Free Sparrow by Michael Morpurgo Page B

in it and calmed at once. “Well you thought wrong not to tell me,” she told them all. “That’s all. Remember that I bring you the finest help that ever was brought to a city, since it is the help of the King of Heaven himself. We shall cross now right away. I am eager to see it, to see the people.”
    But the marshals looked at once another in some consternation. “What is it?” said Joan. “What now?”
    “That was just what we had in mind, Joan,” said the Bastard, “but there is a problem. The wind. We need a fair wind to bring the boats upstream,and I’m afraid the wind is entirely in the wrong quarter. We need it to change. It could be some days.”
    “Days! You should know,” said Joan quietly, “that I don’t much like to wait, not when I am about God’s work.”
    With that she walked away from them down the river where she fell on her knees and prayed. Belami flew off to be with her. He was fluttering over her, trying to decide where best to land, when the wind gusted suddenly and changed direction, buffeting him out over the river. Joan opened her eyes, breathed the wind in deep, crossed herself and stood up. She turned round. La Hire, the Bastard of Orléans, the Duc d’Alençon, her brothers, were on their knees. Indeed, the entire army was on its knees, wondering at the miracle they had just witnessed. “Well,” she said, “you have your wind.So, no more excuses. I want to eat my supper in Orléans tonight.”
    Belami settled on her shoulder. “Ah Belami,” she said. “If only we could all fly like you. Then we’d have no need of boats or wind, would we? That would be something, wouldn’t it?” She laughed out loud as she read the thoughts in their heads. “No, no my friends, I cannot sprout wings. Come on, off your knees. There’ll be time enough for praying in Orléans.”
    So the boats sailed across the Loire that afternoon and Joan was ferried across, along with all the beasts and the provisions, and the French army. By nightfall they were at the gates of the city.
    From their forts the English looked on, too few, too surprised to do much about it, except hurl a few obscenities, and fire off a few cannons. But Joan and the French were well out of range of both.Belami was in Orléans before Joan. He could not resist flying on ahead. Below him he could see the streets packed with people, the entire city lit by their torches. After a while he flew back to be with Joan, to perch in pride of place on the point of her standard as she rode in through the city gates and was at once enveloped by adoring crowds. But Belami very nearly came to grief. A torch touched a nearby banner and it burst instantly into flames, singeing Belami’s tail feathers. Joan was too busy putting out the flames to notice his discomfort. He did try to tell her, but in all the clamour he could not make himself heard. Once in her lodgings, she seemed to have little time for him. Instead he went and complained to Louis who fed him and stroked him. “She has not forgotten you, Belami,” said Louis. “She has a great work to do, and she must be about it. You understand that, don’t you,Belami?” Belami understood it perfectly, but he did not like it, not with his feathers all singed.
    The room was full of people. La Hire was there at her table as she ate her supper – some bread dunked in red wine, her favourite. So was Jean de Metz and Bertrand de Poulengy, the Duc d’Alençon, her two brothers and the Bastard of Orléans. It was the Bastard and La Hire who were doing most of the talking, arguing between them as to whether or not they should go to Blois for reinforcements before attacking the English. “Go for your reinforcements, if you like. But not yet,” said Joan. “I want no blood spilt until I have given the English a chance to retire from their forts.”
    “But Joan,” said the Duc d’Alençon, “we have already sent a letter to the English. And what did you have back but insults? I tell you,