at hand. Yes, that would make her look happy, that would make
her patient and bold, and able to fight her fight out like a soldier.
Save herself if she could, of course, and try for the best, for that
was the way she was made; but die with her face to the front if die
she must.
Then later, when she charged Cauchon with trying to kill her with
a poisoned fish, her notion that she was to be “delivered” by death
in the prison–if she had it, and I believe she had–would naturally
be greatly strengthened, you see.
But I am wandering from the trial. Joan was asked to definitelyk
name the time that she would be delivered from prison.
“I have always said that I was not permitted to tell you everything.
I am to be set free, and I desire to ask leave of my Voices to tell
you the day. That is why I wish for delay.”
“Do your Voices forbid you to tell the truth?”
“Is it that you wish to know matters concerning the King of
France? I tell you again that he will regain his kingdom, and that I
know it as well as I know that you sit here before me in this
tribunal.” She sighed and, after a little pause, added: “I should be
dead but for this revelation, which comforts me always.”
Some trivial questions were asked her about St. Michael’s dress
and appearance. She answered them with dignity, but one saw that
they gave her pain. After a little she said:
“I have great joy in seeing him, for when I see him I have the
feeling that I am not in mortal sin.”
She added, “Sometimes St. Marguerite and St. Catherine have
allowed me to confess myself to them.”
Here was a possible chance to set a successful snare for her
innocence.
“When you confessed were you in mortal sin, do you think?”
But her reply did her no hurt. So the inquiry was shifted once more
to the revelations made to the King–secrets which the court had
tried again and again to force out of Joan, but without success.
“Now as to the sign given to the King–”
“I have already told you that I will tell you nothing about it.”
“Do you know what the sign was?”
“As to that, you will not find out from me.”
All this refers to Joan’s secret interview with the King–held apart,
though two or three others were present. It was known–through
Loyseleur, of course–that this sign was a crown and was a pledge
of the verity of Joan’s mission. But that is all a mystery until this
day–the nature of the crown, I mean–and will remain a mystery to
the end of time. We can never know whether a real crown
descended upon the King’s head, or only a symbol, the mystic
fabric of a vision.
“Did you see a crown upon the King’s head when he received the
revelation?”
“I cannot tell you as to that, without perjury.”
“Did the King have that crown at Rheims?”
“I think the King put upon his head a crown which he found there;
but a much richer one was brought him afterward.”
“Have you seen that one?”
“I cannot tell you, without perjury. But whether I have seen it or
not, I have heard say that it was rich and magnificent.”
They went on and pestered her to weariness about that mysterious
crown, but they got nothing more out of her. The sitting closed. A
long, hard day for all of us.
Chapter 10 The Inquisitors at Their Wits’ End
THE COURT rested a day, then took up work again on Saturday,
the third of March.
This was one of our stormiest sessions. The whole court was out of
patience; and with good reason. These threescore distinguished
churchmen, illustrious tacticians, veteran legal gladiators, had left
important posts where their supervision was needed, to journey
hither from various regions and accomplish a most simple and
easy matter–condemn and send to death a country-lass of nineteen
who could neither read nor write, knew nothing of the wiles and
perplexities of legal procedure, could not call a single witness in