Joan of Arc by Mary Gordon Page A

discrepancy is an early example of the range of response Joan’s complex character could elicit.
    There was feeling among the citizenry of Rheims that they should wait to see what the duke of Burgundy had to offer them before they opened their gates to Charles. So there was some delay in his entering the city. He finally entered the city on a Saturday; the customary day for coronation was Sunday. This meant that the ceremony had to be planned quickly, and as a result it lacked some of the grandeur that had always gone with the coronation of the kings of France. The habitual coronation regalia was unavailable, since it was kept at St.-Denis, near Paris, still in English hands. Nevertheless, at 3 A.M., Charles entered the cathedral for the traditional vigil before he was knighted, and at nine the ritual began.
    Notre Dame de Rheims would have been the second great cathedral Joan had seen. She had prayed for assistance at St. Croix d’Orléans and then triumphantly offered thanks there for her great victory. Orléans was, however, a minor structure compared to Notre Dame de Rheims, one of the great architectural marvels of the world. It is unlikely, though, that Joan’s attention would have traveled to the façade or to any of the other twenty-three hundred major statues, celebrating everything from the visitation of the Virgin to the slaughtering of a pig during harvest time. She would probably not have noticed the famous stone angel at the church door, that enigmatic smiler, ironic, accepting, merciful but commonsensical, a face that both mirrors Joan’s best qualities and is bemused by the hint of extremism that she represents. But Joan’s sense of drama must have been aroused by the majestic vaulting of the great nave down which she walked, her armor covered with a tunic of white silk, the only female in the procession, the only member neither clerical nor noble, and the youngest of them all.
    There were important irregularities in the ceremony, which mirrored contemporary political irregularities. Of the twelve peers of France who were supposed to stand forwardfor the king, most sent substitutes. One of the absent peers was the duke of Burgundy, Charles’s sworn enemy. Another missing person was Pierre Cauchon, archbishop of Beauvais, the strongest French supporter of the English and the future presider at Joan’s trial.
    But the most striking anomaly was the presence of a young woman, a commoner. Throughout the whole ceremony, Joan stood beside the king, holding her standard. At her trial, Joan was asked why her standard was unfurled in the cathedral when those of the other captains were excluded. With her characteristic pride she answered, “It had borne the burden, and it was right that it should have the honor.” 8
    Joan’s response to the coronation was, again characteristically, emotionally expressive. She knelt, embraced the king’s knees, and wept, assuring the king that he was indeed king of France now and that her prophecies had been fulfilled.
    Despite the short notice of the coronation, the city was overwhelmed with crowds; the vines planted in the surrounding fields were trampled by the throngs of horses. Among the visitors were Joan’s father and her uncle, Durand Laxault, who had been her first supporter. They lingered for two months in the city, enjoying what must have been the only holiday of their lives.
    On the day of the coronation, Joan found time to dictate a letter to the duke of Burgundy. She addressed him with taunting arrogance. She told him that, as the king’s vassal, he should know that his duty was to make a lasting peace with the king and that if he wanted to go to war, he should fight the Saracens. She threatened him:
    You will not win a battle against the loyal Frenchman, and all those who make war against the holy realm of France, make war against King Jesus, king of heaven, and all the world, my rightful and sovereign Lord. 9

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