The Fairies Tree

By C. A. Zraik

"From the hoary wood of Bois Chenu will come a young girl who will do great deeds..." ~ Merlin

Early in the Fifteenth Century of war-torn France, a twelve year old girl visits the ancient wood of Bois Chenu, a thick forest that extends up the slope of the valley and stands sentinel above her village of Domremy.

The little girl goes to discover who and what she really is. The village children taunt her, claiming she was switched at birth by the Fey, and that is why she is so homely. Jeannette d'Arc sets out to prove them wrong. She enters Bois Chenu, intent on finding answers at the Fairies Tree, and in doing so, determines the fate of an entire country.

As to her own fate, upon a fiery dais, Jeannette is asked if she has any last words. She looks at the people below her, and in a soft voice asks them not to be angry with her, that everything she had done was for a people and a realm she dearly loved. Then she looks at her judges and whispers, "I forgive you...."

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. A. Zraik
• Release date: Jun 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458168559

C. A. Zraik

I am an author with ebooks available here on SmashWords.com, on Amazon.com, and Barnes and Nobels.com. My ebook full length novels include; Heir To Avalon, The Fairies Tree, The Roamer Series; Roamer, and Looking for the Elf Lords, and The King's Box. Childrens books include; From the 'Letters From Grandma Series': Spring in Grandma's Back Yard, Summer in Grandma's Back Yard, Autumn in Grandma's Back Yard, and Winter in Grandma's Back Yard. I taught Creative Writing and am now retired from teaching. Readers of my books can contact me at [e-mail]. I would love to hear your feedback. Thank You for reading my ebooks, I hope you enjoyed them!

Book preview

THE FAIRIES TREE

by

C. A. Zraik

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

C.A.Zraik on Smashwords

The Fairies Tree

Copyright © 2010 by C.A. Zraik

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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90 percent of this story is true. The events of Jeannette's short life are well documented, and yet there are several issues that were never resolved, issues that pertained to; a ring she wore and her refusal to tell the examiners at her trial where the ring had come from; the sword she wielded for a time that she insisted be dug up from beneath the Church altar at a little shrine dedicated to St. Catherine of Fierbois, and the strange disappearance of that sword later in her career. And then there was her association with the Fairies Tree…

Worlds on Worlds are rolling ever

From creation to decay,

Like the bubbles on a river

Sparkling, bursting, borne away

~Shelley

The Fairies Tree

"From the hoary wood

of Bois Chenu

shall come a young girl

who will do great deeds . . . "

~Merlin

One lonely bell tolled the darkening hour of Vespers from the loft of the tiny church tucked safely away on a small island in the Meuse River near the French border village of Domremy.

Twelve year old Jeannette watched the sun go down as she stood, clenched her jaws, and reached deep into herself to bolster her courage. Even knowing what to expect didn't make the harassment that was sure to come any easier to bear. Once again she was about to suffer a barrage of taunts from the other children, and once again she would have to put on her facade of indifference. She picked up her long staff, which lay propped against the dingy wall of her father's crudely built cottage, and reluctantly walked toward the distant grazing field.

As she followed the dirt road that led through the center of the village of Domremy, other children joined her. The boys pretended their wooden cattle prods were swords and great cracks rang out in the darkening street as wood crashed against wood while they played out an imaginary war. When their arms grew tired of swinging the heavy staves however, they looked for other sport.

Does your face hurt from being so ugly, Dominas Fatales?

Does your Mama know you were switched at birth? Does she know you are really Fay?

What sex is hidden beneath your red skirt? Is it feminine, or is it male?

Jeannette walked briskly, keeping her eyes straight ahead, and tried to ignore the anguish in her heart. The taunts hurt; the children insisting she was a child doomed to grotesqueness by vile enchantment. She could forgive the little ones because they only mimicked the older children, but the older children should have known better; they should have learned some respect by now. She quickly blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over her lower lids and clenched her jaw tighter. She vowed not to give them the benefit of a retort, nor even the benefit of notice.

She could no longer count how many times she had wished she hadn't been born with her father's stocky physique, his harsh angular face, and short, slightly bowed legs. Her Mama often assured her that she would be beautiful when she grew up, and that true beauty had more to do with doing kind deeds for others, rather than the way one's face looked, but Jeannette did not believe her, even for a moment. Mothers were always saying things like that; things that often didn't make much sense at times. Mothers saw their children through charmed, or blinded eyes, Jeannette had decided long ago.

Jeannette chewed her bottom lip and gazed into the darkening sky as she trailed sluggishly behind the other children. How she loathed this awful chore. When the church bell tolled Prime each morning she had to rise from her warm bed, dress according to the weather, and even before breaking her fast, take up a staff and head for the corral where her father's herd was bedded down each night. She would then walk the cattle through the center of the village, toward a meadow everyone shared due to the war--a war that had been going on now for as long as anyone alive could remember.

Jeannette's older sister was sickly, and her two older brothers were needed in the fields, so she returned home after her morning trek to help her mother around the house. But when the evening bell tolled Vespers, as it did now, she once again took up her staff, and hardened her heart.

She lifted her head and stared at the wood in the distance, and her dark brown eyes grew wistful. The ancient wood known as Bois Chenu, with its majestic oak trees, hoary and dense, covered the entire northern slope of the vale. If only she had been born the child of a hermit, she could have secreted herself within the dark wood. Then, she never would have had to put up with the other children's nasty taunts. Someday, she thought as she brushed away a lone tear, the village children would regret their awful teasing. Someday, when she was older, she would show them all!

***

The following morning, just before Prime, pounding on the cottage door awakened Jeannette. She rolled over and snuggled next to her sister and brothers for warmth and listened as her father opened the door. A sickness had befallen many of the children in the village it seemed. Would one of Jacques' children be able to sit with the herd today?

Jeannette, get dressed, ma enfant, you will tend the cattle all day today.

Oui, Papa. Jeannette flung the coarsely woven blanket back, and crawled out of bed. She quickly wrapped her legs in warm grey leggings and donned her long red skirt as the church bell began to toll the arrival of dawn. Pulling a heavy scarf down from a peg on the wall, she settled it on her head and tied its bulky ends beneath her chin, then wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. She paused for a moment before the hearth fire to warm her hands, then scooped up her staff. As she kissed her mother's cheek lightly, her mother pressed a half-loaf of warm bread and a hunk of cheese into her hands, and then Jeannette left the cottage.

The corral that housed the herd of cattle and ducks lay only yards from the cottage, but a thick, damp winter mist enveloped everything within a few feet of where Jeannette walked. She could hear the cattle move about as they grew restless with anticipation. A rooster crowed, its voice muffled by the fog. Jeannette carried no lantern as its light would have been little use to her anyway. She lifted the heavy board that barred the gate to the corral and gently wrapped a frayed rope around a bull's neck. When she started out the gate toward the pasture, the rest of the animals followed her dutifully.

As the sun peeked over the horizon the fog began to dissipate. Few children joined her in her trek, and all were silent this morning. Jeannette was grateful for the respite, but puzzled. While she walked she pondered the strange development.

Finally, unable to arrest her curiosity, she approached a young boy about seven years of age. Paul was normally a quiet child, and seldom did he join the others in tormenting her.

What has happened that the other children are so quiet this morning? Jeannette asked.

Paul remained silent, only shrugging his shoulders.

Jeannette frowned but did not press the boy. After a short time she caught him glance at her from the corner of her eye. She bit her lower lip and waited.

Some think you caused the sickness, Paul said, his voice soft and low.

Jeannette stared down at the child. What?

Oui. They think you avenge yourself; that you try to get even because of the teasing. Paul looked at her and his eyes brimmed with questions. Did you enchant them?

Stunned, Jeannette shook her head in defeat. Did the others really believe their own teasing? Did they really believe that Fairies had switched her at birth and that she was really one of the Fay? How could they? How dare they? Jeannette fought back tears and walked faster.

The wild grass in the grazing field was covered with a thin coating of ice and Jeannette's footfalls cracked through it, each step sounding all too loud in her ears in the silence of the morning. The cattle spread themselves throughout the meadow and began to paw their way through the icy layer of moisture that clung to their breakfast. Jeannette looked around for a secluded spot to sit and break her own fast. Her dark brown eyes traveled up the slope of the vale and lingered on the hazy white mist that still covered most of Bois Chenu. Something about the wood beckoned her.

She glanced at the other children who huddled together and whispered as they ate their own meager meals. Jeannette studied the slope of giant oaks again and then made her way northward, across the meadow. Fay, indeed! Today she would find the legendary Fairies Tree and seek the truth.

CHAPTER TWO

"Shame, Despair, Solitude!

These had been her teachers

--stern and wild ones--

and they had made her strong,

but taught her much amiss."

~Nathaniel Hawthorne

The great oak trees of Bois Chenu wore a thick mantle of fog. The sun took its time penetrating the forest, struggling to offer its warmth and light to the sparse winter foliage. Beneath a barren canopy of darkened boughs, the sharp odor of damp, fallen leaves clung heavily to the tranquil and chilly air. Jeannette breathed deeply and watched her breath stream out in front of her to mingle with the whiteness of the mist. She shivered and pulled her shawl close around her shoulders. A few feet ahead, a narrow path opened up before her and along this route she set her course.

The Fairies Tree lay deep within Bois Chenu. Each May Day the little girls of the village journeyed to the ancient beech tree--the only such tree within the wood of oaks--to hang garlands of flowers and colorful ribbons on the lower limbs of the tree. They then spent the afternoon singing and dancing in a circle, petitioning the Goddess for fruitful lives. Jeannette's God-mother, one of the older matrons in the village, often visited Jeannette's family to sit at the hearth fire and tell the children stories about the Fairies Tree. Jeannette dearly loved her God-mother, but viewed her stories with skepticism. Her heart held little room for the fantasies of lore and wishful thinking, being instead, absorbed in brutal reality. Stories of beautiful fairies and wondrous places only increased Jeannette's sorrow and envy. Why couldn't she have been born beautiful, or in one of those wondrous places? Why did she have to suffer on account of things she had no control over?

Surprisingly, everyone else seemed to enjoy and believe the tales her God-mother told. They added colorful comments of their own, expanding the fabrication and imagery of her fantastic stories. Couldn't they see? Didn't they realize how much nonsense and silliness was woven into the tales? During such visits, Jeannette sat in a far corner of the cottage and within a small, faint, circle of light provided by a solitary candle, bend over her sewing and shake her head.

But, if she was so obstinately convinced about the foolishness in God-mother's stories, why was she here now making her way through Bois Chenu? Why did she seek the Fairies Tree? Had she become so desperate? She forced herself to be honest and admitted she was indeed desperate. She was here to dispel in her own mind, once and for all, whether or not these intriguing creatures truly existed. With single-mindedness, Jeannette drew upon her courage, and with renewed determination, continued on her course.

The upward severity of the path soon caused Jeannette's calves to ache, and her stomach growled in earnest. Her shawl had grown damp, and her fingers were numb with cold. She began to wonder if she had lost her head in coming here. She caught a glimpse of movement to her right and peered into the shadows that deepened around the wide, grey trunks of the trees. A brown spotted doe watched her closely. She paused to gaze back at the animal, thinking how lovely its large dark eyes were. To her left, a twig snapped and the doe sprinted away into the brush. Jeannette shook her head and walked on. Only animals inhabited this wood she was sure, and she had been silly to give into her fanciful whim.

Weary and hungry, she was about to turn around and retrace her steps when the wood opened out into a large clearing. A single tree stood in the center of the clearing, and beneath its wide boughs an old, grey, stone fountain tinkled with bubbling water. Jeannette had never ventured into the wood of Bois Chenu during the winter, and was startled at the sight that greeted her.

The tall old beech tree still retained its verdant leaves. The grass in the clearing was a soft green and sprinkled with yellow buttercups. Bright rays from the sun highlighted the tree and the surrounding clearing. Jeannette blinked her eyes, dazzled by the sudden abundance of light. How was this possible? she wondered. Fall had come and gone and the heavy veil of winter would soon whitewash the land in frigid harshness. How could one lone tree still bear its leaves, and one small clearing appear discordant within the cycle of nature? It didn't make sense.

Jeannette slowly walked toward the tree. She tentatively touched its smooth bark with her outstretched hand, then confused, lay her head against its sun-warmed trunk. She closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet fragrances that should have heralded spring, not winter. She swallowed and realized her throat was parched. She raised her head and looked at the fountain. Its clear, cool water gurgled with invitation.

The water was cold and sweet, almost thick in consistency. Jeannette drank her fill then turned her gaze back to the old, majestic beech tree. Hello, she called softly. Her greeting echoed throughout the clearing, but nothing stirred. Where were the birds? Jeannette wondered as she gazed up into the laden boughs of the tree, then cast her eyes upon the green carpet under her feet. With grass as lush and as tempting as this, where were the rabbits and squirrels? The clearing should have been awash with life. Hello! Anyone here? Jeannette called out again and then felt silly. Of course no one was here! She could see that! She shook her head and sat on the grass, deciding to eat the meager fare her mother had forced into her hands earlier that morning.

The bread was icy cold and a bit damp, and the cheese was sharp and hard, but her stomach quit complaining as she chewed and swallowed. The sun felt good on her head and she pushed back her scarf. She decided to let the sun's warmth draw the dampness out of her shawl before she began the long dreary trek back through the wood and down the mountain. She felt a momentary pang of guilt when she thought about what she was supposed to be doing, but shrugged it off. There were enough children--although not as many as there usually were--tending the herds in the valley. They really didn't need her there. They would only while away the long hours by taunting her anyway, so she might as well take her time and enjoy a short rest here beneath the Fairies Tree.

Jeannette swallowed the last bite of cheese and brushed the bread crumbs off her lap. She rolled her scarf into a pillow and tucked it beneath her head, then lay back and lifted her face toward the sun. How peaceful it seemed here. She closed her eyes, deciding a short nap would be most welcome.

***

Quickly now, look you! Go find the King and Queen. Tell them she is back, the one they have waited for these past two human years!

Andeloro glanced down at the sleeping human girl on the grass and then disappeared to do Imber's bidding. Imber sat next to the girl, and after a while, took out his flute and began to play a soft melody. No telling how long it would take Andeloro to find the King and Queen, so he might as well amuse himself while he waited, he decided.

Half-way through his song, he saw the human girl's eyelids flutter. He studied her movements as she scratched at a spot below her chin and yawned. Her lids fluttered again, and her eyes slowly opened. She blinked several times, and it appeared she stared directly at him. Had his melody awakened her? No, it was not possible! Or was it? he wondered.

He recalled the instructions given by their Majesties but two short years ago. Watch closely for this girl-child's return to Bois Chenu. We will have great need of her service when she next steps foot beneath our tree. And here she lay, right before his eyes. A legend come to life; a human-tale he had only half ever believed in, even if it had been the great Merlin who had prophesied her coming.

Too many years had come and gone since the age of Merlin. Given the turmoil the Solitary Fairies faced at this time, a simple prophesy come to pass seemed of little importance. Why should they, the Fair-Folk, concern themselves with one of human-kind?

The young girl was sitting up and leaning back on her elbows. Imber grinned, finding the shocked expression on her face humorous.

W-who are you? Jeannette stuttered as she squinted into the halo of sun behind Imber's head.

The air rustled around Imber and he felt the sudden presence of the Fairy Queen. Yetis' warm breath brushed against his ear. Her name is Jeannette. Make her feel welcome, but do not disclose your name, or my presence, yet.

Welcome child, to the glade of Fairie. Do not be afraid, I will not harm you, Imber said, carefully obeying Yetis' order.

Very good, Imber, Yetis' voice brushed his cheek.

The note of surprise in her voice irked him a bit. This might be his first time speaking with a human, but he was not without courtly, genteel manners! Who did Yetis think he was, an uncouth Sprite, without care or concern for formalities? Imber suddenly realized the child was speaking to him again, and he shrugged off his irritation and turned his attention to the matter at hand.

He stumbled backward as the girl-child pulled herself up and onto her knees. His mouth dropped open when she bowed her head reverently, and clasped her hands together at her breast. Why did she do such a strange thing? He was no King or Lord of Fairie! He shook his head. No, no, my child. You mustn't bend your knee to any, other than the King or Queen, he admonished.

The King of Heaven?

Uh . . . he felt a sharp jab in his ribs where Yetis suddenly poked him, yes, ah, er, Heaven, he muttered and rubbed his hand over his bruised side.

Jeannette stood and stared at the tall, beautiful man before her. Are you sent by the King of Heaven? she asked.

A bright light pierced the glade as Yetis showed herself. Jeannette backed away and covered her face.

Do not be afraid, Jeannette. Those of us with you now are not messengers from the Almighty. We would not dare claim to be as such. To do so would be heresy, as we too are His creatures and subject to His law. I am called Yetis, the Queen of the Solitaire Fairies who make their home within this fine glade.

Queen? Fairies? There really are Fairies then? God-mother's stories were true?

Yetis laughed and a tinkling of what Jeannette took for laughter erupted from unseen others throughout the clearing. Jeannette spun around, searching for the horde that would generate such a great sound. She saw no one except Imber and Yetis.

I do not know what stories your God-mother tells, look you, so I cannot verify their truthfulness. But if you would walk with me, I would show you our realm and tell you our story first-hand. Would you so honor me? Yetis offered her hand to Jeannette.

Jeannette stared at the tall, wondrous lady for long moment. God-mother had said that the Fair-Folk looked just like ordinary people, except for their eyes. They could be short or tall, thin or rounded, average, with all different hair colors and lengths, but one could tell if one were of the Fair-Folk by studying their eyes. God-mother had