And what had this to do with the peasants of Domrémy? wondered Jeannette. Sometimes there was no talk of war for a long time. There were happy feast days. Jeannette loved the solemnity of them, the singing in the church, the ringing of the bells. She loved the statues in the churches and it was her delight to go and kneel before them, and she liked it best when she was alone in the church. Her mother had taught her the Paternoster, Ave Maria and the Credo. She learned these with avidity; it seemed wondrously beautiful to her to go into the church and sit on the floor in the nave below the pulpit and listen to the priest. All the women of the village went and Zabillet took her children there as soon as they could walk.

The church seemed to Jeannette something which was beautiful in a life which was full of hardship and dominated by the need to survive. The church gave a promise of paradise to some; it offered beauty and colour in drab lives. The peasants could sublimate their hard struggle in their religion. But although it was a religion of great promise of sublime happiness, it also had its dark side. It was a religion of contrasts – just like life itself – and as there was Heaven for the virtuous, there must be Hell for those who failed to achieve that perfection demanded at the pearly gates before a soul entered. It seemed one must spend one’s life earning the right to enter and Jacques and Zabillet were determined that their children should not be denied entry.

Jeannette loved Rogation Sunday when the banners were brought out and the cross lifted from the wall and all the people walked in procession led by the Curé to the sacred tree on the river’s edge known as L’Arbre des Dames. The little boys came first, then the women and the girls, and after them the men. As they went they chanted prayers and when they reached the sacred tree the Curé would read the gospels before they returned to the village chanting praises to God and the Virgin.

It was a solemn occasion but that which occurred on the fourth Sunday in Lent was less so. That was the children’s day – the day they called Laetare. Then the earth was waking to Spring and the countryside would be looking beautiful and as they tripped along carrying their precious burdens of cakes, tiny loaves, apples which had been saved through the winter, nuts, cheese and perhaps a sweetmeat or two if they were lucky, they would go to the tree and there sing and dance. Sometimes a piper came with them and played tunes for the dancing; and the children gathered wild flowers and made them into chains. These they hung on the trees or took home and cherished them in their homes until they faded, which was very soon.

The tree was a symbol. It must have been so since pre-Christian days but the villagers gave no thought to the fact that the worship of it was an inheritance from the past. There was a strong superstition in Domrémy that the fairies whom they called the Little People still inhabited certain parts of the woods. Some of the peasants laid out food for them – which they could ill afford – but the fact was that they were afraid of offending them, for fairies were not always good and some people held the theory that they were really people who were not good enough for Heaven and not bad enough for Hell and having been refused admittance to either must roam the earth.

There was a spring at the source of the river which was called La Fontaine-aux-Bonnes-Fées-Notre-Seigneur. It was but a mile or so from the village at the edge of the wood called Bois-Chesnu; and this spring was said to have magical powers. The sick came to drink its waters but as it was also a haunt of those fairies who could not be trusted, it was considered to be rather daring to visit it for instead of good health one might incur the wrath and curses of the Little People.

Jeanne – known as Jannet – Aubrit, who had been one of Jeannette’s godmothers, said she had seen the fairies dancing round L’Arbre des Dames and Jannet was the wife of a very important man who worked for the lords of Bourlémont; Jannet was too pious to have told a lie. So there were fairies but Jeannette was more interested in the saints.

Thus she was growing up in an atmosphere of extreme piety with a belief in miracles and a growing awareness of the horrors of war as it crept close to Domrémy. She heard the talk of the days before the Godons came. Then apparently all had been peace, though there had occasionally been skirmishes between the Armagnacs and the Burgundians. But the Godons were devils who came from over the seas and were determined to take France from its rightful King.

When she was alone in the church Jeannette knelt before the statue of the Virgin and prayed that the Godons might be driven back to their own lands and that France might be happy again.

Jeannette had some little friends in the village. When she worked in the fields or was spinning in the house she would be joined by Isabelle Despinal and Mengette Joyart who would bring their distaffs with them and they would all laugh and talk together. Isabelle and Mengette were a little older than she was but Jeannette was advanced for her years and this passed unnoticed. There was a young girl, Hauviette Sydna, who liked to join them. She adored Jeannette who never failed to make her welcome in spite of her youth; and the girls were very happy together.

They had very little spare time when they were not spinning or working in the fields or carrying water into the house but one day when they found there was no yarn left for spinning and they had done their work in the fields, Jeannette said she was going to walk to the Chapel of Notre Dame de Bermont.

‘It’s a long way,’ said Isabelle.

Jeannette said she would go even though it was. She was used to walking and it was only for very long distances that she would be allowed to take the little mare.

Hauviette begged permission to join them, so they all made their way to the chapel.

‘Once,’ said Isabelle, ‘the lord and lady of Bourlémont used to lead the processions.’

‘Why don’t they now?’ asked Hauviette.

‘Because they are dead, silly,’ said Isabelle.

‘How was Hauviette to know?’ asked Jeannette.

Hauviette took her hand and pressed it. Jeannette was kind, though she could be sharp with those who displeased her, but she was always gentle to Hauviette, because she was younger than the others.

She turned to Hauviette now and said: ‘Madame d’Ogivillier is now the owner of the Lord of Bourlémont’s lands. There were no children to have them so they have gone to Madame d’Ogivillier who was his niece.’

‘She lives in Nancy,’ said Isabelle, to show her knowledge equalled that of Jeannette.

‘And she married the chamberlain of the Duke of Lorraine,’ added Mengette.

They were all silent with awe.

Isabelle then pointed out to them the small castle in the distance. It was on a little islet in the middle of the river.

‘That’s the Château de l’Isle,’ she said.

‘We know that,’ Jeannette reminded her.

‘It belongs to Madame d’Ogivillier now,’ added Mengette.

‘How wonderful to have a castle of your own,’ sighed Hauviette and they all laughed.

At length they came to the chapel.

‘What shall we do?’ asked Hauviette. ‘Shall we pick flowers and lay them at her feet?’

‘No,’ said Jeannette. ‘We’ll just pray to her.’

The children went on their knees and prayed as they did in the church of Saint Rémy.

Isabelle rose after a few moments and Mengette did the same.

‘I’ve prayed,’ said Isabelle. ‘Come on, let’s go into the field. There is a little time before we leave.’

Jeannette said: ‘You go. I wish to stay awhile.’

Hauviette hesitated and stayed with Jeannette, kneeling beside her, thinking how the hard floor hurt her knees. She was about to tell Jeannette when she noticed that her friend with her hands together as in prayer was staring up at the Virgin, and her face had become more beautiful.

Hauviette was overawed and words died on her lips. She waited.

And for some time Jeannette remained as though enrapt.

Then she arose and looked at Hauviette as though she were surprised to see her there and was wondering who she was.

She took Hauviette’s hand. She said: ‘It was as though the Virgin spoke to me.’

Then they ran out of the church and joined the others in the field. They gathered wild flowers and chased each other, but Hauviette noticed that Jeannette still looked enraptured as she had when she said the Virgin had spoken to her.


* * *

It was considered right that godparents should see their godchildren from time to time and therefore when Madame de Vittel declared that it was time for Jeannette to visit her in Neufchâteau Jacques and Zabillet agreed that the girl should go.

They could spare her for a week and she could make herself useful in the Vittel household. It was good for her to be with such learned people.

Jeannette made the journey of some seven miles on the little mare and it was a great pleasure to her to ride through the countryside. The woods were beautiful with oaks, ilex and chestnuts. In those woods bears lurked but they did not come out by day. At night they were very bold and if they were hungry they would venture into the village. People never went about singly after dark because the bears could be vicious and any night wanderers had to be prepared for them.

During daylight it was safe. Daylight was like peace, thought Jeannette, night, like war. Bears were like Godons, wicked and cruel, trying to snatch what did not belong to them.

Jacquemin was accompanying her and she rode behind him on the little mare. He would stay one night in Neufchâteau and go back to Domrémy the next day. He could not be spared longer. It would have been so much more convenient for Jeannette to have gone alone for it was hard to have to spare two little workers together. However Jacquemin would soon be back and Jeannette’s visit would not be so long and there was no doubt that godparents should see often those whom they had sponsored. Perhaps Jeannette and Thiesselin de Vittel would bring the child back.

Past the castle of Bourlémont they went, past the little castle on the island – all familiar landmarks – and after a while they came to the rocky valleys below the heights of Les Faucilles and followed the winding river until the walls and towers of Neufchâteau came into sight.

There was a warm welcome for the children at the house of the Vittels. Jeannette de Vittel was delighted with her little goddaughter and Thiesselin embraced her and told her how pleased he was that she was staying with them for a while.

‘I would that Jacquemin might too,’ he said.

Jacquemin looked wistful. ‘We cannot both be spared,’ he said.

That was understandable and there was a wonderful meal with meat such as the children rarely tasted at Domrémy. By the d’Arc standards the Vittels were rich. It was because Thiesselin was a scholar. He could read and write. There were books in his house and Jeannette was allowed to hold them and open them and study the strange shapes on the pages which Thiesselin could so miraculously decipher.

There was a school in Greux and some of the boys in Domrémy went to it. The Arcs could not be spared. Jeannette was not sure whether she would want to go. She had seen the horn book which belonged to one of the boys in the village and it had not held the same charm for her as the statues in the church and the beautiful sound of the bells.

Still, it must be wonderful, she admitted, to be a scholar like Thiesselin.

The next day Jacquemin departed. Jeannette did a little spinning for her godmother, some housework and weeding in the garden. In fact she worked as hard in Neufchâteau as she did in Domrémy. But there was more to eat, different and more delicious food; and when the day was over instead of going to bed as they did in Domrémy, Jeannette lighted two candles – a great extravagance for at home in Domrémy they never had more than one going at a time – and they talked and sometimes Uncle Thiesselin – as she called him – read to them from the wonderful books.

It was from Thiesselin that she first heard the stories of Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret.

All her life she would remember sitting on a stool in that darkening room with the two candles throwing their light on the book which lay open on the table before Thiesselin.

‘Catherine was the daughter of the King and Queen of Alexandria,’ read Thiesselin. ‘The King was King Costus and the Queen Sabinella. Her body was beautiful but her soul was dark for it was blackened by idolatry. She worshipped idols. Many in her father’s kingdom sought her hand in marriage because of her beauty. But she said no to them all. “I want a husband who is handsome and rich and the most noble in the land,” she added. Then one night the Virgin came to her and in her arms she held the most beautiful child Catherine had ever seen. “Will you take him for your husband,” asked the Virgin, “and will you, my son, take this beautiful girl as your bride?” And the Christ child said: “No, for she worships idols. But if she will be baptised I will put my nuptial ring on her finger.”