Scene III Saint Joan
Scene III
Orleans, May 29th, 1429. Dunois, aged 26, is pacing up and down a patch of ground on the south bank of the silver Loire, commanding a long view of the river in both directions. He has had his lance stuck up with a pennon, which streams in a strong east wind. His shield with its bend sinister lies beside it. He has his commander’s baton in his hand. He is well built, carrying his armor easily. His broad brow and pointed chin give him an equilaterally triangular face, already marked by active service and responsibility, with the expression of a goodnatured and capable man who has no affectations and no foolish illusions. His page is sitting on the ground, elbows on knees, cheeks on fists, idly watching the water. It is evening; and both man and boy are affected by the loveliness of the Loire.
| Dunois | Halting for a moment to glance up at the streaming pennon and shake his head wearily before he resumes his pacing. West wind, west wind, west wind. Strumpet: steadfast when you should be wanton, wanton when you should be steadfast. West wind on the silver Loire: what rhymes to Loire? He looks again at the pennon, and shakes his fist at it. Change, curse you, change, English harlot of a wind, change. West, west, I tell you. With a growl he resumes his march in silence, but soon begins again. West wind, wanton wind, wilful wind, womanish wind, false wind from over the water, will you never blow again? |
| The Page | Bounding to his feet. See! There! There she goes! |
| Dunois | Startled from his reverie: eagerly. Where? Who? The Maid? |
| The Page | No: the kingfisher. Like blue lightning. She went into that bush. |
| Dunois | Furiously disappointed. Is that all? You infernal young idiot: I have a mind to pitch you into the river. |
| The Page | Not afraid, knowing his man. It looked frightfully jolly, that flash of blue. Look! There goes the other! |
| Dunois | Running eagerly to the river brim. Where? Where? |
| The Page | Pointing. Passing the reeds. |
| Dunois | Delighted. I see. |
| They follow the flight until the bird takes cover. | |
| The Page | You blew me up because you were not in time to see them yesterday. |
| Dunois | You knew I was expecting The Maid when you set up your yelping. I will give you something to yelp for next time. |
| The Page | Aren’t they lovely? I wish I could catch them. |
| Dunois | Let me catch you trying to trap them, and I will put you in the iron cage for a month to teach you what a cage feels like. You are an abominable boy. |
| The Page | Laughs, and squats down as before. ! |
| Dunois | Pacing. Blue bird, blue bird, since I am friend to thee, change thou the wind for me. No: it does not rhyme. He who has sinned for thee: that’s better. No sense in it, though. He finds himself close to the page. You abominable boy! He turns away from him. Mary in the blue snood, kingfisher color: will you grudge me a west wind? |
| A Sentry’s Voice Westward | Halt! Who goes there? |
| Joan’s Voice | The Maid. |
| Dunois | Let her pass. Hither, Maid! To me! |
| Joan, in splendid armor, rushes in in a blazing rage. The wind drops; and the pennon flaps idly down the lance; but Dunois is too much occupied with Joan to notice it. | |
| Joan | Bluntly. Be you Bastard of Orleans? |
| Dunois | Cool and stern, pointing to his shield. You see the bend sinister. Are you Joan the Maid? |
| Joan | Sure. |
| Dunois | Where are your troops? |
| Joan | Miles behind. They have cheated me. They have brought me to the wrong side of the river. |
| Dunois | I told them to. |
| Joan | Why did you? The English are on the other side! |
| Dunois | The English are on both sides. |
| Joan | But Orleans is on the other side. We must fight the English there. How can we cross the river? |
| Dunois | Grimly. There is a bridge. |
| Joan | In God’s name, then, let us cross the bridge, and fall on them. |
| Dunois | It seems simple; but it cannot be done. |
| Joan | Who says so? |
| Dunois | I say so; and older and wiser heads than mine are of the same opinion. |
| Joan | Roundly. Then your older and wiser heads are fatheads: they have made a fool of you; and now they want to make a fool of me too, bringing me to the wrong side of the river. Do you not know that I bring you better help than ever came to any general or any town? |
| Dunois | Smiling patiently. Your own? |
| Joan | No: the help and counsel of the King of Heaven. Which is the way to the bridge? |
| Dunois | You are impatient, Maid. |
| Joan | Is this a time for patience? Our enemy is at our gates; and here we stand doing nothing. Oh, why are you not fighting? Listen to me: I will deliver you from fear. I— |
| Dunois | Laughing heartily, and waving her off. No, no, my girl: if you delivered me from fear I should be a good knight for a story book, but a very bad commander for the army. Come! let me begin to make a soldier of you. He takes her to the water’s edge. Do you see those two forts at this end of the bridge? the big ones? |
| Joan | Yes. Are they ours or the goddams’? |
| Dunois | Be quiet, and listen to me. If I were in either of those forts with only ten men I could hold it against an army. The English have more than ten times ten goddams in those forts to hold them against us. |
| Joan | They cannot hold them against God. God did not give them the land under those forts: they stole it from Him. He gave it to us. I will take those forts. |
| Dunois | Single-handed? |
| Joan | Our men will take them. I will lead them. |
| Dunois | Not a man will follow you. |
| Joan | I will not look back to see whether anyone is following me. |
| Dunois | Recognizing her mettle, and clapping her heartily on the shoulder. Good. You have the makings of a soldier in you. You are in love with war. |
| Joan | Startled. Oh! And the Archbishop said I was in love with religion. |
| Dunois | I, God forgive me, am a little in love with war myself, the ugly devil! I am like a man with two wives. Do you want to be like a woman with two husbands? |
| Joan | Matter-of-factly. I will never take a husband. A man in Toul took an action against me for breach of promise; but I never promised him. I am a soldier: I do not want to be thought of as a woman. I will not dress as a woman. I do not care for the things women care for. They dream of lovers, and of money. I dream of leading a charge, and of placing the big guns. You soldiers do not know how to use the big guns: you think you can win battles with a great noise and smoke. |
| Dunois | With a shrug. True. Half the time the artillery is more trouble than it is worth. |
| Joan | Aye, lad; but you cannot fight stone walls with horses: you must have guns, and much bigger guns too. |
| Dunois | Grinning at her familiarity, and echoing it. Aye, lass; but a good heart and a stout ladder will get over the stoniest wall. |
| Joan | I will be first up the ladder when we reach the fort, Bastard. I dare you to follow me. |
| Dunois | You must not dare a staff officer, Joan: only company officers are allowed to indulge in displays of personal courage. Besides, you must know that I welcome you as a saint, not as a soldier. I have daredevils enough at my call, if they could help me. |
| Joan | I am not a daredevil: I am a servant of God. My sword is sacred: I found it behind the altar in the church of St. Catherine, where God hid it for me; and I may not strike a blow with it. My heart is full of courage, not of anger. I will lead; and your men will follow: that is all I can do. But I must do it: you shall not stop me. |
| Dunois | All in good time. Our men cannot take those forts by a sally across the bridge. They must come by water, and take the English in the rear on this side. |
| Joan | Her military sense asserting itself. Then make rafts and put big guns on them; and let your men cross to us. |
| Dunois | The rafts are ready; and the men are embarked. But they must wait for God. |
| Joan | What do you mean? God is waiting for them. |
| Dunois | Let Him send us a wind then. My boats are downstream: they cannot come up against both wind and current. We must wait until God changes the wind. Come: let me take you to the church. |
| Joan | No. I love church; but the English will not yield to prayers: they understand nothing but hard knocks and slashes. I will not go to church until we have beaten them. |
| Dunois | You must: I have business for you there. |
| Joan | What business? |
| Dunois | To pray for a west wind. I have prayed; and I have given two silver candlesticks; but my prayers are not answered. Yours may be: you are young and innocent. |
| Joan | Oh yes: you are right. I will pray: I will tell St. Catherine: she will make God give me a west wind. Quick: show me the way to the church. |
| The Page | Sneezes violently. At-cha!!! |
| Joan | God bless you, child! Coom, Bastard. |
| They go out. The page rises to follow. He picks up the shield, and is taking the spear as well when he notices the pennon, which is now streaming eastward. | |
| The Page | Dropping the shield and calling excitedly after them. Seigneur! Seigneur! Mademoiselle! |
| Dunois | Running back. What is it? The kingfisher? He looks eagerly for it up the river. |
| Joan | Joining them. Oh, a kingfisher! Where? |
| The Page | No: the wind, the wind, the wind pointing to the pennon: that is what made me sneeze. |
| Dunois | Looking at the pennon. The wind has changed. He crosses himself. God has spoken. Kneeling and handing his baton to Joan. You command the king’s army. I am your soldier. |
| The Page | Looking down the river. The boats have put off. They are ripping upstream like anything. |
| Dunois | Rising. Now for the forts. You dared me to follow. Dare you lead? |
| Joan | Bursting into tears and flinging her arms round Dunois, kissing him on both cheeks. Dunois, dear comrade in arms, help me. My eyes are blinded with tears. Set my foot on the ladder, and say “Up, Joan.” |
| Dunois | Dragging her out. Never mind the tears: make for the flash of the guns. |
| Joan | In a blaze of courage. Ah! |
| Dunois | Dragging her along with him. For God and Saint Dennis! |
| The Page | Shrilly. The Maid! The Maid! God and The Maid! Hurray‑ay‑ay! He snatches up the shield and lance, and capers out after them, mad with excitement. |