"Where are we, ma sœur?"
"In a cell, Marianne. In a cold, dimly-lit cell. I don't even get why we were brought in here in the first place."
"My head hurts."
"I don't know what else they're going to do…"
I took a look at the room. There was only one torch, and it was late in the night… the room was horribly dim. And musty. The tiled floor looked like it was hacked into, and there were blood stains all over. Someone must've been tortured here before we were thrown into this cell. The wall was made of solid brick, and the chains were made of cast iron. I looked in front of me, and there was Jeanne's sword, on the floor not far off from where we were. I looked pitifully at Jeanne as she tried her hardest to slip through the stocks… In desperation, she stretched her body to the limits, hoping that it would perhaps twist the iron, but to no avail.
"Marianne, call our friends. Perchance they would help us."
I muttered under my breath, calling for our three friends, because they always listened from a distance… they listened to our hearts when we called them.
I called out for them.
No response.
I yelled their names at the top of my voice.
Still no response.
Jeanne turned to me. "What's up with them?"
"They're not responding. Try them. Your signal's stronger than mine."
Jeanne did just as I told her… but they still didn't respond. Or so I thought. We spent at least an hour trying our hardest to call them. It wasn't only silent, it was worrisome that night.
Then all of a sudden, Jeanne broke the silence.
"They're trapped."
"What?!"
"Our three friends are trapped. They're in shackles too."
"But why?"
"I think I know what's happening…" Jeanne replied dolefully.
I stared at her. I didn't understand what was going on, but tears had already begun to well up in my eyes.
"The very same people who called us their own… have put us behind these bars, in these stocks; they chose to make us undergo the painful and humiliating treatment of the lowest of prisoners."
"Our own people?" I couldn't believe my ears.
"Yes, our own people – they have given up their ancient dower of inward happiness, and they know full well that what they're doing will only lead to their ruin. Now, if I were like one of them, I'd probably laugh from behind these bars and wait for them to experience ruin at its harshest. But you and I love them too much to even want that."
"Yeah… because the Lord wants us to love from our hearts, without reserve."
"Pffff. They just don't get it."
"But what are we gonna do? Chances are that we'd be tortured like that someone who was previously here."
I was scared of torture. I told myself, I'm too young to die! But Jeanne wasn't the least bit undeterred by the mere mention of torture.
"If I have to shed blood to make these people realise what they've done, I'll gladly do it," she said.
"Jeanne… I'm scared. Can I hug you?"
"Sure."
I embraced her, knowing that even though her hands were bound, she still recognised His great love in both of us. As I took her in my arms I prayed for the light and strength to carry on in this time of trouble. My hands were still around her waist, my head tucked in her chest, when I heard the door being kicked open. There was a bright light, followed by a shadow of a huge man, looming before us. I began to cry. Jeanne rested her head next to mine as both of us tried to get ourselves prepared for the worst. The man was completely shrouded; only his eyes were uncovered. He slowly picked up Jeanne's sword from the floor. The grinding of the metal on the floor was enough to give anyone the creeps. I closed my eyes and buried my head in Jeanne's chest once again. From the look of it, it seemed that he didn't want to do away with us; he just wanted to play with us… and make us get the brunt of the injury. I heard the crack of a whip, followed by a pitiful scream of a battered man from a distance, some few cells away. At that point in time, I began to realise that we were bearing our mother's cross!
I wonder if our three friends – Liberty, Equality and Fraternity – are suffering the same fate now.
If I ever know of anyone from among our people who can take sword in hand, keys in his pocket and come to our aid… it'd be a blessing from up above. A blessing to all. A blessing to us too.
_________________________________________
Written with the personification of France – Marianne – and the patron of France – Joan of Arc (Jeanne d’Arc) in mind, since 14 juillet is today.
Now, the theme of the story applies to all civilisations. Relativism, greed, conceitedness… those are just a few of the things that are plaguing the world at large. Those who love their countries from their hearts would weep and pray and hope for a great awakening.
Only you hold the keys to Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.
Only you can take pity upon them and release them from their sorrow.
And what’s more, only you can bring true joy to society once again.
Take this as homage from a friend of yours.
Bon 14 juillet.
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