Awaken My Fire

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Authors: Jennifer Horsman
anyway, for everyone, all the world, knew and loved the old sage of the forest house. Papillion had more friends than a honeybee in a summer garden. Why, half the church owed their lives to his medicines! So everyone laughed uproariously as the bishop's men would rush to the guilds or the marketplace, only to discover that Papillion had left long ago or minutes ago or that he had not been there for days or that in fact he was at that exact moment lecturing on the very steps of the cardinal's house…
    Then one fateful day Papillion's faithful servant Sergio lay on his deathbed, apparently a victim of poisoning. Without a thought of the consequences, Papillion attended him, easing the terrible pain of his last hours. The Christian soldiers appeared and took him away. Within hours, they had tortured him and tried him as a heretic of the Christian world. The nightmarish scene emerged in Potiers' mind: Roshelle behind the Orleans guards who forced a way for their passage, so that Roshelle burst into the hall to see Papillion moments before his death. Papillion stood naked and in chains before the inquisition, his body wrecked by torture.
    Potiers spotted Rodez immediately as he came up behind Roshelle. He would never live long enough to forget the shock in her eyes as she beheld Rodez's revenge as the cardinal's sentence echoed in the eerie silence of the hall. "Condemned unto death to live in darkness and without light, so that your soul shall discover the remorse of living out its eternity in the absence of the God Almighty you have so wickedly shunned—"
    Rodez's smile vanished as Roshelle cried, "You have killed him! Oh, God, in the name of revenge you have killed him! God's vengeance shall shine in the memory of her eyes! 'Tis my vengeance as well! Angelique's eyes reveal your doom! Forevermore you are doomed!"
    Potiers never knew what happened after that, no one did. For Papillion suddenly cried out, a loud and mournful moan that Roshelle swore formed the words "Beware the ring, Rodez!" And then he was dead. Roshelle screamed in a faint, and as Potiers caught the girl in his arms he watched Rodez rush to the body. To get the ring? Did he get the ring? Or had it been gone already? Or was he just making certain Papillion was dead?
    That was the beginning of these past torturous years that had at last led to this sorrowful time. The light in the girl's eyes had died with Papillion; she was thrown into the chaos and poverty and destitution that was France as well as her own sad fate. The older man sighed, and hopelessly tossed his gaze to the dark surroundings, trying to distract himself from the unpleasant future.
    The air felt moist, fresh and unusually mild for spring. Oak trees lined the road and created a dark canopy overhead, blocking out the light of the moon riding high across the cloud-filled sky. The only sound came as the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves picking their way home. Hazel trees and field maple shrubs dotted the gently rolling hills and appeared only slightly darker than the night sky.
    How she longed for the peace of prayers! The peace that let her escape from the endless circle of her tired thoughts: thoughts of the people and their trials and suffering, of the endless war thrust upon her land, of the dark shadow the Duke of Burgundy cast over Joan's life. She felt the yearning, the terrible yearning, to find a measure of peace, and with it, freedom...
    There was no peace to be found now, and even less chance for freedom. The thought led her to the encroaching woods and she said, "The forests always return with the English laying claim to the hard-worked tilled fields. For one hundred years, the history of France is told by the encroaching forests of beech and oaks and ash. Innocent timber tells of murder, raping and death brought by the hands of godless island beasts!"
    "Aye," he said, wanting to ease her burden and turn her thoughts. "Someday it shall be farmland again, milady. I've no doubt you

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