Saint Joan

is now in order; and we proceed to trial this morning. He moves towards the judicial chairs. Cauchon This moment, if your lordship’s convenience allows. Warwick Graciously. Well, that is good news, gentlemen. I will not attempt to conceal from you that our patience was becoming strained. Cauchon So I gathered from the threats of your soldiers to drown those of our people who favor The Maid. Warwick Dear me! At all events their intentions were friendly to you, my lord. Cauchon Sternly. I hope not. I am determined that the woman shall have a fair hearing. The justice of the Church is not a mockery, my lord. The Inquisitor Returning. Never has there been a fairer examination within my experience, my lord. The Maid needs no lawyers to take her part: she will be tried by her most faithful friends, all ardently desirous to save her soul from perdition. D’estivet Sir: I am the Promoter; and it has been my painful duty to present the case against the girl; but believe me, I would throw up my case today and hasten to her defence if I did not know that men far my superiors in learning and piety, in eloquence and persuasiveness, have been sent to reason with her, to explain to her the danger she is running, and the ease with which she may avoid it. Suddenly bursting into forensic eloquence, to the disgust of Cauchon and the Inquisitor, who have listened to him so far with patronizing approval. Men have dared to say that we are acting from hate; but God is our witness that they lie. Have we tortured her? No. Have we ceased to exhort her; to implore her to have pity on herself; to come to the bosom of her Church as an erring but beloved child? Have we⁠— Cauchon Interrupting drily. Take care, Canon. All that you say is true; but if you make his lordship believe it I will not answer for your life, and hardly for my own. Warwick Deprecating, but by no means denying. Oh, my lord, you are very hard on us poor English. But we certainly do not share your pious desire to save The Maid: in fact I tell you now plainly that her death is a political necessity which I regret but cannot help. If the Church lets her go⁠— Cauchon With fierce and menacing pride. If the Church lets her go, woe to the man, were he the Emperor himself, who dares lay a finger on her! The Church is not subject to political necessity, my lord! The Inquisitor Interposing smoothly. You need have no anxiety about the result, my lord. You have an invincible ally in the matter: one who is far more determined than you that she shall burn. Warwick And who is this very convenient partisan, may I ask? The Inquisitor The Maid herself. Unless you put a gag in her mouth you cannot prevent her from convicting herself ten times over every time she opens it. D’estivet That is perfectly true, my lord. My hair bristles on my head when I hear so young a creature utter such blasphemies. Warwick Well, by all means do your best for her if you are quite sure it will be of no avail. Looking hard at Cauchon. I should be sorry to have to act without the blessing of the Church. Cauchon With a mixture of cynical admiration and contempt. And yet they say Englishmen are hypocrites! You play for your side, my lord, even at the peril of your soul. I cannot but admire such devotion; but I dare not go so far myself. I fear damnation. Warwick If we feared anything we could never govern England, my lord. Shall I send your people in to you? Cauchon Yes: it will be very good of your lordship to withdraw and allow the court to assemble. Warwick turns on his heel, and goes out through the courtyard. Cauchon takes one of the judicial seats; and D’Estivet sits at the scribes’ table, studying his brief. Cauchon Casually, as he makes himself comfortable. What scoundrels these English nobles are! The Inquisitor Taking the other judicial chair on Cauchon’s left. All secular power makes men scoundrels. They are not trained for the work; and they have not the Apostolic Succession. Our own nobles are just as bad. The Bishop’s assessors hurry into the hall, headed by Chaplain de Stogumber and Canon de Courcelles, a young priest of 30. The scribes sit at the table, leaving a chair vacant opposite D’Estivet. Some of the assessors take their seats: others stand chatting, waiting for the proceedings to begin formally. De Stogumber, aggrieved and obstinate will not take his seat: neither will the Canon, who stands on his right. Cauchon Good morning, Master de Stogumber. To the Inquisitor. Chaplain to the Cardinal of England. The Chaplain Correcting him. Of Winchester, my lord. I have to make a protest, my lord. Cauchon You make a great many. The Chaplain I am not without support, my lord. Here is Master de Courcelles, Canon of Paris, who associates himself with me in my protest. Cauchon Well, what is the matter? The Chaplain Sulkily. Speak you, Master de Courcelles, since I do not seem to enjoy his lordship’s confidence. He sits down in dudgeon next to Cauchon, on his right. Courcelles My lord: we have been at great pains to draw up an indictment of The Maid on sixty-four counts. We are now told that they have been reduced, without consulting us. The Inquisitor Master de Courcelles: I am the culprit. I am overwhelmed with admiration for the zeal displayed in your sixty-four counts; but in accusing a heretic, as in other things, enough is enough. Also you must remember that all the members of the court are not so subtle and profound as you, and that some of your very great learning might appear to them to be very great