Joan Of Ark

The hundred years war was a dark time, a prophecy said we would be saved, by a maid from Orleans, I could not be she for I was born to be but a slave. I was a seventeen year old peasant girl, to a King I had no voice. A soldier saint Michael claimed me to be, I needed to fight; this was my choice.
The English fought against my 500 men, each siege lifted one by one,but when I was wounded in Paris, they fought harder and I was outdone.
In the distance I saw the stake at which I was to be burnt,a child gave me a cross which I held close to my chest, and I prayed that France would no longer be hurt.

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