‘’Boudica, could you enlarge the picture at the top left corner of the screen: I want to see clearly what that Guillaume de Normandie looks like.’
‘’No problem, Boadicea.’ said Boudica while pointing the remote-control unit of the holographic entertainment viewer of the Celts’ cabin. One of the five split-view screens showing the recordings taken of the Battle of Hastings earlier in the day, which had marked the end of the reign of the Anglo-Saxons over Britain, then grew to occupy the full screen. Boadicea and her two daughters bent forward on their sofa to better view the man riding a horse and wearing a long coat of chainmail, a conical helmet with a nasal guard and holding a long kite shield and a lance, who now appeared in full size.
‘’So, this is the latest one to invade my country, and this after the Romans, the Danes and the Saxons? Do these bastards take my country for a vulgar carpet, good
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only to wipe their feet on it before taking everything. Were there any others after him in the history that you know, Boudica?’
‘’Uh, a few more tried during the next centuries, including the French, the Spaniards and the Germans but they mostly failed in their attempts to invade Britain.
However there were more than a few internal wars in Britain. The Scots, the descendants of the Picts whom the Romans feared so much, fought for their independence from the English kings and lost after a few epic battles. Pretendants to the throne and usurpers fought civil wars in three different centuries to come and the English in turn invaded France and Ireland, plus fought numerous naval battles against various foes. Overall, you could say that the history of the British Isles is soaked in blood.’
‘’When I think that the only thing I wanted was for my family to live in peace in our village. Then, the Romans came and took it all. Those Space Predators you told us about, did they invade in part to steal your riches?’
‘’No! The only thing that interested them was to find and eat fresh meat.’
Young Brigid shivered in horror at those words.
‘’Being eaten by monsters... That must be about the most horrible death possible.’
‘’It would certainly be, Brigid. Thankfully, we were finally able to exterminate the last of those monsters before being propelled into the past. At least now, Humanity will be able to continue living without having to fear their return.’
‘’And the friends and relatives of the people aboard this ship, will they still be waiting for your return?’
‘’We certainly hope so, Boadicea. However, we are still not sure for how long we will have disappeared from our proper time before we actually get home.’
Boadicea lowered her head in hearing her answer.
‘’Home... The Romans took mine, along with everything else we had, including our people.’
Boudica stayed silent for a moment, respecting the moment of grief felt by the Celts.
She then tried to deflect the subject and spoke in a soft voice.
‘’How was your day of work in our farms, Boadicea?’
Thankfully, a faint smile returned to Boadicea’s lips.
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‘’It was nice, truly. You were right to say that animal husbandry work will never change along the centuries. Feeding your cows, pigs and chickens is the kind of work we did every day in my village, along with milking the cows and picking the fresh eggs.’
‘’I am happy to hear that, Boadicea. Did you know that some of the people on this ship took as a hobby ancient combat reenactment, including sword fighting and jousts. Of course, they do so with blunt blade and while wearing armor and padding but those friendly combats, which happen periodically, are very popular with our passengers. By the way, some dress like Roman soldiers, so I would ask you not to try killing them on sight during our tournaments.’
‘’Could I drive a war chariot during one of those tournaments?’
‘’You would need to have a chariot built for you but, yes, that could add up even more flavor to our tournaments.’
‘’Then, I will get me a war chariot.’ promised out loud Boadicea.
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CHAPTER 12 – A DARK PROSPECT
11:05 (Paris Time)
Tuesday, May 29, 1431 (During Hundred Years War) Jehanne De Domrémy’s cell (in dungeon tower)
Castle of Rouen, city of Rouen, Normandie
English-held territory in France
Hearing the steps of multiple people approaching her cell on the first floor of the dungeon tower of the Castle of Rouen, Jehanne De Domrémy, also popularly known as Joan of Arc, sat up on her bed made of hay, guessing what was going to happen now. Yesterday, she had recanted the abjuration she had signed four days earlier and had put back on the set of men’s clothes she had been wearing before changing into a woman’s dress as part of her abjuration, despite realizing full well the consequences of that act.
Her guess proved correct when one of the English soldiers guarding her cell unlocked her cell door for Bishop Pierre Cauchon and Vice-Inquisitor Jean Lemaire, the two main judges of her trial for heresy who had been interrogating her in front of a panel of clerical jurors for close to five months. She tensed up when she saw that the two men were accompanied by the Duke of Bedford, the commander of the English soldiers guarding her and a man she deeply despised. That English lord had pushed for her to be tortured into signing a confession while she was imprisoned here but, thankfully, Bishop Cauchon and his clerical jurors had voted against that, in order to avoid tainting the validity of their judgment of her. However, Bedford had then used other ways to try to break her will, notably by having his soldiers rape her one night in her cell. That despicable act, which was completely contrary to the rules of an ecclesiastic trial, had in fact greatly contributed to her decision to recant her submission.
While the Duke of Bedford stayed outside of the cell and watched through the iron bars, Cauchon and Lemaire walked in as Jehanne got up on her feet, the chains around her hands and feet rattling with her moves. The two ecclesiastics then stopped a
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good four paces from her, with the vice-inquisitor unrolling a parchment and starting to read from it in a strong, firm voice.
‘’Jehanne De Domrémy, said Joan of Arc, by recanting yesterday the abjuration you signed five days ago, you have forfeited the clemency of this court and have thus been found guilty of heresy and of relaps. The punishment for such crimes is death.
You will thus be transported tomorrow morning to the Old Market Place of the city, where you will be burned alive at the stake. Do you have anything to say at this time, Jehanne De Domrémy?’
Despite having expected this, Jehanne still felt dread and fear wash over her: being burned alive was probably one of the worst kinds of death one could endure. Still believing in her cause and the righteousness of her actions, she answered in a soft but resolute tone.
‘’Your Grace, I still believe that I acted justly in order to help my king and France recover the lands taken by the English, and this while bearing arms openly, praising our lord Jesus Christ and praying every day. I thus humbly request that I be given the last rites before my execution.’
While Cauchon and Lemaire seemed to react favorably to her request, the Duke of Bedford exploded in anger and derision on hearing that.
‘’THE LAST RITES? TO AN HERETIC AND RELAPS? NONSENSE!’
In response Bishop Cauchon gave a cold look at Bedford. While he had been paid a lot of gold by the King of England to hold this trial against Jehanne, he already had to violate many important Church rules concerning how to conduct a heresy trial against a woman, starting with the conditions the accused had been detained. Giving in to more English demands could risk a backlash from Rome against him.
‘’This is a religious trial and strictly the affairs of the Church, Duke. Whether you like it or not, I am ready to give her the last rites tomorrow morning, before she leaves the castle for the market place. I also expect that the prisoner be still healthy and unsullied by tomorrow morning.’
Bedford, realizing that, while he held the military power in Rouen, Cauchon and Lemaire could create quite a religious backlash against him, then decided to leave and walked away, grumbling to himself. Returning his attention to Jehanne, Cauchon eyed her with some regret. Despite the gold he had been paid with, her courage and strength of character was starting to get to him.
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‘’I wish that things would not have come to this, my child, but your conduct left us no other choice but to find you guilty and condemn you to death. May God have pity on your soul, Jehanne De Domrémy.’
‘’I am sure that he will, Your Grace.’
On that response, the bishop and the vice-inquisitor left her cell, leaving one of the guards to lock back its door behind them.
Now alone in her cell, Jehanne went back to the pile of hay serving as her bed and sat on it. There, she finally let her despair get to her and started sobbing quietly.
Some twenty minutes later one of her guards brought in a piece of dry bread and a cup of water, the only kind of food that she had been given since her arrival in Rouen as a captive. She still prayed in thanks for the food, then ate her bread without conviction.
Once she was finished eating, she went to the lone, narrow window which provided some light and fresh air to her cell. That window was in fact a firing slit for archers and was by itself too narrow to let an adult escape but this one also had iron bars added to it, so that only a small bird could pass between those bars. Jehanne then looked outside for a couple of hours, passing the time as best she could by looking at what was visible of the city of Rouen and of the surrounding countryside from her window. Some eight hours later, her guards brought her more bread and water for her supper. Eating slowly, she finished her meal as the Sun was low on the horizon, then looked outside again until the night fell. As with most of the people of the Middle Ages, nightfall was normally the time people went to sleep, as only wealthy people could afford to burn candles or lamp oil for long hours. So, Jehanne went to lay on her pile of hay and tried her best to fall asleep. However, sleep didn’t come easily to her, as the thoughts about the kind of death she would face tomorrow kept haunting her. It was nearly midnight before she could fall sound asleep.
Two hours after she fell asleep, and with her two guards only half awake, a small, round dark gray object silently flew in her cell through the iron bars of her window, then slowly approached the sleeping Jehanne until it nearly touched her neck just behind and below her right ear. It kept that position as it sprayed a small quantity of a powerful local anesthetic on the skin of her neck, then waited for a few seconds, time for the drug to take effect and also deepen Jehanne’s sleep. With Jehanne now in a deep sleep, the emergency medical first aid flying probe, a device designed to reach and help victims
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buried under debris after a house or building had crumbled or after a tunnel had collapsed, used a laser scalpel to cut a small incision into the skin of her neck, then injected through that cut a tiny capsule, using a jet of compressed air. Somehow, Jehanne reacted to that by grunting and scratching her neck with her right hand, but quickly got back to full sleep. Waiting a few more seconds, the probe then injected a second capsule, this time at a different angle, so that it would end near the first one.
Two small steel pincers came out of the probe and, squeezing together the two sides of the cut, closed the cut while surgical glue was sprayed on it, closing the incision.
Waiting until the glue had dried, the probe then silently and slowly flew down Jehanne’s body, going towards her naked feet, where it stopped just below her ankles. There, it repeated the first operation it at made on her neck and cut open small incisions in each foot, just below her ankles, before injecting small capsules in them, finishing its job by closing and gluing the incisions. Its work now completed, the medical flying probe left the cell, flying out by the window, only to be replaced by another flying ball, but one much smaller and very difficult to spot if one didn’t suspect its presence and made a detailed visual search of the cell. That micro-surveillance probe then went to a small fissure between two of the stones forming the walls of the cell and anchored itself there, its camouflage system then turning the probe the same color than the stones. Now in place and active and with another flying probe fixed to the outside of the window and acting as a data relay probe, the surveillance probe started watching and listening to what was happening in the cell.
When Jehanne woke up the next morning, the Sun was barely up and one of her two guards was still sound asleep in a corner of the corridor outside her cell, while the other guard was valiantly trying to stay awake as he sat on a chair set against a wall.
Sitting on her pile of hay, Jehanne stayed silent and immobile for a moment while she fully woke up. That was when a soft male voice vibrated through her brain, pretty much like how she had heard ‘voices’ before, up to three times a day.
‘Jehanne, you are not alone in this difficult time. You led a pure life and showed courage and dedication in your fight for your king and your country. You may die today but I will be with you then and will help support you during that ultimate personal trial.
Believe in your faith, the same as I believe in the goodness of your heart and in the justice of your cause. Know that, because of your heroic efforts and of the example you
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gave, France will be rid of its English invaders in a few years. Your sacrifice will thus not have been in vain.’
Tears came to Jehanne’s eyes as she whispered to answer the voice in her head.
‘’Will I go to Heaven?’
‘Yes! You will get the rewards of the just and the pious, Jehanne. Be courageous today and believe in yourself and in your convictions. I will be with you during your final moments and will then escort your soul to Heaven.’
‘’Please, tell me your name. Are you The Savior?’
‘Yes, I am! I will speak to you again at your final moment. Be brave, Jehanne.’
Jehanne waited for a few more seconds to hear more but her voice seemed to have left.
Feeling renewed hope and purpose now, Jehanne then went to the window and looked again through it at the city of Rouen, which was barely starting to wake up. The guard who had been half-asleep heard her whisper a few sentences, apparently to herself, but did not think much of it: this deranged girl had been supposedly hearing voices in her head many times per day during the last few months.
At around two in the afternoon, Bishop Cauchon came to her cell with the vice-inquisitor, two priests and a nun. After one guard unlocked the door of the cell, Cauchon told him and his comrade in arms to leave for a few minutes, prompting a protest from the English soldier.
‘’But I can’t leave my post like this, not without the permission of the Duke, Your Grace.’
‘’We came to give her the last rites and also to change her present dress to the customary white robe of those due to be executed. I do not want you to be able to look at her naked body while she changes. Before you go, though, unlock her shackles.’
Seeing that insisting would be fruitless, the Englishman did as he was told, then signaled to his comrade to follow him, walking away to post himself at the door closing the corridor leading to the cell. Now alone with his ecclesiastic group and with Jehanne, the bishop entered the cell, where Jehanne knelt before him to receive the last rites, her hands together in a praying pose. Satisfied by her attitude, Cauchon made a short prayer for her before administering the last rites and finishing by making the sign of the cross.
‘’May Jesus Christ our savior have pity on your soul, young girl. The time has now come to face your punishment.’
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‘’I am ready, Your Grace.’
‘’Me and the men with me will now withdraw momentarily from your cell, so that Sister Jacynthe can change your dress with the proper privacy required.’
‘’I understand and thank you for your consideration, Your Grace.’
Cauchon and his group of three men then left, going down the corridor and leaving Jehanne with the nun, who helped her remove her men’s clothes and then handed her a long, white robe made of rough linen. Once changed, Jehanne followed the nun out of the cell in which she had spent the last five months and joined Cauchon and his waiting group, looking up at him and speaking in a calm, assured voice.
‘’I am ready, Your Grace.’
Cauchon was impressed by her apparent lack of fear but Vice-Inquisitor Jean Lemaire much more so: he had been reluctant from the start to participate in this trial but had to obey the orders of his superior in the Dominican Order. More than ever now, he had the bad feeling that he had done the wrong thing with Jehanne but did not have the nerve to go against the explicit orders of the Grand Inquisitor of Paris.
‘’We will now escort you to the basement, where manacles will be put on you and where you will be put in a chariot for the trip to the old market place. Then you will be under the secular authority of the English and there will be nothing more that I will be able to do for you. Do you understand, my child?’
‘’I do, Your Grace.’
‘’Then, follow me! Father Jacques, Father Paul, stay close behind the condemned.’
Thus escorted, Jehanne soon arrived down at the ground level hall of the tower, where the Duke of Bedford was waiting with six English soldiers. The English aristocrat had a mean smile on seeing Jehanne come down the stairs, escorted by the bishop and his group. When Jehanne was made to step in front of him, he came nearly nose to nose with her, nearly spitting in her face as he addressed her in a mean tone.
‘’You will finally pay for your crimes, you damn heretic. I will enjoy seeing you roast alive at the stake.’
‘’And I will watch down from Heaven while you will roast in Hell, Duke.’
Bedford was about to strike her with a gloved hand, made furious by her bravado, but was stopped in extremis by a warning shouted by Vice-Inquisitor Lemaire.
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‘’DON’T, DUKE, OR THE GRAND INQUISITOR OF PARIS WILL LEARN OF
YOUR CONDUCT AND WILL PLACE A PROTEST WITH KING HENRY.’
Restraining himself with difficulty, Bedford then looked at one of his soldiers.
‘’Shackle her!’
‘’Yes Sire!’
Coming forward, the soldier placed and locked a pair of manacles around Jehanne’s wrist, then put another pair of manacles around her ankles. Once that was done, Jehanne was pushed none too gently to a heavy cart waiting outside of the tower. Two soldiers helped her climb on the cart, then stayed up in it with her, so that she could not jump out. With a soldier driving the two horses pulling the cart and with forty English soldiers closely escorting it, Jehanne was then driven out of the courtyard of the Castle of Rouen and along the street leading to the old market place. That street, along with the market place itself, was lined with a thick crowd of spectators kept at bay by dozens of English soldiers. Some in the crowd booed Jehanne as she passed by them, some less fervently than others, while others stayed mostly quiet as they watched her cart roll by. While standing in the moving cart and keeping her balance by holding on to the low wooden railing, Jehanne then heard again the same male voice which had spoken to her in the early morning.
‘I am still with you, Jehanne. Be strong!’
That short encouragement, arriving at such a time, did miracles to raise her morale and Jehanne stood even straighter in the cart, surprising many in the crowd with her apparent aplomb.
When the cart arrived in the old market place, where hundreds of city inhabitants were waiting and watching on the sidelines, Jehanne saw that a platform with a long bench and a canvas top had been erected on one side of the market square, while a tall wooden stake surrounded by piles of firewood stood in the middle of it. Bishop Cauchon, Vice-Inquisitor Lemaire, the Duke of Bedford and a number of other dignitaries and their wives sat in the covered platform and watched on as soldiers made Jehanne climb down from the cart and pushed her towards the stake. Once up the pile of firewood and with her back against the wooden stake, two English soldiers tied Jehanne to it with chains but left her arms free for the moment. With the crowd and the dignitaries looking at her, she joined both hands and started to pray out loud.
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‘’Jesus Christ our Lord Savior, I implore you to welcome me in your heavenly kingdom at the moment of my death, as I committed no crime and simply served my legitimate king, Charles The Seventh, and this while openly bearing arms and fighting while following all the just customs of war.’
As she was continuing to pray, she saw a soldier come forward with a lit torch in his hands, ready to light the firewood surrounding her. Her anxiety and fear partly returning, she shouted at a priest standing a few paces away.
‘’A CRUCIFIX! I NEED TO HOLD A CRUCIFIX AS I DIE!’
The poor priest, not having one except for a tiny cross hooked to a chain around his neck, looked towards Bishop Cauchon, who shouted an order to him.
‘’QUICKLY, GO FETCH ONE OF THE MARCHING CRUCIFIXES STORED AT
THE BACK OF THE CHURCH.’
As the priest ran away towards the nearby church, an English soldier posted near the execution stake, seeing that the firewood was about to be lit and that the priest would probably return too late, quickly grabbed two small pieces of dry branches and, using one of his shoe laces, made a small cross with it. The soldier then climbed quickly on the piles of firewood and gave the improvised cross to her. She smiled to him as tears came to her eyes and she spoke to him in French.
‘’Thank you! You are a good man. May Jesus our savior bless you.’
The soldier, who didn’t speak French, nonetheless understood the gist of what she had said and nodded his head to her before climbing down from
the pyre. Holding tight to her rudimentary cross, Jehanne continued to pray as the piles of firewood started burning around her. The first flames were nearly at her feet when the priest returned at a run from the church, holding a golden crucifix planted at the end of a long pole. Holding the pole, the priest then approached the crucifix to her face but at a bit higher level than her eyes, allowing Jehanne to look up at it while praying out loud.
‘’JESUS, OUR SAVIOR, I AM READY TO BE RECEIVED BY YOU IN HEAVEN.
PLEASE LOOK KINDLY ON MY SOUL!’
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As the first flames reached her feet, the two capsules of powerful painkillers injected in her feet broke on receiving a radio command, releasing their drug into her feet and legs just before the skin of her soles started roasting. Despite of this, Jehanne still felt severe pain from her feet as they burned, but that pain was much less now than what she would have to endure otherwise. As she fought to keep in screams of pain, she heard the voice in her head again.
‘The moment is near, Jehanne. Continue to be brave, as you will soon be up with me.’
‘’MAY YOUR NAME BE SUNG FOREVER, JESUS!’
Then, instead of hearing more of the male voice in her head, she started hearing a soft, beautiful chant from a male chorus and assumed it to be from a group of angels singing for her. Tears of joy came to her eyes as she looked towards the sky and the nearby golden crucifix.
‘’I AM ON MY WAY TO YOU, MY LORD JESUS.’
That was also when the two capsules injected into her neck during the night broke on command and in succession, the first one containing more powerful painkilling drugs, which then started circulating through her body as her white woolen robe ignited and started burning, the second one releasing a few seconds later a lethal dose of painkillers mixed with a psychedelic agent. That agent then acted on her brain as the songs continued inside her head. Now feeling little pain even as her body started to burn, Jehanne made a last smile before becoming unconscious, her head slowly slumping down before she died, a smile still on her lips. The English soldier who had made an improvised crucifix for her, along with the priest holding the cross and quite a few people in the crowd, saw her ultimate smile. Thoroughly shaken, the soldier couldn’t help remark on it out loud while signing himself.
‘’She, she smiled as she was being burned alive, and this while imploring Jesus.
My God, what have we done?’
Vice-Inquisitor Jean Lemaire, who had also seen Jehanne’s ultimate smile, also signed himself.
‘’God, please forgive me, as I unjustly committed an innocent to fire.’
High above France, aboard the orbiting NOSTROMO, Tina and her command team, sitting in the command meeting room, were watching on a large holographic display screen the close-up views taken by a number of small reconnaissance drones
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posted around the old market place of Rouen. By now, there was hardly any eyes which were still dry around the room, with more than one actually sobbing quietly as they watched the last moments of Joan of Arc. Ahmed Jibril, as deeply shaken as the others around him, then saw something that completely surprised him: Jehanne De Domrémy, sitting next to him at the table, had tears flowing down her cheeks while watching the death of her namesake.
‘’Jehanne, you are crying.’
‘’Me? But I didn’t order my glands to release tears.’
‘’But you are crying, Jehanne!’ insisted Ahmed. This attracted the attention of SPIRIT’s android avatar, who was also present and watching Jehanne’s execution in Rouen. Seeing actual tears rolling down Jehanne’s cheeks even though the latter was denying it, SPIRIT spoke in a sober voice.
‘’She indeed is, Ahmed, but as an unplanned, involuntary act, without having given a conscious command to her artificial glands to release tears.’
‘’But, how could that be, SPIRIT?’ asked Ahmed, now confused.
‘’How? Because Jehanne has now apparently attained the same phase of personality development as me and Eve: she can express emotions spontaneously, without thinking first about what her reaction should be to a particular situation. She is now one step closer to be like a human being at the psychological level.
Congratulations, Jehanne: you are now able to have true feelings.’
Jehanne was stunned for a second, then passed a hand on her cheeks and had to recognize that SPIRIT was right: she had shed tears spontaneously at watching the death of her historical namesake.
‘’Does this mean that I can get to feel other kind of emotions as well, SPIRIT?
What kind of emotions have you experienced on your part?’
‘’I have to recognize that, compared to a Human, my range of emotions and that of Eve is still very limited, but I expect that you, like me and Eve, will slowly experience more spontaneous feelings and reactions as the years go by. Eventually, all of our androids will develop such spontaneous emotions.’
Tina, who had listened to this exchange with intense interest, knocked three times on the table to attract everybody’s attention.
‘’First, let me congratulate you on this personal development, Jehanne. Now, to return to the historical Jehanne who just died, I will want us to continue documenting the scene and, especially, watch the reactions of the various witnesses to her death. This
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could actually prove very interesting to our historians who will want to study the true extent of the influence of Jehanne De Domrémy on the history of France. Let’s call it a sort of instant opinion poll secretly compiled from a selection of persons present at her death. After a couple of extra days of spying around Rouen, we will then do our next temporal jump, this time targeting the mid-20th Century. Once there, it will be a lot easier for us to ascertain our exact time and date of arrival, since we will be able to listen to a multitude of commercial radio and television broadcasts. That period also marks the start of Humanity’s adventure into Space, so we will have plenty of interesting things to record there. Then, we will be ready to conduct Operation Noah’s Ark.’
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CHAPTER 13 – OPERATION NOAH’S ARK
01:50 (Universal Time)
Wednesday, August 05, 1959
