She doesn’t forget the soldiers who have already served, those men who have been with her since Orléans. She asks Jean to make arrangements for her to have daily meals with them, so that she is always on their minds and they know how she honors them. Though she is dressed in the silks of a nobleman, in doublet and hose, it is important they see her eating heartily from a bowl of pottage and sharing pieces of salted herring, spitting out the bones as roughly as they do. She is godmother to several of these men’s newborn children, and small gifts of money are disbursed in her name. They are a different group every day, but she addresses each man by name and remembers his occupation. She remembers, too, the names of their wives and children and where they are from. Her memory, the men inform her, is wonderful. After the meal, she takes off her doublet and passes it to a boy to hold, though his palms are caked with dirt, while she helps to load a cart. She gives out gambesons and has the sappers try them on, along with kettle helms. She doles out knives, though first she tests them against her thumb, and if the blade is dull, there is no time like the present for sharpening it against a whetstone. Giant baskets are brought from the Dauphin’s own orchards and apples distributed. The fruit, Joan says, is His Majesty’s gift to any man who will raise a sword for his true king.

She tells them, reaching to clasp a dyer’s blue-stained hand, “You are the heart of the French army. Do not let anyone say otherwise. If any person belittles you or treats you badly, you must take down his name and make a report and tell me directly who has shamed you. I won’t abide cruelty, not among our own.”

Another day’s work done, she returns to her rooms. It is nearly the hour for supper: time to wash and change. In the half hour before food is served, she gives Jean commissions to execute. She has had a vision. And no, not a vision where an angel has appeared in order to whisper prophecies into her ear. She has seen no white light, not the archangel Michael, with his flaming sword, or the Holy Virgin. But a vision has come to her of a new and victorious France.