[Yes, we're back in 2002 ...]
Lex nudged Chloe's arm. "Hey, you don't wanna miss this! Clark and Lana are playing Twister. I think you may want to run some interference. It's Twister, for cryin' out loud ..."
"How much further?" Chloe mumbled. Lex was puzzled. What did she say?
Chloe rubbed her eyes. "Who's playing Twister?"
She was in a hay cart on some muddy road. Aww, I'm in France again! Ishmael - umm, Pete - was driving the cart.
"You've been asleep the whole night, Ms. Maid of Orleans," Pete replied, "we had to leave in the middle of the night."
Chloe yawned. "Where's Whitney the Bloody?"
Pete chuckled. "Puking his guts out past that last bend. He had one too many jugs of fine French wine."
"And Clark?" Chloe asked. Maybe if I can have a few words with him.
"Y'know, he's taken his 'vows'. Forsaken the weaker sex. You may be the saviour of France, but I don't think Clark can simply write a letter of resignation just 'cause you've got the hots for him."
Chloe threw some hay at Pete. "DON'T even start with me!" She heared galloping to the rear.
"Forgive my unkempt appearance, my lady," Whitney pleaded, "I take it you've heard the glorious news?"
Pete and Chloe looked at each other and shrugged. "All I heard was that we're supposed to go to Rheims - some cathedral town," Pete stated.
"Our victory, thanks to you, fair maid," Whitney continued, "has sealed French possessions in the north. Charles intends to crown himself King of France!"
There was a rumble of dust far ahead of the road. An older gentleman in a bright blue robe arrived to greet them, accompanied by a dozen similarly dressed soldiers.
Whitney trotted to stop them. "Make way! Step aside for the Maid of Orleans!"
The robed man removed his fluffy hat. "I am Lionel, herald to the Dauphin of France, Prince of Paris, Charles - what the Maid does is for HIS cause!" Hmm, Chloe grumbled, Lionel Luthor is Charles' lapdog. He's still a big bully.
"Keep a cool head, man," Pete held Whitney back. "I wanna kick Lionel's butt as much as you do, but he is gonna be your future King's herald." Whitney took his hand off his sword.
Clark soon followed. "Fair maid?"
"Yes, Lord Abbot," Chloe replied.
"All the countryside awaits outside the cathedral. Charles is to be King. Charles has chosen you, Joan of Arc, to stand in the place of honour beside him at the coronation."
As they entered the town gates, thousands of people - both peasant and noble - flung flower petals before them. Street musicians played songs. Enterprising farmers sold their foodstuffs along the route.
"Wow! They're doing all this for their new king?" A boisterous chant rang out through the crowd: 'God save Joan! God save the Maid!"
"No, my lady," Whitney grinned, "they cheer for you. Charles may be their king. It was you, warrior-virgin, that fought England's sons. You, dear maid, who restored France's glory. They may serve the king ..." Chants erupted along the route, while several people knelt in humility as Chloe passed.
"... but the people of France worship you." Whitney concluded.
Chloe shook her head. "They're just happy they can call themselves Frenchmen and women again."
Pete glanced away. "Don't let it get to your head, Joanie. You know how this is all gonna end."
"It's only a dream," Chloe waved at the adoring public, "I can wake up at any time."
At the cathedral doors, Lionel made an exaggerated bow before Chloe. "Joan of Arc, Saviour of France, your liege lord welcomes you to this most glorious day."
Chloe stood in the middle aisle. France's noble houses stood at attention. She slowly walked to the altar. The Archbishop stood to the left, soon joined by Clark.
Whitney was ecstatic. "Now ... now is your destiny. Take your place in history, fair maid. God be praised!" He knelt in humble adoration.
Pete shrugged. "Hey, whatever makes you happy, man. Better do your thing, Joan-ster."
An imposing figure draped in regal blue robes turned around. No! Charles, the Dauphin and soon to be King of France. It was Lex Luthor ... and what seemed to be an awful brown toupee. Except it was real hair!
The archbishop placed the crown over Lex's head. "Do you, Charles, pledge fealty to the people of France and swear to defend her Holy Church against its enemies?"
"I do pledge to serve France and swear by my life to defend France and the Church."
"You are all witness to this oath," the archbishop declared, and placed the jewel-encrusted crown atop Lex's hair. He then handed Lex a bible and a sceptre. He turned to the audience. "Kneel before your lord and master, Charles, by the grace of God, King of France!"
Chloe saw thousands kneel before King Charles. She was about to kneel, when Lex held her shoulder.
"Stand, dear maid! This crown would not sit on my head without your efforts. Stand, so that all of France will know that Joan of Arc has returned France to her people."
Roars of 'God save the King!" rumbled in the cathedral. But there were also cheers of "All Hail the Maid!" Lex winced at the competing chants, but smirked when Chloe looked up at him. Pete shuddered. Lex, as always, is up to something. This story doesn't have a fairy tale ending.
"Some have called you the queen of their hearts," Clark whispered, "The people adore you, Maid of Orleans."
Chloe waved bashfully at the audience. I'd give up this whole warrior-maid routine, if Clark would only show a sliver of interest in me. Behind those priestly collars, he's beyond reach. Just my luck!
She turned around. Beside the choir, Pete, Clark and Lana were playing Twister. At King Charles' coronation?
"Green, Clark! Put your hand on the green!" Pete hollered.
"That's impossible!" Clark insisted. He reached out, but Pete and Lana toppled on him.
Lex left the archbishop. "Alright kids, break it up! Mrs. Kent just brought out dessert. I've got first dibs on the big piece of cake!"
Chloe blinked herself awake. The hammock ropes had made an impression on her face. Pete raced Lex to the picnic table, while Clark and Lana folded up the Twister mat. They shared a laugh. And traded glances.
Drat, she thought, I was supposed to run interference between those two. She frowned and fell asleep.
When she awoke, she was on another cart. In a cage. She wrinkled her nose in disgust to the putrid smell of medieval garbage.
Uh-oh, Chloe thought.
"Damn it, Chloe, didn't I tell you not to go to Paris?" Pete complained. "The Burgundians ambushed you. They trumped up heresy and treason charges against you!" A crowd of peasants pushed him aside.
Lana thrust a lily in Chloe's hand. "Keep this, warrior-maid! As a token of our faith in you. The commonfolk still believe in you, even though the King no longer does."
"I've been arrested?" Chloe asked, hoping there was some mistake.
"You shall be free, fair maid! By my word you shall!" Whitney screamed. "This is an injustice! Charles would have no kingdom if not for you. My men shed their blood for you, Joan of Arc, not that despot!" A few guards tried to wrestle with Whitney, but a dozen of his men yanked him away. "God protect you, Maid of Orleans!" Whitney yelled.
A hooded man came to the cage. "Just say the word, my lady, one word is all." It was Clark. "My father, the duke of Lorraine, has a thousand men in the valley beyond Rheims. With your leave, I can have you free by dawn. My father will challenge Charles and pursue his own claim to the throne! One word ... and by heaven, Charles' head will adorn these very ramparts! France believes in you ... and so do I!" He pressed his head through the cage and gave Chloe a gentle kiss on the cheek. "On behalf of France," he explained. A party of the King's knights stormed towards the unruly mob. Chloe feared for Clark's life and violently shook her head. "I must play my role. My sacrifice. You have your duty. It is to live. Live, Clark! Please."
Clark then melted into the jeering crowd. No longer in blind adoration, they sought mayhem and death. The death of the Maid.
Chloe crouched in the middle of the cage and hugged her knees. This dream isn't fun. I want to wake up.
Now.
Lex nudged Chloe's arm. "Hey, you don't wanna miss this! Clark and Lana are playing Twister. I think you may want to run some interference. It's Twister, for cryin' out loud ..."
"How much further?" Chloe mumbled. Lex was puzzled. What did she say?
Chloe rubbed her eyes. "Who's playing Twister?"
She was in a hay cart on some muddy road. Aww, I'm in France again! Ishmael - umm, Pete - was driving the cart.
"You've been asleep the whole night, Ms. Maid of Orleans," Pete replied, "we had to leave in the middle of the night."
Chloe yawned. "Where's Whitney the Bloody?"
Pete chuckled. "Puking his guts out past that last bend. He had one too many jugs of fine French wine."
"And Clark?" Chloe asked. Maybe if I can have a few words with him.
"Y'know, he's taken his 'vows'. Forsaken the weaker sex. You may be the saviour of France, but I don't think Clark can simply write a letter of resignation just 'cause you've got the hots for him."
Chloe threw some hay at Pete. "DON'T even start with me!" She heared galloping to the rear.
"Forgive my unkempt appearance, my lady," Whitney pleaded, "I take it you've heard the glorious news?"
Pete and Chloe looked at each other and shrugged. "All I heard was that we're supposed to go to Rheims - some cathedral town," Pete stated.
"Our victory, thanks to you, fair maid," Whitney continued, "has sealed French possessions in the north. Charles intends to crown himself King of France!"
There was a rumble of dust far ahead of the road. An older gentleman in a bright blue robe arrived to greet them, accompanied by a dozen similarly dressed soldiers.
Whitney trotted to stop them. "Make way! Step aside for the Maid of Orleans!"
The robed man removed his fluffy hat. "I am Lionel, herald to the Dauphin of France, Prince of Paris, Charles - what the Maid does is for HIS cause!" Hmm, Chloe grumbled, Lionel Luthor is Charles' lapdog. He's still a big bully.
"Keep a cool head, man," Pete held Whitney back. "I wanna kick Lionel's butt as much as you do, but he is gonna be your future King's herald." Whitney took his hand off his sword.
Clark soon followed. "Fair maid?"
"Yes, Lord Abbot," Chloe replied.
"All the countryside awaits outside the cathedral. Charles is to be King. Charles has chosen you, Joan of Arc, to stand in the place of honour beside him at the coronation."
As they entered the town gates, thousands of people - both peasant and noble - flung flower petals before them. Street musicians played songs. Enterprising farmers sold their foodstuffs along the route.
"Wow! They're doing all this for their new king?" A boisterous chant rang out through the crowd: 'God save Joan! God save the Maid!"
"No, my lady," Whitney grinned, "they cheer for you. Charles may be their king. It was you, warrior-virgin, that fought England's sons. You, dear maid, who restored France's glory. They may serve the king ..." Chants erupted along the route, while several people knelt in humility as Chloe passed.
"... but the people of France worship you." Whitney concluded.
Chloe shook her head. "They're just happy they can call themselves Frenchmen and women again."
Pete glanced away. "Don't let it get to your head, Joanie. You know how this is all gonna end."
"It's only a dream," Chloe waved at the adoring public, "I can wake up at any time."
At the cathedral doors, Lionel made an exaggerated bow before Chloe. "Joan of Arc, Saviour of France, your liege lord welcomes you to this most glorious day."
Chloe stood in the middle aisle. France's noble houses stood at attention. She slowly walked to the altar. The Archbishop stood to the left, soon joined by Clark.
Whitney was ecstatic. "Now ... now is your destiny. Take your place in history, fair maid. God be praised!" He knelt in humble adoration.
Pete shrugged. "Hey, whatever makes you happy, man. Better do your thing, Joan-ster."
An imposing figure draped in regal blue robes turned around. No! Charles, the Dauphin and soon to be King of France. It was Lex Luthor ... and what seemed to be an awful brown toupee. Except it was real hair!
The archbishop placed the crown over Lex's head. "Do you, Charles, pledge fealty to the people of France and swear to defend her Holy Church against its enemies?"
"I do pledge to serve France and swear by my life to defend France and the Church."
"You are all witness to this oath," the archbishop declared, and placed the jewel-encrusted crown atop Lex's hair. He then handed Lex a bible and a sceptre. He turned to the audience. "Kneel before your lord and master, Charles, by the grace of God, King of France!"
Chloe saw thousands kneel before King Charles. She was about to kneel, when Lex held her shoulder.
"Stand, dear maid! This crown would not sit on my head without your efforts. Stand, so that all of France will know that Joan of Arc has returned France to her people."
Roars of 'God save the King!" rumbled in the cathedral. But there were also cheers of "All Hail the Maid!" Lex winced at the competing chants, but smirked when Chloe looked up at him. Pete shuddered. Lex, as always, is up to something. This story doesn't have a fairy tale ending.
"Some have called you the queen of their hearts," Clark whispered, "The people adore you, Maid of Orleans."
Chloe waved bashfully at the audience. I'd give up this whole warrior-maid routine, if Clark would only show a sliver of interest in me. Behind those priestly collars, he's beyond reach. Just my luck!
She turned around. Beside the choir, Pete, Clark and Lana were playing Twister. At King Charles' coronation?
"Green, Clark! Put your hand on the green!" Pete hollered.
"That's impossible!" Clark insisted. He reached out, but Pete and Lana toppled on him.
Lex left the archbishop. "Alright kids, break it up! Mrs. Kent just brought out dessert. I've got first dibs on the big piece of cake!"
Chloe blinked herself awake. The hammock ropes had made an impression on her face. Pete raced Lex to the picnic table, while Clark and Lana folded up the Twister mat. They shared a laugh. And traded glances.
Drat, she thought, I was supposed to run interference between those two. She frowned and fell asleep.
When she awoke, she was on another cart. In a cage. She wrinkled her nose in disgust to the putrid smell of medieval garbage.
Uh-oh, Chloe thought.
"Damn it, Chloe, didn't I tell you not to go to Paris?" Pete complained. "The Burgundians ambushed you. They trumped up heresy and treason charges against you!" A crowd of peasants pushed him aside.
Lana thrust a lily in Chloe's hand. "Keep this, warrior-maid! As a token of our faith in you. The commonfolk still believe in you, even though the King no longer does."
"I've been arrested?" Chloe asked, hoping there was some mistake.
"You shall be free, fair maid! By my word you shall!" Whitney screamed. "This is an injustice! Charles would have no kingdom if not for you. My men shed their blood for you, Joan of Arc, not that despot!" A few guards tried to wrestle with Whitney, but a dozen of his men yanked him away. "God protect you, Maid of Orleans!" Whitney yelled.
A hooded man came to the cage. "Just say the word, my lady, one word is all." It was Clark. "My father, the duke of Lorraine, has a thousand men in the valley beyond Rheims. With your leave, I can have you free by dawn. My father will challenge Charles and pursue his own claim to the throne! One word ... and by heaven, Charles' head will adorn these very ramparts! France believes in you ... and so do I!" He pressed his head through the cage and gave Chloe a gentle kiss on the cheek. "On behalf of France," he explained. A party of the King's knights stormed towards the unruly mob. Chloe feared for Clark's life and violently shook her head. "I must play my role. My sacrifice. You have your duty. It is to live. Live, Clark! Please."
Clark then melted into the jeering crowd. No longer in blind adoration, they sought mayhem and death. The death of the Maid.
Chloe crouched in the middle of the cage and hugged her knees. This dream isn't fun. I want to wake up.
Now.