The Death Of Joan Of Arc Read Free

red-haired girl was a demon, but she certainly wasn’t human. She was … He tried to find the right word. She was unnatural.
    He pressed back against the wall as four heavily armored knights wielding broadswords, spears and axes rushed past him and attacked the two women. Joan ducked under a flailing ax and chopped its wooden handle in two. Scathach neatly dodged the spear thrust at her, then grabbed the shaft and tugged, pulling the knight toward her. Off balance, he fell to the ground, bringing two of his companions with him in a heaped pile of metal and flesh. Scathach leapt onto the back of the fallen knights. She caught Joan’s arm, hauled the smaller woman up and then flung her into the air. For a moment, the ragged warrior hung suspended in midair, and the image momentarily silenced the uproar in the square. Then Joan dropped onto the back of the black horse.
    Scathach screamed, a long, terrifying, triumphant war cry that drove the men around her to the ground, holding their ears. Dancing lightly across the squirming bodies, she somersaulted onto the back of the black horse and dug in her heels. The armored beast surged forward, crashing through everything in its path. Arrows rained down from the roof, but the red-haired warrior knocked them out of the air as she and her companion raced toward the gate.
    William realized with horror that they were escaping: one woman had defeated an entire army to rescue Joan of Arc. He pressed himself back against the alley wall as the horse bore down on him. Now that it was close, he could see that, like its mistress, it was not entirely natural. Beneath the spiked metal sheath that covered its head, its eyes blazed bloodred.
    William could not allow the prisoner to escape. The moment the horse thundered past him, he stepped out of the shadows and fired after them.
    The heavy metal-tipped arrow bit deeply into Joan’s shoulder. She shuddered and slumped forward and would have fallen from the horse if Scathach had not caught her. The red-haired girl screamed again, but this time it was a sound of pure anguish. Then she turned to look back at William, and he saw her face undergo a terrible transformation, mouth opening to reveal a maw of needle-sharp teeth. She pointed her sword at him, and although she did not speak, he clearly heard her words in his head:
You will pay for this injury. I swear it
. Then she pulled the arrow out of her friend’s shoulder and flung it back at William. It hit him with tremendous force, striking him high on the arm, breaking bone and tearing muscle, and in that instant, William of York knew he would never pull a bow again.
    In the last moments before unconsciousness claimed him, he watched Joan of Arc and the red-haired warrior escape on the black horse.
    Joan of Arc escaped—but that is the story you have never heard.
    History records that Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orléans, died in Rouen on that last day of May in the Year of Our Lord 1431.
    A girl died that day, but it was not Joan.
    Sick with pain, I watched as a girl who bore but the slightest resemblance to the Maid of Orléans was dragged out of the dungeons and hauled to the place of execution. Knights moved through the crowd, warning the people that if they spoke about what had just happened, they would be condemned as heretics and suffer the same fate.
    I could not bear to stand and watch an innocent girl die. I walked away from Rouen, abandoning everything I owned, and began the long journey back to
England. After that day I never fought in another war. My left arm withered and I was never able to hold a bow again.
    I have often wondered what happened to the Maid of Orléans and Scathach, the red-haired, green-eyed warrior who rescued her. Where had they gone? Had Joan survived the wound I gave her? I hoped she had. And what of Scathach? Did she still live? I was guessing she did: I imagined that killing her would be almost impossible.
    —from the Last Will and Testament of William of