Read Online Joan: The Mysterious Life of the Heretic Who Became a Saint by Donald Spoto - Free Book Online

she saw no reason not to wear sensible clothes. In modern times some radical analysts have insisted that Joan’s male wardrobe indicates that she was either a transvestite or a lesbian. If that skewed judgment is correct, then every woman who wears, for example, overalls for work or sport or a riding habit or even elegant trousers ought to be similarly charged as residing on the margins of “normal” sexuality.
    As for the idea that a woman was forbidden by biblical and ecclesiastical law from wearing men’s clothes under any and every circumstance, that was simply not so: women were encouraged to adopt a disguise when necessary—for instance, to protect themselves. However, a woman was not permitted to live every day of her life cross-dressed as a man and intending to be taken for a man, for that would be to imitate what was presumed to be the loftier status of men. The towns people of Vaucouleurs thought as did Joan: the change of clothing was merely expedient, and there was no discussion about it; later, however, her male clothing became the overriding argument for her execution.
    When her accoutrements were in order, Jean de Metz asked Joan when she would like to head for Chinon. “Tomorrow rather than later,” she replied, “but even better, now.”

    J OAN DEPARTED ON Wednesday, February 23. Henri Le Royer came to the town square to say good-bye, expressing his concern about her safety among soldiers, brigands and Burgundians. “She was not afraid [Le Royer recalled], for she had God, her Lord, Who would clear the road for her to go to the dauphin. She said she was born for this.” Robert de Baudricourt uttered an ambiguous farewell, directed, in the singular imperative, to Joan: “ Va, et advienne que pourra. Go, and come what may.” In a sense, he was washing his hands of Joan and her campaign, and he was doubtless relieved to see her depart. He had done his duty, he had tried to discourage her, he had tested her spirit. The whole enterprise seemed hopelessly unrealistic to this gruff, pessimistic commander.
    Joan had an entourage of six: Jean de Metz and his servant; Bertrand de Poulengy and his attendant; Colet de Vienne, a royal messenger who knew the route; and a Scottish archer named Richard, a mercenary. Metz and Poulengy provided food and supplies and bore the expenses of the journey, including payments to the other men; the money for Joan’s horse was raised by the townsfolk. With the blessing of the local priest and the cheers of a crowd, the group rode down the hillside. * The day was frigid, the earth hard as iron, the sun obscured behind wintry clouds.
    As Saint Benedict had enjoined, abbeys traditionally offered hospitality to travelers. The superior of the monastery of Saint-Urbain was a relative of Baudricourt, and he went out to greet the sojourners from Vaucouleurs on the first night of their journey, when (as Poulengy recalled) they stopped “for fear of the Burgundians who were numerous in the region.” The men slept in the monastery; Joan was lodged in a guest cottage, as women routinely were.
    The remaining itinerary took them through Clairvaux, Pothières, Mezilles, Saint-Aignan and L’Ile-Bouchard. “During our journey, Joan used to say it would be good for all of us if we could attend Mass,” added Metz, “but we were afraid of being recognized [as French loyalists], and so we went to Mass only twice”—at Auxerre and Saint-Catherine-de-Fierbois, towns sympathetic to the dauphin.
    Chinon was a distance of about three hundred fifty miles, and Colet de Vienne calculated a journey of eleven to twelve days, barring fierce weather or attack. At first they thought their hardy young lady might be more than foolish; Joan was sincere, but they wondered if she might not also be a bit mad. They were soon disabused of this suspicion and recognized that her single-mindedness was a sign of fidelity to a calling far beyond the political.
    Poulengy was about thirty-six and Metz about