gnovel Chapter 24 Audience
Chapter 24 Audience
"Botticur really said that? I think he's been in the countryside too long and his head's gone—he should be replaced!"
Atil surprisingly lost his temper at the royal council meeting. Strangely, even Albrecht didn't refute him this time.
The messenger was clearly quite frightened. Latre rubbed his temples, patiently pressing for confirmation: "Let me confirm again—Botticul said there's a country witch who can predict the course of the battle, and that she wants to meet His Majesty, is that true?"
The messenger nodded, then whispered a correction: "Sir, but that's not a witch. I saw her at the church; she's a composed young woman, and the priest and she are quite familiar."
Albrecht waved him away impatiently, then turned to the crowd and said, "The foolishness of the country officer is not worth discussing further. Let's get back to the main point—what about relieving the siege after spring?"
Atil shrank back into his seat, falling silent. Latre picked up the conversation: "I'm actually quite interested in this woman. We suffered heavy losses in the battle of February, and morale is particularly low. Is it possible to boost it with this woman?"
This time, Albre did not agree with his superior: "Sir, morale needs to be boosted, but what can a little girl do? If she goes into the army, she will only be laughed at."
Latre wasn't angry. While fumbling with his cane, he said, "Even a young girl has many uses. I heard Bourges has a fragment of the True Cross in its collection—let this girl carry it to the front lines and show it off; it'll certainly boost morale. As for her, we can give her a quiet job afterward, or send her back." He turned to Juvenal, "Your Excellency, what do you think?"
Juvenal frowned. "Lord Latre, please don't treat the relic so lightly. We can send devout priests to the front lines to bless the soldiers, but we would never entrust it to a woman of unknown origin."
Latre smiled. "You flatter me, Lord Keeper of the Seals. I was just giving an example. The authenticity doesn't matter; morale at the front is low, so we have to try everything we can."
Atil muttered, "Instead of all this, why not just increase pay and rewards, and send more wine and salted meat to the front lines—wouldn't that be much better than hiring a witch?"
He glanced at Albrecht, who nodded in response. Latre was speechless for a moment, and the entire conference room fell silent.
At this moment, Mrs. Yoland, who was sitting in the main seat, spoke up: "Didn't Botticul say that this girl can predict the future? If we count the days, won't they be arriving in Orleans in a few days? Anyway, we can't fight any more battles in winter, so let's see what she's capable of first."
She glanced at Charlie, who sat listlessly in the main seat. Charlie hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Then let Lord Latres oversee this matter. Let's see what kind of person she is first."
Latre rose and bowed, and the meeting moved on to other agenda items.
-----------------
When Joan of Arc and her party arrived in Tours, they looked like a band of bandits. Except for Joan herself, who was still in relatively good spirits, everyone else was exhausted and staggering.
Twelve days, one hundred and forty leagues. They bypassed the Burgundian patrols in Champagne, crossed the British blockade of Orléans, and miraculously, not a single person was lost, only covered in dust and grime. To have made it this far safely is a miracle.
Joan of Arc was curiously examining the fortifications of Tours when the messenger who had come from Orléans to fetch them urged them to enter the city. They traversed half the city, bypassing the majestic Saint Martin Abbey, and finally stopped at the entrance of a castle.
While the messenger was calling to the guards to open the gate, Metz seized the opportunity to lean in and ask, "Sir, why did you bring us directly to the castle? If we were to meet His Majesty, couldn't you at least give us half a day to bathe, change, and rest?"
The messenger didn't even turn his head: "His Majesty has been waiting for you for a long time. All the ministers and nobles are waiting in the council hall. How dare we delay? Follow me into the city immediately."
Metz hesitated for a moment, then called for his companions to dismount. Joan of Arc had already packed her belongings, removed her helmet, and tidied her braids.
Led by their attendants, they proceeded without hindrance into a large council hall. The hall was packed with people, with long tables crowded on both sides, some even leaning out to peer inside.
The attendant leading the way pointed to the person in the main seat, dressed in magnificent robes and wearing a crown: "This is His Majesty. Gentlemen, please."
Metz had never seen anything like this before. He quickly stepped forward, knelt down first, and bowed his head, loudly proclaiming, "I am Knight Jean de Metz of Vaucouleur, by order of my lord—"
Before he could finish speaking, his old friend, who was kneeling beside him, kept tugging at his clothes. Metz looked up and was immediately stunned—Joan of Arc stood straight in the hall, looking around, showing no intention of kneeling. The once noisy hall fell silent, and all eyes were on her.
Metz quickly got up to pull her behind him, but Joan of Arc held her down.
"Don't kneel," she said. "This isn't His Majesty."
Metz was terrified, and the infantrymen behind him were trembling. Joan of Arc looked around and said calmly, "Get up, all of you. His Majesty is not here."
Metz looked at the main seat, his face ashen, his hand already stealthily reaching for the hilt of his sword. His mind raced through the knightly tales he'd heard, none of them ending well in this situation. But the next second he suddenly noticed—the "His Majesty's" face was just as pale as his, his hands trembling.
Snapped--
A crisp round of applause rang out. A nobleman leaning on a cane beside the head of the table stood up, smiling, and said, "You must be Lady Joan of Arc? I am the Grand Steward Latre. His Majesty has instructed me to conduct a small test; please don't mind." He paused, "But I'm curious, who told you His Majesty wasn't here?"
Joan of Arc raised her head: "No one needs to tell you, you can tell at a glance. That clown's crown is a size too big, his clothes are so tight they're constricting, and his face is turning purple. Not a single servant in the entire hall is looking at him; instead, they're all staring at you, and even the guards are standing on either side of you." She glanced around, "And it's too noisy. Even our village meetings aren't this noisy—at least not everyone is talking at the same time."
Latre's smile deepened. He gestured for the actor impersonating the king to step back, then stepped forward, leaning on his cane, and pointed at Joan of Arc: "Look, gentlemen—this is the 'Prophet' Botticul spoke of. Now, do you believe in her abilities?" He raised his voice, "God bless France, sending us a saint!"
The crowd paused for a moment, then joined in, applause erupting. Some even began to recite poetry comically. Metz then realized this was no royal council meeting at all.
Joan of Arc remained silent as Latre approached, then asked, "My lady, when may I have an audience with His Majesty?"
Latre stood still, smiling as he replied, "His Majesty is currently not in Tours, but in Shinon. However, before you depart, the Church needs to conduct some assessments of you. Are you willing?"
Joan of Arc finally relaxed a little and slowly nodded.
-----------------
As the priest in charge of the seals of St. Martin's Abbey, assisting Archbishop Chartres, I was responsible for leading the monks in a religious examination of Joan of Arc.
I must confess that I didn't have a good impression of Joan of Arc at the time. After all, since leaving Paris, I had seen far too many self-proclaimed prophets or witches. Most of them were utterly deceitful and their lies were hardly credible. I approached the investigation with this preconceived notion. However, we soon discovered—we were completely wrong.
Although Joan of Arc was grammatically illiterate, she was sharp-minded and quick-witted, often leaving us speechless with her arguments. She claimed to be able to hear voices—a claim that, while somewhat heretical, had nothing to do with her "prophecies"; they were merely her personal speculations based on information. At the same time, her grasp of the Bible was remarkably solid, even surpassing that of many of my less gifted students. She was also extremely devout and never uttered any heretical statements.
After we found a reliable lady to confirm her virginity, we were convinced that Joan of Arc was not religiously heretical and could even be considered a model of faith. As for her repeated mention of "hearing voices," it was more like a folk tale passed down orally among local heretical sects—we cannot demand that an illiterate virgin have a high level of discernment by the standards of a nun.
Therefore, we unanimously agree that Lady Joan of Arc's religious vetting has been passed, and she is permitted to travel to Chinon to meet His Majesty.
-
Charles VII [France] Jean-Jacques de Uyssen