The Last Days of Jeanne d'Arc

by Ali Alizadeh

  I know, Jeanne, but do you know how damaging it would be for both of us if people became suspicious? You’re the Holy Maid of Lorraine who has made your master the king of France in the name of God. If people were to find out that you desired me, I hate to think what could happen to you. And I hate to think what they would do to me, Jeanne. Brother Richard would expel me from his community, and I would be known across the country as a vile seductress…Jeanne, the Inquisition, it will come after us.

  Jeanne dries Piéronne’s tears with the hem of her cape. I caressed your gorgeous hair.

  Others are wrong, Piéronne. My Voices have told me love is sacred. Love is glorious. And that is why I left my village. To rescue France in the name of love, and to be with the one I love.

  Piéronne removes Jeanne’s hand from her hair. I felt broken. Piéronne then moves Jeanne’s hand towards her face and lips. And you placed your mouth on my fingers and then turned my hand over and kissed my palm. I was saved, sanctified.

  13

  And Piéronne’s fingers under Jeanne’s riding cloak when Piéronne’s arms coil around Jeanne’s waist. And the soft scratches on the surface of Jeanne’s tunic when they ride back into the castle. And the gentle pressure of your nails on my skin, Piéronne, the holiness of your hands on me. I’ve tried to forget these, because remembering them hurts. Our first kiss, Piéronne. Your fervour and intensity, and I became dizzy, I needed to stop to breathe, but your mouth would not release me, and my mouth could not release you, and we lost ourselves in that longest kiss.

  At nights, after supper, the Maid asks Piéronne to accompany her to her bedchamber to pray together, for games of backgammon, to share the same sleeping quarters. Your lips, Piéronne. Their moistness, my love. In the dark, candles extinguished, the door padlocked. The pull of your mouth. Piéronne’s hands on Jeanne’s face and Jeanne’s hands on Piéronne’s neck. Piéronne’s hands on Jeanne’s shoulders and her tunic and her bodice and her belt and her boots and her cloak on the floor. And to be absolutely quiet. Their muted moans. The wetness between legs.

  Instinct teaches unlearned bodies how to come together. Piéronne’s hands on Jeanne’s back and Jeanne’s lips on Piéronne’s breasts. Piéronne’s hands on Jeanne’s buttocks and Jeanne’s hand on Piéronne’s sex. It pains and amazes me to remember. They weep and pray to their Voices afterwards. And where are you now, Piéronne? Why is the memory of our sweet moments so bitter? Because I know I will never again be loved by you, because in this cell my body is given to force and fists. Until I die. Because I know that you have left me, my love.

  Is this an outrage against faith and historiography? The future Catholic saint cannot have been a lesbian? What proof is there for such a hypothesis? A few have had their suspicions. Passion between women is not a modern phenomenon. The two women work hard to conceal any hint of the consummations of their passion. The Maid of France attempts to befriend Catherine de la Rochelle. To assuage the latter’s misgivings about there being anything unbecoming between the Maid and the young Breton visionary. Jeanne receives Catherine in the castle’s audience hall, in the company of her squire and her confessor. Madame de la Rochelle is completely in black, save for her pale face. With a garishly large cross chained around her neck, and a rosary in each hand. She makes the sign of the cross at least three times upon entering the room. She kneels.

  The Maid tells Madame de la Rochelle to get up, and points at the chair she has had brought in for her. Madame Catherine tells the Maid that she is but a humble servant of the Saviour; that she has not come to Sully-sur-Loire to enjoy such profane delights as that offered to the body by a cushioned seat. The self-proclaimed prophetess then stands up, sits on the chair and relaxes. Jeanne the Maid notes that Madame Catherine’s rather large rear is very much taking to the profane comfort offered by the cushioned seat.

  Madame de la Rochelle. Why do you wish me to introduce you to the king?

  Maid Jeanne. As I have told you in the past, I too have been blessed with hallowed visions and I can see things that others cannot. Such things, my daughter! I have foretold of deaths in families, miscarriages and propitious times of the month for conducting business affairs. I am visited by a White Lady of Heaven in my bedchamber every night, and this celestial dame answers all my questions. I can be of service to you and to the king and to the queen and to all the dukes and counts and duchesses and countesses of the court of France. I can help the king with predicting the impulses of the Duke of Burgundy so that His Royal Highness may succeed in negotiating a favourable treaty –

  Peace with Burgundy, Madame, will only come at the point of a lance. Leave war and politics to others, please.

  Madame Catherine tells the Maid that everyone in the kingdom knows of her recent setbacks; and is it not obvious that you need my renowned heavenly succour in addition to the counsel of your own Voices? She emphasises their common gender and claims that we women are not meant for war, my dear, and it would be my honour, such an honour to help you, as a devoted older sister, to compensate for what nature has not granted us women in aggression and audacity with the godly revelations of the White Lady of Heaven who visits me.

  I was utterly bored with her. The Maid breathes deeply and her squire d’Aulon grunts: My mistress never wants for might and courage, Madame. We would have taken Paris if we had our own money to pay the soldiers’ fees and buy more munitions. Madame Catherine offers to ask the White Lady for the whereabouts of great hidden treasures in the kingdom so that the French may procure the weaponry they need and enlist all the realm’s mercenaries.

  Jeanne addresses Catherine in her most courteous tone.

  I appreciate that, Madame de la Rochelle. This White Lady of yours, did you say she comes to you every night?

  Every night, Maid Jeanne, without fail. With such heavenly light! And when she appears to me she does not leave until my patrons’ queries have all been –

  Very well then. I wish you to sleep with me tonight, and if she appears to us, as you suggest, then I will most certainly recommend you to the king. That will be all.

  Piéronne is pleased to hear that Jeanne had been polite towards Madame de la Rochelle. I promised you not to mock her or make her feel foolish. The Maid invites Catherine to sleep on her absurdly large bed for a night. And you, my love, helped others in the castle to prepare the Christmas feast. Madame Catherine blathers to the Maid for quite some time in the dark about all manner of peculiarities until Jeanne finally yawns and tells her that she needs to meditate in silence.

  Hours go by and there is no sign of the ethereal White Lady. Jeanne wakes up in the morning to ask her bedfellow what has become of their unlikely visitor. Catherine tells the Maid that the latter was asleep when they were visited by the spirit. Jeanne feels duped and decides to sleep during the day so that she can stay up the next night. And so, on the next night, with Catherine again next to her, the Maid keeps her eyes open. And no heavenly figure or even a speck of light disturbs the darkness of the room.

  You were whispering. You were worried. You asked me what I would tell the king about Catherine. About her supposed mystical powers.

  Jeanne and Piéronne are sitting in the chapel of the castle and await Brother Richard to administer the Eucharist at the midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I told you the king would not be interested in Catherine in any event. Jeanne is very doubtful that she would be expected to give an opinion on this. They receive the sacramental bread and join the others in the guest hall. The nativity frolic bores Jeanne. I stood by a window to look outside. The splendour of snow falling on the Noël tree you had decorated with paper flowers and trimmings. You joined me and I whispered to you that I felt blessed to be by your side.

  You smiled but there was some unease about you. I suggested we get away from everyone. Piéronne is wary about others becoming suspicious of their absence. Jeanne wonders if they could go to the chapel and ask to receive the host one more time. This is the Holy Night after all. Brother Richard, never lacking in unorth
odox zeal, is more than willing to distance himself from the feasting courtiers. He serves the two young women the Eucharist for the second time. He then complains to the Maid about the obscenity of the codpieces worn by some of the noblemen at the banquet. We decided to return to the guest hall.

  Piéronne has had a full goblet of the hot spiced wine poured by the unusually jovial grand chamberlain himself for all the guests, nobles and commoners. You were now a lot less apprehensive. Jeanne does not care much for the drone of the queen’s favourite troupe of vielle players, but the awful music becomes more tolerable after she too has taken some of the mulled wine. Jeanne is very handsome, in a midnight-blue tunic embroidered with the image of dragons. The one you liked. We sat together for supper. Goose stuffed with chestnuts, and then, upon request by a very wealthy lord from Provence, thirteen types of dessert are brought out from the kitchen, one after the other.

  Jeanne the Maid is reported to be more cheerful tonight than at any other occasion, certainly since the disastrous siege of Paris. I wanted to try each one of the thirteen sweets. She is becoming quite full by the time the last item is served. And she is elated to see that the final dessert is a luscious mound of crêpes. I looked at you and we shared a smile. This is Piéronne’s addition to the night’s bill of fare, and much more popular than the saccharine Yule log. The two young women are having a joyous time at the Revival banquet. They then notice the severe faces of Piéronne’s ascetical fellow travellers. Brother Richard and Catherine de la Rochelle are obviously sober. After a sip of wine, Piéronne dares Jeanne to go and ask Brother Richard to tell her about the Whore of Babylon. Go on, Jeanne, ask him!

  I laughed and accepted the dare. Jeanne crosses the room, avoiding the jocular punches of a very intoxicated knight who has fought under her in some battle but whose name she cannot recall. She sits across from the dour friar.

  Brother Richard. I have a question about the apocalypse. Is it true that the end is augured by the appearance of a wicked woman called the Whore of Babylon?

  His eyes are crimson, his face eerily static.

  That be the case, girl.

  So, Brother. How would you describe her to me? I suspect I may have come across her already.

  Are you mocking me, girl?

  Of course not, Brother. There are these poor women who try to seduce my soldiers for a few coins, and I’d rather they wouldn’t do that. Maybe one of them is this notorious Whore?

  The Whore arrives on the Seven-headed Beast, girl, and as I cast my eyes upon the decadence of this gluttonous gathering tonight, I verily say that the day of this arrival is nigh. And you, Jeanne the Maid, you who assert to have heard the voices of saints and holy angels, you who are inebriated and ignorant like a godless heathen on this, the holiest of nights, you must repent and return to piety and modesty.

  Jeanne regrets having accepted Piéronne’s dare. She replies that she’s a very good Catholic, that she’s had the host twice already that night. The brother says that she must receive it a third time, and confess to him and make amends with the Lord. It is out of politeness and the desire not to offend the people with whom Piéronne is associated that the Maid agrees to receive the sacramental bread one more time. Future historians are mistaken to accuse Jeanne of excessive piety. I turned around and saw you engaged in a conversation. Jeanne follows the friar out by herself, into a very quiet chapel.

  I knelt, ate, crossed myself and rose to my feet. She feels tipsy, giddy and a little disoriented. She nearly trips over a pew and falls against the chapel’s arched entrance. She pushes disorderly locks of hair off her face. My hair was getting too long. It almost reaches her shoulders. I wondered if you would cut it for me. And then I saw Catherine de la Rochelle. A stony figure in her dark nun’s habit and an abundance of rosary beads, standing firmly opposite the Maid in the walkway outside the chapel. Her face is stark, composed, very wan.

  Have you spoken to the queen about me, Jeanne the Maid? Will she employ me as a seer?

  Please, Madame, not now. This is a time for gaiety.

  You plan to tell her that my White Lady is an untruth, that I am a fraud. Do you not?

  Madame, I plan to boot the English out of France, and to also taste one of those scrumptious mince pies at my table before the grand chamberlain has eaten everything.

  Catherine was incensed.

  You think very highly of yourself, young woman. You are so proud. You think you are imperishable. But be warned, Jeanne of Lorraine, that if you do not support my wishes, then I shall tell all about you and your depraved transgressions.

  Jeanne becomes aware that Brother Richard has quietly approached them and is observing their exchange from inside the chapel. Jeanne tries to stifle the effects of the wine. She aims to be serious.

  By God, Catherine, what are you talking about?

  She took a step towards me. Her face quivered as she spoke.

  A woman who wears clothes forbidden to her, a woman who lives like a man and does a man’s work, a woman who has her hair fashioned like that of a soldier, well, Brother Richard would agree with me that such a woman has a case to answer. I have noticed how you look at our Piéronne, Jeanne. I have been watching you and her all evening and believe me, Jeanne of Lorraine, that if you do not ensure that I am set to work in the court, I shall reveal the truth of –

  She cannot finish her sentence. Her throat has been stifled by the clasp of Jeanne’s right hand. Piéronne, I had no control over this action. Over the words that came out of my mouth, over the menace in my voice.

  Is that a threat, Madame?

  Catherine shivers. Brother Richard crosses himself.

  I’ve led thousands of men to kill thousands of other men. I’ve stormed castles and destroyed armies. Do you think I’m scared of a thing like you, Catherine? Do you think I’m scared of anything?

  Jeanne the Maid has the older woman pressed against the wall. Although the latter’s neck is quite fat and covered with a layer of thick fabric, it is quite possible that the young knight could strangle Madame de la Rochelle to death with one hand, if she so wishes. I let go of her. Catherine crumbles.

  Get away from me. Go back to your husband and children. Go now, Madame.

  Jeanne shoves Catherine’s limp body aside with her foot and goes directly to her bedchamber. I shut the door and cried. She is utterly horrified by what she has done. I was shaken by what I’d heard. No one, no one could take you away from me, Piéronne. Jeanne is overwhelmed by her hatred for Catherine, by her love for the redheaded Breton. I realised then that I would kill to be with you. And isn’t that why I’m here tonight, my love, in this prison?

  When the king finally asks for the Maid’s opinion on the matter of Catherine de la Rochelle’s spiritual pretentions a few days after Christmas, Jeanne states simply that the woman is a fool and her visions are meaningless. The mad friar and his dubious disciple leave the castle on that very day. And it was of course on that same day that you entered my chamber without knocking, with the sack of your belongings, in tears.

  Were your precious tears signs of grief or gratitude, of loss or love? Brother Richard has expelled Piéronne from his sect. And you had nowhere to go to and no one to live with. This had all happened because of me. I knelt before you on the floor and put my arms around your thighs. I promised to look after you until the day I die. Piéronne runs her fingers through Jeanne’s unkempt black hair so very gently.

  14

  I know why you don’t wish to speak about her. You want to test me, Saint Catherine. To see if I’m worthy of her, if I’m worthy of love.

  the flower

  blooms in the light

  unlike

  the moth

  who perishes

  in the flame

  What does that mean, Sister? Have I not done everything in my power to end the war, to champion the king? Why won’t you give us your blessing?

  the hunger

  for love’s sustenance

  the desire

  f
or the melody

  of her voice

  daughter of God

  Jeanne

  these are blessed

  So why not simply tell me if she’s the one, Sister? Is she not the woman with red hair and blue eyes? Is she not the one you said would love me?

  she

  whose love

  shall make your heart

  immortal

  she

  will

  burn for you

  as testament

  to the truth

  of your love

  I don’t want anyone to die for me, Sister. I want you to confirm Piéronne is the woman you’ve been promising me. I want to know I’m not a sinner. I want you to tell me you’re happy for me. Sister?

  The saint does not answer Jeanne.

  Jeanne is determined to do all that is necessary to build a life for them both. Piéronne has been abandoned by her people. You came to me with your tenderness and with your tears. And what I had was yours now. Jeanne shall make sure that Piéronne will not want for anything. I told you of my plan.

  I’ve never been to Orléans, Jeanne.

  You’ll like it there, Piéronne. You know that I saved the city from the English earlier last year, and the people there love me. They call me The Maid of Orléans.

  What will the king say?

  I’ve not spoken to him, but he will not attack the English or the Burgundians any time soon, so I can’t imagine him objecting to my leaving the court.

  You seemed reticent, perhaps a little afraid.

  Piéronne, we can go about our lives as we please in Orléans, away from all the courtiers and meddlesome gossips. They have an incredibly beautiful cathedral there, and the Loire River looks dazzling at sunset.

  Jeanne whispers her most favoured proverb to Piéronne: Aid thyself, and God aideth thee. You tightened your grip around my fingers. They stare out over the dark, denuded branches of the oak trees that span the view from the window of the Maid’s bedchamber. I kissed you behind your ear and rested my head in the grove of your lovely bare neck.