Free The Maid by Kimberly Cutter Page B

shoulders slump a little, let her heart sink back in its cage, that they came to her. The sudden bloom of light on her cheek, behind her eyes, the flood of warmth, their voices so tender. It was Margaret this day. Plump, fiery Margaret, standing in the air before her.
Hurry, cabbage. Blood is flowing in the streets of Orléans.
    What can I do? Sir Robert won't see me.
    Be brave, lamb. Brave and fast. God will clear the way. Every path will be opened to you. Hurry now, no time to waste.
    The next afternoon, when she'd finished praying, Jehanne returned to the soldiers at the gate outside Sir Robert's fortress. Her heart shrank at the sight of them—their armor glinting in the sunlight, the memory of their cruel laughter ringing in her head. But she kept walking forward.
Enjoy yourself, darling,
Margaret sang out.
They're just boys after all. Show them your light; they'll never be able to resist.
Jehanne broke into a broad smile, her heart laughing at the lunacy of what she was doing, eyes bright, cheeks flushed as she came to stand before the group of knights and captains with their fine tall horses and their bright green tunics. "Here I am again," she said, raising her eyebrows and grinning. "Think he'll see me today?"
    "In your dreams, sweetheart," one said.
    The next day another said, "What would Sir Robert want with a mad cowgirl?" But they enjoyed her too, the soldiers. The bold, feisty smile. The bald audacity of this cheeky, pretty farm girl. They ogled her, showed off with their swords, made rude offers, tested her to see what she was made of. "I'll see you, honey. I've got just what you need ..."
    Jehanne laughed, rolled her eyes. But went home feeling smashed under the skin. She woke late at night, sick with fear. Lay staring at the ceiling for hours while the woman beside her in the bed slept quietly.
    But in the morning hope always rushed in anew, filling her heart with clean white sunlight.
Maybe today.

35
    One day when Jehanne came home to the Le Royers', the main room was abuzz, ringing with talk and laughter. Three women were seated around the hearth, spinning and chattering. Thérèse was chopping carrots at the table. Letice sat beside her sister with a knot in her jaw, a strange hectic flush in her yellow face, scrubbing a turnip with her red bitten fingers. The room fell silent when Jehanne entered, the three women by the hearth gaping openly at her as if she'd sprouted a third eye in her forehead.
    "Ah, there you are!" cried Thérèse loudly, a flutter of guilt in her voice. She introduced the women as Claudette, Mignon, and Paula. "I was just telling the girls about your mission, Jehanne. Hope you don't mind."
    Jehanne stepped toward the hearth to rub her hands. She turned to face the women. "No, it's all right." Then she smiled wryly. "I'll take all the help I can get."
    One of the women, a husky, low-browed brunette gazed at her hungrily. That was Claudette. "Is it true?" she asked. "Are you really the virgin from Marie Robine's prophecy? The one who's going to save us from the Goddons?"
    "She is," said Thérèse from the table. "I knew the first time I saw her."
    "God speaks to you? And the saints too?"
    Jehanne said that they did.
    "Amazing," breathed Claudette.
    "In your dreams?" Paula asked, her voice sarcastic. She was a wry, heavy-jawed woman with a bitter purple mouth and long bony fingers. "God talks to me in my dreams too. Doesn't make it real."
    "Doesn't make it false," said Jehanne.
    "They speak to her all the time," said Thérèse. "They have for the last five years."
    "Are they just beautiful?" said Claudette.
    Jehanne nodded.
    "Like in the church windows?" said Claudette.
    Letice clicked her tongue and gave her head a hard little shake. Abruptly she set down her half-peeled turnip, dropped her knife with a clatter, and walked toward the door.
    Her sister called after her. "Leti," she called, but Letice kept walking.
    "Someone's time of the month, is it?" said Claudette.
    Thérèse puffed