The Language of Fire: Joan of Arc Reimagined
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About this ebook
The Language of Fire is a lyrical, dark, and moving look at the life of Joan of Arc, who as a teen girl in the fifteenth century commanded an army and helped crown a king of France.
This extraordinary verse novel from award-winning author Stephanie Hemphill dares to imagine how an ordinary girl became a great leader, and ultimately saved a nation.
Jehanne was an illiterate peasant, never quite at home among her siblings and peers. Until one day, she hears a voice call to her, telling her she is destined for important things. She begins to understand that she has been called by God, chosen for a higher purpose—to save France.
Through sheer determination and incredible courage, Jehanne becomes the unlikeliest of heroes. She runs away from home, dresses in men’s clothes, and convinces an army that she will lead France to victory.
As a girl in a man’s world, at a time when women truly had no power, Jehanne faced constant threats and violence from the men around her. Despite the impossible odds, Jehanne became a fearless warrior who has inspired generations.
Stephanie Hemphill
Stephanie Hemphill is the award-winning author of Hideous Love: The Story of the Girl Who Wrote Frankenstein; Wicked Girls: A Novel of the Salem Witch Trials, a Los Angeles Times Book Prize finalist; Your Own, Sylvia: A Verse Portrait of Sylvia Plath, a Michael L. Printz Honor Book; Sisters of Glass; and Things Left Unsaid: A Novel in Poems. She lives in Chicago, Illinois.
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The Language of Fire - Stephanie Hemphill
Dedication
For those who find the courage to act,
despite their fears.
Epigraph
ALL BATTLES ARE FIRST WON OR LOST, IN THE MIND.
-JEHANNE D’ARC
The Hundred Years’ War officially began in 1337 and ended in 1453, but periodic fighting over English holdings in France date back to the twelfth century. A conflict between England and France over the succession to the French crown, the Hundred Years’ War was fought almost exclusively on French soil over French lands.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Part One: The Light That Sparks the Fire
On Fire
Thirteen and Fumbling
Nothing to Do
Against the Grain
History of a Country Divided
Safer Than Most
Fire
My Friend
Being a Girl
My Three Brothers
Alone
One Girl’s Prayer
My Thirteenth Summer
Nothing to Speak About
Just Before Supper
Lost Lamb
Can Anything Change?
Purpose
Without Hope
No Sleep for the Conflicted
Doubt
Fulfilling the Prophecy
Jean the Mean
What Else Can I Do?
A Snare or a Cage
Where Have You Been?
They Are Coming
Sleeping With Flames
My Father’s Nightmare
Prayer
My Sister
Finding Strength Within
My Real Training Begins
Aches and Pains
Catherine the Wife
Learning to Ride
Swordsman
Who Am I?
Part Two: Gathering Fuel for the Fire
A First Attempt
Catherine’s Good News
Second Retreat to Neufchâteau
A Marriage for Jehanne
Oh, Brothers
The Siege of Orléans
Childbirth
Back to Baudricourt
Impatience Is Not a Virtue
Waiting to Bloom
Like My Eldest Brother
Thoughts of Home
The Brotherhood of Knights
No More Dress
The Journey to Chinon
Part Three: Kindling
Take Me to the Dauphin
Dead Man’s Shoes
A Short Prayer
Meeting the Dauphin
A Sign
Conviction
My Examination
Brotherly Advice
Fitting In
The Duke of Alençon
An Ally
Introductions
Because I Wear Armor
Never Show My Fear
Pray
What They Determine
Gathering Troops
Looking the Part
The Importance of a French Victory
Dream of Fire
My Confession
Preparing for Battle
Part Four: Where First Comes Smoke, Next Comes Fire
A Message to the English Rulers
The English Reaction
The Enemy
We Are an Army of God
Meeting the Bastard
A Change of Wind
Orléans
Before the Battle of Orléans
Captains
The First Battle
On the Battlefield
Strategize
Ascension Day
You Can Run, but You Cannot Hide
Girl in Charge
One Battle More
The Siege of Les Tourelles: The Decisive Battle of Orléans
After the Final Battle
Daughter of God, Go, Go, Go
Clearing the Road to Reims
More Proof
As I Command
Noble Women
Friends Become Family
Return to the Fight
My Real Brothers
Happy to See Them?
The Battle of Jargeau
Fate
Daughter of God, Go, Go
A Night of Knights
Fastolf
Confidence
Reinforcement
Surrender to the Maid
Daughter of God, Go: The Battle of Patay
Part Five: A Torch for the King
Retrieving the Dauphin
The Way to the Crown
The Notre-Dame Cathedral at Reims
The King and the Maid
Crowning the King
Family Reunion
One Stays, One Goes
What Comes Next?
Charles’s Tour
Friends and Allies Abandon Us
Saint-Honoré Gate, Paris
Should We Continue?
A Chance to Fight Back
Du Lys and No Taxes
Reality
Winter and Dreaming of War
Compiègne
Captured
The Castle of Beaulieu
My Little Brother
Escape
Three Good Ladies
Seeing Beyond Walls and War
Death of His Aunt
No Good Ransom
Bruised, but Not Broken
The Voyage to Rouen
Part Six: Face the Flames
Arriving in Rouen
My New Residence
Fire in Winter
Despised Prisoner of the English
Let Me Be Watched by Nuns
Visitors to My Cell
Whom I Do Not See
Church Bells
Do Not Refuse the Bishop
On the Way to Court
First Public Session
I Will Not Swear
After Day One
Second Session, Second Strength
My Day Off
More Pressure to Swear
Am I a Lady Without a Dress?
Ask Better Questions
Self-Confession
The Strength of Catherine
A Prediction
What I Am Going to Do When I Get Out of Here
Sixth Questioning in Public
One Last Night
Is Reverend Massieu My Friend?
Where Is My Brotherhood?
Barrage of Questions
Success or Failure?
A Creep of Clerics
Tired and Bored
Breaking Down and Giving In
Stay Strong and Remember Your Purpose
Repetition
Seeing Flames
Speech and Silence
Verification
Part Seven: Burn
Ordinary Trial
Seventy Articles
Easter
Reduction
The Essence of the Articles: 1-6
The Essence of the Articles: 7-12
Pretense
Recurrent Dream
Bad Fish
Repent
Torture
Never Going Home
Abjuration
Why I Signed That Paper
Relapse
Last Sacraments
Saying Goodbye
The Fire
Part Eight: Out of the Ashes
After the Fire
Author’s Note
Jehanne and the Hundred Years’ War
French and English Monarchs
Should You Wish to Explore Further
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Stephanie Hemphill
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
Part One
The Light That Sparks the Fire
On Fire
May 30, 1431
When they ignite my stake
I expect the fire
to speak—
through so many dreams
flames have beckoned me
like a drum.
After hearing and heeding His voice,
I thought at the end
God might call out
my name.
I hoped angels
would sing and shelter me
with wings of comfort.
But this blaze roars
without consolation,
without words.
Perhaps I am beyond
words now.
Even the crowd,
who howled like starving dogs
before my pyre was lit,
stands solemn and silent.
The only sound
piercing the smoky air
is the scream of a girl
named Jehanne.
But
I became so much more.
Thirteen and Fumbling
1425
I have always been a duck
fumbling in a flock of geese.
But I try to fit in.
I learn to sew and spin,
to craft soap from sheep’s tallow,
to tend, cook, thresh, and plow.
Like my older sister, Catherine,
I’m taught all my mother’s chores.
I want to fit in
like my friends
Hauviette and Isabellette.
I try to think like they do
about which boy is best,
but I find this game more boring
than soap.
Why should I coo
about boys who tease me
when I outrun them in a race?
Colin and Marc call me strange,
Jehanne with lanky bird legs.
My sister says teasing
means they like me.
But I know their words
are wasps, not honey,
aimed to wound me
just because I’d rather run
than watch.
Most days I feel like
I don’t fit the sleeves
of my own dress.
How am I to belong?
Nothing to Do
"Did you ever wish
to be something
besides a wife and mother?"
Mengette looks at me
as though my teeth
just fell out of my mouth.
"Oh, you mean like a nun?
No, not me. Not even
if I lost my dear Collot.
But I wouldn’t hope
for that, cousin. Your father
wants you to marry a man,
not the church."
I know she’s right,
but there’s a restless
thrumming in my chest,
as if boredom and this little village
might swallow me whole.
The noon chapel bells toll.
I close my eyes and imagine
the chimes call forth
a great army of angels
riding valiant white steeds,
and I am among them.
"My mother made a pilgrimage
to Rome when she was a girl.
Maybe I can do that too?"
"Don’t be ridiculous, Jehanne.
France is at war.
That’s too dangerous a trip for a man,
let alone a girl from Lorraine.
Just be content as you are."
I turn away from Mengette.
The sun hides behind
a patch of billowy clouds
as the bells fall silent.
Even if I can’t change
the direction of the wind,
why must I agree
that foul air smells sweet?
Against the Grain
It’s not as if I ask to be
the girl on the margins,
the one going left
where others turn right.
Mother says I’m just sensitive.
I see and hear things
when others are blind and deaf.
But sometimes I wish
my ears would stay closed.
When I overhear my brother Jean say,
"Jehanne is so odd. Perhaps
something’s wrong with her,"
I wish I could unhear those words.
History of a Country Divided
For as long as
cattle have grazed our fields,
and church bells tolled
at midday meal,
France has been fighting
over who should rule our nation.
Generations of warfare
have divided my country
into a patchwork quilt
of loyalty.
Armagnacs who support the dauphin
stand on one side of the battlefield,
and French Burgundians
who ally with the English
occupy the other.
My family lives
at the edge of this conflict,
hundreds of miles from Paris
and even farther from Chinon,
where the dauphin Charles resides.
Our village, Domrémy,
nestles inside the only territory
of Armagnac support
in the northeast.
In constant combat
with our Burgundian neighbors,
lands are lost and gained
as rapidly as tides rise in a flood.
But somehow
my family always rebuilds.
It’s the bruised and broken
French countryside
whose suffering knows no end.
Safer Than Most
Our family has always been set apart.
We live in a stone house,
not a wooden one like everyone else.
It doesn’t burn
when English soldiers
ravage our village like wolves.
My father, Jacques d’Arc,
is dean of Domrémy,
tallies the tax money.
Father says that makes us more
responsible for our country and others.
We give shelter to travelers, alms to the poor,
because we can.
But even at a safe retreat
from the marauding and the battles,
with the village’s pigs corralled
behind a fortress on the River Meuse,
I smell fire.
Ashes shower from the sky,
blot out the sun,
and blacken my home
in a relentless rain of dirt.
Fire
It’s always the same dream—
English soldiers
brandishing angry torches.
The wooden beams
of our barn ignite
into a cage of flames.
And I’m trapped in the rafters.
I scream until my lungs explode,
but no one hears me.
No one arrives to help.
The devilish heat licks my boots,
kindles my hair.
My dress blooms
into a blazing carpet.
The ground beneath the barn
opens as a wound,
and I’m swallowed
straight to hell.
I wake in wild sweats.
What does this dream mean?
My Friend
Hauviette and I have been friends
since we could crawl.
She grabs my hand
and twirls me into a dance,
whistles back at
a cackling woodpecker
as she braids narcissi
into my hair.
She tells me I should smile more,
that it makes me more attractive.
Boys don’t like girls
to always be so serious.
Nothing ever troubles Hauviette.
Not the enemy threatening us
across the river,
not the lack of grain
in her father’s silo,
not her sinful behavior
flirting with my brother Jean
during yesterday’s mass,
and certainly
not the staidness
of a woman’s place
in village life.
Sometimes I envy her.
Sometimes
I want to shake her
from her bliss
and slumber.
But I wonder:
Could I wake her
even if I tried?
Being a Girl
If I could stay a girl forever,
that would be fine.
There is liberty
in not being a wife or mother.
But growing into a woman,
I want no part of that.
It’s like our crops
when they die.
You produce fruit,
then wither away.
My sister Catherine
is a woman today,
and she and Mother
celebrate it.
I want to stay young
and pure and free,
unstained by the sin of Eve.
Mother and Catherine
laugh that I will
change my mind
in a few years,
but I know better.
My Three Brothers
Jacquemin is my eldest sibling
and my father’s favorite.
He will soon be married
and move to Vouthon,
where Mother was born.
He is kind to me,
but he worries more
than all the villagers in Domrémy
put together.
I tell Jacquemin
if he prayed more often,
he might not look always
over his shoulder.
My brother sees clouds threatening storms
but misses the beauty of the rain.
Even though we share the same name,
my other older brother, Jean,
and I are nothing alike.
Jean believes that he is the best
at everything. He never fears loss.
My friends find him handsome,
but I think he’s rude.
Jean forgets
to kick the mud off his boots
before he enters the house.
He just expects his mess
will be tended by others.
Pierre is the baby
of the family
and wild as a boar.
Always in motion,
he uses his fists
before his mind.
Only a year younger
than me in age,
yet he and I