Borrowed Time (18 page)

Kate’s frustration came back, fed by her own clashes with the church she had been raised in. “I don’t understand. I just don’t get it, Joan. You’re so smart. So very intelligent. Anyone talking to you can tell that.”

“Thank you, but I can neither read nor write anything but my own name.”

“You just weren’t taught how to do those things! That has nothing to do with how smart you are. But then you talk about your voices, and God . . . and . . . ”

Joan turned a puzzled look on Kate. “And?”

“How can you . . . ?” She couldn’t say it, couldn’t accuse Joan of mindless superstition, of being the kind of hysteric which history had often painted her as.

But Joan somehow understood, looking first startled, then to Kate’s shock laughing again. “Do you think that being smart and having faith cannot live together?”

“But - There’s no proof –“

“Proof?” Joan waved her hand. “I am here. Orleans did not fall, Charles was crowned king in Rheims. None of these are proof?” She laughed again as Kate struggled for words. “Lady Kate, my voices do not tell me to deny what is. They do not say ‘Joan, ignore what your eyes see, for the sky is red, not blue.’ I would not listen to them if they said such things, because by that I would know them false. The churchmen who examined me in my trial questioned my faith and my voices in many ways, but even they never could point to anything and say ‘this is proof she is a witch and a heretic.’” Joan gestured to herself this time. “Though they cared not for my male attire, as you may have heard.”

Kate couldn’t help smiling. “I understand your male clothing and fighting in battle horrified them more than the idea that you were a witch or heretic. It will be a long time before men can accept women wearing so-called men’s clothes.”

“I do not know that men will ever accept that!”

“Sure they will. If you’d come with me, I could take you to a place where they do.”

Joan smiled back, then shook her head again. “No, Lady Kate. I could not betray my mission.”

“But how can you still believe in that mission when everyone you helped abandoned you?” Kate burst out.

“There must have been reasons. I must believe.” Joan must have read Kate’s reaction. “Surely you believe in something, Kate?” Joan spoke confidently, her eyes seeming to glow, her presence so strong that Kate stared wordlessly for a moment. “You may confess to me,” Joan whispered with a grin.

“Yes,” Kate said, unable to take her eyes off of Joan’s face. “There is something I believe in, something that was a lot more than I thought I knew.”

“Then follow your heart,” Joan advised. “Our Lord gave us both heart and head for a reason. Everything has a purpose.” She crossed herself again. “In time, we may learn the purpose.”

Every argument which Kate had ever heard against such fatalism popped into her head, but faced with Joan they all seemed inadequate.
Orleans did not fall, Charles was crowned king in Rheims.
Both had been thought impossible before Joan came to lead the French army. The very idea of a teenage girl with sword and armor leading the French army into battle had been thought impossible, would be dismissed as fantasy if the historical record wasn’t undeniable. How did anyone refute that those things had nonetheless happened? Would Kate be the one arguing that the sky was red if she tried to refute them? Anyway, fatalism wasn’t the right word, was it? Joan might believe that God was dictating outcomes, but she used that faith to motivate her to action on behalf of others. “I just don’t know.”

“Your heart will tell you if you listen,” Joan said again.

#

Sunset wasn’t far away when they rounded a turn and found themselves facing an even dozen mounted knights in battle-scarred armor. Kate froze, knowing they should run, but too shocked at the moment to react.

Joan sat calmly, though, raising one hand in greeting. “Good day. Who do you serve?”

One of the knights rode forward, his battered armor and harsh face telling of long years at war. “We serve France, Maid. It has been long since I saw you last.”

“Andre.” Joan smiled. “I was told that one I knew before would find me this day. Who pays you now?”

“Duke Alencon.”

The smile on Joan’s face broadened so much that Kate felt as if the sun had suddenly come out from behind clouds. “My good duke. He is near?”

The knight shook his head somberly. “Duke Alencon could not come here. Nor could any army he could raise fight its way this deep into territory controlled by the English. Instead, he hired a few small groups of mercenaries such as we who could travel through the nets of the English and the Burgundians. We were to go to Rouen in hopes some opportunity to aid you might arise. Maid, there are English everywhere. They scour the countryside for you.” Andre turned a questioning look on Kate. “I do not know this knight.”

“Lady Kate. She is my rescuer and trusted companion.”

“Another Maid to fight for France?” one of the other knights asked in a wondering tone.

Kate hoped it was getting dark enough that her blush couldn’t be seen. If these knights were looking for another virgin, they had found Kate a few years too late.

But Joan was already answering. “Lady Kate is a stout warrior who alone rescued me from Rouen.” The mercenaries all turned impressed looks toward Kate, making her blush even more. “If God wills it, we shall return safely to my good duke. Do you know of a secure place for the night?”

Andre nodded and turning his horse led them onward in the direction which Joan and Kate had been traveling. By the time night fell they had made camp in a small dell well off the road, with trees close enough by to provide a small measure of shelter as well as fallen wood for a small fire. Overheard, the stars came out so thick and bright that Kate couldn’t help staring, astounded at their brilliance and finally understanding why people had thought that the heavens really did hold Heaven.

The mercenary knights shared out hard bread and the raw red wine in their flasks while some of their number went scrounging for food, eventually returning with piles of wild mushrooms cradled in their arms. Kate watched with alarm as everyone took thin sticks, spearing the mushrooms to hold them over the fire for roasting. “Are those safe?”

Andre gave her a puzzled look. “Of course they are. Who wouldn’t know a dangerous mushroom from a safe one?”

“Lady Kate is from far away,” Joan explained. She seemed in her element among these rough soldiers, trading jokes, asking for news, sharing stories of earlier battles. Every once in a while one of the mercenaries would inadvertently utter an oath and then Joan would gently reprove him, the hardened warriors humbly accepting her admonishments.

Kate ate her share of the mushrooms and bread, taking swigs from flasks as they went around, the red wine warming her insides, watching Joan laugh and talk. The mercenaries listened attentively to her, showing real respect. “I don’t get it,” Kate finally murmured to herself.

Andre had been close enough to hear, and now turned to Kate. “Something bothers you, Lady?”

“Yes. You’re all experienced fighting men. You’re mercenaries. You’re
men
, and these days men don’t listen much to women. But you really seem to think a lot of Joan.”

Andre looked toward Joan as well. “A wise man listens to women on some matters. My father told me that. Most women confine their concerns to the home and the farm, though. But the Maid is different. It’s like this. I’m a mercenary, Lady Kate. I used to believe in other things, but mercenaries believe in only one thing, and that’s money.” Andre nodded toward where Joan sat. “You need to stay alive to spend the money you earn, and that’s why mercenaries have no qualms about following the Maid. She’s a fine leader, with a good mind for combat.”

“Really? I’ve heard a lot about her, but not much about that.”

The mercenary laughed harshly. “Thank the nobility for trying to hide it! They couldn’t have it known that a girl was a better leader of men in battle than any of them. The English and the Burgundians want little said of it as well, that a woman beat them soundly again and again. Better for them to call her a sorceress who won her battles through black magic, or to talk about her clothing and her faith. But surely you’ve heard some of the Maid’s military doings, like her advice before the fight at Patay.”

Kate managed to dredge up that memory. “Something about spurs, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. ‘You have good spurs. Use them.’ Then she explained that it didn’t make sense to wait around and let the English choose where and when to fight. When we saw them, we should hit them hard and fast, before they were ready.” Andre grinned. “We tried it at Patay and slaughtered the English, who thought to have another Agincourt or Crecy. We beat them handily at other places, too. The Maid taught us how important speed is, on campaign and in battle, and in a fight she’s always at the fore, leading her men onward. If an attack at one place fails she shifts, seeking better approaches. When she has failed, it was because the rock-heads of the nobility held her back. We would have had Paris easily if not for self-serving truces agreed to by the court. The Maid is the best leader many of us have followed, Lady, and that’s why I took Duke Alencon’s coin and came looking for her.”

“So, it’s self-interest.”

“You could call it that, Lady.” Andre frowned down at the grass. “That’s all it is.” But then he looked at Joan again and his expression wasn’t that of a man working only for money.

#

Another dawn on a journey which was only supposed to have lasted a few hours. Kate sat with her back against a tree, trying to understand what had gotten her here. Time travel? That part was easy. What she couldn’t figure out was what she was doing following a religious warrior and a band of mercenaries through territory crawling with enemies.

And why did she have a nasty suspicion that she was enjoying this, that she wouldn’t leave Joan now no matter how bad things got?

Kate looked at the return control she carried on her wrist, safely under the sleeve of her armored gauntlet when she wore it. Just punch in the code, and she would be gone from here, back to the land of warm showers and fast-food and soft beds, where hordes of enemies weren’t hunting for her head. But all she did was look.

Joan came around the side of the tree, wearing her breastplate, her sword swinging sheathed by her side, the dawn light gilding her. Kate could only stare for a moment. “God, you look hot,” she blurted out.

“Take not His name in vain, Lady Kate.” But then Joan’s expression turned rueful. “In truth, it becomes very warm under armor, does it not?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Yes. That’s what I meant. Joan, have you ever been in love?”

Joan sat down nearby. “Of course. I love my parents, my brothers, I love Duke Alencon. There are many I am fond of.”

“I don’t mean that kind of love. I mean passionate love, like getting married.”

Joan gave her a quizzical look. “Do you mean romantic love? But that is not what marriage is about. Parents arrange marriages for many reasons, but romantic love is never one of them! Have you been listening to too many court troubadours and their silly songs?”

Kate looked off into the distance. “Romantic love is real.”

“Of course it is,” Joan conceded. “But it is not something I could ever have.”

Then some of the knights came to tell them it was time to go, and Kate followed Joan to their horses.

#

They made it through that day, and halfway through the next, riding through a countryside where rumor and news of soldiers hunting the Maid were constant companions. Some of the people they encountered warned them, while others doubtless carried word to their hunters.

Joan had continued to improve rapidly despite the hardships of their road. She spent time with the mercenaries, but she also rode with Kate often, talking of many things. Once Kate asked her about the fabled sign to the Dauphin, but Joan just laughed and would say nothing about it. “You are not to be my inquisitor as well,” she chided Kate lightly. “I care for you too much to have you assume such a role, my good Lady Kate.”

Just before noon they rode past the ruin of a keep consisting of a small walled court and a tower. Topping a ridge beyond the keep, the lead mercenary halted abruptly. “English!” he called back. “Three score at least!”

Andre turned his mount. “We ride back and across country.” Spurring their tired horses, the party headed back past the ruined keep.

But on the other side, before they could leave the road, they saw another party of hunters coming toward them. This time the English saw the group with Joan, and warning trumpets sounded as they charged, trumpets which were answered from the group on the other side.

Joan drew rein. “There are at least a hundred English knights and men-at-arms there, and more than sixty behind us.”

“They come on fast. Our mounts cannot outrun them,” Andre replied grimly.

“No, and the English have bowmen with them. A fight in the open would be hopeless. To the keep.”

The dozen mercenaries, Joan and Kate kicked their horses into a final burst of speed, into the courtyard of the ruined keep where the knights hastily began barricading the broken gate with any available object. They had barely finished piling up a barrier when the first group of English arrived. Within minutes, the second group joined them. Kate watched with a sinking feeling, certain that there were at least two hundred men facing them, and more trumpets could be heard signaling in the distance as other groups converged on the keep.

There was an elevated stone walkway about a yard off the ground, allowing defenders to stand chest-high to the wall, which was substantially intact but only about eight feet tall. Joan dashed up onto the walkway, followed by Kate and most of the mercenaries.

Everything seemed to pause for a moment, the banners of the English flapping in the breeze the only movement and the cries of birds the only sound. Finally, a herald rode out from the English lines, stopping well away from the wall. The herald’s voice rang out clearly in passable French. “Brave knights, you cannot prevail here. Surrender the witch and you shall all be granted your lives and your freedom.”