costume)
Lili: Then came my big break. A really hot group, The Naked City Gang, took me on. Right up front with equal billing, it was on-your-feet improv; they were always packed. And they loved my stuff! But when it came to opening night the wardrobe guy, Lenny, said my look was wrong, not tough enough, too "fem."
Joan: My body wants a million things. It wants to run, to climb, to scramble, to fly...
Lili: So they ditched my silk dress. They hated it. When I wailed, Lenny said I should avoid nauseating him. So I shut up and wore what he told me. (As she puts on her silk dress) And the act was OK. But something went dead. Some kind of juice went dry, or sour, or... Don't you get it? Listen...
(She looks at Joan and realizes her hair is falling. A bloody sword tip pokes onstage from the wings, twisting)
Lili: Don't. Please, don't. You can't...You'll pay. You'll lose. Please...
(A hand reaches for the sword blade, and rips a roasted goose off of it)
Lili: If you could just...wait...Wait!
(Lili finishes fastening her dress, while Joan clips, and the last section of hair falls to the ground. Three soldiers tear at the goose, hungrily devouring it. Joan shakes her head, grins, prances, enjoying her boyish lightness, beginning to posture in a masculine fashion, trying it out)
Joan: Like this! I can ride a hurricane. I can do...anything!
(Then, as Joan is gathering herself, and looking toward the soldiers, who are bunched and eating, Lili appears behind her, dressed resplendently in the soft dress. The transformation is as shocking as Joan's out of her red peasant dress)
Lili: Now look!
(Joan spins, as though to encounter a blow, then staggers back uncertainly, staring at Lili)
Lili: (Softly) Do you finally see me?
(As though struck in the eyes, and not knowing what she's seeing or how to react, Joan looks back and forth from Lili, to the soldiers, who are laughing, then, hesitates a beat, before flipping at Lili– )
Joan: What can you get done in that?
(Joan takes off skipping toward the soldiers)
(Lili stands dazed – become vulnerable in her femininity – now, rejected, and wanting to cry. Tomas moves behind her, speaking low, carefully, as though drawing her out of a trance)
Tomas: What a beautiful dress.
(Lili turns, sees him, responds shyly)
Lili: Thank you.
Tomas: (Moved, unable to say more) I...
(Joan is approaching the ragged soldiers, who are licking goose grease off their fingers, while it runs on down their arms. Lili glances after Joan, begins to trail after her)
Tomas: (Wanting to keep Lili from following Joan) Was that when you changed your act? When you gave up your silk dress?
Lili: (Troubled, still watching Joan) Could be.
Tomas: Nothing's been easy for you.
(Lili turns to him, really looks at him for the first time, and we hear one of the soldiers)
Pierre: (Easy-going, to Antoine) ..Little goose meat'll put muscle back on you, boy.
Antoine: (His mouth full) Yeah.
Lili: (Answering Tomas) You take your act from life – one doesn't exactly end and the other begin.
(The soldiers notice Joan approaching. Antoine is young, a refugee, nearly a virgin, being rehabilitated, initiated. Maxie is coarse, brutal, and altogether thoughtless, rejected by his family, raised by foster parents who overworked and didn't care for him. Pierre, a solid farm worker, usually quiet and strong, who likes the cows, doesn't put much store in church. Pierre is led by Maxie, who lords it and bullies here, where his cruelty and brawling techniques grant him leadership.)
Pierre: Well now, what's that coming. Dessert?
Antoine: (Giggling) If it's a stable boy they're getting scrawnier.
Max: (Coarse snarl) It's a girlie!
(Lili, turning her head, notices the scene Joan's walking into)
Lili: (Calling) Joan, I don't think you should...
Max: A farm girlie by the look of her. She'll put Pierre at home.
Pierre: (Laughs at his own expense) Sure will.
Max: Got a slow-blinking cow look.
Antoine: Took off her skirts, Maxie.
Pierre: Oooo, that's asking for trouble.
(The soldiers begin to spread, in order to surround Joan, who continues to move to the center, among them)
Lili: I think you better get out of there, Joan.
Joan: (Stopping. With measured tone) You stole that goose.
(Max laughs coarsely, and licks a dribble of goose-fat from his wrist up to his palm)
(Tomas has taken a step after Lili, reaches out and touches her shoulder. Lili turns expectantly, and looks at him)
Tomas: Talk to me.
Max: What do you think she wants, little Antoine?
Joan: You stole it from some poor farm woman!
Antoine: She's off her head, Maxie.
Pierre: Or maybe she's just...loose.
Joan: Pierre, you're from St. Margaret's. How can you steal?
(Joan is surrounded now, and the soldiers begin closing in. Lili watches,
anxious)
Max: Walks around in britches...
Pierre: Splitting her legs.
Joan: (Turning round, watching each of them) What big brave soldiers! You left the woman no supper for her children.
Max: (Putting a hand on her) Serves her right! These people hate us.
Joan: (Brushing his hand off) Why shouldn't they? You take what they have, and you're good-for-nothing! The enemy raids every night.
Pierre: (Grabbing Joan's buttocks) That's a cow-rump, all right.
Lili: (Crossing into the action) Joan!
Tomas: (Following, restraining Lili) You can't help her, Lili. You're dreaming.
(Lili looks at Tomas, trying to comprehend. He pulls her out of the action, then the two watch, Lili terrified for Joan)
Antoine: Wearing britches is looking for trouble, huh?.
Max: (Reaching for Joan again) She'll be no trouble at all.
(Pierre sticks his foot out to tangle Joan's leg. Joan catches Pierre's leg, flips him, and he falls flat)
Joan: Thieves!
(Max is startled, but grabs her arm and pulls her toward him)
Max: Come here, girlie.
Joan: Auuuugh, you stink!
(Startled, Max drops his hold, backs off a step. But then, enraged, he lunges at her with a roar)
Max: Uuuuuuuh!
Joan: (Her arm straight out to stop him) Maxie! That was you at communion.
Max: (Both hands on her, but off base) What?
Joan: This morning. I saw you at communion.
(Looking to the others, with bravado)
Max: You’re brain’s fried, girlie.
Pierre: First he'd have to confess.
Antoine: That'd take a whole week.
Max: (Pulling on her britches) Hold her! She's getting in my way.
(The others are close around Joan, taking hold. Lili fights Tomas' restraint. Joan hollers, trying to distract her attackers as she struggles– )
Joan: You're attacking women? Cowards! Try fighting the enemy!
Pierre: No one cares, girlie.
Max: Why are you talking to this whore?
Joan: You call yourselves men?!
Max: Will someone shut her mouth?! Knock her down!!
Antoine: (Excited) Let me have her, Maxie.
Pierre: Yeah, back off, Max. Let Antoine take her.
Joan: (Surprised gasp as she fights them) Antoine!
Pierre: Get him his color back.
Joan: Why are you so far from Orleans?
Max: (Huffing) The kid knows how?
Antoine: Let me, Maxie. I can do it.
Max: You better plow her good, if we let you go first.
Joan: Antoine! Fly away home! They need you at Orleans!
&
nbsp; Pierre: She'll take care of his night-shakes.
Max: (Holding Joan) He's ready? If I hold her open?
Antoine: Sure I am!
Pierre: (Feeling Antoine's crotch) Like a rock--he's all bones but the skin.
Max: There you go, boy. Fix what ails you. Pound it into that patch of brush.
(Max and Pierre hold Joan down, while Antoine mounts her. Lili screams)
Joan: (Shouts at Antoine) I see your mother, Antoine!
(Antoine, stopped at peak of his action by the word "mother," cries out, pushing away from Joan. Lili is clinging to Tomas, weeping. He strokes her, comforting)
Antoine: Ahhhhhhhh!
(Max and Pierre are thrown, an instant confused, but Joan stays still, quietly focusing on Antoine)
Joan: (Realizing what's happened to him) Poor Antoine...
Max: (Bellows, grabbing her) Witch! I'll take care of you!
Antoine: (Screams) Don't touch her!! Noooooo!
(Antoine lands on Max's back; Max shakes and kicks him off)
Max: He's off his head! Get him off me!
(Antoine scrambles for a knife, and stands to challenge Max)
Antoine: Let her go! Let her go right now!!
Pierre: Easy, boy. Put it away. Nobody's hurting her.
Max: (Dull-headed, blinks up at Antoine) What the hell...?
Antoine: I'll kill you, Max! Let her go!!
(Joan, sliding out from under Max, very cool, steps in to deflect Antoine's knife blade)
Joan: I'm all right, Antoine. Don't be afraid.
Max: (Picking himself up) What devil got into him?
Joan: He's just a boy run away.
(Antoine collapses to his knees. Joan embraces him)
Pierre: They're all starving in Orleans.
Joan: And what are you doing about it? Cowards!
Antoine: (Clinging to Joan) Forgive me...
Max: (Spits) Mewling baby.
Pierre: Not fair...he found his mother dead.
Joan: More than that.
Antoine: (Gasping it out in deep gulps) She was thrown in a corner, beaten with clubs. Her skirt was torn away. (Despair erupting) Oh God...!
(Antoine buries himself in Joan's arms, weeping. Joan looks up at Max and Pierre. First Pierre, then Max collapses beside the pieta made by Joan and Antoine. Lili, calmed, begins to extricate herself from Tomas' arms)
Lili: I'm sorry. Something happened to me...in church.
Tomas: You were hurt. No, don't go. (Amazed, wondering what’s happened to him) I need you.
Joan: (Quietly) There are mothers still alive in Orleans.
Antoine: (Trying to recover himself) Not for long.
Joan: And babies. We've got to save them.
Pierre: We do what our officers say.
(Tomas and Lili, hearing Joan, gaze at each other, their hands moving, to touch – while Joan, in their favorite story, is background to their discovering each other)
Joan: And if they're afraid? Do you die one by one? Do you stop being men?
Pierre: We scramble for ourselves. They took my family's cattle. What else can I do?
Joan: We're going to Orleans. I'm taking you there.
Max: You're crazy.
Joan: I've come to lead you. I – (Says it for the first time) La Pucelle.
Max: La…What?
Joan: The Angel Michael told me.
Max: (Staring at her) Whaaat?
Pierre: She's crazy.
Antoine: A pucelle – what's that?
Joan: God is sick of this war.
Pierre: A pucelle's a heifer just before she's been tupped. Gotta be crazy, Maxie.
Joan: Don't trouble Maxie. He's trying to think it out. He's like your cow out in a storm – if I pick up her newborn, she thinks it's lost...
Pierre: Maxie doesn't know calves.
Joan: But you do. The old cow searches, frantic...because she sees her calf safe on my shoulders, but doesn't believe it can rise off the ground. (Laughs) Don't be afraid, Maxie. I'll talk to the King.
Max: What King?
Joan: Shame on you.
Pierre: There is no King.
Joan: We have a rightful King. He has to stand up for himself.
Max: Hah. You have to find him first.
Joan: That's right. With you. On the horse you bring me.
Max: (Spins on her) You don't know how to ride.
Joan: I'll learn on the horse you bring me.
(Tomas and Lili kiss)
Max: In a day, you'll learn?
Joan: In less, if I want.
Pierre: What a load of horse...
Joan: Whatever I need to happen will happen. Do you want to be wrong about this? Look in my eyes. See God shining there? Think how you'll feel riding with me, in the army that saves France.
Max: You're crazy...!
Joan: Am I, Maxie? (Laughing) Watch, I've got hold of