Ride the Wind Choose the Fire Read online

  Ride the Wind, Choose the Fire

  A Journey with Joan of Arc

  Veronica Schwarz

  Contents

  Also by Veronica Schwarz

  Foreword

  Pronunciation Guide

  The Maid

  Section I: DOMREMY

  Map of Domremy

  1. Getting There

  2. Giving Voice to Joan

  3. Let’s You and Him Fight

  4. The Mother of all Wars

  5. Home is Where the Hearth Is

  Section 2: VAUCOULEURS

  Map

  6. Home and Away

  7. Clothes Maketh the Woman

  8. Wives and Mistresses

  9. Good or Evil?

  10. Across Enemy Lines

  Section 3: CHINON

  Map

  11. Tricks and Traps

  12. My Bonny Duke

  Section 4: POITIERS

  Map

  13. Put to the Test

  14. I Had a Banner

  Section 5: ORLÉANS

  Map

  15. The City of Orléans

  16. The Arrival

  17. The Welcome and the Not-so-Welcome

  18. Surrender to a Woman! Never!

  19. First Victory

  20. True Grit

  21. You have been to your Council and I to Mine

  22. Wounded but Winning

  23. The Glorious Eighth of May

  Section 6: TOURS, JARGEAU, PATAY

  Map

  24. Hastening Very Slowly

  25. The Fall of Jargeau

  26. On the Front Foot at Last

  27. The Battle of Patay

  Section 7: REIMS

  Map

  28. Dauphin or King? What’s in a Name?

  29. Oh Brother! Troyes Again

  30. The Crowning Moment

  Section 8: PARIS

  Map

  31. A Woman Disordered and Defamed

  32. Betrayal by a King

  33. Not like the Good Old Days

  34. Not the Done Thing

  Section 9: COMPIEGNE

  Map

  35. Compiègne under Attack

  36. Caught!

  37. The Long Arm of Mother Church

  38. Escape Attempts

  Section 10: ROUEN

  Map

  39. Feel the Heat!

  40. Chained like an Animal

  41. A Presumptuous Woman

  42. Let’s Try a Little Treachery

  43. One at a Time, Please

  44. Threats and More Threats

  45. Choose the Fire

  46. Trapped and Tricked

  47. Death!

  Section 11: AFTERWARDS

  Afterwards

  Bibliography

  Copyright (C) 2009 Veronica Schwarz

  Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Creativia

  Published 2019 by Creativia (www.creativia.org)

  This book is based on historical facts. Names, characters and places are real. Many of Joan of Arc's words and those of other characters were recorded during two trials and are still extant. However, the interviews conducted are the product of the author's imagination, used as a creative technique to present information based on fact.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

  Also by Veronica Schwarz

  Children's Books

  Water Falling, (A children's picture book) Mimosa Publications

  Read and Do Kangaroo, (A children’s reading and puzzle book)

  William Brooks, Brisbane, co-authored with

  A. Canterbury (Tulku Rose)

  Educational Publications

  Learn How to Learn, a manual of study skills

  Reading Program and Phonic Cards,

  William Brooks, Brisbane, Co-authored with

  A. Canterbury (Tulku Rose)

  New Directions in Social Studies,

  William Brooks, Brisbane, co-authored with

  A. Canterbury (Tulku Rose)

  Editing and Publishing

  Editor and publisher of The Dawn, an alternative magazine for women.

  Foreword

  Why would anyone write another book about Joan of Arc?

  There are thousands of books, numerous movies and countless websites about her.

  In spite of that, I felt inspired to write this particular book for a number of reasons.

  I wanted to make Joan’s story accessible to people of all ages who might not usually read history but would find these interviews (imaginary as they are) an easier way into her amazing but short life. I also hope that teachers will direct their students to this story, as its accuracy is based on many years of research and several trips to France.

  This work is a salute to and a celebration of one of the most amazing human beings of all time. Brave beyond belief on the battle field, stoic when wounded repeatedly, gentle and compassionate, staunchly loyal even in the face of betrayal. She died horribly when she was only nineteen, yet she is a role model of faith, persistence, devotion and courage.

  My aim is to keep Joan’s memory alive, not as a saint or a superwoman with extraordinary powers but as a wonderful human being with the same fears and pain and frustrations as the rest of us. A human being who steadfastly stuck to her purpose and showed us what belief and commitment can achieve.

  To the friends and family members who supported me through this long project, my sincere thanks. It helped immensely knowing that you were cheering me on.

  My thanks to my friends Olive Stonyer and Suzanne Pinchen for their invaluable help with proofreading. Any errors remaining are solely mine, made in the final moments of completion. I have retained the French spelling of place names.

  For the courage to write a creative non-fiction version of Joan’s life, I am grateful to Mark Twain, Bernard Shaw and Tom Kenneally.

  Above all, Joan the Maid, I salute you. This book is for you.

  Veronica Schwarz

  Pronunciation Guide

  There are quite a few differences in pronunciation between French and English, and French has many nasal sounds.

  This section does not try to give you a total outline of French pronunciation but mainly covers sounds in the names or words you will read in the book.

  One major difference occurs when the very last letter in a word is a consonant. It is not pronounced. For example, Denis is pronounced in French as duh-nee. No s on the end. One major exception to this is the letter c so Joan’s family name d’Arc is pronounced dark. The word for Duke, duc is pronounced dook. The oo sound is not exactly like oo in English. Hold your lips as though you are about to say oo and say ee instead. Now try saying duc.

  The letter j is pronounced the same as s in the English word pleasure.

  The vowel a is pronounced the same as it is in the English word apple except when it is written â. Then it is pronounced ah. So Joan’s name is Jeanne d’Arc is pronounced jan dark in French, making sure you get that j sounding like the s in pleasure.

  The nasal sounds are better listened to rather than described but the following will give you some idea.

  The letters m and n after certain vowels are not pronounced at all in French. To say these sounds, pretend you have a bad cold and your nose is blocked. Now try saying n. The m is pronounced the same as the

  n. In the list below, this sound is shown by a black dot.

  Alençon —> A-lo●-so●

  Augustins —> oh-goo-sta●

  Beau duc —> boh dook

  B
eaugency —> boh-jo●-see

  Beauvais —> boh-vay

  Cauchon —> koh-sho●

  Chinon —> shee-no●

  Com-piègne —> kom-pee-en-yuh

  Dauphin —> doh-fa●

  Domremy —> do●-ray-mee

  Dunois —> doo-nwa

  Durand Laxart —>doo-ro● laks-ar

  Fierbois —> fee-air-bwa

  Isabeau —> ee-za-boh

  Jacques d’Arc —> jak dark

  Jargeau —> jah-joh

  Jean Lemaitre —>jo● luh-maytr

  Jeanne —> jarn

  Jeannette —> jarn-et

  La Hire —> la eer

  La Pucelle —> la poo-sel

  Loire —> lwah

  Neufchateau—> nerf-shat-oh

  Orléans. —> or-lay-o●

  Pierre —> pee-air

  Poitiers —> pwah-tee-ay

  Pucelle —> poo-sel

  Reims —> ra●s

  Robert de Baudricourt —>ro-bair duh boh-dree-koor

  Rouen —> roo-o●

  Saint Denis —> sa● duh-nee

  Saint Loup —> sa● loo

  Saint Ouen —> s● too-o●

  Seine —> sayn

  Tourelles —> too-rel

  Vaucouleurs —>voh-koo-ler

  The Maid

  She was going to die, and more than ten thousand people had come to watch.

  The rumbling cart carried her into the town square, and the crowd stirred like a huge beast turning toward her. A roar went up, then all was quiet. Necks craned to see her. Men hoisted small children onto their shoulders to make sure they could see her, too.

  And what did they see? A young woman weeping with terror, supported by two priests. Her head was shaven, and she wore a shapeless dress of rough black cloth.

  Three platforms had been built in the centre of the town square. On one, officials and churchmen in their finest robes of red velvet, ermine and silk, sat on chairs placed specially for the occasion. They would miss nothing.

  On the second platform, a lone churchman stood, ready with his sermon and his judgment.

  The third platform held a tall stake. Firewood leant against it, piled high.

  No one would miss her death. The stake had been built so high even the executioner would be unable to reach her to strangle her mercifully. She would die in the fire.

  The place was Rouen, in France. The year: 1431.

  What had she done to earn so much hate? She was only nineteen. Hardly time to stir up such feelings in so many.

  And now, she's been dead for nearly six hundred years.

  So much was recorded from the time when she lived that we can piece it together. Come with me on a remarkable journey through time and place as I "interview" one of the most amazing people who ever lived—Jeanne d'Arc or Joan of Arc, as she is known in English—Joan the Maid, as she called herself.

  My journey with Joan began when I visited the small town of Domremy, her birthplace. The town has been renamed Domremy-la-Pucelle after Joan’s chosen surname, “la Pucelle,” meaning “the maid.”

  Section I: DOMREMY

  France in 1429 Joan’s birthplace, Domremy, is marked with a star.

  1

  Getting There

  At the time of my travels, getting to Domremy without a car was complicated, but I was determined. I figured if Joan could crisscross France on horseback, I could get myself to Domremy. A train trip from Paris to Nancy then a regional train to Neufchateau and a two-hour wait for a bus. By the time the bus got to Domremy, I was the only passenger. My French grew more fluent as I chatted to the driver and told him I was interested in Jeanne d’Arc. As he stopped the bus for me to get out, he pointed to a small church on his right.

  “Start here. I’ll be back in four hours for the return trip.”

  I stood in the middle of the dusty road as he drove off. The air was dense and dry; the sun was hot on my skin. There was no breeze. Shading my eyes against the glare, I looked at the small stone church. It had been built in the fourteenth century and remodeled in the sixteenth. Joan of Arc took her first Communion there around 1423.

  I walked across the road and into the church. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I felt the peace and calm of this tiny place. The air was cool. I had the place to myself, so I sat on a pew, soaked in the atmosphere and looked at the beautiful stained-glass windows. The brilliant colours showed scenes from the last few years of Joan’s life. The story started at the back on the left and continued clockwise to the front of the church and then up the right-hand side to the back of the church. The final scene on the left showed, in vivid colour, a young woman chained to a stake, burning to death.

  Aloud, I asked, “If you knew how it was going to end, would you have begun at all?”

  In my mind, an answer formed. Perhaps it was imagination. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

  “You deserve to be better known,” I said. “Many people have heard of you, but few know the amazing details.”

  It was then I decided to put together the mountain of information available about her and record it as a series of imaginary interviews.

  I left the church and walked into the dazzling sunlight of Domremy in May. Momentarily blinded after the cool darkness, I paused and looked back at the church. In the nineteenth century, the original altar was removed and the nave destroyed to make way for the road on which I stood. The original steeple was left standing and a new nave and altar built behind it. This means that the steeple is now at the front of the church. Back to front from when Joan knew it.

  The air was hot and heavy. Nothing stirred as I wandered across the dusty street to a small tavern. To the right was a souvenir shop, so I detoured in and bought a couple of souvenirs of Joan of Arc—a postcard and a small poem.

  The poem Fumées et Cendres (Smoke and Ashes) by Andrée Nex gave powerful sound and life to the image in that last stained-glass window. The fear, the horror, the savagery and the loss as Joan’s defenceless body is turned to a charred carcass in Rouen. The last verse reads:

  Et pour toujours, Un cri

  Un cri d’honneur

  Du corps devenu carcasse

  De Jehanne, en place de Rouen.

  And forever, a cry. A cry of honour. Of body turned to carcass. Of Joan, in Rouen’s marketplace.

  Almost gasping for breath at the horror of it, I left the souvenir shop, and returning to the sidewalk, I sat at

  one of the tables outside the tavern. A waitress appeared, and I ordered a pichon of white wine.

  I had three hours to wait for the next bus out of Domremy. Plenty of time to look around the village, but first I wanted to think about Joan and my sense of a mission to bring her back into the minds—and perhaps the hearts—of as many people as possible.

  It’s said we need heroes, and I think that’s true. Here is one of the greatest of heroes and perhaps one of the most amazing human beings of all time. Mark Twain wrote a book about her and considered it the best thing he had ever written. Most of his readers are unaware of the book about Joan but love Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, two fictional boys.

  Bernard Shaw wrote a play about her. In his preface, he summed up the amazing and the paradoxical. He wrote:

  She is the most notable Warrior Saint in the Christian calendar… Though a professed and most pious Catholic … she was in fact one of the first Protestant martyrs. She was also one of the first apostles of Nationalism, and the first French practitioner of Napoleonic realism in warfare as distinguished from the sporting ransom-gambling chivalry of her times. She was the pioneer of rational dressing for women …

  It is hardly surprising, he continues, that she was judicially burnt, ostensibly for a number of crimes… but essentially for what we call unwomanly and insufferable presumption.

  I pulled myself back to the present. I had finally made it to Joan’s birthplace.

  This small village is in Lorraine, one of the twenty-six Regions of France. It is the only French Region
to have borders with three other countries: Germany, Belgium and Luxembourg. As the crossroads of four nations, it was a strategic asset to whichever of them possessed it. But beyond this fact, it had given birth to a nation’s hero, one whose name is recognised in most of the Western world—Joan of Arc.

  The small village gave no sign of its reflected greatness as it dozed in the sun. The heat and glare grew stronger, and I moved to the shade of a large umbrella over one of the other tables. I sipped a little more of the wine, still refreshingly cool in its earthenware jug. I felt myself relax. Taking a deep breath, I wrote the words, “Hello Joan. Bonjour Jeanne,” in my notebook.