Talierin
03-15-2003, 08:39 PM
This is a rewrite of a scene from a movie, hope you like it... (I posted this once before, but it got lost in the great PP accident)
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The Burning
I loved her, I loved her so much, and yet I was powerless. Powerless to stop what they were doing to her. Oh, I had tried, even raised an army to rescue her, but I could not stop it. The Church was too powerful of a monster, and they would burn her. Her, the purest, holiest person I had ever known, no matter what the Church found heretical in her.
First came two guards carrying torches, then a bishop and about 20 priests, then she came out of the dark door, bound with shackles about her wrists, dressed in a white chemise that was too large on her slim frame, and a paper hat on her head, on which was written heretic, relapsed, apostate, and idolatress. Her feet were bare. More guards walked behind her, one of them holding a chain connected to the shackles. The crowd, large even though it was snowing quite heavily, parted to make way for them. They led her up the ramp onto the platform around the stake in the center of the square, then tied her roughly to the beam, dry bundles of branches stacked all around. I watched in silent horror as the priests read out her sentence and proclaimed their judgement upon her. She bowed her head for a moment, and then raised it high. Then her voice, quiet as always, but seeming to roar in my ears came. "May I have a crucifix level with my eyes?" she called out. Not a soul moved. The men with the torches came closer to the pyre. She called out again, and still no one moved, and the flames were touched to the dry tinder. Something in my mind stirred me from my shocked state, and I shoved my way through the crowd over to the nearest crucifix-bearing priest. Venting anger, I yanked the crucifix out of the priest's hands and pushed my way to the clear space between the burning stake and the crowd and shoved the crucifix's pole into the ground, so that she could see it.
Her eyes, which had grown so dull since her imprisonment, brightened at seeing it, and her lips moved in silent prayer. Then suddenly she stopped, and looked down at me, and spoke volumes with her eyes to me. She thanked me for all I had done for her, then she told me a thing which most pained me. She told me that she loved me too. At that I had to turn away, and the tears came, tearing me apart. I sank to my knees, shaking. After a bit I looked up to watch her again. She had raised her head again, crying out to God, "WHY! WHY!" as the flames caught at her shift. At that I retched upon the ground, still sobbing. The fire was a loud roar in my head. I raised my head again only when I heard her speak once more. almost a whisper, "Thank you... thank you... thank you Jesus..." and then she was gone, her spirit racing to heaven but her body left lifeless in the engulfing flames.
A few weeks later, still grieving over the loss of her, I found myself riding into the small village of Domremy, her childhood home. At the sound of my horse's hoofbeats, a woman gave a cry and came running towards me, only to stop when she realized I wasn't her daughter. Wordlessly as she watched, understanding that her daughter was gone, as I rammed my burden into the ground, tears welling up again. A small breeze came up and unfurled it, the image of two angels worshiping Jesus and the words Jesus, Mary. It was her great standard, the banner of Joan d'Arc, savior of France, and a saint. The words someone had cried out at her burning came to my mind as I watched the banner flutter. "We are all lost, for we have burnt a saint!"
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Joan was burned on the stake on May 30th, 1431. The speaker in the story, Jean de Metz, never married. Whether he was in love with Joan, I know not, this scene is merely a rewrite from the tv ministries Joan of Arc with Leelee Sobeski, and that he was in love with her in the movie is what I picked up. Never trust tv for accuracy though, hehehe. He was an actual person in history, however.
In 1453, the war between France, Burgundy, and England was ended, France being the victor, just as Joan had predicted.
On July 7th, 1456, 25 years after her death, Joan was found to not be a heretic, and the judgement of the original trial was reversed.
In 1920, Joan d'Arc was made a saint by the Catholic Church.
----------------------------
The Burning
I loved her, I loved her so much, and yet I was powerless. Powerless to stop what they were doing to her. Oh, I had tried, even raised an army to rescue her, but I could not stop it. The Church was too powerful of a monster, and they would burn her. Her, the purest, holiest person I had ever known, no matter what the Church found heretical in her.
First came two guards carrying torches, then a bishop and about 20 priests, then she came out of the dark door, bound with shackles about her wrists, dressed in a white chemise that was too large on her slim frame, and a paper hat on her head, on which was written heretic, relapsed, apostate, and idolatress. Her feet were bare. More guards walked behind her, one of them holding a chain connected to the shackles. The crowd, large even though it was snowing quite heavily, parted to make way for them. They led her up the ramp onto the platform around the stake in the center of the square, then tied her roughly to the beam, dry bundles of branches stacked all around. I watched in silent horror as the priests read out her sentence and proclaimed their judgement upon her. She bowed her head for a moment, and then raised it high. Then her voice, quiet as always, but seeming to roar in my ears came. "May I have a crucifix level with my eyes?" she called out. Not a soul moved. The men with the torches came closer to the pyre. She called out again, and still no one moved, and the flames were touched to the dry tinder. Something in my mind stirred me from my shocked state, and I shoved my way through the crowd over to the nearest crucifix-bearing priest. Venting anger, I yanked the crucifix out of the priest's hands and pushed my way to the clear space between the burning stake and the crowd and shoved the crucifix's pole into the ground, so that she could see it.
Her eyes, which had grown so dull since her imprisonment, brightened at seeing it, and her lips moved in silent prayer. Then suddenly she stopped, and looked down at me, and spoke volumes with her eyes to me. She thanked me for all I had done for her, then she told me a thing which most pained me. She told me that she loved me too. At that I had to turn away, and the tears came, tearing me apart. I sank to my knees, shaking. After a bit I looked up to watch her again. She had raised her head again, crying out to God, "WHY! WHY!" as the flames caught at her shift. At that I retched upon the ground, still sobbing. The fire was a loud roar in my head. I raised my head again only when I heard her speak once more. almost a whisper, "Thank you... thank you... thank you Jesus..." and then she was gone, her spirit racing to heaven but her body left lifeless in the engulfing flames.
A few weeks later, still grieving over the loss of her, I found myself riding into the small village of Domremy, her childhood home. At the sound of my horse's hoofbeats, a woman gave a cry and came running towards me, only to stop when she realized I wasn't her daughter. Wordlessly as she watched, understanding that her daughter was gone, as I rammed my burden into the ground, tears welling up again. A small breeze came up and unfurled it, the image of two angels worshiping Jesus and the words Jesus, Mary. It was her great standard, the banner of Joan d'Arc, savior of France, and a saint. The words someone had cried out at her burning came to my mind as I watched the banner flutter. "We are all lost, for we have burnt a saint!"
-------------------------------------------------------------
Joan was burned on the stake on May 30th, 1431. The speaker in the story, Jean de Metz, never married. Whether he was in love with Joan, I know not, this scene is merely a rewrite from the tv ministries Joan of Arc with Leelee Sobeski, and that he was in love with her in the movie is what I picked up. Never trust tv for accuracy though, hehehe. He was an actual person in history, however.
In 1453, the war between France, Burgundy, and England was ended, France being the victor, just as Joan had predicted.
On July 7th, 1456, 25 years after her death, Joan was found to not be a heretic, and the judgement of the original trial was reversed.
In 1920, Joan d'Arc was made a saint by the Catholic Church.