[Back in 2002 ...]
Chloe lay soundly asleep in the hammock.
"Chloe? Dessert's ready." Clark said. No response.
"The sleeping beauty doesn't want to wake up, eh?" Lex remarked. "Well, you know how the prince is supposed to wake Briar Rose, right?"
"You sooo don't wanna go there!" Clark replied. The thought of kissing Chloe ... I won't go through that door. Lex laughed and returned to the picnic.
Clark sat against the tree and ate an apple. Keeping watch over the sleeping beauty ...
[Outside the rampart walls of Le Petit Ville]
Thousands of French foot soldiers marched, drumming their shields with their swords. Before she could react, Chloe was hoisted onto a white horse and handed a helmet.
"I can't see a thing!" she complained.
Whitney handed her a pennant. A slim white banner with a golden fleur-de- lis flapped atop it.
"It is the Banner of the Maid, my lady. So the troops will know who we are fighting for," Whitney explained.
The horse raced down the hill. "Where are the brakes?" Chloe wondered.
Pete shook his head. "Chloe's a city girl. Horses aren't her specialty."
A hail of arrows halted their advance at the city gates.
"Open these gates!" Whitney demanded. "These lands, by right of law and of God, belong to the Dauphin of France, Charles! You choose to defy the Maid of Orleans?"
Jonathan Kent appeared atop the ramparts. "My forefathers have served the throne of England since the days of Richard the Lionheart! I do defy Charles! If you take Le Petit Ville, you shall have to slay every man to do so. I wish to address the Maid!"
"Instill the fear of the Almighty in him," Whitney advised, "lest he choose death over negotiation."
"Uhh, okay." Chloe removed her helmet. "Open these gates, for I am the Maid of Orleans of legend. Swear allegiance to the Dauphin, and I shall pray for your eternal soul. Defy me ... and the sins that follow shall fall on your head!"
Jonathan gasped. "My quarrel is not with you, fair virgin." He glanced at his archers. "Let no one shoot the fair virgin of Orleans. He that does will meet his Maker. As for the rest of you French dogs, you shall not pass, I swear! I accept the guilt of my defiance. Archers, steady your aim."
"Shields!" Whitney hollered. All the soldiers hid under their shields as volley upon volley of arrows showered on them. Many still fell - as arrows embedded in arms, legs and necks.
"Great, you pissed him off, 'fair virgin'!" Pete frowned, as he huddled under a shield with Chloe.
"Would you stop that?" Chloe grumbled. "'Fair virgin'? Why not broadcast it to all of France, you infidel!"
Whitney assembled a battering ram crew, who immediately pounded away at the wooden gates. Boiling oil poured down on the crew, burning several of them to death.
Half a dozen ladders rattled against the walls. A few defenders toppled one ladder, but the French continued to scramble up the ladders. A volley of rocks toppled several Frenchmen, but their numbers soon overwhelmed the archers.
A loud creak groaned. "The gates are broken!" Whitney hollered. "Now, Ishmael, you can bring glory to your god with the deaths of these English traitors!" He lunged at an English soldier, impaling him with a lance.
"Even in medieval times, Whitney's a big jerk!" Pete complained.
Chloe swung her pennant at a peasant with a pitchfork. "In the middle of something here, Pete!"
Pete stood before the peasant. "You wanna throw down with the baddest Moor this side of Europe?" The peasant got the message and fled with the rest of the refugees.
Chloe saw Jonathan packing his bags. "We must capture the Lord Mayor! They will not defy us once we have him!" She led a party of French knights to the northern gates. A thatched house had been set aflame ... and the debris blocked the gates. There would be no escape for Mr. Kent
Chloe drew her sword, placing the point at Jonathan's chest. "Continue to defy the Maid at your peril! I cannot guarantee the safety of your womenfolk." Womenfolk? Pete obviously thought that was ridiculous and rolled his eyes.
"Please, spare them, I beseech you, fair virgin!" Jonathan whimpered.
"One other thing, no one calls me 'fair virgin' any longer. I'll accept 'my lady', 'Maid of Orleans', or 'the Maid' on informal occasions ... lest you taste my steel!"
Jonathan scraped the floor. This is getting pathetic, she thought. "My apologies. I surrender Le Petit Ville. I insist on flying the Banner of the Maid, though, not the emblem of Charles. Force me to swear an oath to Charles and I will gladly accept death!"
Whitney prepared to deliver a killing blow with his sword, but Chloe held his arm. "He has sought my protection, captain-general. The mayor's allegiance to me demonstrates his acceptance of God's will. Which is the return of Charles to the French throne. I accept your surrender, Lord Mayor." Chloe glanced at her battle-hardened men.
"No one is to be harmed or violated. This town is now under my personal protection!" A few soldiers grumbled at the lost loot and pillaging.
Jonathan pulled out a ring of keys. "The keys of the city are yours. My private quarters are at your disposal, fair vir- ... I mean, my lady."
"Ishmael, there's an alehouse here. Perhaps you and I can share tales of our adventures over some fine spirits and willing wenches!" Whitney roared, to the approval of his men.
"I'll get a bite to eat, but my religion forbids alcohol ... and the wench thing," Pete replied. Damn, I have to spend an evening with Whitney and his drunken boys? He looked to Chloe for an escape, but she simply shrugged.
"The saints have smiled on you, my lady!" Lana arrived with the army baggage train. A few soldiers were already raising the Maid's banner atop the ramparts. "I shall collect your things, draw you a bath, prepare your meal, polish your armour, offer prayers of thanksgiving to ..."
"Whoa, one at a time, Lana! First of all, get yourself some dinner. Then I'll have my bath."
Lana curtsied. "By your leave, fair maid." She left for the city market.
Chloe sat on a barrel. Sieges are tiring work! She noticed two soldiers in conversation.
"Come on, the Sharks have the best quarterback in the league!" one soldier argued.
"You're nuts! Flutie's still got some good stuff in him, just you wait and see!"
Chloe blinked her eyes rapidly. The NFL? In medieval France?
She awoke. Yes! 2002 again. Jonathan, Luthor and Clark were discussing last Monday's games. She smiled. It's a lazy afternoon. I can afford to take another cat-nap.
When she awoke again, it was cold. Damn! I'm in Le Petit Ville again. The Lord Mayor's drafty chambers. Lana was sobbing beside her bed.
Chloe knelt beside her. "What's the problem, Lana?"
"I shall not bother you with my humble affairs, dear maid. All of France's hopes rest on your shoulders!"
"God and I have an understanding," Chloe grinned, "I can help friends too."
Lana wiped her eyes. "If you wish. I fear that I shall be a spinster!"
Lana ... a spinster? The dream girl of Smallville High. The town's fairy princess? This is definitely a dream.
"Why do you say that?" Chloe put a comforting arm around her.
"Many years ago, I was betrothed to Clark of Lorraine, son of the duke of Lorraine. But the Dauphin disapproved and Clark spurned me for a life of service to the Holy Church. I am loyal to the Dauphin's cause, but I hate him for tearing Clark from me. Is that a sin?"
Lana liking Clark? Some things never change, Chloe mumbled.
"It's not a sin to love someone," Chloe explained, "some thing aren't meant to be. We all have our roles to play. Our focus now must be France - and France alone."
Lana dutifully nodded. "Yes, you are right. It is God's will. But ... do you know how painful it is ... to love someone, knowing that you can never have him?"
Chloe thought of many occasions when Clark opted for Lana's company over hers. I've tried everything to hint at my interest, but he never saw the signals. Or ignored them. Ouch.
"Believe me, Lana, I know all too well. I am the Maid of Orleans, the saviour of France. I've had to leave family and friends behind to serve our Lord. It is a daunting task."
Lana hugged her. "Thank you, fair maid. I see things better now. Our first love must be - always be - France. There will be time for regrets once England is defeated. I shall say prayers on your behalf to St. Michael and St. Catherine." She gathered her robe and scurried to the door.
"Joan of Arc." Lana stared in awe at the short-haired Chloe. "All the world will know you as France's maid-warrior. That, by God's grace, is your destiny." She left for the chapel.
Chloe began to polish her armour. Even in this wacky French dream, Lana got Clark. Now he's wedded to the church. And I'm wedded to France.
She watched a pair of maggots chewing on her salt pork. That was going to be my snack! When am I going to wake up from this mess?
Chloe lay soundly asleep in the hammock.
"Chloe? Dessert's ready." Clark said. No response.
"The sleeping beauty doesn't want to wake up, eh?" Lex remarked. "Well, you know how the prince is supposed to wake Briar Rose, right?"
"You sooo don't wanna go there!" Clark replied. The thought of kissing Chloe ... I won't go through that door. Lex laughed and returned to the picnic.
Clark sat against the tree and ate an apple. Keeping watch over the sleeping beauty ...
[Outside the rampart walls of Le Petit Ville]
Thousands of French foot soldiers marched, drumming their shields with their swords. Before she could react, Chloe was hoisted onto a white horse and handed a helmet.
"I can't see a thing!" she complained.
Whitney handed her a pennant. A slim white banner with a golden fleur-de- lis flapped atop it.
"It is the Banner of the Maid, my lady. So the troops will know who we are fighting for," Whitney explained.
The horse raced down the hill. "Where are the brakes?" Chloe wondered.
Pete shook his head. "Chloe's a city girl. Horses aren't her specialty."
A hail of arrows halted their advance at the city gates.
"Open these gates!" Whitney demanded. "These lands, by right of law and of God, belong to the Dauphin of France, Charles! You choose to defy the Maid of Orleans?"
Jonathan Kent appeared atop the ramparts. "My forefathers have served the throne of England since the days of Richard the Lionheart! I do defy Charles! If you take Le Petit Ville, you shall have to slay every man to do so. I wish to address the Maid!"
"Instill the fear of the Almighty in him," Whitney advised, "lest he choose death over negotiation."
"Uhh, okay." Chloe removed her helmet. "Open these gates, for I am the Maid of Orleans of legend. Swear allegiance to the Dauphin, and I shall pray for your eternal soul. Defy me ... and the sins that follow shall fall on your head!"
Jonathan gasped. "My quarrel is not with you, fair virgin." He glanced at his archers. "Let no one shoot the fair virgin of Orleans. He that does will meet his Maker. As for the rest of you French dogs, you shall not pass, I swear! I accept the guilt of my defiance. Archers, steady your aim."
"Shields!" Whitney hollered. All the soldiers hid under their shields as volley upon volley of arrows showered on them. Many still fell - as arrows embedded in arms, legs and necks.
"Great, you pissed him off, 'fair virgin'!" Pete frowned, as he huddled under a shield with Chloe.
"Would you stop that?" Chloe grumbled. "'Fair virgin'? Why not broadcast it to all of France, you infidel!"
Whitney assembled a battering ram crew, who immediately pounded away at the wooden gates. Boiling oil poured down on the crew, burning several of them to death.
Half a dozen ladders rattled against the walls. A few defenders toppled one ladder, but the French continued to scramble up the ladders. A volley of rocks toppled several Frenchmen, but their numbers soon overwhelmed the archers.
A loud creak groaned. "The gates are broken!" Whitney hollered. "Now, Ishmael, you can bring glory to your god with the deaths of these English traitors!" He lunged at an English soldier, impaling him with a lance.
"Even in medieval times, Whitney's a big jerk!" Pete complained.
Chloe swung her pennant at a peasant with a pitchfork. "In the middle of something here, Pete!"
Pete stood before the peasant. "You wanna throw down with the baddest Moor this side of Europe?" The peasant got the message and fled with the rest of the refugees.
Chloe saw Jonathan packing his bags. "We must capture the Lord Mayor! They will not defy us once we have him!" She led a party of French knights to the northern gates. A thatched house had been set aflame ... and the debris blocked the gates. There would be no escape for Mr. Kent
Chloe drew her sword, placing the point at Jonathan's chest. "Continue to defy the Maid at your peril! I cannot guarantee the safety of your womenfolk." Womenfolk? Pete obviously thought that was ridiculous and rolled his eyes.
"Please, spare them, I beseech you, fair virgin!" Jonathan whimpered.
"One other thing, no one calls me 'fair virgin' any longer. I'll accept 'my lady', 'Maid of Orleans', or 'the Maid' on informal occasions ... lest you taste my steel!"
Jonathan scraped the floor. This is getting pathetic, she thought. "My apologies. I surrender Le Petit Ville. I insist on flying the Banner of the Maid, though, not the emblem of Charles. Force me to swear an oath to Charles and I will gladly accept death!"
Whitney prepared to deliver a killing blow with his sword, but Chloe held his arm. "He has sought my protection, captain-general. The mayor's allegiance to me demonstrates his acceptance of God's will. Which is the return of Charles to the French throne. I accept your surrender, Lord Mayor." Chloe glanced at her battle-hardened men.
"No one is to be harmed or violated. This town is now under my personal protection!" A few soldiers grumbled at the lost loot and pillaging.
Jonathan pulled out a ring of keys. "The keys of the city are yours. My private quarters are at your disposal, fair vir- ... I mean, my lady."
"Ishmael, there's an alehouse here. Perhaps you and I can share tales of our adventures over some fine spirits and willing wenches!" Whitney roared, to the approval of his men.
"I'll get a bite to eat, but my religion forbids alcohol ... and the wench thing," Pete replied. Damn, I have to spend an evening with Whitney and his drunken boys? He looked to Chloe for an escape, but she simply shrugged.
"The saints have smiled on you, my lady!" Lana arrived with the army baggage train. A few soldiers were already raising the Maid's banner atop the ramparts. "I shall collect your things, draw you a bath, prepare your meal, polish your armour, offer prayers of thanksgiving to ..."
"Whoa, one at a time, Lana! First of all, get yourself some dinner. Then I'll have my bath."
Lana curtsied. "By your leave, fair maid." She left for the city market.
Chloe sat on a barrel. Sieges are tiring work! She noticed two soldiers in conversation.
"Come on, the Sharks have the best quarterback in the league!" one soldier argued.
"You're nuts! Flutie's still got some good stuff in him, just you wait and see!"
Chloe blinked her eyes rapidly. The NFL? In medieval France?
She awoke. Yes! 2002 again. Jonathan, Luthor and Clark were discussing last Monday's games. She smiled. It's a lazy afternoon. I can afford to take another cat-nap.
When she awoke again, it was cold. Damn! I'm in Le Petit Ville again. The Lord Mayor's drafty chambers. Lana was sobbing beside her bed.
Chloe knelt beside her. "What's the problem, Lana?"
"I shall not bother you with my humble affairs, dear maid. All of France's hopes rest on your shoulders!"
"God and I have an understanding," Chloe grinned, "I can help friends too."
Lana wiped her eyes. "If you wish. I fear that I shall be a spinster!"
Lana ... a spinster? The dream girl of Smallville High. The town's fairy princess? This is definitely a dream.
"Why do you say that?" Chloe put a comforting arm around her.
"Many years ago, I was betrothed to Clark of Lorraine, son of the duke of Lorraine. But the Dauphin disapproved and Clark spurned me for a life of service to the Holy Church. I am loyal to the Dauphin's cause, but I hate him for tearing Clark from me. Is that a sin?"
Lana liking Clark? Some things never change, Chloe mumbled.
"It's not a sin to love someone," Chloe explained, "some thing aren't meant to be. We all have our roles to play. Our focus now must be France - and France alone."
Lana dutifully nodded. "Yes, you are right. It is God's will. But ... do you know how painful it is ... to love someone, knowing that you can never have him?"
Chloe thought of many occasions when Clark opted for Lana's company over hers. I've tried everything to hint at my interest, but he never saw the signals. Or ignored them. Ouch.
"Believe me, Lana, I know all too well. I am the Maid of Orleans, the saviour of France. I've had to leave family and friends behind to serve our Lord. It is a daunting task."
Lana hugged her. "Thank you, fair maid. I see things better now. Our first love must be - always be - France. There will be time for regrets once England is defeated. I shall say prayers on your behalf to St. Michael and St. Catherine." She gathered her robe and scurried to the door.
"Joan of Arc." Lana stared in awe at the short-haired Chloe. "All the world will know you as France's maid-warrior. That, by God's grace, is your destiny." She left for the chapel.
Chloe began to polish her armour. Even in this wacky French dream, Lana got Clark. Now he's wedded to the church. And I'm wedded to France.
She watched a pair of maggots chewing on her salt pork. That was going to be my snack! When am I going to wake up from this mess?