D' Arc || The King

Chapter III

Isabel stared at her brother before letting out an uncertain laugh. "You're lying." Jacques turned to face her. "Have I ever lied to you?" Her eyes widened. "But-" "They met at her husband's castle where he was working as a stableboy. One thing led to another and they fell in love. Their union almost destroyed her reputation, so Father left her."

"But not before she had us..." Isabel trailed off and sat down on the bed. "Oh, God."

Jacques walked over to her and knelt down and took her hands in his. "Swear you won't tell anyone, Isabel. You must not let anyone know, especially Henry. You will put a target on the both of our backs."

"I'm - We're both bastards!" She cried. "Do you have any idea how that could affect someone who is at our standing, Jacques? We would be treated lower than the filth that covers our sho-"

"Swear it, Isabel," he commanded in a harsh tone.

Isabel didn't want to swear it. She didn't want to believe her brother, she couldn't be a bastard. No, there was some mistake. Nevertheless, in order to appease her brother she nodded.

"I-I swear," she said in a shaky voice. He forced a smile and kissed Isabel's forehead. "I'm going out. Don't get into trouble."

Isabel nodded, but she was in a daze. She was an unacknowledged bastard. She didn't even have the right to take up her father's surname. Family and personal honor meant more than anything to Isabel and the sudden revelation that she was a bastard and a woman in a world that already pushed down both came like a punch to the face.

"Don't get in trouble." She muttered as she stood and rummaged through her basket and pulled out an armful of dirty cloth. "Washing cloth won't hurt."

Leaving the inn, Isabel just let her feet take her to where ever she needed to go. Apparently, they decided that she should end up wandering through the outskirts of the town to the creek that ran around the area.

She knelt down and someone grabbed her wrist. "How much?" "Excuse me?" She questioned, trying to twist out of the drunk's grip. "Everything has a price." "I am not for sale." Isabel snapped. "Now get your grimy, disgusting, godforsaken hands off of me before I remove them myself."

"I suggest you let go of her, I've seen what she can do first hand."

The man spun around and Isabel wanted to dig a hole and never come out. Henry walked over to them and the drunk glared at him. "And who would you be?"

"A friend," Henry said and Isabel scrunched up her eyebrows. A 'friend' was pushing it. The two had met twice and the first time she had been sawing off someone's leg. That was hardly a bonding experience.

"Are you alright?" "Yes, I'm fine," she said, picking up the basket she had dropped in her attempt to get away from the drunk.

"I need somewhere to be." She muttered, pushing past him. Isabel didn't want to talk to him, in fact, she didn't even want to look at him. "You need anything else? Any dragons that need slaying?" He called after her as she marched away from him and further down the river's edge before kneeling down and practically dumping the contents into the water.

She heard Henry kneel down next to her and she looked up at him, hiding a look of annoyance. "What do you need?"

"Let me help you," he said, making her scoff. "Does the high and mighty King of England know how to washcloth?"

"I can learn." She snorted at his answer before picking up a few bloody strips. "Here, rub the fabric together after you've soaked it. Most of the dirt and blood will wash out, but the stains will remain. Like this."

Isabel pulled out a bandage and dunked it into the cold water, her fingers prickling before she pulled it out. She brought two sides of the wet fabric together and rubbed them furiously together before dunking it back into the water and pulling it back out, repeating the motion.

Reaching back inside of her basket she pulled out a carefully wrapped piece of soap she had made from wood ash and animal fat. She dragged the waxy object quickly across the fabric before placing the soap away and washing the cloth.

She soaked it and pulled the fabric back out. "See?" She looked at Henry who nodded. "Seems simple enough."

He started off well enough, but he failed miserably when he tried to rub her soap on the fabric he was carrying. Henry held it too tightly and it slipped out of his hand and landed in the water with a light 'bloop'.

Isabel giggled and Henry looked at her, a slight smile on his face. "What's so funny?"

"Oh just the fact that a king who holds his country in the palm of his hand can't hold onto something so simple," she teased, not seeing the way his eyes darkened at her comment.

She turned away from him and continued to clean the fabric, seemingly oblivious to Henry's change of mood. They sat in silence, cleaning the fabric in the waning afternoon sun. Isabel, watched Henry grudging approval as he slowly improved.

"Isabel ...can I ask you something?" He questioned and she sighed before nodding slowly. "Alright, what is it?"

"I wan-," he paused and ran his fingers through his hair. "I've seen you at the end of a battle and I-" Isabel held up a hand, cutting him off. "Don't even try it, Your Grace," she snapped suddenly. "Why is it that you men always think that women are always waiting around to be complimented? If you want something from me, just ask. Don't drown me in flattery."

"I'm asking if you would join us...me and the army...as a healer," Henry said, looking down at Isabel. She pursed her lips before saying, "Don't you have your own, Henry?"

"Yes, but-" "I will come to you at dusk and you will know my answer," she said, folding the dry fabric and putting it away.

"Thank you for your help, Henry." Isabel nodded her head towards him and rushed away, wiping her hands quickly on her skirt as she left.

She made her way through the village and into the inn. Slamming the door shut behind her, Isabel leaned against it. Did she really just say yes to going with the King of England? She said she'd come with an answer when Isabel should have said a flat-out, 'no'.

Groaning she walked over to her bed, dropping her basket and falling face-first into a bed. She rolled over and covered her face with her pillow. Why was it that when Isabel was around that Englishman, her hate for the English just disappeared and it felt like she was talking to a friend who felt like more than one.

Isabel shut her eyes and let herself sink into the darkness, grateful for its embrace. She didn't know when she fell asleep, but when her brother entered the room, she sat bolt upright.

"Isabel!" Jacques said in surprise as she almost fell out of bed in her attempt to get out of bed. "Not the time, Jacques!" She cried, running around the room. "What are you-"

"I am going with Henry's army."

"What? Why? You know how dangerous that is-" her brother tried, but she cut him off, saying, "You didn't see the outcome of the Battle of Agincourt, Brother. Their men were dying slowly and painfully. All they could do was stay by their sides as they died. I won't let that happen. I don't care if I have York blood, no one will know and it's not like they can smell it. And even if they could, the smell would drown it out."

He caught her arm as she stepped towards the door. "You're sure about this, Isabel? Are you ready to leave everything behind? Because once you leave there is no turning back."

Isabel hesitated before turning around and throwing her arms around him. "I'll come back, Brother. Everything will be alright."