A particular peasant's story

         Jeanne’s parents stood perfectly still as though they were stone pillars. They felt like they had been standing for years; their limbs were sinking into the ground. 
          When they could no longer see the knights, they turned around to discover everyone had gone back to the fields. They slowly walked away in silence along the loose dirt road. They had both been born here and worked the same fields as young adults. They met at weekly mass and fell in love. They decided to get married after many years. They went to their lord  and asked for permission. They were granted and so they got married and moved on to a new plot of land. They had Jeanne at 18. The vassals always thought of them as uncivilized beings, but they valued their village. 
          For many months they were ignored by the town, never included, and never mentioned. Soon they realized that there was a secret meeting in the middle of the night. They wondered but never questioned. The only person that was not ignoring them was an old man who always winked when he talked.
          “What’s going on in these meetings? What are they discussing?” she asked in a faint voice. She was afraid she would come off as snoopy. 
       “Humpft! Be wise and leave the village! Sneak out in the dead of night and never return. They are planning.” He had said all of this without moving his lips. 
PLUNK. PLUNK. PLUNK. PLUNK. 
            He hobbled away with his old hardwood cane. 
            He must be crazy! There is nothing to fear! We have been here for generations! Jeanne’s dad thought. 
          They continued life as they knew it, with straw beds,their little window, and their old milk cow. They never uttered a word about their daughter. No one ever spoke of the young girl who practiced magic. 
          On one particular day they woke up to a small snake being shoved under the door early in the morning. Another day their plow seemed to be bent with a large hammer that was left behind. These weird recurrences became more and more frequent.    They also became more and more unignorable.
           Then one day the old man, the one who had warned them, came to the door. 
      He started to talk about a lost cow but in the midst of the conversation they were having, the old man conspicuously dropped his voice to a low rumble. He mumbled, “They will come for you. Run.”
         “What? Who? Why? When?” Jeanne's mom started to inquire. She was starting to get frustrated with this old man. She ran out to the field to blow off some steam.
    Multiple hours later the old man came back to Jeanne’s dad.
    “They killed her. Leave while you still have time. This is your last chance.”  
    Who? Who would do such an unholy thing to my caring, considerate wife who always arrives early to church. This is is all because of my horrid child, who did such beastly sins. Now we must also take the consequences. I shall go remind the village of the wonderful women they have hurt.  The dad thought. 
     He ran out to the field, with nothing but bounding love for his wife and adrenaline pumping through his veins. He ran and ran till he could run no longer, then he walked. He saw a crowded end of a neighbor's plot and he made his way there.
     Apparently they knew of his gaining presence and as soon as he arrived at the outer ring of the crowd, they imeadlity closed in on him from behind and tied his hands and feet together. His wife was nowhere to be seen. 
SPLOOSH! SPLOOSH! SPLOOSH! 
     Jeanne’s mother could feel the chilling water at her neck.  Her long hair was weighing her down as though it was made of tough oxen hide.
   That didn't seem to be the only thing pulling her down, they had tied an old bent plow to her waist. She could feel all of these burdens slowing down her fight to stay on top of the water. 
     They threw in her husband as well. Within seconds he sank to the bottom of the pond and settled in the slime. This sight left a sting that would never be the same. A sting that burns a hole in her. 
    A distinctive instinct sets in and she takes a big gulp of air and lets herself sink to the bottom. She maintains there until she believes she cannot hear any more voices from above. It didn't take a large amount of time till a burning sensation erupts from her lungs like lava from a composite volcano. She dug her nails into the rope and tore it apart with an intense ferocity. She pushes out the last of the air on her way up to the surface. She sits on the bank of the pond and prays that her husband may rest in peace. 
    She started walking towards saint-denis, ignoring the fact that she was cold and exhausted.  Her way of coping was repeating, “...orders from saint-denis...”