Epitaph for Three Women (24 page)

There followed a period of increased anxiety. The war was coming nearer to Domrémy. Sometimes they saw the smoke of burning villages in the distance and they knew that the soldiers were near. Whether it was English against French or Armagnac against Burgundy they did not know. Did it matter? Jeannette asked angrily. It was a stupid, senseless war.

Every night there were watchmen on the tower of the church and sometimes when a warning was given they would round up the flocks and herds and go across to the island fortress.

So far Domrémy had escaped.

But there was one terrible night when the battle came very near. From the castle Jeannette watched the flames rising to the sky and she knew that it was the village of Maxey which was being pillaged. Her first thoughts were for Mengette and her husband Collot Turlant whom she had married two years before. They should have joined them in the castle and yet, thought Jeannette, if any of these soldiers were of a mind to take the castle what would prevent them?

In the morning they went back to Domrémy. Everything was as they had left it, and although the relief of the return was almost unbearably great, everyone knew that they should not rejoice too gladly because from the safety of one day they could be plunged into the disaster of the next.

That turned out to be a sad day after all. Mengette came to Jeannette as she sat at her spinning wheel and one look into her face told Jeannette what she had feared.

She rose and took her friend in her arms.

‘What is it, Mengette?’ she said.

‘Collot,’ whispered the young wife. ‘I saw it … the cannon struck him … and he fell. There was blood on the ground, Jeannette … his blood.’

‘Oh Mengette, my poor Mengette!’

‘It was so short a time that we had together. It is only two years, Jeannette, and then … these stupid wars. Why do the men make wars? Do I want wars? Do you? Did Collot? If they want wars, let them fight and die … not us … not us. What does it matter to me … Armagnac or Burgundy … France or England … ?’

‘Hush,’ said Jeannette. ‘You are overwrought. I will get you some wine.’

Mengette shook her head.

‘I hate them all. I hate them,’ she said. ‘They have taken Collot. What harm did he do? It was La Hire … the Gascon … It was his men. He comes from the Dauphin to kill Frenchmen … good Frenchmen, like Collot.’

Jeannette had heard of the ferocious soldier of Gascony, Etienne Vignolle, who was known as La Hire; his men would have attacked Maxey ostensibly because that village was Burgundian in its sympathies, but these men revelled in war, not for a cause but to satisfy their lust for blood. They killed people like Collot Turlant and turned Mengette into a widow.

What could she say to comfort her friend?

She stroked her hair. ‘My dear little Mengette,’ she whispered, ‘you must try not to grieve. One day everything will be good again in France. I heard a prophecy today. Do you know what it was? It was Merlin long, long ago who said that a wise virgin would arise from the people of France and repair the damage which had been wrought by a wicked woman.’

Mengette was not listening; she sat staring blankly before her, thinking of all she had lost.

Jeannette went on: ‘The wicked woman is the Queen of France, Isabeau of Bavaria. She has cheated our King and our country; she has been false to both and she has given our crown and our Princess to the English. She is the wicked woman of whom Merlin spoke, Mengette. But the wise virgin will come.’

It was a few days later when a party of soldiers rode into Domrémy. The villagers hurried into their houses and prepared for the worst. The soldiers dismounted and selecting the house of Jacques d’Arc because it was the largest in the village and in a prominent position close to the church, rapped on the door.

Jacques opened the door and faced them.

‘What would you have with me, sirs?’ he asked.

‘A word. Just a word,’ was the reply.

They came in. Jeannette was at her spinning-wheel so she heard everything.

‘We are in the service of the great Robert of Saarbrück,’ they announced.

Jacques became very uneasy. This man was well known throughout the villages of France. He was one of those who made a profession of war and sought to fill his own pockets through it.

‘As you know, my lord of Saarbrück has declared for the Armagnac cause against the traitor Burgundy and this village I believe stands staunch for Armagnac.’

Jacques said: ‘We are for the King of France, he who is now called Dauphin and is in truth our King.’

‘So thought our master and he has sent us to offer you protection from the Burgundians and the Godons. As you know many of the villages hereabouts lie in ruins. We do not wish this to happen to Domrémy. We are going to protect you.’

‘I thank you,’ said Jacques. ‘Methinks we may well be in need of such protection.’

The soldier went on: ‘Such protection, which you so badly need, must be paid for. My master will need two hundred and twenty gold crowns to be delivered to him before St Martin’s day this winter.’

‘Two hundred and twenty gold crowns! But that is impossible. I have nothing like that.’

‘My good man, it shall not come from you alone. There are many in this village. Let them all contribute. It is nothing so much when divided. Say two
gros
from each household, eh? That is what my master would have us say to you. If you value the safety of Domrémy, my good man, think about it. What is two
gros
when compared with the loss of your homes, your property … ?’

Jeannette sat looking at her father as she listened to the sound of the soldiers galloping away. His face was ashen; there was anger and despair in his eyes.

After that there were many meetings in the house and on the green. Could they find the money? They must, said Jacques. He had sensed a threat from Robert of Saarbrück’s men. It seemed they had enemies on every side.

War, thought Jeannette, accursed war; and she went into the church to kneel before the statue of the Virgin and pray.

Life was not all gloom. Catherine was very happy at this time. She was married to Colin, one of the field workers from Greux; they had been in love for a long time and Colin used to follow them when they went to dance at L’Arbre des Dames; he would tease them when they went into the chapel to pray and tell Catherine that she must not be as pious as her sister.

Catherine and he were always going off together and as they were now of an age to marry nothing was put in their way. Catherine went to live at Greux and as that was no distance from Domrémy the sisters saw a great deal of each other and were as happy together as they had always been.

Catherine was always urging Jeannette to think of marriage. She was personable enough. One or two of the boys in the village had cast their eyes on her. Whenever Catherine talked of marriage Jeannette became very serious and declared that she did not think she would ever marry.

Catherine laughed with the wise look of a knowledgeable married woman; and although Jeannette genuinely had no wish to marry herself she was delighted to see her sister’s happiness.

It was a great hardship to find the money for Robert of Saarbrück but for a few months there was comparative peace. Hope was springing up because there were rumours of a rallying of the French armies and that the Dauphin was recruiting mercenaries from Italy and Spain. There were fierce Scots too, for the Scots had always hated the English, and were never averse to giving a hand against them.

This was to be the battle to end the tragic state of affairs. France would rise again, and a more hopeful spirit prevailed in Domrémy than had been known for a long time. Even the church bells rang out more gaily, it seemed to Jeannette.

They waited for news. The English were not – as strong as they had been, they reminded themselves. The Duke of Bedford was no Henry the Fifth. He wanted to go home. His brother was causing trouble. Burgundy was not and never could be – a true friend.

There came the day when the road was busy with messengers riding to and fro. There were soldiers as well. Some stopped at Domrémy. Yes, there had been a battle, a bloody battle, that of Verneuil.

Victory for the French? Indeed not. The English had done it again. When would the French find a way of defeating those showers of arrows, those spikes turned towards the enemy which broke the legs of the French horses as they advanced?

So … disaster at Verneuil and little hope of driving the Godons back across the sea. The sacking started again. There were sudden descents on the villages. No one was safe.

One night the tocsins rang out. Soldiers were coming in the direction of Domrémy. They were almost upon them and there was no time to save the cattle as well as the villagers.

They fled to the castle. They heard the sounds of shouting all through the night. Anxiously they watched for the flames.

In the morning they returned fearfully to the village. Their houses were untouched but all the cattle had been stolen.

Poverty stared them in the face. How could they live without cattle? Their flocks and herds were their livelihood.

Jacques declared that he would send a messenger at once to Jeanne d’Ogivillier, the owner of the Castle on the Island; she had influence in high places; she was a good and compassionate woman and she would know what the loss of their cattle would mean to the villagers. Moreover she was related to the Comte de Vaudémont. Could she appeal to him? The villagers had done no wrong, but they had had their means of livelihood snatched away from them in the night.

Perhaps none was more surprised than Jacques when the cattle, on the command of the Comte, were returned to the village. What joy there was! What bell ringing! The village congregated on the green to celebrate their good fortune and Jeannette went into the church to pray to the Virgin.

‘Help them, Holy Virgin,’ she prayed. ‘Help me to do what I can.’

Chapter X

VOICES

I
T
was soon after that when she heard the first of the voices. She had rowed over to the island to tend the sheep. It was a warm day and everything around seemed peaceful. She was thinking about the past year and all the horrors they had gone through, the loss of the cattle, the difficulty in finding the tribute to pay Robert of Saarbrück, the death of Mengette’s husband, and the constant fear in the night and the rising up from her pallet when the church bells rang out to warn them. Church bells should be beautiful, peaceful as they were when rung for church services. She loved the bells. She had always thought that one of the most wonderful moments of the day was when she was in the fields or tending the crops in her father’s patch and she heard the bells of the angelus ringing out. Then she would kneel wherever she was and give thanks to God.

Alas, life was full of anxieties and would be until peace came back to the land. Even then life had its troubles, harvests failed, people died. She thought then of Catherine. She had not seemed well lately. Jeannette had noticed that she was becoming increasingly thin and she had a persistent cough. She herself would go to Greux more often. She would insist on helping with her work, for Catherine did seem to be easily tired.