General Fiction posted September 7, 2017


Excellent
Not yet exceptional. When the exceptional rating is reached this is highlighted
Chosen by God

Joan

by rockinm76233


The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.

I was four horses back from our leader. This upfront position allowed me to see the open field that lay ahead on our journey to Rouen. It also enabled me to detect if our enemies lay ahead waiting.

So far this morning's ride had been un-eventful. None the less, as a seasoned solider I knew I had to remain alert.

The sound of armor clinking and the snorting of our horses broke the early morning silence. The sun was shining brightly and the air was fresh and had a chill, foretelling that fall was in the air. But, today we had a battle to fight and we had to prepare ourselves once more for that.

Word had reached us via our scots that just beyond this meadow, that we were now approaching, our enemy lay in wait. They had traveled through the night to lay a trap for us. We were told exactly where to expect to find the enemy forces waiting.

For the moment the 'Maid of Orleans,' rode at a steady gate. She neither looked afraid or anxious. She was dressed in a man's clothing, more suited for the task of war. She sat tall, upright in her saddle and kept her eyes focused ahead. The moment she raised her hand we were to take cover behind our horses and prepare for hand to hand combat. She would lead the charge.

We had just entered the clearing when a cry went out, "enemy ahead."
Immediately Joan raised her hand and we all dismounted and prepared for hand to hand combat. We used our horses as shields as far as we could and then when they no longer served that purpose we came face to face with our enemy.

The one I was locked in combat with had blue eyes. I thought it strange at that particular point in time, to take notice of the color of his eyes. My hesitation was momentarily and immediately I struck a fatal blow with my sword. He fell, headfirst at my feet.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw my leader in a battle to the death. She was locked in combat with a soldier twice her size, yet she showed no fear and no hesitation. With one swoop of her sword his head lay at her feet. She stepped over it and readied for the next opponent.

Suddenly, out of the forest hundreds of the enemy forces broke through. With shouts of anger they welded their swords and at least three headed straight for Joan. Try as I might I could not rid myself of my own aggressors long enough to try and save my leader. I saw her at last crumple to the ground with an enemy's sword at her throat. Her own sword was lying on the ground next to her having been ripped away by one of the assailants.

My own aggressors suddenly surrounded our entire first row of troops and we were, in an instant, their captives.

The enemy made short work of our capture and soon we were in chains, marching on foot to the next town of Rouen. Chained and bound, Joan was set out front to lead the way. This was the enemy's way of mocking her, and us as her followers.

What they didn't understand was we would all have followed her to hell, and been glad to make the journey. As a soldier, up until this leader, I had never seen such dedication and loyalty. Perhaps it was because she was so young and so alone and so un-afraid that we all took on her ambiance of courage and faith.

If her faith in the God she served ever faltered, we who followed her leadership, never saw it. The first thing she did every morning was pray for God's will to be done and to give her the courage to do what had to be done. Then she followed with prayers for her fellow soldiers, and for their safety.

After we were locked up in prison, our enemies spread the rumors that Joan was a lunatic, a heretic and all the other ugly things they could and did say about her. They said she was a witch. But, through it all she could be seen every morning, before sunrise, kneeling in her cell and praying to her God who she convinced us all, spoke directly to her.

When Joan's trial started we all waited anxiously every day to hear how the proceedings went. We knew there would be no way she would be set free, yet still we hoped and prayed a miracle would happen and save her.

On the last day of the trial, word spread throughout the jail that they were going to try and find her guilty and say she was a witch who would be burned at the stake. Our hearts sank; this was the end of our beloved Joan. She would become another victim in the hundred year war at only nineteen years of age.

The next morning they came for her before sunrise. We were told a wooden post had been driven in the center of the street and firewood placed all around it. They had prepared for her execution.

As they led her chained from her cell, she turned and waved to us and said, "God bless you all. I love you. I will meet you once again in Heaven."

With those words she turned and followed her captors to the stake, still showing no signs of fear.

We were told after they tied her to the stake they asked if she had anything to say, they told us, she nodded she did, and then she spoke;

"One life is all we have. We live it as we believe in living it. But, to sacrifice what you are and to be without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying."

They lit the fire and swiftly the orange hot flames grew and engulfed her body. A hush fell over the crowd of onlookers, and we openly wept in our jail cells.

We were told that three times they had to relight the wood because a wind, from seemingly nowhere, kept blowing out the flames.

It was re-told to us, that Joan had died from smoke inhalation, but that the fire going out and being relit was because the English were determined they would reduce her body to ashes and then throw them into the Seine river.

Whatever happened we would never know the full truth. The next day they stood us all in front of a stone wall and an English firing squad shot us to death.

It was told by those that looked on, that we, like Joan, had been brave and faced our death as soldiers, brave, one and all. Each prisoner shouted as the gunfire rang out, "Long live France, and long live Joan of Arc."
-0-



















Joan D'arc contest entry


A soldiers view about Joan of Arc
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Artwork by eileen0204 at FanArtReview.com

Save to Bookcase Promote This Share or Bookmark
Print It View Reviews

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.


© Copyright 2017. rockinm76233 All rights reserved. Registered copyright with FanStory.
rockinm76233 has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.