The Messenger: The Story of Joan of Arc Page #4

EXT. CHINON - LONG SHOT - NIGHT

Moving torches gallop toward us -- a FLAME flares through

foreground with a whoosh, PANNING ROUND as soldiers ride

toward the distant castle of Chinon -- a gloomy great

silhouette, rising against a bloody sunset...

INT. CHINON - GREAT HALL - NIGHT

Celebrations after a hunt. Troubadours play -- a whole

tree trunk is burning in the vast chimney. A Page comes

running into the big room and hurries excitedly over to

Charles.

PAGE:

She's coming, your majesty... with

an armed escort!

CHARLES:

Alright, alright -- calm yourself.

TREMOILLE:

Your majesty, I urge you not to see

this woman. It all reeks of a

Burgundian trap!

CHARLES:

My astrologers assure me that the

hour is p-p-propitious -- Leo, with

Virgo rising. Have you ever noticed

on the astrological chart how the

Virgin is next to the Lion?

TREMOILLE:

Supposing she's an assassin?

CHARLES:

Tremoille, I'm not even king yet...

who'd want to assassinate me?

Looking around at his courtiers? They all would.

EXT. CHINON COURTYARD - NIGHT

A FLAME swirls in the darkness -- the urgent clatter of

horses hooves -- steaming breath in the cold night air --

the SOUND of festivities coming from the castle walls

beyond -- the horses are reined -- one whinnies as

SOLDIERS jump down onto the cobbles -- a dark cape wraps

about a figure...

INT. CHINON - GREAT HALL - NIGHT

Another page boy bursts in --

PAGE #2

She's arrived, my lord! She's in

the guards' room.

CHARLES:

So... I suppose I'd better make a

decision.

Charles glances between Tremoille, Regnault and Yolande,

but -- either by accident of will -- none are looking his

way. He sighs deeply to the dashing, open-faced young

soldier we saw earlier, Jean d'AULON...

CHARLES:

Oh dear, why is life so complicated?

Sometimes I really wish I could be

someone else.

AULON:

That's a good idea, sire.

CHARLES:

What do you mean?

AULON:

Let someone else pretend to be you,

and see if...

CHARLES:

... if she can find me? -- That's a

brilliant idea! If she's really

been sent by God she'll discover the

trap, and if she's an assassin

she'll kill the wrong man!

(to the page)

Bring her up!

Charles turns to a coterie of ARMY CAPTAINS, standing

aside and aloof from the courtiers whom they evidently

despise.

CHARLES:

My dear Captains, I've had a

brilliant idea! We're going to have

a little game. Now... let's pretend

my throne is empty. Who wants to be

the king?

They all put up their hands...

CHARLES:

Now there's a heart-warming sight!

So let's see... which one of you

could possibly pass as king?

He turns to the Duke of ALENCON, 25, strikingly handsome

in his bright, gilded armor.

CHARLES:

Ah, Alencon, my noble duke, my royal

cousin -- so fine, so brave, so rich

-- so very rich -- so far-too-rich

to be the King of France. Everyone

knows I'm the poorest man in my

kingdom.

He turns to GILLES de Rais: a dark, glamorous seducer,

dressed in black armor with a ring through one ear.

CHARLES:

Gilles de Rais... Marshal of

France... formidable to men,

fascinating to women, feared by all.

You'd be perfect to sit on my

throne... so perfect that you might

like it too much for my own piece of

mind.

Charles turns to the bearded La Hire.

CHARLES:

Ah, La Hire -- my angry captain...

the bravest in France -- scarred by

a dozen wars, but with heart and

stomach for a dozen more. You could

pass for the king...

LA HIRE:

Damn bloody right I could!

CHARLES:

... until you opened your mouth. No

one with a tongue like yours could

pass as the King of France.

The other Captains laugh heartily.

CHARLES:

Ah well... it looks as though it's

going to have to be me after all...

But... wait a minute...

Charles spots the shy Jean d'Aulon. Unlike the other

court toadies, Aulon is a quiet, honorable man.

CHARLES:

Why not you -- Jean d'Aulon? The

only man who's poorer than I am, and

so the only man I can trust.

Dignified, honorable, wise... what

more could we ask of a king?

AULON:

My lord, I'm not sure that...

Charles takes his coat and puts it around Aulon's

shoulders.

CHARLES:

My dear Aulon, to you it shall

befall the honor of impersonating

the royal blood!

AULON:

Majesty, I can't...

CHARLES:

Why, are you not ready to die for

your king?

AULON:

Of course I am, it's just that...

CHARLES:

Good. Until then, feel free to live

like a king!

Laughter -- then the sound of approaching excitement.

CHARLES:

Hurry, hurry -- on the throne...

INT. CORRIDOR - CHINON - NIGHT

Armored feet clank along a stone corridor --

INT. GREAT HALL - CHINON - NIGHT

Charles unceremoniously dumps Aulon on the throne...

AULON:

Sire, you know how bad I am at this

sort of game.

CHARLES:

So... pretend it's not a game.

Charles abandons Aulon and disappears among his courtiers.

A pair of PAGE BOYS swing open the doors: the courtiers

turn expectantly; Aulon tries to pose as the king.

From the Court's POV, a girl of 17 enters the great hall,

dressed in a grubby tunic, with long hair tied back

beneath a hood. There could not be a more striking

contrast than the sophisticated, opulent, yet cowardly

courtiers and this naive, rough girl, almost childlike in

her simplicity, and yet so focused, so confident, so

secure in her mission, with a courage that radiates

conviction, and is contagious.

The courtiers step back to form a narrow channel as she

moves into the great hall. Yolande marks the effect her

presence has on the court, smiling at their bemused gazes.

Jeanne passes the Archbishop, who defends himself by

sprinkling holy water in her path. Tremoille oils his way

toward her with a can-I-help ingratiating smile...

JEANNE:

I have come to see the Dauphin.

Tremoille nods obsequiously, ushering her toward Aulon,

who is now visibly uneasy. Jeanne stops in front of him.

Aulon gazes at her. Jeanne scans him a couple of times,

looks at him stonily. Then smiles. Aulon melts, his

cheeks blushing hot. Jeanne c*cks her head, like an

inquisitive child.

JEANNE:

Who are you?

Aulon stammers in response...

AULON:

I'm... I'm... I'm...

TREMOILLE:

... His most gracious majesty

Charles de Valois, Dauphin of

France...

She gives Aulon another smile.

JEANNE:

I can see you are a good man, but

you're not the Dauphin.

(to Tremoille)

I'm sorry to insist, but we have no

time to lose. I must see the

Dauphin. Where is he?

TREMOILLE:

He's here.

(a gracious gesture)

Find him yourself.

A brief pause, then Jeanne takes up the challenge. She

moves on, examining the faces acutely. Although a few of

the wimpoled ladies find her simple peasant dress amusing,

most are caught like moths in her flame. She notices the

Three Captains (La Hire, Alencon and Gilles de Rais)

edging closer together, as though shielding someone

beyond.

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