Dauphin’s endless messengers as courteously as she could – patience had never come easily to Joan at the best of times. She sent back the same message every time: “Say to the King that I have come a long way to see him, that the King of Heaven has sent me to raise the siege of Orléans and afterwards to lead the Dauphin to his coronation at Reims. I shall say no more than this, however many messengers he may send me, until we meet in person.”
Both Jean and Bertrand were sent for and questioned about this strange visionary from the farmyard, this unlikely saviour of France, but in spite of all they said on her behalf the Dauphin still would not see her. On their third morning in Chinon, Joan was sitting disconsolate on her bed, and Belami was on the window ledge singinghis heart out for her, to cheer her flagging spirits, when the Dauphin’s messenger arrived yet again. This time, at long last, it was to summon her to the castle. So with Jean and Bertrand at her side, and Richard the Archer going ahead, she walked, almost ran, the short distance up the hill and over the drawbridge.
As she was crossing the courtyard a man rode up to her and laughed haughtily at her from high on his horse. “So you’re the famous Maid,” he scoffed, looking her up and down. “By God, one night with you and I could teach you a thing or two.” Jean went for his sword at once, but Joan put a hand on his arm to restrain him.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” she said quietly, “nor use God’s name as you do, particularly as you are so close to your own death.” The rider guffawed, put his spurs to his horse and rode off towards thedrawbridge. Joan watched him go. He was halfway across the bridge when his horse stumbled and fell, catapulting him into the moat. From all over the castle courtyard they ran to help. Joan crossed herself. “Poor man. They cannot save him, nor his immortal soul either,” she said sorrowfully. She turned away and looked up at the castle walls. “Well, Dauphin,” she went on, “here I come.”
Belami flew off and circled the castle looking for the best and safest vantage point. There were pigeons perched everywhere, but in the end he did manage to find a space on a crowded ledge. He was there just in time to see Joan come striding into the Great Hall, Bertrand and Jean behind her.
It was a vast and magnificent room, under a high vaulted ceiling. There were flaming torches all around the walls – fifty, a hundred of them maybe – and underneath them a milling crowd of courtiers,of bishops, of noblemen and their ladies, all bedecked and glittering in their finery. At one end of the room was a throne on a dais where the Dauphin sat waiting for her. Joan walked the length of the hall, the crowd parting for her to let her through. A hush fell about the hall. For a moment or two Joan stood before the throne, looking the Dauphin full in the face.
“Do you not bow to your Dauphin, girl?” he said.
“Yes,” Joan replied coolly. “I would, but you are not he. You are not the Dauphin. You are trying to trick me, to test me as I knew you would, as my voices warned me you would. They tell me everything, you see. You can deceive me, but you cannot deceive God. Since you seem to insist on playing silly games, I shall find the good Dauphin for myself.” She sprang up on the dais, and surveyed the great throng of people in the hall. “Ah,” shesaid, “I see him.” She jumped down and plunged into the crowd.
It looked for a moment to Belami as if she was bobbing a curtsy to a stone pillar. There was a sudden gasp of astonishment. “Kind Dauphin,” – she seemed to be talking to the pillar – “I am Joan, known as the Maid. The King of Heaven sends me to you with the message that you shall be anointed and crowned king in the city of Reims, that you will be the lieutenant of the King of Heaven, who is also the King of France.” From behind the pillar came only a face at first, a sheepish face,
Both Jean and Bertrand were sent for and questioned about this strange visionary from the farmyard, this unlikely saviour of France, but in spite of all they said on her behalf the Dauphin still would not see her. On their third morning in Chinon, Joan was sitting disconsolate on her bed, and Belami was on the window ledge singinghis heart out for her, to cheer her flagging spirits, when the Dauphin’s messenger arrived yet again. This time, at long last, it was to summon her to the castle. So with Jean and Bertrand at her side, and Richard the Archer going ahead, she walked, almost ran, the short distance up the hill and over the drawbridge.
As she was crossing the courtyard a man rode up to her and laughed haughtily at her from high on his horse. “So you’re the famous Maid,” he scoffed, looking her up and down. “By God, one night with you and I could teach you a thing or two.” Jean went for his sword at once, but Joan put a hand on his arm to restrain him.
“You shouldn’t say such things,” she said quietly, “nor use God’s name as you do, particularly as you are so close to your own death.” The rider guffawed, put his spurs to his horse and rode off towards thedrawbridge. Joan watched him go. He was halfway across the bridge when his horse stumbled and fell, catapulting him into the moat. From all over the castle courtyard they ran to help. Joan crossed herself. “Poor man. They cannot save him, nor his immortal soul either,” she said sorrowfully. She turned away and looked up at the castle walls. “Well, Dauphin,” she went on, “here I come.”
Belami flew off and circled the castle looking for the best and safest vantage point. There were pigeons perched everywhere, but in the end he did manage to find a space on a crowded ledge. He was there just in time to see Joan come striding into the Great Hall, Bertrand and Jean behind her.
It was a vast and magnificent room, under a high vaulted ceiling. There were flaming torches all around the walls – fifty, a hundred of them maybe – and underneath them a milling crowd of courtiers,of bishops, of noblemen and their ladies, all bedecked and glittering in their finery. At one end of the room was a throne on a dais where the Dauphin sat waiting for her. Joan walked the length of the hall, the crowd parting for her to let her through. A hush fell about the hall. For a moment or two Joan stood before the throne, looking the Dauphin full in the face.
“Do you not bow to your Dauphin, girl?” he said.
“Yes,” Joan replied coolly. “I would, but you are not he. You are not the Dauphin. You are trying to trick me, to test me as I knew you would, as my voices warned me you would. They tell me everything, you see. You can deceive me, but you cannot deceive God. Since you seem to insist on playing silly games, I shall find the good Dauphin for myself.” She sprang up on the dais, and surveyed the great throng of people in the hall. “Ah,” shesaid, “I see him.” She jumped down and plunged into the crowd.
It looked for a moment to Belami as if she was bobbing a curtsy to a stone pillar. There was a sudden gasp of astonishment. “Kind Dauphin,” – she seemed to be talking to the pillar – “I am Joan, known as the Maid. The King of Heaven sends me to you with the message that you shall be anointed and crowned king in the city of Reims, that you will be the lieutenant of the King of Heaven, who is also the King of France.” From behind the pillar came only a face at first, a sheepish face,
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