Preparation. The Moment Before & Beat #1: The Lark, Jean Anouilh

Scene: Jeanne d'Arc in Chinon (1429), Castle of Chinon, Loire Valley, France. 15 years earlier, on the morning of October 25th, the French suffered a catastrophic defeat on the rain soaked fields of Agincourt: 2200 French cavalry, 33,000 infantry of Charles VI confronted an invading English army of 5000 lead by King Henry V. The English lost 13 horsemen, 100 infantry. French loses totaled close to 30,000: 12,000 killed, many more wounded. Henry V was recognized by the French in the Treaty of Troyes (1420) as regent and heir to the French throne. This was cemented by his marriage to Catherine of Valois, the daughter of King Charles VI.

Nine years later, with defeat piled on defeat, the French house is bankrupt, the northern half of France is owned by, and is squeezed under, tight English Control. What reminds in the south is in the hands of roving bands of marauders. I, Charles VII, The Dauphin, am cloistered away in the Castle of Chinon: broke, no authority -- here or anywhere -- and the rumor in France is that I will pitch the crown and take what little I have left and will run away to Scotland.

The first sound advice I've heard in months.

The siege of Orleans has begun. As Orleans goes -- so goes France, and the last of France, huddled behind shaking crumbling walls, waits for the end . . . it is the end. In truth -- it's past the end: I believe France is already gone. My dreams of France, my dreams for myself . . . like a cruel joke!

All this -- God did this, to France, to me. Believe?! Believe in what?!! I am nothing, because I AM nothing. Who's to save France? Let God do it! God who has taken so much from France, from me, let Him left the bow, shoulder the harness, drag the wagons of the dead and dying through the mud!

I cannot save what God hates.

And what men are left? Men like La Tremouille, the Archbishop -- they don't give a shit about France, and if they could figure out a way to get rid of me, they'd seize everything and sell out to England . . . maybe they're doing exactly that right now . . . maybe they should do exactly that right now. . . maybe they're right & smart to sell out . . . maybe I really am a fool. They don't give a shit, they don't care, and I despise them: Bastards, traitors, and I cannot stand up to them. They are France now, what's left of it: 'Thank you God, for making them so strong, and powerful, giving them every advantage, and leaving me with none!' They hold the "real" power now. I am my father's son -- nothing more. I cannot save France -- instead, I now dream of saving myself, far away, in another place, alive, safe . . . in a place where I do not recognize myself . . .

If they knew . . . how I felt, they would move against me, and what could I do to stop them? I need them --funny -- to keep me alive -- I can't have them decide to turn against me, so I let them talk about me and treat me the way they want. My one strength: to be a clown, in the face of all. At France, at me, I'll laugh with God . . .

Stop caring. I don't care anymore.

Beat #1. Trigger: France is going to hell in a hand basket, albeit a nice hand basket; I'm an idiot, a fool, I look ridiculous, I act ridiculous-- I am ridiculous-- I'm not going to be seen "dancing" while Rome burns . . .

Relationships: The Little Queen. Harmless, "nice," and doesn't "get it." If she did, I might have a friend, one friend, in the last place on earth . . .
Angus . . . smart, hot, I want her, I can't really stand her, because I think she does "get it," but like a cat -- she has other agendas. Yolande does care about France, about me, I think, and she thinks Angus will do me good -- it's completely hopeless, but if she wants to throw Angus in my bed . . . why not? It may be the end, but . . . one can't let oneself get too depressed . . . but she bugs me. I act like a fool, but she sometimes, sort of, acts like a AM a fool.

I'm not a fool.

NOTE: Charles is "on stage" here -- "acting like a fool for all the world to see," so I'm going to set things here, and practice how I'll say them. Normally I wouldn't do this, but Charles needs to be funny, sarcastic, with undertones of dispair, contempt. Using humor to handle it all . . .