Ugh. You are so violent. I don't want to go, it is horrid.
Let's go, Joan! We are going to be late!
What is happening?
No! Joan PLEASE don't go! You are a girl! I will miss you. Everyone will.
I have to go. I don't even know if he will accept me! I mean, he will, but I will be fine! I have God on my side. Goodbye, Garnier.
It was 1425. We were 13 and going to an execution. Joan doesn't like executions. I do not know why she thought like that in the Late Middle Ages, it was meant to be like that. Dramatic. DING DING! There was the execution bell.
Garnier, The Hundred Years’ War is very succesful. I am the leader of battle and we are winning to England. I told you I would be fine. I always know what will happen with the war. The king is by my side, and I think I will be a hero. I miss you very much, my friend. I always have you and my siblings in mind. Catherine stated to send letters, that is how I got the idea. Hope to see you very soon, Garnier. Very truly yours, Jeanne d’Arc (Joan)
She didn’t move. Her eyes were looking toward the sky. But, did not look like she was still in France, she looked… somewhere else. Once she looked back to me, she looked worried. I was puzzled. Then she told me that God spoke to her. She said he told her that she must fight in the war.
Mother, whom is getting executed?
Would you like to go and find out? It is only a short hour's horse ride from here.
Now, we were a little older, 16 years old. She pulled out scissors. Her hair was gone. She ran inside and came out wearing men’s clothes. I was crying. Sobbing. She ran off on her horse with all of my happiness, friendship, years of memories, and the last time I would see my friend alive and happy.
I'm thinking about Father, Mother. He LOVED learning about this type of things. I miss him Mother. But, I know he is with God.
I know, mon chéri. I miss him, too, but you are correct. He is with God now, and he DID like these types of things. In a good way. I love you, Garnier.
At the age of 17, I recieved a letter from Joan. I read it, and a smile spread across my face like warm butter across bread. I started writing my note and made it as long as I could, saying everything necassary.
DING! DING! It was the execution bell. I didn't know whom it was for, I figured I'd ask my mother, not that she'd know. I wanted to go find out. There hadn't been an execution since I was 13. I was curious about executions. I get that from my father.
He was so interested in executions. Not in a cruel way though, in... a curious way. Mother saw me just standing there. He died when I was 8 years old because of a horrible illness called Cholera. Everyone thinks that it is caused because of eating raw fruit, but I do not think that is true. I think it is caused by food and water infected by bacteria. Mother always comforts me when I think of my beloved father.