Joan by Katherine J. Chen

Author:Katherine J. Chen [Chen, Katherine J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

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It is the hour of sunset, and the Dauphin is waiting by the river Vienne, the water shining like a basin of melted gold, the sky a ceiling vaulted with pink and blue clouds.

They are alone, or as alone as a king can be in an open space. The ring of guards make a clearing for them. The men avert their eyes and feign indifference while picking the hilts of their swords.

The Dauphin touches the side of his large silk hat. Mid-kneel, Joan thinks, Just as the finest gown in Christendom can do nothing for me, the best hat does nothing for you. He doesn’t turn, only glances (less, it seems, with his eyes than his prominent nose) at where she is kneeling before motioning her to come closer.

They stand nearly side by side, but she remains a little behind him. An interval of silence. His Majesty appears to be reminiscing. When he speaks, he stares at the water.

“My father once stood here.” He brings his furred sleeves together, draping them across his thin body to hug warmth to him. “The people who speak only ill of him are wrong. There were days when his mind was clear, and he was himself again. He wanted to follow the example my grandfather set for him. He tried. But no one knew when he would lapse into his madness, and what might happen if one of his children was near when he suffered a fit. And so none of us, not my brothers or sisters, ever saw much of him. But we were allowed visits, and one such visit took place here—at Chinon.”

The Dauphin motions to the golden river, with its gentle tide.

“It was this place, this season and time of day. I was a child, but I remember the cold, the wind like a whip against my face. I was frightened, for I had met my father only a few times before. And my elder brothers, they had said to me, Our father hides daggers on his person and possesses the strength of Heracles, so beware! It was le Maçon who brought me to him. He held my hand and said, Go to your father. Be gentle with him. I, a mere boy, told to be gentle with the King. But I was afraid. I saw the river and feared he would throw me in. He stood with his back to me, and I remember praying, Please, do not let my father throw me into the water, for I cannot swim, and I do not want to drown.”

That was a problem I never had, Joan thinks. Thank you, Uncle.

“We stood as you and I do now. For a long time, we did not speak or acknowledge each other, though I shivered. If people passed at that moment and did not know us, they might have thought we were strangers admiring the sunset. But then my father turned to me, just so.”

As if reenacting the scene, the Dauphin faces Joan. “He looked at me, and all my fear, whatever reservations I had, fell away.

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