Dawn of the Daughter of God- Part Two (REWRITE)

Author's note: I appreciate any advise on grammar, plot, sentence structuring, and just generally EVERYTHING. I'm having a hard time ending the chapter, and I just can't seem to figure out how to do it, so any advice on that would be awesome. Also, I don't quite know how to insert description into it, and reading through my work, I can't find very much, but like I said I can't seem to figure out how to insert it, so I'd really appreciate some pointers with that. Thanks guys!

Recently given orders to report to Joan of Arc, as military head of her household, Jean now faced a heavy oaken door, which he had been led to by Charles’s servant. Beyond the door, he could hear a voice.

Although the thickness of the door prevented him from making out the exact words, he could make out the tone. Frustrated and impatient. It was a girl’s voice.

Raising his hand, he knocked lightly on the door. The voice instantly stopped, and he could hear a different voice speaking softly. Somebody was moving towards the door, and then the door silently swung open, revealing a young man.

Behind him, by a round wooden table stood a slender girl. She turned towards the door just as it opened; he knew that, judging her expression it had been her voice he’d heard.

She straightened her stance, and the man stepped aside to let Jean pass. Her gray eyes watched him coolly as he entered, taking in his appearance. She didn’t say anything, just watched him as he crossed the room to stand before her.

His jaw dropped as he took in her attire. She was dressed like a page, in a long black hose, and doublet. Jean knew as well as anybody that a woman wouldn’t dress like a man under any circumstances. She isn’t what I thought she was going to be, he thought. Even a woman who was insane wouldn’t dream of dressing like that.

The Maid paid no attention to his facial expressions and obvious thoughts, and held out her hand to him. “My name is Joan. The Dauphin told me you’re a good man.”

Jean looked down at her hand, but didn’t take it. “Jean d’ Aulon. I’m here to obey the Dauphin’s orders. He said I was to report to you.”

Ignoring his snub, Joan stepped back and calmly clasped her hands together. “Thank you. I hope I will be able to talk to you later on in depth.”

“The Dauphin told me you were leaving for Orleans soon?” Jean asked.

Joan frowned, “Yes, I hope to leave tomorrow.” She gestured towards the man, now standing beside her, “This is Bertrand de Poulengy. He accompanied me on my journey here, to Chinon. He will soon be returning to Vaucouleurs.”

Bertrand stepped forward and shook Jean’s hand eagerly. “His Highness never stops praising you when your name is mentioned. It’s a great honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

Jean looked carefully at him, measuring his speech, weighing what he had said. It was true that the Dauphin thought well of him, but did Bertrand know his opinion on Joan? “Why did you accompany her on her journey here?” he asked bluntly.

Bertrand stopped, and warily eyed him. The muscles of his jaw twitched, but instead of getting angry at Jean’s blunt question, he turned to Joan. “If you wish I will bring Brother Pasqueral to dictate your letter.”

Joan nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Once Bertrand was out of the room, Joan turned to Jean, her face tensed and angry. “Bertrand supported me when I went to Vaucouleurs. He then asked to accompany me on the road in order to protect me.”

“You had no right to ask him that question in such a way,” she snapped, her gray eyes looking steadily at him, bright with anger.

As she spoke, Jean was aware that her hands and voice were trembling. As a rule he usually didn’t make it a point to be rude or to speak out of place, but the question slipped out of his mouth. The idea that a man would actually take orders from a woman willingly and with free will was quite beyond him.

But even he knew when he had spoken out of line. “Forgive me,” he said. “I will try to not offend you again.” Still though, he couldn’t keep the sarcastic tone of his voice at the end, and Joan’s eyes stayed, steadily fixed on his face.

Though, he knew she wasn’t sent from God, he still couldn’t help but admire her spirit. She wouldn’t back down, and he liked that. Most women would ignore the way he had spoken, and let it pass. But she wasn’t. She was staring him down.

Although no one else was in the room as far as he could tell, he also knew that Joan had a massive say in the areas that were military. She would only have to say a couple of words and the Dauphin would remove him. As much as he hated the idea of her he also didn’t want to displease the Dauphin, and run the risk of not serving his country to the best of his ability.

“Please forgive me,” he muttered. “I meant no offense.”

Joan’s face relaxed and she smiled, “His Highness told me you were considered on the best men in the kingdom. I am happy to have you as my squire.”

Jean stiffened. Just because he had apologized for his rudeness, didn’t mean he approved of her. “I am only doing this for the Dauphin. Not for you.”

Instead of getting angry again, Joan merely nodded her head and turned back towards the table. “I will be writing a letter to the English, ordering them to leave France and to never return,” she said, quickly changing the subject.

“Do you think they will leave?”Jean asked now no trace of mockery in his tone.

Joan turned her head to look at him, and shook it. “No,” she answered. “To the English, King Henry’s claim to the throne is too strong. It would be an act of God if they left.”

“Well allowing a woman to serve in the army is an act of God in itself,” Jean answered. “The English soldiers think you are a witch because of it. The rumors say that they believe you will use the power of Satan to overcome them.”

Joan’s face saddened, “my Voices told me that there would be many hardships for me. They said my enemies would try to condemn and torture me through dishonest and corrupt minds.”

Jean smiled, “did your Voices tell you if you would find Victory at Orleans?”

Joan laughed, and then sobered quickly, “yes, they did. I will conquer Orleans.”

The smile slowly faded from Jean’s face, as he took in what she had said. She spoke with such certainty, that it is hard to not believe her, he thought. She truly does believe that she is sent by God.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and Bertrand and a tall thin monk entered the room. The monk instantly crossed over to where Joan stood, and looked at her expectantly. To Jean’s surprise, and utter bewilderment, Joan knelt and received the monk’s blessing.

My idea of what she was going to be like was wrong, he thought. I thought she was going to be proud. Then he tightened his jaw. That still didn’t make what she was doing right.

“Brother Pasqueral, I need to send a letter to the English,” Joan said, standing up and facing the monk. “But I don’t know how to read or write.”

That didn’t surprise Jean much. A girl raised in the backwoods of France: from Lorraine specifically, wouldn’t normally know how to read and write. It was enough for them to know how to pray and work. Education wasn’t really required for the working class.

Brother Pasqueral smiled, “I see. Do you know what you are going to say in the letter?”

“Yes,” Joan replied. “King of England, and you, Duke of Bedford, calling yourself-“

“Wait a moment,” Brother Pasqueral said quickly. He pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen from behind his robe, and placed it on the table. There was already an inkpot directly across from him and he dipped his pen into it. Then he looked expectantly at Joan. “I am ready for you now.”

“King of England, and you, Duke of Bedford, calling yourself Regent of France; William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk; John Lord Talbot, and you, Thomas Lord Scales, calling yourselves lieutenants of the said Bedford…deliver the keys of all the good towns you have taken and violated in France to the Maid who has been sent by God the King of Heaven…Go away, for God’s sake, back to your own country; otherwise, await news of the Maid, who will visit you to your great detriment!” Joan patiently dictated, every now and then glancing down at the paper to see the letters flowing from the monk’s long pen.

Jean also watched as the monk wrote. The beautiful language of the French was something that any outsider would appreciate, but on paper and in the monk’s beautiful writing, it was stunning. There were few would did not appreciate its beauty, and revel in it.

He looked up from the paper and watched Joan’s face as she spoke. Even if he hadn’t known who she was, he knew that he would have been able to single her out in a crowd. Her face held something. Something he had never seen before in a person. But no matter how long he studied it, he couldn’t make it out.