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Joan of Arc

Here...

Here, girl.

Sunday, May 8th, 1429.
In the morning.

Come here.

Lady Joan.

- Marie wants a word.
- What is it?

- I don't know.
- Let her come.

Marie!

Lady Joan.

Please touch this rosary.

- What for?
- To make it good.

If Dame Jacqueline touches it,
it will be just as good.

Impossible.
The neighbour's son is dying.

I'd rather you touched it.

Then let us pray together for the boy.
Show me the way.

- Lady Joan, shall I take your armour?
- When I return.

Goodbye, child.

- Goodbye, all.
- Goodbye.

Thursday, September 8th, 1429.
Four months later.

Day of the Nativity
of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Is that you, my lord?

You didn't wish to stay in St Denis
with His Majesty?

I couldn't stay with the king.

I have come here
to learn news as it comes.

I'm no expert,
but this day could prove decisive.

Do you think today
we'll take Paris there?

I didn't say that.
I said that the day

could prove decisive.

Here's Lord Patrice Bernard.

Well, my lord?

My lord, I want to learn news
as it comes.

This day could be decisive.

If you believe so, my lord.

I'll tell you why.
I have patiently studied

the case of Lady Joan the Maid.

Does she come from God...

Or elsewhere, poor child?

Is she still guided by her voices?

She talks about them less.

Here's Lord de Rais.

My lord, up early today, are we?

You don't seem pleased, marshal,
with all these battles.

My word, at this rate,
the war will be over in six months.

How will we amuse ourselves?

I'm unlucky.

Do you know what I was told today?

No, my lord.

Lady Joan, have you heard?

Heard what?

Gangs have pillaged a few villages.

But wealthy villages.

To think I missed it!
It wasn't far away.

Where, my lord?

A few days' march down the Seine.

It was terrible.
They burned men, women, children...

We must go there tomorrow,
once Paris is taken.

Those English brigands!

No, Lady Joan,

they weren't English but French.

I see.

The English
aren't as violent and stupid.

They wouldn't burn the women first.

What use are they, dead?

But...

the thing is, we can still use them
once they're dead, only...

Only...

That's witchcraft.

Are you a wizard, Lord de Rais?

No, my lord. Not yet.

- Let us arm ourselves.
- Indeed.

It is not good that Lady Joan
should always be ready before us.

Oh my God,
I knew the suffering of battle

When the frenzied assailants
launched their attack

I knew, oh my God,
the suffering of battle

When the frenzied assailants
rushed towards us like a flood

The assailants rose up
like a river in flood

And we could tell
that nothing could withstand them

That nothing could withstand them,
neither the wall nor the gate

And that this living flood
would drown everything

I myself

I was afraid of the power of this flood

Of this flood

Hammers crushed helmets and skulls

Arrows slid off the iron breastplates

Hammers crushed helmets and skulls

Axes cut into breastplates and flesh

I was a warlord

And all those hammers

Struck and crushed on my orders

I was the lord of the battle, oh God,

Those axes chopped and chopped again

On my orders

I've known the suffering
of being the lord of the battle

I've known the suffering
of being the lord of the battle

I've known the suffering

of being the lord of the battle

I've known the suffering

of being the lord of the battle

I also knew the anguish of betrayal

When no one moved
before the furious English hordes

When we had to remain sitting
in our houses

And see the loathsome
lay waste as they saw fit

Or when we had to leave to do battle

And march at the head
of potential traitors

I would lead the way
and, in the face of the battle,

I knew they were there, following behind

And, waking the unforgotten, ancient lie,

I also knew the anguish of betrayal

But I did not know that anguish

That ugly, dirty, filthy anguish

The anguish of the words

My God

That he spoke just now

The words that he spoke

Can I ever cleanse my soul?

I dare not say the words he spoke

I dare not say the words he spoke

How can I command the attack now?

After what he said victory would be

How can I order him
to follow me in the attack?

Him

In the attack

In the attack

In the attack

Him

Lady Joan?

Lady Joan?

It's you, my friend.

I'm here to see
what your voices command.

They command nothing.

It's high time you asked.

I can't and won't this morn.

How come?

Human battle is too ugly.

Life in Lorraine is sweet.

I would love to spin
and keep the sheep by the Meuse.

I'd spy my home
from Vaslin the carter's

and I'd greet my father and mother,
so glad to see me.

Don't cry, Lady Joan.

Don't cry so.

Why are you crying?
You must be homesick.

I was homesick too.

I cried too.
But I don't cry anymore.

You mustn't cry.

We must ply our trade.

You're right, my master.
I mustn't cry so.

I mustn't cry.

Each must ply his trade
as long as there's work.

Here are the orders.

We'll attack Paris by St Honoré's Gate.

Be at the gate with your culverin.

Very good.

Whatever happens,
I refuse to leave before taking Paris.

Understood, Lady Joan.

I'm counting on you.
Today will be decisive.

We'll do what we can.

Worry not.

It's Monsieur de Gaucourt.

Monsieur de Gaucourt, take command.

Wait a minute, Joan.

Monsieur de Gaucourt will obey
on one condition.

What condition, my lord?

A natural condition, Joan,
and easy to fulfil.

Simply assure him

that you are still advised
by your voices.

My lord, my voices haven't advised me

but ordered me
to hound the English out.

Very well, Joan. That is good.

But we are not asking for so much.

We are simply asking you if,
this morning,

your voices ordered you
to lead us to Paris.

My lord, my voices ordered me
to hound the English out of France.

Paris is in France.

My lord, command the men who go.

Friday, September 9th, 1429.
The next morning. The same place.

Good day, my lords.

My lord, I'm still weary.

Yesterday was a tough day.
A very tough day.

Is this Lady Joan's first defeat?

Yes, my lord.

The first time that Lady Joan
has had what one can call a defeat.

If she's victorious today,
we can't condemn her

for yesterday.

Will she succeed today?

I want no more to do with it!

You won't fight today?

Not without the king's orders.

They may come this morning.

Good, my lord.
Then we'll know what to do!

Will the army march
on the king's orders?

I'm sure, my lord,
apart from a few numbskulls,

like d'Alençon.

Here he is, with Lady Joan.

They're inseparable.

Good day, my lords.

- Good day, my lords.
- My lord.

We began too late yesterday.

It should have been earlier.
You command the army.

So, today...

Today, ma'am, we must wait

to see if the king issues orders.

Do you think the king...

I don't think anything, ma'am,
and I know nothing.

But we must wait.

Here comes Lord de Rais
who is waiting too.

Hello, Lady Joan.

- My lords.
- My lord.

Lady Joan,
I'm here about yesterday's defeat.

It's your fault we lost.

How come?

- You can't talk to soldiers.
- I can't?

Don't you realize?
You talk of God, love, sin, prayers...

That's not how to do it.

How then, as you seem so sure?

Tell them,

"Soldiers, look at these riches
you can seize!

Gold and silver!"

Soldiers want war, victory and blood!

Women.

No need,
we think of them already.

Listen to what I tell you.

Do you know who says that?

Yes, a good captain.

No, he who says that
is the worst of men.

The marshal seems displeased.

When he jokes in that tone,
it's a bad sign.

He is hurt
to the point of hatred.

Fatally.

And, knowing him,

if you had been a real captain, ma'am,

I swear he would not have let you say
all you said.

I just spoke my mind, my lord.

Listen, ma'am...

I have no great affection
for Monsieur de Rais.

You cannot say his look

is the look of a man.

Truly, I don't like him.

But he wasn't wrong in what he said.

You imagine that everyone is as pious,

merciful and kind as you.

But you're mistaken.

If you knew life...
But you're just a child.

You don't know life.

You don't know the world.

Men have no great worth.

Men are impious.

Men are cruel,

pillagers, thieves and liars.

They love feasting.

It's sad to say, alas,
but that's how it is.

In 50 years frequenting them,
I've always known them so.

Men are what they are.

But we must think of what we must be.

The best, Lady Joan,
have their weaknesses too.

Even you will tire of them.

Perhaps I will.
But, for now, I am right

when I say what I have to say.

If I had to speak like Monsieur de Rais
to save France...

Beware, my child.

Do not utter words beyond repair.

If I had to repair them,
that day I would be wrong

and I reject that idea forthwith.

Here is what I say and believe.

If I had to speak like Monsieur de Rais
to save France...

I'd rather France not be saved.

Goodbye, madam, goodbye.

Your soul is blameless
and I commend you.

But you should silence your thoughts.

His Majesty is bound to hear
how you talk about his realm.

My lord!

Around 50 Parisians are coming.

On horseback.

They have white crosses
on their breastplates.

Like the French.

I pray it's true.

Bring their leaders here
as soon as they arrive.

I pray it's true,
that defeat is no more.

My lord, the Baron of Montmorency.

My lord, and you, my lady,
may our Saviour preserve you.

You too, my lord.

My companions and I come here pitifully

to request forgiveness
of our honest and sovereign lord

for all the crimes, wrongs and offences

that we have committed

by siding with Henry VI of Lancaster,

so-called King of France and England.

Welcome, my lord.

To earn this pardon,
we beseech the king our lord

to employ us in his royal army.

We shall willingly and steadfastly obey

any orders he gives us.

Good news, my lords!

News from Paris. It is ours.

We shall be in Paris today.

Very good, Lady Joan.

This is a morning for news

for we have some from St Denis.

A group of French riders
approaches at a gallop.

News of the king
is always good news, isn't it?

No doubt, my lords.

Here's the Count of Clermont.
He has a herald with him.

He no doubt brings important news.

Good day, my lords.

My lord.

Please listen to the king's message.

"To our dear, beloved princes,

captains and men-at-arms
gathered before Paris for war...

We were displeased to learn

that men of our royal army

undertook yesterday

an armed attack on the city of Paris

even though that city
is no longer loyal to our old enemy,

Henry of Lancaster,
so-called King of France and England,

who sent his herald this morning

to consolidate our truce established

on the 28th of August last.

We wished that truce to include
the city of Paris

and, through this proclamation,
we order all princes,

captains and men-at-arms
gathered for war

before the city of Paris

to abstain from attack.

As soon as they have received
our orders,

we request that they return to us
with their arms.

Those who decide to remain,
contrary to our royal order,

and so prevent peace

are hereby deemed traitors to us

and we order our loyal servants

to force them to obey as necessary.

Issued at the Abbey of St Denis,
on the ninth day of September

and marked with our royal seal.

Charles."

My lord,

tell our sovereign
that the captains follow you.

We shall gather the men
and leave for St Denis.

My lords,

once you have gathered your men,

if you so desire,

please inform my lord and me.

We shall leave together.

Late March, 1430.
Six and a half months later.

Garden of the Château de la Trémouille.

Seven months ago, our Lord God

allowed his servant to experience
before Paris

the anguish of defeat.

I told you,
victory always comes after defeat.

There will be no more great defeats.

Because the war was not as great.

There were fewer defeats and victories

as the war died down.

For almost a month now,
we've been at Sully-sur-Loire

in my lord de La Trémouille's castle.
And, meanwhile,

battle has resumed
in the lands we abandoned.

Along the Seine,

battle has resumed despite the truces.

Our sovereign will not move
to keep his royal oath.

Do you recall, Master Jean?

We saw those lands after Reims.

Yes, Lady Joan, do you recall?
It was beautiful.

- The villagers.
- Good people.

They gave us food, water and bread.

All those petals against the sky.
I remember.

Do you recall us dancing?

It was lovely.

We left them
to the Burgundians and the English.

They said they'd massacre them,

men, women and even children.

Lady Joan, that's not your fault.
Don't think about it.

But I do!

We can try to remedy it now.

I have decided that we shall try.

- But how?
- The king will pass soon.

I'll beg him to rescue his people.

He won't do it.

Then I'll go without him.

What?

After leading the royal army,

a marauder like La Hire?

He beat the English in Normandy.

Have you considered the danger?

Yes, and I've made up my mind.

Lady Joan,

you'll know misfortune
as a marauder. Don't do it.

I hear your words.

But I've decided to lead a band.

Enough, I'm weary of reasoners
and reasoning.

There are towns across the Seine
that are with us.

We must not betray their trust.

They're in danger.

I shall go to help them.
And that's final.

And your voices?

I shall welcome the advice
of my sisters in Heaven.

But should our Lord not wish it,
I shall fight without their advice.

All those who wish to leave with me
will be welcome.

The others can stay.

I'll leave
and fight alone if need be.

God will do with me as He wants.

You won't leave alone.
I'll go with you.

Some will come, others will stay.

But we won't be alone.

- Shall I tell them?
- Let me see the king first

to ask if he'll rescue his people.

He won't budge.

And if he'll send someone.

He'll send no one.

In that case, Lady Joan,

you're as sure as I am
that the king won't march.

I never said that.
We can only be sure of the past.

But you know the king.

My prayer to our king today

is the greatest honour I can pay

and I hope it won't be the last.

Not my business.

The king's mass is beginning.
I must leave.

Tell Brother Jean to come.

Later. Tell Brother Jean he must write.

Oh my God

Give me the strength I need

To give strength to the king

With my words

I shall tell him

"Majesty, have mercy on the people

On the people who sang

When you passed by

Majesty, have mercy on the people

Who love you

The foul English

Will launch the attack

On towns that opened their gates
when you passed

Majesty, have mercy on the towns
that love you"

Majesty, I beseech you.

Speak,

my child.

You know how pleased I am
with what you've done

for the good of the realm.

Do you need a favour
for your dear village of Domrémy?

Do you need a favour

for your parents
whom I already ennobled?

No, it's about the towns
the English will attack...

Leave it.

Joan...

leave it,

my child.

You know how pleased I am

with what you've done for the realm.

You have the right to rest now,

my child.

It's time to rest at last.

You must rest.

I want that.

Now, oh Lord, have mercy on me.

I leave to begin the battle alone.

It's over.

All he did was feint again.

I'm so unhappy.

Can you please write, father?

Yes, Lady Joan.

Do you wish to write letters?

Like His Majesty then.

He sent letters this morning.

- To whom?
- The towns beyond the Seine.

One for the city of Reims.

He tells them not to be afraid
for he thinks of them.

He thinks of them!

To whom shall I write for you?

Write, father.

"To my dear, good friends,

the clergy,

burghers and people of Orléans."

Fancy...

To Orléans?

But the English aren't there.

Write, father.

"My dear, good friends,

if you recall the battles
we fought together in your region,

please send post-haste
to the town of Melun..."

The king isn't going to Melun.

But I am, father.

"...post-haste to the town of Melun

all disposable powder, saltpetre,

sulphur, darts, crossbows

and other arms of war."

Eleven months later.
Late February 1431.

One of the first sessions of the trial.

Royal chapel, the castle in Rouen.
7:30 in the morning.

It's you, my brother!
How are you today?

I'm well, master.

You're here early.
The session doesn't begin until 8.

I know, master.

However, Master Nicolas l'Oiseleur,

I must see someone
before the session begins.

So speak to me, Brother.

I have to say I understand nothing,

nothing at all,

about what we're doing in this trial.

A heretic is a heretic.

No need to look at a man twice
to see if he's a heretic.

A trial for heresy
is a trial for heresy.

I know what a trial for heresy is.

I've done enough trials for heresy
in my life.

In a trial for heresy,
you take the heretic,

you judge him, you condemn him,
you burn him

and God sends his soul to Hell.

That's that, it's done right away.

You forget, brother,
that we never burn anyone.

The Church cannot abide bloodshed.

We abandon heretics
to the secular arm

and ask it to implement
the sentence

to be less than death or dismemberment.

Yes, my master.

We know what all those formalities mean.

Even so, the trial of this woman,

or girl...
What is she?

This girl, brother.

Even so, the trial of this girl

is not like a trial for heresy.

We shall give her a good trial,
a fair trial,

that will make her renounce
her heresy and her sin.

So, we have no fear
in summoning as assessors

people favourable to the accused.

For example,

Master Fidèle Pierret.

Then...

when the prodigal child
is back under the Father's roof,

when the lost child
returns to the good and holy Church,

Mother of us all,

when, finally,

we have the joy
of recovering the lost sheep

and returning her
to the divine Shepherd,

if someone accuses us

of humiliating the Church
through this trial,

of humiliating the Church
through our persons,

he will remember, my brother,

that our Divine Master
humiliated Himself seeking lost souls

and we shall humbly ask forgiveness

for having dared to imitate Him
in His humility.

I was not seeking
such a long explanation.

You always have excellent reasons.

But I have an instinct
that is worth much more

because it is righteous.

I say that this is a dishonest

and ill-advised undertaking.

You must no longer count on me
for this task.

If today's session
resembles the first ones,

I shall not be seen there again.

Adieu, master.

I leave you with your accomplices.

Goodbye, brother.

Goodbye.

Master, I salute you respectfully.

Hello, master.

I've come to ask you about the trial.

I am respectfully at your service.

But the session is about to begin.

Is it true, master,

that, in her cell, the accused

is chained hand and foot?

I must confess that I have no idea.

It's a detail that, in my opinion,
does not concern us.

She is not held in a Church jail.

We only deal with her
when she is before us.

That's true.

But why not leave the honour of doing it

to our bountiful mother,
the illustrious University of Paris?

I think we shall consult it
respectfully, master.

But could we have formed elsewhere

such a fine assembly of eminent men?

I don't mean Lord Pierre Cauchon.
You know who he is.

You know of his considerable services
to the synod,

the council and the embassies

for our dreaded lord,
the King of England and France,

and our Burgundian ally.

True.

Try to consider

that we are at least
twelve doctors in theology,

that we are at least five doctors
in civil and cannon law...

Consider that we are at least

six or seven bachelors in theology,

several graduates in civil law,
as many in canon law...

All that forms a fine gathering.

True.

Rank is not everything.

But one cannot deny
that most of the assessors

have an excellent personal situation

and are perhaps worth more
than that situation.

Take, for example, those arriving
for this morning's session.

I don't know them all.

This is Jean Beaupère with two friends,

Nicolas Midi on his right

and Guillaume Evrard on his left.

They are in Rouen
for the illustrious University of Paris.

All three are not only men
who earned their rank brilliantly.

They are also men of the utmost worth.

Master Guillaume Evrard is a man

of prodigious eloquence.

Master Jean Beaupère was a rector.

Master Guillaume Evrard
was a rector last year.

If those two men hadn't come
to enlighten us

in this place,

they would now be at the synod in Basel,

shining brightly
among the doctors of Christendom.

See this man slowly approaching,

still young, alone, timid
and with his eyes lowered...

He is not yet thirty

yet even we, his elders,

listen to him respectfully
when he consents to advise us.

You can tell he's someone.

Master Thomas de Courcelles
will bring our university fame.

It is a great consolation
for those who are ageing

to see,

among younger men,
those who will grow to replace them.

Isn't that man English?

He is an English cleric.

Master William Haiton.

The only English cleric
who is an assessor for the trial.

Isn't our Mother the Church
glorious for being universal

and ignoring human distinctions
between England and France?

The session is about to begin.

Here is the bishop,
accompanied by the prosecutor.

And, to their left,
Master Jean de la Fontaine, I believe.

I'll leave you with them.

Thank you for the information
I requested of you.

You see,

this trial interests me.

I wish to follow the sessions
with close attention.

I have to admit that, occasionally,
the accused's replies

show great common sense.

That is precisely
what is so dangerous for her.

That common sense is merely human.

It is far from divine truths

and may well conceal them from her.

Your Grace, I humbly salute you.

Good day, my son.
What is new this morning?

Your Grace, Brother Mathieu Bourat

refuses to be an assessor.

Why is that, my friend?

Because his soul is proud, father.

Too proud.

He will not sink to saving with us,
by the humblest means,

the soul and body of this girl
and all those she outraged.

That was no reason not to greet me

when we passed him.

I fear that he may be an evil spirit

and risk his eternal life
in this misadventure.

It would be a misfortune

because I admire his strength
and his solidity.

Is there any other news, my son?

Yes...

Master Fidèle Pierret
is starting to worry me.

Why, my friend?

He follows sessions
with scrupulous attention.

We are fortunate

to have such conscientious assistants
with us.

He plans to follow them all,
but that is not what scares me.

I'm listening, my friend.

His soul is gentle, so gentle, father.

He will never agree

to treat this fatally imperilled soul

with the strong methods
that would prove effective.

Really, my friend? That is a pity.

It's a pity that such an excellent man
should be so weak.

He is one of those
of which I am the fondest,

for he is so respectful.

No...

But it is also comforting
to have with one

for holy undertakings

zealous assistants like you.

Not a day goes by, my sons,

without me praying to God,
our Father in Heaven,

for him to grant you,
as eternal consolation,

the consolation that you bring me
every day.

Your Grace.

My Lord Jean Massieu,
you may fetch the accused.

Very good, Your Grace.

Before I forget...

It is no longer necessary

to summon to sessions

Brother Mathieu Bourat
and Master Fidèle Pierret.

Very good, Your Grace.

My brothers, I wanted to work with you
this morning...

I wanted to work with you again

to save the soul of this girl

for the greater glory of God, our Lord,

and for the defence of our Holy Mother,
the Catholic Church.

I shan't be able to.

More urgent pious duties
require my presence elsewhere.

But I shall not leave you

without praying with you.

My brothers,

I ask Master Jean de la Fontaine,

Master of Arts
and graduate in canon law,

to continue the cross-examination
in my stead.

Your Grace, the accused.

Let her wait a moment.

You will make sure,
if you please, my son,

this morning's session
lasts less than three hours.

You will finish by 11 at the latest.

We shall begin again this evening
and I shall be here.

My brothers,

let us implore
the Holy Spirit within us,

the Spirit that will be able to find
the perfect sentence

on Judgement Day

with its unconditional judgement.

Let us beseech it to enlighten us

to make as perfect as possible

the human sentence

that we will be obliged to pronounce
during this trial,

our poor and humble human sentence.

Father, we humbly beseech you

not to leave us
before gracing us with your blessing.

If it can comfort you
in this ordeal, my son...

Now, my Lord Jean Massieu,
you may show in the accused.

Until this evening, my sons.

Sit down.

As you stand accused before us,

in our capacity as judges,

we shall require you
to take the usual oath again.

Do you swear on the Holy Scriptures

to answer our questions
with the truth,

the whole truth
and nothing but the truth?

But what will you ask?

You may ask questions
that I won't wish to answer.

Well then,
if she doesn't wish to answer,

I expressly request

that the judge declare her a heretic,

without debate, by default,

and leave her to the secular arm.

And, just as expressly, I request

that the judge declare heretic,
along with her,

the man she calls her king.

Wait!

Why attack my king?

Because he followed you
in his battles and his counsel!

First, what do you mean
by the secular arm?

The English.

What for?

To burn you,
so we hear nothing more about you.

And once you have been burned,

everyone will see it was true,

that you were a heretic.

And everyone will see
that it was also true

that the man you called your king
was a heretic as well.

And everyone will know

that he will always be

a heretic.

I'll take the oath.

I'll swear to tell the truth
about what concerns men.

That's good, my child.

I'll tell you that.

But everything
our Lord God told me personally

you will not know.

You won't know a word of it,

even if you behead me,
as it's not your concern.

Why is she so brazen

with her judges?

Why does she look them in the eye?

In France,

we look at people we talk to,

even the Emperor Charlemagne.

Those who don't do so
are not good people.

- They dissemble.
- The English are more respectful.

Well,

will you take the oath
to tell us all you know

about faith?

I'll swear to tell the truth

when it concerns the Christian faith.

My lord,
please bring the Holy Scriptures.

I swear to tell the truth

when it concerns the Christian faith.

When you were at your parents',
what did you do?

I worked at home.

I helped my mother clean and spin.

You won't find a woman in Rouen

who spins better than me.

Joan,

if you were a good worker,

why abandon a woman's work?

There were women for that work,

but only I could do the work
I wanted to do.

You hid your departure
from your parents.

When they heard you had left,

that you had deceived them,

their love for you
caused them great pain.

They forgive me.

Yet they suffered

then.

They forgive me that suffering.

Did your voices

order you to lie and disobey?

You won't know that.

It's my concern alone.

Before attacking the English,

you wrote several times

that God had ordered you
to hound them out of France.

It wasn't wrong to write that
as it was true.

That meant shedding Christian blood.

I never shed it.

You had a sword.

I never used it
to shed Christian blood.

I had my standard in battle.

I loved it more than my sword.

You ordered your followers
to kill the English.

I ordered them to approach them bravely,
as I did too.

If they were killed, it was their fault.
This wasn't their land.

Did your voices order you
to kill the English?

None of your concern.

She thought her prayer had more effect

than that of others.

I prayed my best

and Our Lord answered my prayer
when He wished to.

Why did you put on men's clothing?

When she wanted the opposite
of what she ordered in her letters,

she used the sign of the Cross.

Why did she leap from the keep,

endangering her soul

to escape her temporal prison?

Wait, my lords.

Don't all talk at once.

Why dress as a man?

To do a man's work,

with men,

it was best.

You insist on dressing the same
in prison,

although the Church forbids it.

What is your Church?

God gave me the task
that made me dress as a man.

I shall dress so
until that work is complete.

Did your voices order you
to dress as a man?

- None of your concern!
- Thomas de Courcelles

asked if it's true that you used
the sign of the Cross,

a divine sign, in your letters

to fool those reading them.

If it's divine,
I did well to use it for God's orders.

And not to tell another lie?

The English wanted to read my letters.

They had no right.
My letters were for the French.

A lie is a lie
and is always forbidden.

I'm not a liar!

You may not have lied often, child.

Master Evrard

asked why you risked your soul

by jumping from Beaurevoir keep.

The English wanted to attack Compiègne,

put it to fire and the sword,

and even massacre children.

That didn't concern you
if your voices hadn't spoken.

None of your concern.

She feared being handed to the English.

I feared being handed to the English.

For temporal goals,

you risked the salvation
of your soul and body.

- You must hate the English...
- I hate no one!

So, does God hate them?

Of God's love or hate for the English,

I know nothing and don't want to.

But they will be hounded out of France,

less those who die first!

The Holy Spirit's prophecy?

It's not a prophecy,
it's what will happen!

Prophets say the same.

Do your voices
make you a prophet?

None of your concern.

You won't admit your two escape attempts
were culpable.

Until my work is complete,
I shall try to escape,

by every means, to complete it.

So, right now, you are trying to escape?

I must always try to escape.

I warn you, if I succeed now,

you can't say I lost my faith.

Why did you fight before Paris

on the Nativity of our Mother,

the blessed Virgin Mary?

It was the best day for God's order.

He probably didn't agree
as He let you lose.

Did your voices expressly order you
to attack that day?

None of your business!

Why didn't she content herself

with praying to God
for her king's victory?

In France, when we have a task to do,

we try to carry it out ourselves.

"God helps those who help themselves."

The English are more respectful.

After they pray, they wait.

There were too many misfortunes to wait.

Why did she think God preferred her

to all the captains serving her king?

It pleased Him to choose
a simple shepherdess.

If it was true God had chosen you

to bring victory

to your king,

He wouldn't have abandoned you
to defeat.

God has given me victory,

given me wounds, given me defeat
and given me prison!

Do you know, child,
if He will give you death?

I think I shall die.

Do you know, child,

what death He will give you?

I don't, but His will can decide.

Do you know, child,

if He will give you eternal death?

I don't, but I pray
He saves me from eternal death.

No heretic has ever been asked that!

Come, Joan...

We really must agree once and for all.

You claim, Joan,
that you are sent by God.

That's easy to say,
but you must give us proof of it.

All those God truly sent to this earth,

the holy prophets and His son,

made sure to give us proof,

to prove that they had been sent,

sent by God.

Yet there are two ways
of having proof.

There's proof if God's envoys

carry out obvious miracles on their own,

and there's proof if God's envoys

are clearly announced
in the Holy Gospels.

Joan, I have just read again
all the Holy Gospels.

I found not one word announcing you.

But the Antichrist is mentioned.

You interpret my words, master,
in a way I did not intend

and ask a question
I don't want to ask yet.

Read your books, masters.

My God has more books than the doctors.

We're sorry, Joan,

but the books we are talking about
are those of our God.

It's the Book of God,

the only one we know to be His,

the only one His Spirit
dictated to men and for men.

For men!

The only one announcing
the glory and suffering

of His Son.

I read in that book

that the heavenly host sang,
"Peace on earth to men of good will."

But I didn't see it
say to wage war on earth

on men of bad will.

Moreover, you have never worked
any obvious miracles.

Never one miracle.

I've never given any signs?

The release of Orléans!
The battles I won!

They're my proof and signs.
They're my proof!

If your victories were signs,

aren't your defeats signs too?

Don't they prove you are no longer

God's envoy?

Your victories aren't signs.

They were mostly won by means

that seem to be human means to me.

And the possible wondrous nature of them

can be explained
by the help of infernal forces.

I don't know those forces.

They are skilled at passing
for the forces of Heaven.

I said my voices do not concern you!

Yes, you've said that and said it often.

Always with the same vivacity.

It seems your voices
haven't given you good advice

since you react so sharply every time.

It's none of your concern!

You see.

Why has your so-called king
abandoned you?

None of the Faith's concern.

Did he realize you're a heretic?

No, I'm a good Christian.

In that case,

why has your king abandoned you?

I'm not a heretic.

I'm a good Christian.

So, he's a bad Christian
for abandoning a good one.

He's a good Christian!

A good Christian,

but a bad king?

He's a good king
who will save his realm.

And you, Joan,

do you have a request for us?

I wanted to ask,

as this is a Church tribunal,
to be held in a Church jail.

I demand that she not be held
in a Church jail

since she refuses
to submit to the Church

all that she has done.

What exactly do you call the Church?

It's the communion of the faithful

who follow the true religion
instituted by our Lord, Jesus Christ,

guided by legitimate priests.

I don't understand all that.

I don't think
it can be better put, Joan.

Is the Church Christendom?

No, those two words
don't have the same meaning.

I don't understand.

The Church wants you
to be a good Christian.

You can only belong to the Church
if you're a good Christian.

Then I belong to the Church
as a good Christian.

I want to stay one.

I won't go against the Christian faith.

In that case,
submit to the Church

all you've done.

I ask no better, sir.

You submit all you've done
to the Church?

Yes, sir, I will.

All without exception?

Without exception.

No exception?

No exception.

On condition, of course,

we don't mention what God

said and ordered to me alone.

But that cannot be a problem.

Since you refuse
to submit entirely to the Church

we cannot

and must not

put you in a Church jail.

Then I beg you,
let me receive the Host.

I demand,

since she refuses to submit entirely
to the Church,

that she not be allowed

to receive the Host.

Wait, prosecutor.

Joan,

will you submit to the Church
all you've done

unreservedly?

For the last time,

will you serve the Church,
Mother of us all

unreservedly?

I'll serve the Church

if our Lord is served first.

We despair of you, child!

You will not submit entirely
to the Church,

so we cannot accept you
among those of the Church

to receive the Host.

Do you desire

to receive the Host, Joan?

Yes, sir.

Do you truly desire it?

Yes, sir, I truly desire it.

God be praised.
Let us give Him thanks,

you and all of us!

Give Him thanks
for this desire you still have.

You must still have

some reserves of divine love

alive and desiring of the Lord

despite your lengthy frequentation
of accursed souls,

which sorely tested you.

God be praised.
That is how we'll save you.

My voices don't concern you.

Joan, I promise we'll save you.

Then I beg you, for once,

grant me permission to go to mass.

You see we'll save you.

I demand that, for now,
she does not attend mass.

For the same reasons,

we cannot grant you that.

Then do as you wish.

I don't need you to have mass.

My God will give me one,
since He created mass.

No, Joan!

All that's written is,
"Do that in memory of me."

It is not written anywhere
that Jesus would repeat

the divine sacrifice of the Last Supper.

Could we perhaps hear her confession?

I demand not.

We clearly cannot hear her confession

as she has placed herself
outside the Church.

God's mysterious kindness
knows no bounds.

She may place herself
outside the Church,

but God may well have done her
the favour

and grace
of being unable to succeed.

So, she doesn't need us.

Why are we here?

If she's not a heretic,
then she needs the Church

as a sinner.

It's obvious Joan is not
in a state of grace.

Joan...

Do you think
you're in a state of grace?

That question is too hard!

No one has ever asked a heretic that!

If I am, God preserve me.
If not, let Him place me there.

Those are

very fine feelings, Joan.

I always thought we'd save you.

Your question,
Master Nicolas l'Oiseleur,

was not one that we ask.

Your proposition, however charitable,

cannot be accepted.

As long as the accused refuses
to submit entirely to the Church,

no one, unless they place themselves
outside the Church too,

can hear her confession.

The Sacrament would be worthless

and also sacrilegious.

Let us keep working, masters.

Shortly before mid-May, 1431.
Two and a half months later.

No good, my boy.

If you want to replace me one day

and become a court proctor and torturer,

you need to work harder.

Do you have enough water?

You know she's not big.

- Who isn't?
- The one we're working on.

It doesn't matter.
You don't know the job well yet.

You've no idea how much water
a heretic's body can contain.

Hurry up now.

Fill half a bucket.

I'll fetch it.

The tools are clean.

Everything works.

You've done it well.

A lot of gentlemen
will be visiting us today.

So, this is good.

However,

there's a buckle missing for the rack.

Master François Brasset
said he'd bring it by 8 o'clock.

Master François Brasset...

Master François Brasset...

He needs to hurry a little.

It will soon strike 8.

The room has been swept.

You can't count on these locksmiths
for tools.

By the way,
when we start the session,

make sure you stand behind me.

Don't move, stay calm

and don't fool around.

What we're doing today is serious.

Here we are, Master Mauger.

We're on time.

We're never late.

Indeed, Master François, but I worry.

I hate the idea of doing a bad job.

Yes, indeed, I hate a bad job too.

Look what I bring you.

A pretty buckle.
A job well done.

It is well done.

But it must be attached to the rack.

The chain, master.

Yes, we'll ask Master Mauger.
The chain...

The chain's not ours.

It's not yours?

No, it's not ours.

It's not to torment her,
it's to keep her calm in jail.

Who do I ask about the chain?

It's none of my concern.

I don't believe this.

Worse than with the French!

I'll wait for my lord.
He'll know

at least.

You have a lot of tools.

Yes, indeed, you have a lot of tools.

All this.

You know, Master François,
I may not need to use them.

Really? Why not?

Master Evrard is preaching to her today.

And, you know, that man

just by speaking,
is a lot better than I am.

Better than I am with all my tools.

Really? I'm surprised.

After all, you know your trade.

He's better.

Better, I say.

And I've converted plenty of heretics!

You do your job well.

I'm surprised this man can do it better.

My God, yes, no doubt about it.

You have fine tools,

but a dirty job.

I know.

Why pick such a job?

Why not be a locksmith?

An apprentice five years,

a journeyman five years,

then make a masterpiece
to be a locksmith.

It's not my fault.

- Why?
- Because

the apprenticeship cost too much.

The other craftsmen didn't want me.

Mother wanted me to have a job,
so found me this apprenticeship.

I didn't mean to offend.

It's a dying trade.

The things you see nowadays...

Questioners spoiling the work...

Clumsy fools who kill heretics
without saving them...

When all you do is kill people,

don't become a questioner.

Be a soldier, an executioner.
Plenty of choice.

Don't pick a job where you need

to keep people breathing
as long as possible.

Boy, instead of listening,
fetch the water.

It's a job that takes courage.

Often, my heart isn't in my work.

The main thing in life
is doing your job properly

and not something else.
It's important.

She should have been happy
just doing her job.

What was it?

She kept cows.

So, she should have kept them

and been content.
Rather than bother us.

Right...

His Grace is here

- with Nicolas l'Oiseleur.
- Good.

- Finished, Lucien?
- Yes, master.

What impresses you most, Master Mauger?

It's hard to compare, Master François.

It depends on the person.
The boot causes sharper pain,

deeper, falser and more deceptive.

It strikes the heart
and one can feel it better.

With water,

the pain is broader,
more disturbing, more invasive.

It's like drowning,
only you can breathe after.

Very interesting.

Your Grace.

Good day, my friends.

Your Grace, what should I do
with this chain?

Master Mauger couldn't tell me.

It doesn't concern him.

It doesn't concern me either,

as the accused is not
in the Church's jails.

You should speak to John Gris,

equerry to His Majesty the King.

He is the person

in charge of watching over the accused.

Thank you kindly, Your Grace.

Well, Master Mauger,

is everything ready for your task?

Yes, Your Grace, with good will too.

Go upstairs, my friend.

- To the upper chamber?
- Yes.

When we need you,
my Lord Jean Massieu will fetch you.

We remain humbly at your service.

Your Grace,
I'm sure we shall finish soon.

May God hear you, my friend.

I personally couldn't hope to succeed

if the accused weren't prepared,

if she weren't afraid for once.

That is why I asked you

to kindly arrange today's session.

Will she be afraid today?

I do not think she can escape

the blessed terror
that will allow us to save her.

Her replies have been
very arrogant recently, my son.

Precisely, father.

For she could feel,
in her body and soul,

the rise of invincible fear.

So be it, my son.

The torment will complete
the terror of her body.

And Master Evrard,
that of her soul.

That man is prodigiously eloquent.

Today, he has taken the liberty
of dressing as a preacher.

Is that permitted?

He is so eloquent, dressed like that.

Good day, my son.

Good day, master.

- Good day, my son.
- Good day, master.

- Your Grace...
- My lord.

Good day, my lords.

I await your orders, Your Grace.

Do you know if Master Evrard
will be much longer?

I saw him arriving.

- Then fetch the accused.
- Very good, Your Grace.

Good day.

- Welcome, my son.
- Your Grace...

- Master...
- Good day, master.

Your eloquence is welcome among us.

- Your Grace.
- Brother...

- Master.
- Father.

Your Grace, here is the accused.

Let her wait a second, my friend.

Let us pray, my sons,
for God to bless our work.

May He bless in particular
the caution

given to the accused

by our beloved Master Guillaume Evrard.

Today, Joan, for the last time,
we are going to ask you...

Ask me no more.

Why, my child?

I shall not say another word.

I have already given my answers.

You do not wish to recant
the answers given?

- I told you, I stand by them.
- Very good.

We know what that means.

Good, if you know.
But I must warn you

that you will pay a high price
for the work you do.

There is no need to threaten us,
my child.

Your threats do not scare us

for one has no idea what fear is

when one is truly at God's service.

We forgive your threats, my child.

We forgive them as it is written,

"Forgive us our trespasses

as we forgive those
who trespass against us."

But nowhere is it written

that we must forgive those
who offend God

so that God may forgive us in turn.

We forgive you, Joan,

most willingly,

for your trespasses against us.

But we have no capacity, my child,

to forgive you
for your trespasses against God.

And we do not even know

if God himself could forgive you

until you have disowned them.

To force her to disown them,

I demand that the judge
have her put to the question.

Come, my child...

The questioner is up above.

The questioner is up above,

but there is still time.

For the last time,

will you disown

your answers?

Even if you behead me
and smash my limbs,

I swear I shall not renounce

a word I said.

We shall see about that, my child.

Lord Jean Massieu,
fetch the questioner.

Mister Questioner...

Even if you make me renounce
what I said,

it won't help you.

And, after,
I'll say that if I renounced,

I did so out of fear
and it won't count.

In that case,

since the soul of the accused

is so hardened and corrupted

that she refuses
to submit to the remedy,

I demand that the judge
declare her a heretic

forthwith and then abandon her
to the secular arm

so that she be burned
and go to Hell.

Yes, to Hell!

She will go to Hell

with

the lost souls

With the condemned

and the abandoned

She will go

to Hell

with the lost souls

When the straw

in Hell

will fly off

lightly

Your body will fly off

so that the fire

may consume it

That will mark the start

of boundless Eternity

Amid the crazed screams

of those burning alive

Amid the crazed screams

of those flayed alive

Amid the crazed clamour

of the panicking damned

Amid the screams

of all the tortured souls

And the crazed screams

of eternal suffering

And the crazed screams

of eternal prayers

Will be like silence

before the flood of suffering

Drowned like silence

before the flood of suffering

For your death

everlasting

is a death

that lives on

A life unkillable

undoable

and mad

And eternity

will be like silence

The same day.
In the English jails.

- First time here?
- Yes.

- Know what to do?
- I've kept prisoners before.

This one's different.

She is?

I heard she cost a lot.

We have to watch her.

Really? Why?

She's a witch.

They say that?

Yes.

She isn't with St Michael?

Fighting St George
to please St Michael

put her in jail.

Saints are like that.

Yes, they are.

Lads...

Master Maussois
left me five or six bottles.

- Where?
- Below.

In the vault.
I can't drink them alone.

We won't let you.
Why did he give them to you?

Master Maussois wanted to see the girl.

As I was on guard duty,

I let him in on the sly.

Good move.

Let's enjoy it.

She might escape.

No chance.

There's no real way out.

She's a witch.

If she was a witch,

she'd have escaped by now.

What if John Gris comes?

We'll watch out.
He's no wizard.

Come on...

It's high time they burned her.

- Come on.
- Let's drink.

Give it a rest!
It sounds like you're not alone.

It's not my fault you're mad.
Here's light if you're scared.

Early in the second-to-last week
of May 1431.

Just over a week later.

His Grace allows me, my child,

to say a few words to you,

on my responsibility.

I wish to say a few words

that are charitable, amicable,

familiar and simple,

in an unaffected manner.

Please hear me out. I shall be brief.

Please do not try to give me...

Please listen to me
without interrupting.

The discussions have lasted long enough
and they are over.

Please do not try

to give me an answer

because the cross-examination
lasted long enough

and it is now over.

Your trial is over, my child.

We can do no more to save you.

And I even wonder

if we were right to spend
so much time with you

when there are so many souls to save.

Tomorrow, we conclude the case.

Tomorrow, we give our sentence

and then conclude
in order to implement that sentence.

Until then, my child,

think hard.

Think of the life you have led so far.

Think of the life you can still lead.

Now, Joan, it's up to you...

to you alone...

to save yourself.

You are henceforth

the one and only judge.

Tomorrow,

you will tell us

what sentence to give.

Tomorrow, you will tell us

what sentence to give

and how we shall conclude

in order to implement that sentence.

Until then, my child,

think hard

about this new life that you have made.

Think of your new life.

I'm sure
you wanted to live a good life,

but I do not think a life of falsehood
can be a good life.

I recall that you prolonged the war.

Yes, you alone prolonged the war
in your dear Lorraine.

Think hard, child.
You have a day to think.

Tomorrow, you will tell us if you'll go
where Master Evrard sends you.

Or if you want to begin
your human life again,

begin a new life, a brand-new life.

You're not yet twenty.

There's still time
to give your life to God.

It would be almost a whole life,
a life...

a new life, another life.

Of all we can do here below.

My child,

only in tears and prayers

can we be sure
of never being mistaken.

Come, my child...

Have mercy on yourself and on us.

Think

of God,

who made you
to be faithful to His Church.

Think

of Jesus,

Your Saviour,

and

do not give Him the anguish

of knowing

that He died in vain for you.

Think of that, my child,

during this day of retreat
that awaits you.

Come...

We'll pray for you one last time.

The same day. As evening falls.

The same thing all day?

Yes, since this morning.

I saw her walk sometimes,
but she's not moving now.

I preferred it when she talked alone.
It was company.

- It's our last day.
- It depends.

What?
I heard they'll burn her tomorrow.

It depends...

- What does it depend on?
- Her.

If she says she was right,
they'll burn her.

If she was wrong,
they won't.

- Yeah?
- It's not good.

Burned, she mocks us.

If we don't burn her,
we look like suckers.

You're not wrong.

I'd prefer to see her burned.

It's taking too long.

I'd prefer her to burn too,
but you can't have it all.

That's true.

His Grace must have considered that.

May 24th, the next day.

She's been here so long,
they should make their minds up.

I've seen more cases than you.

I told Maussois to let us know
once it's over.

He's French, but a decent fellow.

We can count on him to let us know.

When he helped,
we weren't afraid.

He'll remember.

I think he's coming.

We'll see.

Good day, lads.

Well?

You can go back on guard duty.

They didn't burn her?

It makes me sick.

Why wasn't she burned?

No idea. There was a big crowd.

- At the cemetery?
- Yes. There were two stakes.

There was a big crowd
and even England's cardinal.

There were too many people.

I hate it when heretics burn.
They smell of burned fat.

Well, she wasn't burned.

The executioner was ready with his cart.

But she got scared and signed a paper
so as not to be burned.

- She's coming back.
- A waste of time.

My wife had put on
her best Sunday dress.

In the crush, it got all spoiled.

What did people say
when she wasn't burned?

The English weren't pleased.

I bet.

Some even kicked up a fuss.

That's not like them.

And the French?

Some were upset,
coming all that way for nothing.

Rightly so.

A lot were pleased,

saying she's a nice girl.

A lot said she's nice.

They'd have cried if she'd burned.

Fancy.

Some say she's a saint.

Really?

But don't tell anyone.

- No chance.
- I told Martin

burning her was no use.

If she was a heretic,

she'd just start sooner.

If she was a saint,
she'd go straight to Heaven

and pray for us.

You're a smart one.

Here they come.

I have to go.

Wednesday, May 30th, 1431.
One week later.

Lady Joan...

Now that you have taken Communion,

we must hurry, Lady Joan.

They're so impatient.

You must not be angry with me

if your female clothes were taken
and replaced by male clothes.

And, Lady Joan,

don't be angry either
if I tell you to hurry.

The thing is...

Will you leave me a moment

to say my last prayer?

I'll gladly do that
if you don't take too long.

As soon as I finish,
I'll come out to leave.

Lady Joan, for the trouble,
you'll pray for me too.

Yes.

Oh my God

Since Rouen must now become

my home

Listen to my prayer

I beseech you
to kindly accept this prayer

As being truly my own personal prayer

Because, later on, I'm not quite sure

Of what I shall do

When I'm on the street

And on the square

Of what I shall say

Forgive me

Forgive us all

For the harm I've done

But I know that I was right to serve you

We were right to serve you thus

My voices didn't mislead me

However, try to save us all, my God

Jesus, save us all

For eternal life