch up with her family.
Jacque, and all of the other soldiers who have heard the news, continue to cry. With all of their united effort to rescue Jehanne, they finally come to the realization that they are too late. They had been ready to enter into the jaws of hell; willing to do anything to bring their great commander back with them, to save her, but they were too late. They had waited too long.
As if the earth knew what they felt, a very strong wind blows through the trees in protest of what has happened. The wind is so strong that the English soldiers begin leaving the scene of their ruthless savagery, afraid that they would be blown away.
Looking to the heavens, Jacque says through his tears, “Jehanne, my beautiful daughter. How could they have done this to you? …. And how am I going to tell your mother?”
