Read Online Sparrow by Michael Morpurgo - Free Book Online Page A

of Orléans, of how long it would take to gather the army. But Joan saw even that first evening how weak the Dauphin was in his resolve, one moment fired with determination, the next his head shaking with doubt and despondency. One moment he was the cat that had got the cream, the next he was wondering if it had gone sour.
    “But what if we fail, Joan?” he whined. “Even if I throw my whole army against these walls of Orléans, I could still lose, couldn’t I? Lose my army and I lose France. We need a miracle.”
    Joan tried to soothe away his fears. “Why elsedo you think I am here, gentle Dauphin? But the miracle will not happen unless we make it happen. The walls of Orléans will not just fall down. I cannot blow them down with trumpets as Joshua did. We must knock them down and the English with them. Give me command over your army and with God’s help I will do the rest.”
    All evening, aided and abetted by the Duc d’Alençon, she coaxed and badgered and cajoled and inspired the Dauphin, until finally he had to give way. “The army is yours, Joan,” he said at last.
    Later they all went out together on to the darkening watermeadows, below the castle.
    “I don’t suppose you’ve ever ridden a horse, Joan?” asked the Duc de la Trémoille.
    Joan snorted at that. “Just give me a horse, my lord duke, and you will see whether I can ride.”
    Thinking she would never manage him, the Ducde la Trémoille brought her a great war horse, a giant of a charger. Joan did not hesitate. Without ever setting a foot in the stirrup, she leapt up, gathered the reins and galloped off. Afterwards the Duc d’Alençon led her into the castle courtyard and gave her a lance. To his amazement, and everyone else’s, she tilted like a veteran. When she had done, Belami flew down to perch on the end of her lance.
    “You tilt like a soldier,” said the Duc d’Alençon, running up to her, breathless with admiration.
    “That’s because I am a solder,” Joan replied. “God’s soldier, and I shall be to the day I die.”
    “But maybe,” said the Duc d’Alençon, “you should not dress like a soldier, Joan. I mean, some people will not like it, you know. Women should dress like women.”
    “My fair duke,” Joan laughed down at him. “Youtalk to me of clothes! You dress up like a peacock, yet you are a man, not a bird. I want only to look like a soldier. I dress as I do because my voices say I must, because I must live my life amongst my soldiers, live as they live, be as they are. And know one thing about me, my fair duke, I care not one fig what people like or do not like about me. I care only to obey my voices. I have asked them often about this and they tell me I was right to put away my women’s clothes, and they tell me, too, that I must never again dress as a woman – nor as a peacock, come to that.”
    The Duc d’Alençon knew when he was beaten and gave up. “Do as you will then,” he said, “but for pity’s sake, Joan, you cannot go around in those ragged old clothes, looking like someone’s servant. If you are to lead us, Joan, then you must look the part.”
    “Very well,” Joan replied, “but understand, whatever I wear, my scarlet cloak never leaves me. It will take me through my battles, so that when I am wounded – and I shall be – no one will know it.”
    “Ah Joan,” said the Duc d’Alençon. “I shall be at your side to protect you. I would never let that happen.”
    Of all the people at court, it was only the Duc d’Alençon she liked to be with. To some she was either a curiosity or a saint, and they treated her accordingly. To others, and these were many, she was some kind of a witch, casting her wicked spells over the Dauphin. Many of the army marshals were already jealous of her sudden power and influence, and resentful of her youthful vigour. Some of the nobles and their ladies, polite on the surface, were stung by her popularity with the people. She read hate in their eyes, and