Joan of Arc
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Not my story but one found on Ziggyred's old site
Rouen 30th May 1431 05Hr30 The Market Place.
The sun rose slowly from behind the tall houses on the eastern side of the market place as it did every morning. But this morning was different. There were already small groups of people moving around and greeting one another as they watched two men working on a small stone platform in the centre of the square. The men dressed completely in black were carefully examining a large thick wooden post which thrust skyward from the middle of the platform. They tugged at the chains which hung from it and ran them through their fingers twisting and pulling to test the strength of the links. Once they had finished this they began to make a small pile of heavy rocks in front of the post, standing back from time, to assess the progress of the work. The shorter of the two descended and walked into the growing crowd of people emerging a few moments later with a young girl in her mid teens. She hesitated at the bottom of the steps to the platform and then slowly climbed up, her long golden hair ruffling in the post dawn breeze. When she arrived on the platform she stood stock still gazing at the post with the chains hanging from it. At a nudge from the man who had led her from the crowd and had ascended the steps behind her, she walked forward and helped by the tall man climbed up onto the pile of rocks. She stood with her back to the post, trembling slightly in her blue dress and white blouse as the two men began to pull the chains around her body at various levels. After a brief discussion the chains were loosened and the girl was helped down. Extra rocks were added to the pile as the girl watched and then she was helped to climb back up again. Once more the chains were pulled around her body and she stood imobile gazing straight ahead as the men walked around the post and its occupant checking carefully to ensure that everything was ready. When they were satisfied, the chains were released once more and the young girl was helped to get down. Once she was back on the platform she walked slowly to the steps and turning took one last look at the post and its dangling chains and then with something like a shudder she hastened down the steps and almost ran back into the growing crowd to rejoin her family.
Rouen 30th May 1431 09Hr00 Joan's Cell
The grating and squeeking of the large bolts filled the small cell and the door was pulled open by the head guard. The young girl lying on the straw covered bench against the far wall stired and pulled herself up to meet her visitors. She moved slowly groaning quietly and grimacing as her body reacted to the punishment it had recieved the day before. A thin and torn shirt was her only covering and she pulled it down to cover as much of her legs as she could while a group of men entered the cell. At the head of the group was a stout man, dressed in a bishops cloak and mitre. 'Joan it is the day for you to submit to the judgement of the Court. Do you wish to publically acknowledge your sins before execution of sentence?' 'I have done no sin to follow the word of God My Lord. My voices were not from the Devil. I am ready for death.' 'The origin of your voices and your sentence are not in dispute Joan. It is simply the method of your death that may alter. I know you fear the fire. It is natural to fear such an end. You will have witnessed heretics being burned no doubt, seen their convulsions, heard their shrieks, smelled their roasting flesh. There is no need for you to undergo this horror child. Make a brief acknowledgement of your guilt and submit to the authority of Mother Church in public in the market place and the executioner will strangle you with a cord before the fire is lit. Persist in your heresy and you will suffer the full fury of the law. I have spoken with the executioner Joan, the English have given him orders to ensure that your death is slow and agonising. Far worse than anything you or I have ever seen. Hear my words child and recant in the market place before the execution starts then you can have the mercy of the rope rather than the horror of the fire.' 'I have said all I have to say My Lord.' The young girl turned her head away from the bishop and stared fixedly at the cell wall but tears were welling up in her blue eyes.'Farewell then Joan. I have tried my best for you. Think on what I have said.' Bishop Cauchon turned on his heel and walked swiftly from the cell followed by his entourage. The last man to leave, one of the prison guards, threw a small black bundle onto the bench next to the girl. ' Put this on and get ready they will be here for you shortly.' After waiting a moment for a response that did not come the guard backed out of the room and banged the door shut shooting the bolts accross and leaving the condemned prisoner alone.
Joan pulled herself to her feet grimacing as her muscles, stiff from their racking the day before, sent waves of pain through her body. Moving as quickly as she could she pulled off the torn shirt and then slipped the black shift over her head and pulled it down. It was sleeveless and very short, stopping well above the middle of her thigh. The material was thin, almost see through and it smelled of oil. Clearly they intended that it should burn away quickly.Joan shuddered at the thought and wiping her filling eyes she knelt on the hard stone floor to pray.
Rouen 30th May 1431 10Hr00 The Market Place.
A huge crowd had now gathered in the market place almost completely surrounding the stone platform and its deadly stake. A small pathway to the platform from the prison where Joan was confined was being kept free by ranks of English soldiers who also encircled the platform. They were taking no chances that the witch would escape. Above in the windows and galleries of the houses that bordered the market place the rich and exalted people of Rouen and the surrounding area were taking their places assured of the best view of the young girl as she suffered her sentence. Some of these men and women had paid quite large sums of money to secure their places. The Mayor and his Aldermen were sitting on a wooden platform covered by a bright awning at a slight angle to the execution platform guaranteeing them a clear view of the whole proceedings. Slowly the noise of the crowd ceased and all eyes turned to the road at the far end of the square from where the sound of a horse and cart moving over the cobbles could be heard. As the cart entered the market place many residents of the town recognised it as the municipal dung cart which traveled the streets each morning collecting the filth from the gutters. Standing erect at the front of the cart in her black shift, her wrists chained together, a paper mitre bearing a list of her crimes on her head, Joan the Heretic, the Witch, the Maid stared fixedly ahead. Slowly the cart moved its way towards the platform with its huge stake but still Joan stared straight ahead not wavering for even an instant to glance at the means of her death. Behing her in the cart stood the black suited executioner huge and menacing. Behind the dung cart came another driven by the assistant executioner and pilled high with dry birch brush wood collected in the surrounding forest and carefully bundled into faggots by English soldiers under the watchful eye of the executioner. The dung cart pulled up by the steps to the stone platform and Joan was helped out onto the cobbles by the executioner. Slowly with him holding her arm she climbed up the steps onto the platform and stopped her as her eyes saw the dreadful instrument that was to be the means of her death. Her body shuddered convulsively but whether with cold, fear or a mixture of the two no one could tell. The dung cart moved away and the second cart laden with the wood pulled up. The assistant executioner got down and trotted up the steps to help his master prepare this young girl for death. The manacles holding Joan's wrists and ankles were removed and allowed to drop in the stone platform with a clatter and then with the executioner holding one arm and his assistant the other she was propelled towards the stake and half climbed and was half lifted onto the pile of stones at its base. The young girl they had used as a Joan stand in earlier was clearly the right height as the chains were at just the right level on Joans body. Whilst his assistant pushed the terrified girl back against the stake, holding her arms firmly the executioner moved to the rear of the post and began to fasten the chains. The first went around Joan's waist and was pulled tight by the assistant as his master hammered in the staple to hold it firm. The same proceedure was followed with chains around Joan's knees and her ankles. Then the assistant went to the rear of the stake with the executioner and pulling two chains over the condemned girl's shoulders crossed them over her chest between her large rounded breasts, pulled them tight leaning back on them while his master hammered in the final staple to ensure that his victims torso was held tightly to the upper post. As their victim stood rigidly chained to the stake apparently praying the executioner and his assistant began to organise the unloading of the faggots and the carriage of some of them to the platform. Under the careful supervision of the executioner some English soldiers made a small semi circle of faggots at the base of the stone pile on which Joan stood shivering and trembling. 'Do not worry witch you will soon be warm enough.' laughed one. 'You could have spared her that' said another, older soldier and pulling a twig from the bundle of faggots he had just placed down he bent them into a cross and passed it up to the youg girl who grasped it feverently and held it in front of her eyes as they filled with tears. 'Oh Rouen Rouen I have great fear that you will suffer for my death'. A gasp rose from the crowd as the voice of Joan the Maid rang out loud and clear in the crisp morning air. When the executioner considered that sufficient faggots had been placed at the foot of the stake to begin the execution and the cart had been completely unloaded leaving a large pile of wood at the foot of the steps he came forward and went behind the stake. Joan fumbled with the twig cross and placed it under her shift between her breasts then her arms were pulled behind her and chained together with the manacles she had worn in the cart. 'Yes my voices were from God. They have never forsaken me.' Again the girls voice rang out in the square. A little tremulous this time as tears flowed down her cheeks. There was a slight delay while a driver was found to remove the empty wood cart as it had been realised that the fire, the smoke and the victim's cries would almost certainly cause the horse to panic and bolt if it remained close to the scaffold. Once the horse and cart had cleared the market place the executioner looked accross to the raised platform where the Mayor and Alderman were sitting. A nod from the Sheriff and he descended the steps and went to a glowing brazier removing some coals from it and placing them in a metal pan with a wooden handle, carried them back up onto the scaffold and stood in front of the trembling victim weeping on the pyre. Slowly he turned and carefully emptied the coals among the faggots at Joan's feet thus begining the execution. For a few moments the square was totally silent as the coals glowed and guttered in the wood and small whisps of smoke rose up followed gradually by small flickering flames. Joan stared in facinated horror as the flames slowly spread along the edge of the faggots half circled in front of her and then turning her head to the executioner who was standing on the platform with a large bill hook to feed the fire she cried out piteously 'Please I beg you take me down from here. Please I beg you take me down from here.' A slight breeze rustled accross the market place and the fire roared briefly sending sparks and flames up several feet into the air. The girl's shrieks were so sudden and loud that even the executioner seemed surprised ' Water Water Nooooo. Please.' The fire gradually licked closer to its victim and the shrieks of terror turned to cries of agony and anguish as tongues of flame licked her bare feet and calves. Piercing agonised shrieks and cries of 'Jesus Jesus Jesus' filled the air above the crackling roar of the blazing faggots. The crowd saw her clearly. A young girl writhing as much as the chains would allow and twisting her head from side to side partly in anguish and partly in a vain attempt to get away from the searing flames which were rising up to her knees and blistering the flesh on her feet and calves. after a few minutes of this with the condemned alternately shrieking and screaming with pain and jerking in her bonds the flames caught the hem of her oiled black shift and within seconds Joan was totally enveloped in flames. The flames died down very quickly leaving the poor singed girl naked and moaning at the post. Immediately the executioner began to rake the remaining faggots away from the stake and its victim leaving a clear view of the tortured and naked body of Joan the Maid. 'Water Water ' she begged and then vomitted violently several times. The silent crowd gazed at the naked girl chained to the stake as she moaned and begged 'Water Water Jesus Mercy Water'. But water and mercy were not comming. Instead after allowing the crowd several minutes to look upon the naked and reddened body of the condemned girl the executioner pushed more faggots up to the base of the stones on which Joan stood and the flames blazed up again. At first the cries were still for water and Jesus but they quickly changed to maniacal shrieks, screams and howls of extreme agony and anguish as the all consuming flames rose ever higher reddening then blistering flesh. The blisters burst and then reformed and burst again fat dripping down into the fire feeding it. The market place was filled with the smell of roasting human flesh and the sounds that are produced when that roasting takes place while the subject is alive. Joan writhed and twisted, her legs blackened to the knees now and blood comming from her mouth where she had bitten her lips in agony. The flames roared higher and hotter and then died down again a little when to the horror of many of those watching it was possible to see Joan arch within the chains in what appeared to be an orgasmic spasm and then slump slighty as her chared legs fell from her body and crumbled into the fire. A few more faggots were thrown on to the fire and moved into position by the executioner with his billhook. Joans cries were inhuman now as she jerked and writhed within the chains banging her head repeatedly against the stake in her agony. Her firm rounded breasts were blistered already but now they began to melt and drip their fat into the fire that was eating its way ever higher up her body. Suddenly with a desperate howl the poor girl pulled an arm free from the manacles that held it behind her back. It was not possible to be sure but it seemed likely that the arm came loose due to the hand having been burned totally away. She beat frantically with the flaming stump in a vain attempt to stop the searing flames eating ever further into her breasts but to no avail and after a few minutes the arm fell uselessly to her side. It was nearly over now. The girls resistance and strength almost exhausted by the pain and damage she had suffered. Joan's body arched and her head banged frantically against the post and as the flames rose fiercely her pale blue eyes glazed and melted streaking the soot on her blistered cheeks as they dripped down into the fire. A terrible jerk of her head and two loud bangs indicated that her breasts, sizzling and overheated had finally exploded spattering boling fat over the platform. For a few moments her charred and blackened torso continued to writhe in the chains and then with a sobbing shriek of agony and despair her head slumped forward onto her chest and her features were gradually melted as her face burned. The fire was maintained and from time to time Joan was seen through the fierce flames twisting and jerking silently. But there were no signs of life just automatic reactions caused by tightening and then destruction of her muscles and sinews by the fire. The crowd continued to watch however until finally the skull of the condemned girl exploded and a few minutes afterwards the chared headless torso crumbled and fell from the chains into the pyre. Joan of Arc known as the maid, witch, heretic, idolatress and relapsed apostate was dead.
Rouen 30th May 1431 05Hr30 The Market Place.
The sun rose slowly from behind the tall houses on the eastern side of the market place as it did every morning. But this morning was different. There were already small groups of people moving around and greeting one another as they watched two men working on a small stone platform in the centre of the square. The men dressed completely in black were carefully examining a large thick wooden post which thrust skyward from the middle of the platform. They tugged at the chains which hung from it and ran them through their fingers twisting and pulling to test the strength of the links. Once they had finished this they began to make a small pile of heavy rocks in front of the post, standing back from time, to assess the progress of the work. The shorter of the two descended and walked into the growing crowd of people emerging a few moments later with a young girl in her mid teens. She hesitated at the bottom of the steps to the platform and then slowly climbed up, her long golden hair ruffling in the post dawn breeze. When she arrived on the platform she stood stock still gazing at the post with the chains hanging from it. At a nudge from the man who had led her from the crowd and had ascended the steps behind her, she walked forward and helped by the tall man climbed up onto the pile of rocks. She stood with her back to the post, trembling slightly in her blue dress and white blouse as the two men began to pull the chains around her body at various levels. After a brief discussion the chains were loosened and the girl was helped down. Extra rocks were added to the pile as the girl watched and then she was helped to climb back up again. Once more the chains were pulled around her body and she stood imobile gazing straight ahead as the men walked around the post and its occupant checking carefully to ensure that everything was ready. When they were satisfied, the chains were released once more and the young girl was helped to get down. Once she was back on the platform she walked slowly to the steps and turning took one last look at the post and its dangling chains and then with something like a shudder she hastened down the steps and almost ran back into the growing crowd to rejoin her family.
Rouen 30th May 1431 09Hr00 Joan's Cell
The grating and squeeking of the large bolts filled the small cell and the door was pulled open by the head guard. The young girl lying on the straw covered bench against the far wall stired and pulled herself up to meet her visitors. She moved slowly groaning quietly and grimacing as her body reacted to the punishment it had recieved the day before. A thin and torn shirt was her only covering and she pulled it down to cover as much of her legs as she could while a group of men entered the cell. At the head of the group was a stout man, dressed in a bishops cloak and mitre. 'Joan it is the day for you to submit to the judgement of the Court. Do you wish to publically acknowledge your sins before execution of sentence?' 'I have done no sin to follow the word of God My Lord. My voices were not from the Devil. I am ready for death.' 'The origin of your voices and your sentence are not in dispute Joan. It is simply the method of your death that may alter. I know you fear the fire. It is natural to fear such an end. You will have witnessed heretics being burned no doubt, seen their convulsions, heard their shrieks, smelled their roasting flesh. There is no need for you to undergo this horror child. Make a brief acknowledgement of your guilt and submit to the authority of Mother Church in public in the market place and the executioner will strangle you with a cord before the fire is lit. Persist in your heresy and you will suffer the full fury of the law. I have spoken with the executioner Joan, the English have given him orders to ensure that your death is slow and agonising. Far worse than anything you or I have ever seen. Hear my words child and recant in the market place before the execution starts then you can have the mercy of the rope rather than the horror of the fire.' 'I have said all I have to say My Lord.' The young girl turned her head away from the bishop and stared fixedly at the cell wall but tears were welling up in her blue eyes.'Farewell then Joan. I have tried my best for you. Think on what I have said.' Bishop Cauchon turned on his heel and walked swiftly from the cell followed by his entourage. The last man to leave, one of the prison guards, threw a small black bundle onto the bench next to the girl. ' Put this on and get ready they will be here for you shortly.' After waiting a moment for a response that did not come the guard backed out of the room and banged the door shut shooting the bolts accross and leaving the condemned prisoner alone.
Joan pulled herself to her feet grimacing as her muscles, stiff from their racking the day before, sent waves of pain through her body. Moving as quickly as she could she pulled off the torn shirt and then slipped the black shift over her head and pulled it down. It was sleeveless and very short, stopping well above the middle of her thigh. The material was thin, almost see through and it smelled of oil. Clearly they intended that it should burn away quickly.Joan shuddered at the thought and wiping her filling eyes she knelt on the hard stone floor to pray.
Rouen 30th May 1431 10Hr00 The Market Place.
A huge crowd had now gathered in the market place almost completely surrounding the stone platform and its deadly stake. A small pathway to the platform from the prison where Joan was confined was being kept free by ranks of English soldiers who also encircled the platform. They were taking no chances that the witch would escape. Above in the windows and galleries of the houses that bordered the market place the rich and exalted people of Rouen and the surrounding area were taking their places assured of the best view of the young girl as she suffered her sentence. Some of these men and women had paid quite large sums of money to secure their places. The Mayor and his Aldermen were sitting on a wooden platform covered by a bright awning at a slight angle to the execution platform guaranteeing them a clear view of the whole proceedings. Slowly the noise of the crowd ceased and all eyes turned to the road at the far end of the square from where the sound of a horse and cart moving over the cobbles could be heard. As the cart entered the market place many residents of the town recognised it as the municipal dung cart which traveled the streets each morning collecting the filth from the gutters. Standing erect at the front of the cart in her black shift, her wrists chained together, a paper mitre bearing a list of her crimes on her head, Joan the Heretic, the Witch, the Maid stared fixedly ahead. Slowly the cart moved its way towards the platform with its huge stake but still Joan stared straight ahead not wavering for even an instant to glance at the means of her death. Behing her in the cart stood the black suited executioner huge and menacing. Behind the dung cart came another driven by the assistant executioner and pilled high with dry birch brush wood collected in the surrounding forest and carefully bundled into faggots by English soldiers under the watchful eye of the executioner. The dung cart pulled up by the steps to the stone platform and Joan was helped out onto the cobbles by the executioner. Slowly with him holding her arm she climbed up the steps onto the platform and stopped her as her eyes saw the dreadful instrument that was to be the means of her death. Her body shuddered convulsively but whether with cold, fear or a mixture of the two no one could tell. The dung cart moved away and the second cart laden with the wood pulled up. The assistant executioner got down and trotted up the steps to help his master prepare this young girl for death. The manacles holding Joan's wrists and ankles were removed and allowed to drop in the stone platform with a clatter and then with the executioner holding one arm and his assistant the other she was propelled towards the stake and half climbed and was half lifted onto the pile of stones at its base. The young girl they had used as a Joan stand in earlier was clearly the right height as the chains were at just the right level on Joans body. Whilst his assistant pushed the terrified girl back against the stake, holding her arms firmly the executioner moved to the rear of the post and began to fasten the chains. The first went around Joan's waist and was pulled tight by the assistant as his master hammered in the staple to hold it firm. The same proceedure was followed with chains around Joan's knees and her ankles. Then the assistant went to the rear of the stake with the executioner and pulling two chains over the condemned girl's shoulders crossed them over her chest between her large rounded breasts, pulled them tight leaning back on them while his master hammered in the final staple to ensure that his victims torso was held tightly to the upper post. As their victim stood rigidly chained to the stake apparently praying the executioner and his assistant began to organise the unloading of the faggots and the carriage of some of them to the platform. Under the careful supervision of the executioner some English soldiers made a small semi circle of faggots at the base of the stone pile on which Joan stood shivering and trembling. 'Do not worry witch you will soon be warm enough.' laughed one. 'You could have spared her that' said another, older soldier and pulling a twig from the bundle of faggots he had just placed down he bent them into a cross and passed it up to the youg girl who grasped it feverently and held it in front of her eyes as they filled with tears. 'Oh Rouen Rouen I have great fear that you will suffer for my death'. A gasp rose from the crowd as the voice of Joan the Maid rang out loud and clear in the crisp morning air. When the executioner considered that sufficient faggots had been placed at the foot of the stake to begin the execution and the cart had been completely unloaded leaving a large pile of wood at the foot of the steps he came forward and went behind the stake. Joan fumbled with the twig cross and placed it under her shift between her breasts then her arms were pulled behind her and chained together with the manacles she had worn in the cart. 'Yes my voices were from God. They have never forsaken me.' Again the girls voice rang out in the square. A little tremulous this time as tears flowed down her cheeks. There was a slight delay while a driver was found to remove the empty wood cart as it had been realised that the fire, the smoke and the victim's cries would almost certainly cause the horse to panic and bolt if it remained close to the scaffold. Once the horse and cart had cleared the market place the executioner looked accross to the raised platform where the Mayor and Alderman were sitting. A nod from the Sheriff and he descended the steps and went to a glowing brazier removing some coals from it and placing them in a metal pan with a wooden handle, carried them back up onto the scaffold and stood in front of the trembling victim weeping on the pyre. Slowly he turned and carefully emptied the coals among the faggots at Joan's feet thus begining the execution. For a few moments the square was totally silent as the coals glowed and guttered in the wood and small whisps of smoke rose up followed gradually by small flickering flames. Joan stared in facinated horror as the flames slowly spread along the edge of the faggots half circled in front of her and then turning her head to the executioner who was standing on the platform with a large bill hook to feed the fire she cried out piteously 'Please I beg you take me down from here. Please I beg you take me down from here.' A slight breeze rustled accross the market place and the fire roared briefly sending sparks and flames up several feet into the air. The girl's shrieks were so sudden and loud that even the executioner seemed surprised ' Water Water Nooooo. Please.' The fire gradually licked closer to its victim and the shrieks of terror turned to cries of agony and anguish as tongues of flame licked her bare feet and calves. Piercing agonised shrieks and cries of 'Jesus Jesus Jesus' filled the air above the crackling roar of the blazing faggots. The crowd saw her clearly. A young girl writhing as much as the chains would allow and twisting her head from side to side partly in anguish and partly in a vain attempt to get away from the searing flames which were rising up to her knees and blistering the flesh on her feet and calves. after a few minutes of this with the condemned alternately shrieking and screaming with pain and jerking in her bonds the flames caught the hem of her oiled black shift and within seconds Joan was totally enveloped in flames. The flames died down very quickly leaving the poor singed girl naked and moaning at the post. Immediately the executioner began to rake the remaining faggots away from the stake and its victim leaving a clear view of the tortured and naked body of Joan the Maid. 'Water Water ' she begged and then vomitted violently several times. The silent crowd gazed at the naked girl chained to the stake as she moaned and begged 'Water Water Jesus Mercy Water'. But water and mercy were not comming. Instead after allowing the crowd several minutes to look upon the naked and reddened body of the condemned girl the executioner pushed more faggots up to the base of the stones on which Joan stood and the flames blazed up again. At first the cries were still for water and Jesus but they quickly changed to maniacal shrieks, screams and howls of extreme agony and anguish as the all consuming flames rose ever higher reddening then blistering flesh. The blisters burst and then reformed and burst again fat dripping down into the fire feeding it. The market place was filled with the smell of roasting human flesh and the sounds that are produced when that roasting takes place while the subject is alive. Joan writhed and twisted, her legs blackened to the knees now and blood comming from her mouth where she had bitten her lips in agony. The flames roared higher and hotter and then died down again a little when to the horror of many of those watching it was possible to see Joan arch within the chains in what appeared to be an orgasmic spasm and then slump slighty as her chared legs fell from her body and crumbled into the fire. A few more faggots were thrown on to the fire and moved into position by the executioner with his billhook. Joans cries were inhuman now as she jerked and writhed within the chains banging her head repeatedly against the stake in her agony. Her firm rounded breasts were blistered already but now they began to melt and drip their fat into the fire that was eating its way ever higher up her body. Suddenly with a desperate howl the poor girl pulled an arm free from the manacles that held it behind her back. It was not possible to be sure but it seemed likely that the arm came loose due to the hand having been burned totally away. She beat frantically with the flaming stump in a vain attempt to stop the searing flames eating ever further into her breasts but to no avail and after a few minutes the arm fell uselessly to her side. It was nearly over now. The girls resistance and strength almost exhausted by the pain and damage she had suffered. Joan's body arched and her head banged frantically against the post and as the flames rose fiercely her pale blue eyes glazed and melted streaking the soot on her blistered cheeks as they dripped down into the fire. A terrible jerk of her head and two loud bangs indicated that her breasts, sizzling and overheated had finally exploded spattering boling fat over the platform. For a few moments her charred and blackened torso continued to writhe in the chains and then with a sobbing shriek of agony and despair her head slumped forward onto her chest and her features were gradually melted as her face burned. The fire was maintained and from time to time Joan was seen through the fierce flames twisting and jerking silently. But there were no signs of life just automatic reactions caused by tightening and then destruction of her muscles and sinews by the fire. The crowd continued to watch however until finally the skull of the condemned girl exploded and a few minutes afterwards the chared headless torso crumbled and fell from the chains into the pyre. Joan of Arc known as the maid, witch, heretic, idolatress and relapsed apostate was dead.
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