by D. J. Holmes
***
Morning comes quickly in Domremy, France, and the sheep are anxious to be lead to their grazing field. Because of marauding forces constantly roaming their country, all animals are kept close to home during the evening and night, so that they can be protected from becoming someone else’s dinner.
Walking to Pierre’s bedroom, Jehanne knocks on the door. “Pierre, we slept in. I’ll take the sheep out so that they can eat. Would you please help mother, and then bring breakfast to me out in the field?”
“I would be glad to do that for you, Jehanne,” he says half asleep.
“Good. Don’t be too long. I’m famished.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
While Jehanne is sitting under a Crabapple tree watching the sheep graze, Pierre has covered himself in mud, branches and weeds. He has decided to try to sneak up on Jehanne. “She won’t be able to see me. I’ll look like the very background that is all around.” Putting her breakfast down on a rock, Pierre silently crawls closer and closer toward Jehanne. Finally, he is right behind her.
“I wonder what’s taking Pierre so long,” she says to herself. “I’m hungry enough that these sheep are beginning to look good to me. Where are you, Pierre?”
Jehanne hears a muffled, “I’m right here.” Looking around she sees nothing.
Once again she hears, “I’m right here, Jehanne.”
“Where are you, Pierre.”
“You’re looking right at me.”
“What?”
“You’re looking directly at me.”
“…Where?”
Suddenly, he jumps toward her yelling, “Boo!”
With great speed and determination, Jehanne grabs a branch, and hits him on his nose over and over again.
“Ouch! Ouch! Quit hitting me Jehanne. It’s me, Pierre. Look!”
Jehanne stops hitting him, as he wipes the mud off of his face.
“Why did you do that, Pierre?”
“I thought that it would be funny. I remember seeing my Father do something like this. He and his tribal brothers did this so that our enemies wouldn’t be able to see them.”
“That’s actually a good idea, Pierre! I’ll have to remember that technique. I may need it sometime. Did you, by chance, bring my breakfast?”
“I did.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s over on that big rock.”
“What big rock?”
“…The one that has that huge hawk on it.” Finally realizing that the hawk was eating her breakfast, he quickly runs, straight at the hawk, flinging his arms up and down, in all directions trying to scare the hawk away from the food. But the hawk, determined to eat as much food as it can, continues eating until the very moment Pierre snatches the food out from under him.
“Get away, you thief. This is not meant for you. It’s for Jehanne.”
Walking back to Jehanne, he sees a huge smile on her face. “What are you smiling for, Jehanne? He ate most of your breakfast!”
“You looked so funny with all that mud, weeds and branches all over you, and your arms moving all over the place. You should have seen yourself, I will remember it forever. Whenever I need a laugh, I’ll remember it!”
“Well, while you eat your breakfast, I’m going to go to the lake and wash this stuff off. I don’t want your mother to splash me with water like she did the other day. That hurt!” Pierre’s face expresses a weird painful smile.
Laughing, Jehanne says, “See you soon.”
Pierre goes to the lake, and enjoys a quick swim as the water melts the mud, branches and weeds off of his head and body. As he walks back toward Jehanne, he hears screaming. He begins to run. First of all, he wants to make sure that Jehanne is all right and then he will see where the screaming is coming from. As he gets closer to her, the screams become louder. Coming in sight of where the sheep are grazing, he can see Jehanne is trying to fend someone off. Realizing that the screams are coming from her, he begins running even faster, jumping onto the man, grabbing his arms, pulling him off of Jehanne, and throwing him to the ground.
The man is shocked and frightened that someone has knocked him to the ground and he gets up running away as fast as he can.
“What happened, Jehanne?” Pierre asks, as he holds her, trembling, in his arms.
“I was sitting here eating my breakfast, when that man came up from behind me. He grabbed me, and threw me to the ground. I screamed, hoping that you would hear me.”
“I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here. It wouldn’t have happened, if he had seen both of us here.”
“I’m fine, Pierre. I just have a few scratches on my face. Nothing else happened.”
“Let’s take you home, and clean up those scratches.”
Arriving at the cottage, her mother and father ask what happened. As her mother cleans her scratches, Pierre tells them of the man who was attacking Jehanne.
“That’s it! I don’t care what anyone in our village has to say, my daughter is going to know how to defend herself…. Pierre, I have been teaching you how to use the sword. So the village won’t see Jehanne with a sword, would you please teach Jehanne in the barn, while I am preparing war strategies with the other village Captains in the strategy tent?”
“I would be glad to,” he says with fire burning in his eyes.
“And Isabelle, you will be seen weaving at the loom, in plain sight for the whole village to see.”
“I agree with you my love. Jehanne needs to know how to defend herself.”
“Are you sure Father?” Jehanne asks.
“Yes, I am very sure!”
Early the next morning, before Jacque and the village Captains start to plan their strategies, Pierre and Jehanne can be heard practicing their sword fighting. Steel hitting against steel has a very loud sound. Hurrying to the barn, Isabelle suggests, “Until I make mufflers for your swords, would you please use these twigs so that the sound won’t be so loud.”
“We were concentrating so hard, we didn’t know we were making so much noise, Mother,” Jehanne apologizes.
“There’s no one around here right now. But if someone were to come, and hear those sounds, they would surely investigate, and that would be dangerous for the welfare of our family.”
“We understand, Isabelle,” Pierre states. “From here on out we will make sure that there will be no sounds coming from our swords.”
“Thank you. Now get back to your practicing.”
“Alright, Mother.”
“Jehanne, before we get the wood sticks, let’s practice how to safely take the sword from its sheath, and put it back again.”
“This is a lot harder than I thought it would be, Pierre.”
“It is for most people at the beginning, Jehanne. Because it is somewhat awkward, you hold your sheath with your left hand, while you take the sword out of its holder with your right. If you aren’t careful, it can be very easy to cut your hand.”
“I can see what you are saying, Pierre. Sometimes the sheath moves, or I might have my hand too close to the top, and the blade of the sword is very sharp. I’m going to really have to practice this one. It seems so simple, yet it can be very dangerous.”
Walking into the barn, Jacque is excited to tell them, “I found some wooden swords for you to practice with. I remember using these when I first began to learn how to fight with a sword,” he reminisces with pride.
“Thank you Father.” Turning to Pierre Jehanne says, “These are all most like swords, except they aren’t as heavy, or as sharp.” Turning back to her father she adds, “We will put them to good use, Father.”
Pierre nods his head in appreciation. “These wood swords will make it a lot easier to show Jehanne the techniques she needs to know. Thank you Jacque.”
“I’ll be back to see your progress, my children,” Jacque states, grateful that his daughter is being trained to defend herself.
As Pierre teaches Jehanne the basic techniques of sword fighting, the sounds
of wood hitting wood, is much quieter than steel hitting steel.
Later in the day, Isabelle walks into the barn again. Smiling, she stands and watches Jehanne and Pierre for a while. “Your Father found his practice swords?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“That is a lot better. I couldn’t hear any sound coming from here. I wanted you to know that I made covers for you to put over your swords. They are ready, when you are ready to use them.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
For months, Pierre and Jehanne go to the barn to practice how the sword is used in war. Her father maneuvers his time, and is able to sneak in and give some extra help also.
“I’m proud of you, Jehanne. All the men that I know feel that women can’t learn this type of weaponry. You have proved them all wrong!”
“Why would they think that a woman can’t learn to use the sword?”
“I guess it’s the pride that some people have. It’s been that way for so long, and they fear change.”
“Father, anyone can learn anything. They just have to be taught.”
“I agree. If everyone had your attitude, the world would be a much better place.”