frustration. “I should not say it, but sometimes I feel like kicking him, Belami. I really do.” As it turned out, she did not need to go to that extreme. Other voices – the Duc d’Alençon’s for one, and La Hire’s too – joined the clamour that at last persuaded the Dauphin he must leave the safety of his castle and have himself crowned at Reims.
The road to Reims was a triumphal one. Town after town opened their gates, handed over the keys to the Dauphin and welcomed their beloved Maid of France, strewing the path before her with flowers. There were a few towns that shut their gates against them. The army did not stop to subjugate them – Joan would not let them. They simply passed around them. She would allownothing to impede their progress to Reims and the king’s coronation.
At Chalons-sur-Marne she found herself surrounded by dozens of children all pointing and laughing at Belami, she thought, who was perched, as he so often was, high on her standard. She looked up. “See, Belami, see how many admirers you have,” she cried. And then she noticed that Belami, too, was looking skywards. Above him fluttered a cloud of white butterflies that floated down about them now like blown cherry blossom. Belami eyed them greedily. “Don’t you dare, Belami!” Joan cried. “I’ll never speak to you again.”
While the children laughed at this and marvelled too, their mothers and fathers knelt and crossed themselves. Here was evidence, if any were needed, again of their Joan’s miraculous powers. Had she not changed the direction of the wind at Orléans?Was she not driving the English out of France almost single-handed? She was a blessed messenger of God, sent by Him. She was their Maid, their saviour. For them the white butterflies were simply further proof of it.
“Well, Joan,” came a voice from the crowd, a voice she knew well. “I see you’ve still got your Belami.” It was a moment or two before she found the face that went with the voice – Durand Lassois from Vaucouleurs.
“Uncle Durand!” she cried, and leapt from her horse. She hugged him to her, her heart bursting with joy. He rode with her and her brothers all the way to Reims through the wide open country of Champagne, and all the way they talked of home, of Joan’s mother and father, of Aunt Joan and the baby, of Robert de Beaudricourt, of Domrémy. And the butterflies followed them all the way. Thetemptation became too much for Belami. Luckily Joan was too busy talking to notice his feeding forays amongst the butterflies. Belami was a very happy sparrow, and a very well-fed one too, by the time he first saw the great towers of Reims Cathedral.
The people of Reims flocked out into the sunlit streets to greet their Maid, and the Dauphin, and their victorious army. The bells and the cheering rang out over the roofs of the city, and warmed Joan to the heart. “I think, Uncle Durand, I shall never be any happier again in all my life than I am now.”
She was wrong. She was at her supper that evening, alone in her room with Belami, when Louis came in. “I know you do not want to be disturbed, Joan, but there is a man outside who claims he is your father,” he said. “Shall I send him away?”
“Well,” said a shadow in the doorway, “are you so grand now that you would send me away?” The shadow stepped into the light and became her father. The two of them clung to each other, neither wanting ever to let go. “So,” said her father, at last opening his eyes, “so the sparrow came with you.”
“He’ll always be with me,” said Joan. And the two sat down at the table to talk. “And Mother? Is she with you? Is she here?”
“You think a farm runs itself?”
“Is she well? And Hauviette? Have you seen Uncle Durand? He’s here too. And anyway, how did you know where to find me?” There were so many questions they talked together all night and were still talking when Belami woke at dawn.
“But after today your work will
The road to Reims was a triumphal one. Town after town opened their gates, handed over the keys to the Dauphin and welcomed their beloved Maid of France, strewing the path before her with flowers. There were a few towns that shut their gates against them. The army did not stop to subjugate them – Joan would not let them. They simply passed around them. She would allownothing to impede their progress to Reims and the king’s coronation.
At Chalons-sur-Marne she found herself surrounded by dozens of children all pointing and laughing at Belami, she thought, who was perched, as he so often was, high on her standard. She looked up. “See, Belami, see how many admirers you have,” she cried. And then she noticed that Belami, too, was looking skywards. Above him fluttered a cloud of white butterflies that floated down about them now like blown cherry blossom. Belami eyed them greedily. “Don’t you dare, Belami!” Joan cried. “I’ll never speak to you again.”
While the children laughed at this and marvelled too, their mothers and fathers knelt and crossed themselves. Here was evidence, if any were needed, again of their Joan’s miraculous powers. Had she not changed the direction of the wind at Orléans?Was she not driving the English out of France almost single-handed? She was a blessed messenger of God, sent by Him. She was their Maid, their saviour. For them the white butterflies were simply further proof of it.
“Well, Joan,” came a voice from the crowd, a voice she knew well. “I see you’ve still got your Belami.” It was a moment or two before she found the face that went with the voice – Durand Lassois from Vaucouleurs.
“Uncle Durand!” she cried, and leapt from her horse. She hugged him to her, her heart bursting with joy. He rode with her and her brothers all the way to Reims through the wide open country of Champagne, and all the way they talked of home, of Joan’s mother and father, of Aunt Joan and the baby, of Robert de Beaudricourt, of Domrémy. And the butterflies followed them all the way. Thetemptation became too much for Belami. Luckily Joan was too busy talking to notice his feeding forays amongst the butterflies. Belami was a very happy sparrow, and a very well-fed one too, by the time he first saw the great towers of Reims Cathedral.
The people of Reims flocked out into the sunlit streets to greet their Maid, and the Dauphin, and their victorious army. The bells and the cheering rang out over the roofs of the city, and warmed Joan to the heart. “I think, Uncle Durand, I shall never be any happier again in all my life than I am now.”
She was wrong. She was at her supper that evening, alone in her room with Belami, when Louis came in. “I know you do not want to be disturbed, Joan, but there is a man outside who claims he is your father,” he said. “Shall I send him away?”
“Well,” said a shadow in the doorway, “are you so grand now that you would send me away?” The shadow stepped into the light and became her father. The two of them clung to each other, neither wanting ever to let go. “So,” said her father, at last opening his eyes, “so the sparrow came with you.”
“He’ll always be with me,” said Joan. And the two sat down at the table to talk. “And Mother? Is she with you? Is she here?”
“You think a farm runs itself?”
“Is she well? And Hauviette? Have you seen Uncle Durand? He’s here too. And anyway, how did you know where to find me?” There were so many questions they talked together all night and were still talking when Belami woke at dawn.
“But after today your work will
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