Baudricourt looked from one to the other and then his eyes rested on Jeannette. ‘You want to go into battle, do you? You want to lead the Dauphin to Rheims?’ He laughed at several of the men who were standing by watching with amazement. ‘There is one useful service she could perform in the army, eh? Yes, yes, I think our men would like her well enough.’

Jeannette’s face had grown pale and Baudricourt could not take his eyes from her. He softened suddenly. She was very young and very ardent, and she had conceived some mad notion. It was not to be surprised when it was considered what life was like for these country folk. They could never sleep soundly in their beds.

He turned to Durand. ‘You waste my time. Take that girl home. Take her back to her father. Tell him to give her a good whipping. That’s what she needs to knock some sense into her.’ Some of the men were sniggering now. Baudricourt shouted: ‘Don’t bring her here again. If you do I’ll find a place for her in the army … one which will be better suited to her talents than leading the Dauphin to Rheims. She’s a pleasant looking creature. So … take care.’

Durand took Jeannette’s hand and drew her away.

‘Get her married off quickly,’ shouted Baudricourt. ‘That’s what she needs.’

As they made their way back to Petit-Burey, Jeannette was not disconsolate. The voices had said that it would not be easy and had told her that Baudricourt would not listen the first time.


* * *

Jeannette now knew that there would be a waiting period, for the voices had told her that the time for action would be in the middle of Lent. But Lent had passed and her meeting with Baudricourt had come to nothing.

She was not disturbed. It had all been arranged, she told Durand. She would know when the time had come.

Aveline’s child was born and she must go back to Domrémy. It was clear to her that some time had to elapse before she would be again called upon to act.

Back in Domrémy there was even greater anxiety than before. Soldiers were roaming the countryside, falling on undefended villages. From day to day no one knew if theirs would be the next.

There was great consternation throughout the village because the lease to Le Château de I’Ile had run out. Perhaps this was not after all such a calamity as none knew better than Jacques that a band of trained soldiers bent on looting, rape and murder would in a very short time storm the castle if they had a mind to.

He called together the people of the village and told them that he had a plan and if they agreed with it they had better put it into practice without delay.

He proposed to them that they get the flocks and herds together and leave Domrémy. They would take with them what they could carry and stay for a while in the town of Neufchâteau where they would be comparatively safe at least from the roving bands of soldiers who were more to be feared than the disciplined armies.

Those who agreed with him should follow him; those who did not could stay at home.

There was no man, woman nor child in Domrémy who did not want to go. Thus they set out like the Israelites of old fleeing from tyranny, and in due course arrived in the town of Neufchâteau.

As the party came into the town they were hailed by a big red-haired woman who was driving a small cart filled with flagons of wine.

‘By all the saints,’ she cried. ‘Is it you then, Jacques d’Arc, why and Zabillet with you and Jeannette and Pierrelot! What do you in Neufchâteau? And come with the whole village and all … Don’t tell me. You’re not the first. They’re raiding again, are they? God curse them.’

She had descended from the cart and was embracing every member of the family.

Jacques told her it was true and that they wished to get out of Domrémy until things quietened down a bit.

‘You’ll find lodgings for all here,’ she answered. ‘We feel for you. How do any of us know when we shall need help ourselves? If it’s not the wicked Godons it’s the Armagnacs …’ She laughed and put her hand to her lips. Domrémy was Armagnac and Neufchâteau was part of Burgundy’s inheritance. ‘Oh never mind,’ she went on, ‘what are these things among friends? You and your family will stay at our inn until you find another place to go. Come … You can help, all of you. There’s work and enough in the inn, I can tell you.’

So Jacques and his family left the rest of the people of Domrémy who went on through the town looking for somewhere to stay and they themselves came to lodge with Jacques’ old friend, Jean de Waldaires, and his loquacious wife, who was known throughout Neufchâteau as La Rousse on account of her red hair.

‘How fortunate we are,’ cried Jacques. ‘Here we can stay awhile and we can all work in the inn. We’ll be safe here and if the rioters visit Domrémy they may burn down our houses but at least we shall have saved our flocks and herds.’

It was indeed a satisfactory arrangement particularly as there was a small meadow attached to the inn where the livestock could graze. La Rousse was delighted to have them, particularly Jeannette who was such a good worker and so proficient at the spinning-wheel. She declared to Jean de Waldaires in the intimacy of their bed at night that they were a good bargain all of them – and especially Jeannette.

But it was a time of trial for the girl. Now that she had actually taken some action and confronted Robert de Baudricourt – even though it meant nothing but humiliation to her – she longed to continue. Her fear had left her. She had done what a year ago she would have believed impossible. She had faced the great Governor of Vaucouleurs and, although he had jeered at her, she had learned that she would never care if people scoffed at her; she cared only that she do well what Heaven asked of her.

She ate little; she had no desire for food. She liked to get out alone in the meadow and commune with her voices. They came to her though not as frequently as they had in the past. They had made her understand that she was destined for some mission and when the time was ripe they would tell her what to do.

She lived in a state of exultation and this so overwhelmed her that one day she mentioned to Michel le Buin, one of the labourers who worked on the land at the back of the inn, that a virgin, who was not far away from him at that moment, would lead the Dauphin into Rheims, and there see him crowned.

Michel le Buin stared at her and said: ‘Are you telling me you are that girl?’

She did not answer. He thought she was mad and he whispered to others what she had said. They laughed together. ‘Jeannette d’Arc has a touch of madness,’ said some.

Others whispered: ‘Is she a witch?’

No, they could not believe that of little Jeannette whom they had known for years and was religious and went to church so often. Such a churchgoer could not possibly be involved in witchcraft.

But it might be that the fairies had laid a spell on her, suggested someone; and that seemed to be the general opinion.

Jeannette d’Arc was undoubtedly strange if she fancied herself riding beside the Dauphin in a suit of armour and taking him to Rheims.

‘Jeannette wants to ride with the army,’ they said.

A rumour of this must have come to Jacques’ ears for one night he awoke in a state of great agitation.

Zabillet rose from their pallet and asked what ailed him.

‘It’s a dream I have. By the holy saints, Zabillet, I could swear it was real. I saw her … our daughter … Jeannette … riding away with the soldiers.’

‘It was an evil dream.’

‘It was so real I could believe it. I could see her so clearly. Riding with the soldiers, Zabillet … that girl of ours …’

‘She would never go for that life, Jacques. You know full well. She is a good girl. You know we have said she spends too much time in church and neglects the flocks because of her love of the saints.’

‘Zabillet,’ he said sternly, ‘if I thought my dream would come true I would ask you to tie a stone about her neck and throw her into the river.’

‘I … her mother to do such a thing? You are mad, Jacques.’

‘If you would not do it,’ he said sternly, ‘I would. I would see her dead rather than disgraced and dishonoured.’

‘Go to sleep and dream no more. It is a wild, impossible dream. Our Jeannette is a good religious girl. Nothing would be farther from her mind than to go off with the soldiers to a life of sin.’

Still Jacques could not sleep and lay awake for a long time thinking of the disgrace of such a thing happening to a daughter of his.

‘I wish some good young man would come along to ask us for her hand in marriage,’ said Zabillet.

‘Aye,’ said Jacques. ‘I confess I shall never feel easy until that girl is a wife.’

‘I will take a candle to the church and pray for it,’ Zabillet reassured him.

As though in answer to her prayer a few days later one of the young men of the village came to see Jacques to tell him that Jeannette had betrothed herself to him when they were in Domrémy and he thought it was time that they should be married.

Zabillet kissed this young man solemnly on both cheeks. He was a good worker, a pleasant boy; she knew his people well.

‘We will arrange for the marriage without delay.’

When Jeannette came in from her work on the land, Zabillet went to her and put her arms about her. She looked from her mother to her father and to the young man with some amazement wondering why there was this unusual demonstration and atmosphere of solemnity.

‘We are well pleased, daughter,’ said Jacques. ‘Our consent is given and we see no reason for delay even though we are away from home.’

‘Of what do you speak, my father?’ asked Jeannette, looking bewildered.

‘Of your marriage, daughter. We have heard of your betrothal.’

‘My betrothal!’ she burst out. ‘There has been no betrothal.’

‘Jeannette, you know full well there has been. You promised …’

Jeannette turned fiercely on the young man.

‘You lie!’ she cried.

‘Silence,’ cried Jacques. ‘You use the language of these soldiers of whom you are so fond.’

Zabillet could see that he confused his dream with reality and she was afraid for her daughter.

The young man had turned to Jacques. ‘I assure you, sir, that your daughter has promised me marriage and I shall insist on my rights.’

‘And,’ cried Jacques, ‘I shall insist that you receive them.’

Jeannette ran out of the house. She went to the meadow and stood there with her hands folded together, staring up beseechingly at the sky.

‘Have no fear, Daughter,’ said the voices. ‘They will try to force you, but they will not succeed.’

She felt calmer then and after a while she went back into the house.

There her father was waiting for her. He looked angry. He had always been stern but there had been a rough sort of kindness before. All that was gone now. He was looking at her as though she were … unclean. Her mother was frightened too, she saw.

‘It is time you were married,’ he said firmly. ‘What is wrong with this young man? He is a good worker. And he is determined to marry you in spite of the way you have behaved towards him. You shall marry him.’

‘No, my father, I shall marry no one. I have vowed to remain a virgin for as long as Heaven shall command me to.’

‘The girl’s wits are addled,’ said Jacques.

‘Jeannette,’ put in her mother, ‘it is right that you should marry and this is a good offer. He will look after you. You will have children of your own

Jeannette would have been very frightened, but she could feel the heavenly presence nearby assuring her that all would be well.


* * *

Jacques was triumphant. Her suitor, determined on marriage, swore that Jeannette had given her sacred promise to marry him, and after the custom of the day he cited her to appear before the tribunal in the town of Toul whither he had taken his case to the ecclesiastical court. This council decided all matters which concerned Domrémy and the neighbouring villages and the finding of the court would be final. If it decided that Jeannette was indeed betrothed she would have to marry, for betrothal was tantamount to taking a vow and such vows were considered sacred.

If she did not appear at the court it would be presumed that she had given in and accepted her fate, so there was only one thing she could do, and that was go and plead her cause. She had made no promise and she would not be bludgeoned into marriage.