The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc Page #3

PRIEST:

Jeanne... calm down...! Calm down,

Jeanne!

Jeanne breaks off, trembling, tears pouring down her

cheeks.

PRIEST:

I don't pretend to know God's will,

but I am sure of one thing -- the

Lord always has a good reason.

Perhaps he saved you because he

needs you... for some higher

calling. So... as long as you

answer that call, your sister will

not have died in vain.

Jeanne clams down. She stares at the Priest for a long

moment, and her look becomes very deep and intense.

JEANNE:

I don't want to wait for his call.

PRIEST:

Jeanne, be patient.

JEANNE:

I want to be with him always...

PRIEST:

Soon you'll be able to take the Holy

Mass, and as you eat of his flesh

and drink of his blood, you will be

at one with him.

JEANNE:

I want to be at one with Him now.

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

On the open road, with Jeanne sitting on the back of

Daxart's wagon. It's a grey, lowering, dismal sort of

day. The Daxarts are up front, talking in low voices.

DAXART:

What did he say?

AUNT:

He says we must bring her to church

whenever she wants.

DAXART:

Hmmm... easy for him -- he's not the

one that has to do the bringing.

Behind them, the wagon is empty. Jeanne is long gone.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - DAY

The rain pours down in torrents -- Jeanne runs...

EXT. VILLAGE - DAY

... down the deserted road -- into the church...

INT. VILLAGE CHURCH - DAY

... and up the aisle to the altar. She grabs a jug of

wine, pours some into the chalice -- holds it up high as

the Priest did, then gulps it down. The wine cascades

from her mouth like blood as she gazes up at the stained

glass image --

JEANNE:

I want to be with you now!

INT. DAXART HOUSE - DAWN

Daxart sits bolt upright, awaking from a nightmare. It's

early morning, his wife still asleep beyond him.

INT./ EXT. DAXART ATTIC/POV OF FIELD - DAWN

Daxart opens the door to Jeanne's room. Empty, the bed

unslept in. He walks in -- hears something. Looking out

of the window he sees --

Jeanne in the distance, playing be herself. Daxart

smiles.

EXT. HOUSE & FIELD - DAWN

Jeanne pauses, her stick poised in mid-air --

SUBLIMINAL FLASH --

-- a real sword impales a soldier through the stomach --

another sword slices through chain-mail -- and a severed

head encased in metal spins lose from armored shoulders...

EXT. HOUSE & FIELD - DAWN

Jeanne looks at Daxart.

JEANNE:

I'm playing.

Once again Jeanne raises her stick-sword -- the head of a

sunflower is violently decapitated --

INT. CHINON - STATE ROOM - DAY

-- and a sword swishes down, trying to hack someone in the

leg. But it is only a wooden sword, and its wielder a

mere boy of five. This is young Prince LOUIS, practicing

his nascent swordsmanship on the castle GUARDS.

VOICES and approaching footsteps alert the Guards, who

quickly stand to attention as a door is swung open...

GUARD:

The Dauphin!

Louis takes advantage of the Guards forced immobility, and

jabs one of them in the leg... he lets out a muffled "Ow!"

The Dauphin CHARLES VII enters, followed by his courtiers.

They include the bloated REGNAULT, Archbishop of Rheims,

and Georges de la TREMOILLE -- a sly and devious diplomat.

CHARLES:

Louis, shouldn't you be learning

your lessons?

LOUIS:

I don't want to learn, I want to

fight!

CHARLES:

You will, you will. But for now,

you must learn... at least to wipe

your nose.

Charles (who speaks with a slight stutter) affectionately

wipes his son's nose with a corner of his shirt. Beyond

them, a young soldier, Jean d'AULON, arrives with a

scroll.

AULON:

A letter for His Majesty.

Tremoille takes it, opens the seal and begins to read.

Charles hands over Louis to a courtier...

TREMOILLE:

Another one from this girl calling

herself the Maiden of Lorraine.

Charles snatches it somewhat testily from Tremoille...

CHARLES:

I can read for myself, you know.

While Charles reads, Tremoille turns aside to Regnault --

TREMOILLE:

She pretends she's been sent by God!

These charlatans -- it's a pity

there isn't enough wood to burn them

all!

CHARLES:

She says she'll be here tomorrow...!

TREMOILLE:

You mustn't see her, my lord. We

know nothing about her... we don't

even know if she is from Lorraine.

CHARLES:

What difference does it make where

she comes from?

TREMOILLE:

If she comes from Burgundy it makes

a difference. It might be a trap...

(takes back letter)

Look... Signed "X". What sort of

name is "X"? Or must we conclude

that a messenger of God can't even

write her own name?

REGNAULT:

My lord Tremoille is correct. She

says she hears voices... she may be

a sorceress... a witch...

CHARLES:

(snatching back

letter)

Regnault -- you see witches

everywhere. She's just a peasant...

a peasant who cares for her king.

Look... all she wants is to help me

win my crown... and permission to

fight for me.

TREMOILLE:

Not exactly.

(takes back letter)

She wants you to give her an army --

at your expanse. Bearing in mind

that your mother stole every last

piece of gold in the treasury, I

fail to see how you can afford such

an adventure.

CHARLES:

(snatches back

letter)

I can see her if I want to. I mean,

with half of France in the hands of

the English, what have I got to

lose?

TREMOILLE:

The other half.

REGNAULT:

You mustn't see her, my lord. She

may be an instrument of the devil.

YOLANDE (O.S.)

Well... I think you should.

All eyes turn to the window, where Yolande has been

standing with her back to the room, reading a little book.

Her right-arm is standing beside her -- RICHMOND, his face

hideously disfigured by battle scars.

CHARLES:

Ah, Yolande... and what makes you

think the exact opposite of my two

most trusted advisors?

Yolande smiles, though hardly a devoted smile. Mild

contempt would be more accurate.

YOLANDE:

Because I care about you. Come here.

Charles walks over. He has his shirt undone. Yolande

buttons it back up.

YOLANDE:

Your health and happiness has always

been my first concern, Charles...

ever since you were a little boy --

and I think I know you better than

your own mother...

CHARLES:

You think?

YOLANDE:

Mmmm. Yes. I know for example the

sickness that plagues your heart. I

know how painful it is for you... to

have loved a father... without ever

knowing if he really was yours.

CHARLES:

W-w-what has that got to do with

this Maiden?

YOLANDE:

Who better than a messenger from God

to give answers to your questions?

CHARLES:

You really think she's been sent...

by God?

YOLANDE:

You're a fine judge of character,

Charles. It'll take you less than

five minutes to expose her if she's

a fake. But if she's not -- then

she will give you your answers...

and place the crown on your head.

Charles shines at the prospect, but Tremoille and Regnault

look less than happy.

TREMOILLE:

With respect, my lady, I think it's

going to take more than just a

simple peasant girl to...

YOLANDE:

I'm not interested in what you

think, Tremoille -- or even what I

think. It's what simple people

think that matters, and the fact is

that simple people up and down the

country are already talking about

her. Now you know what simple

people are like, always ready to

believe any old prophecy... like

this one about a virgin from

Lorraine saving France...?

(hands Tremoille the

book)

And now this girl comes along --

from Lorraine -- and suddenly

there's a spark of hope in their

simple minds. We shouldn't

disappoint them. If they believe in

her -- if she can put back the fire

in our army -- then I believe in her

too.

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