plumnovel Chapter 47 Coronation
Chapter 47 Coronation
The area in front of Reims Church had been transformed into a massive construction site. A man, sweating profusely, hurried among the busy workers and found several weary-looking merchants in front of a pile of pine logs and ribbons.
"Master!" he shouted breathlessly, "The priests say that all the coronation robes were taken by Sharon when he fled! The rest were already transported to Saint Denis, so they have no way to prepare for the coronation ceremony!"
Upon hearing this, everyone turned to look at the leader of the association. The leader paced back and forth a few times, his brow furrowed. After a moment, he stopped, his tone carrying a sense of helplessness, as if he had been cornered: "What can we do? Find a quick-witted young man to tell His Majesty outside the city everything exactly as it is. If he doesn't believe us, let him send someone to the church to find out for himself."
The man accepted the order and hurried off to find someone. The group around the guild leader exchanged glances, and finally someone spoke up: "Guild leader, we personally saw Sharon take the crown and scepter to the military camp. If you ask me, shouldn't we discuss with His Majesty postponing the coronation, at least until we've gathered all the necessary equipment?"
The guild leader whirled around, his voice sharp: "Delay? Didn't you see how many troops were outside the city when you went to pay your respects to His Majesty yesterday? He's only quiet now because he sees we're cooperating. Do you believe that if we're even a little slow, he'll send a massive army in and throw us all into the dungeon?"
He glanced at the workers who had already erected the wooden scaffolding and begun decorating it with colorful ribbons, then looked at the blazing sun that was almost overhead, and finally made up his mind: "Go and invite His Majesty into the city, and have Archbishop Chartres come to the church to personally preside over the purification ceremony. Tonight, make all the preparations for the coronation ceremony!"
Everyone was taken aback by this. A man dressed as a carpenter couldn't help but speak up: "President, this is too hasty. The side towers of the Tau Palace are still under construction, not to mention that according to tradition, the entire procession requires a blue carpet and fireworks—none of these can be arranged tonight!"
The chairman seemed to have planned this all along: "Don't repair the side towers. Cover them up with colored strips or something else. Don't those fabric shops have hundreds of bolts of Lance cloth stockpiled? Dye them all blue and use them as carpets. As for the fireworks... ask His Majesty if he can send someone to use cannons instead."
The carpenter, in a panic, pointed his ruler at the construction site: "Chairman, are you crazy? How can my few dozen workers be enough to block the side tower? I may not know much about dyeing cloth, but such a long carpet would require at least a hundred or eighty people working all day—where are we going to find the manpower?"
Everyone agreed. The guild leader, however, remained unmoved: "Then go and call for people. Call everyone in the city, men, women, young and old. The men will work for you, and the others will go to welcome His Majesty and the bishop into the city. Is that enough people?"
The carpenter laughed angrily: "Guild Master, you're the guild master, not the Bishop of Lance! The whole city? We can't even rally those few merchant guilds that oppose you!"
The chairman nodded, his tone eerily calm: "I know. So first, send someone to tell the council—if the coronation ceremony cannot be held, His Majesty's army will have to wait outside the city for another week. Whether they come or not is up to them."
The crowd looked at each other, argued for a long time, and realizing there seemed to be no other way, they all went to pass on the message. Only the carpenter remained in the square to gather the workers. Before setting off, he angrily put his ruler back in his pocket, turned his back to the chairman, and said, "Just you wait and see, this is definitely going to be a disaster. You're just messing around!"
Upon hearing this, the chairman simply nodded and hurriedly turned to walk towards the council. His steps were rapid, and his fingers, gripping his cuffs, trembled slightly.
The city of Reims experienced its busiest day in over a decade.
The entire city was terrified by the news that "the army might stay for another week," and people of all ages and genders flocked to help. The crowds thronged the market square, completely blocking the city gates—these people themselves became the biggest problem, let alone help.
The chairman rushed over upon hearing the news, trying to restore order, but no one listened to him. The entire street was in chaos. Several councilors suggested that the women take their children home first, but this only caused people to run around the square in disarray, with screams, shouts, and children's cries all mixed together. It looked like things were about to completely spiral out of control.
Just then, a long horn sounded from the city wall.
The gates of Lance City slowly opened, and a small convoy drove in. All eyes were drawn to it.
An elderly man, carrying a scepter, led the way through the city gate. His hair was white, and he wore a faded, old ceremonial robe. His steps were steady, and his gaze calm. The crowd looked at him hesitantly—some rubbed their eyes and asked incredulously, "Your Excellency Chartres?"
The old man nodded slowly.
That simple gesture was like a command. The crowd cheered and surged forward. But as the priests and deacons appeared behind the old man, the cheers gradually subsided—the people spontaneously made way for the old bishop, allowing him to ascend the platform where he used to preach.
The old man slowly ascended the platform, reached out and touched the thick layer of dust on the armrest, shook his head, and then gently raised the scepter in his hand. The crowd fell silent; even the few children who didn't understand were covered by their parents' hands.
The old man spoke slowly, his voice not loud, yet clearly carrying throughout the square: "Citizens of Reims, it is a pleasure to see you again. May the destruction by the English and Burgundians not have caused the people of this holy city to lose their piety."
As soon as the words were spoken, several elderly people with white hair took the lead and knelt down. Everyone followed suit, their knees hitting the stone floor with a dull thud. The chairman, who was already standing at the front, felt a lump in his throat and knelt heavily before the platform.
The old man looked down at his exaggerated movements, scrutinized him for a moment, and asked, "Is this Lerch? Are you still in Reims? What's the situation in Reims? Have the Burgundians given you any trouble?"
This was the first time today that Lerish had escaped the insults, arguments, and various questions, only to be asked about his predicament by a voice he had known for twenty years.
When he looked up, his eyes were already brimming with tears: "Lord Chartres, it's me. We're all fine after the Burgundians ran off with that clown!"
Chartres nodded. "Then why are so many people gathered here?"
Lerish wiped away his tears, took a breath, and replied, "My lord, we gathered here because we heard that His Majesty intends to enter the city today. Please instruct us as you have in the past on what to do!"
Chartres surveyed the thousands of people in the square. They were all kneeling, yet all looked up at him, their eyes filled with confusion and helplessness. He tapped his scepter and proclaimed, "You need not panic. His Majesty is the rightful King of France, and his coronation in Reims is an honor for the city. Nor do you need to worry—when I enter the city, there will be no more swords drawn. Citizens of Reims, if you do as I say, you will surely witness this sacred ceremony proceed smoothly!"
Upon hearing this, the crowd in the square calmed down. Many wiped their eyes, but suppressed their sobs, afraid of disturbing Chartres on the platform.
Chartres bowed to Lerish in front of him and said, "Have everyone stand up. Are the same people in Parliament? Bring them here and tell me what's going on."
Lerish stood up and beckoned several councilors over. They looked up and carefully described the situation to Chartres. Chartres listened and nodded. "Lerish, you've done well. His Majesty also wants the ceremony to proceed as soon as possible. Have all the men go and help; women, children, and the elderly can stay here. His Majesty will enter the city after dinner."
After speaking, he raised his scepter, seemingly intending to step down from the platform.
"Sir," Lerch asked in alarm, "are you leaving?"
Chartres continued walking down, stood in front of him, reached out and patted his head, and laughed, "Silly boy, this is my parish, of course I'm going back to the church."
As Chartres left, the crowd in the square calmed down from the initial panic and began to follow instructions, busily getting to work in an orderly manner.
As the sun began to set, a large army arrived before the city of Reims. Lerch ordered the city gates opened and climbed the tower to observe. He saw a young girl carrying a white fleur-de-lis leading the troops, and turned to the trumpeter beside him, saying, "Play the music only after His Majesty has entered the city."
Having said that, he hurried down the city wall and met the young woman at the city gate. He bowed and asked, "Are you Lady Joan of Arc?"
The girl nodded: "I am Joan of Arc. I have come with His Majesty's orders to accept the surrender of the city."
Lerish lowered his body even further: "I am Lerish, the president of the Reims Chamber of Commerce. On behalf of the people of Reims, I welcome Your Majesty's arrival."
Having said that, he turned and led the way. Joan of Arc stepped into the city and found that thousands of people had already gathered in the square behind the gate. Seeing the young woman enter carrying a large banner, the crowd stirred, and some even began to cheer, but they were immediately silenced by those around them.
Joan of Arc looked at Lerch, who had stopped, with some suspicion. Lerch turned around and said, "Miss Joan of Arc, please continue on your way. I will greet His Majesty here."
Joan of Arc steadied the large banner in her hand and continued walking. People watched her in silence, a silence she was unaccustomed to. She recalled the scene in Orleans and began to wonder if the Reimers were trying to intimidate her; if so, they were certainly mistaken. Just as she was thinking this, a loud roar came from behind her—
"Welcome, Your Majesty, to Lance!"
Music rose from the crowd, followed by cheers from thousands. Joan of Arc turned to see the crowd chanting "Your Majesty," surging toward her, just as they had in Orleans. Countless flowers rained down on her and her banner—not for her, but because the people were so eager to present bouquets to their king that Charles had to order his guards to part the path to advance.
Lérèse somehow ended up in front of Joan of Arc again, directing a choir to sing hymns in unison, and having a group of maidens throw spices at the procession. Joan of Arc could only grit her teeth and endure the maidens accidentally spilling spices into her nails, straightening her posture as she continued forward. Only when she reached the church entrance did Lérèse signal her to stop, and she finally had time to shake off the petals and cloves from her body.
Charlie stopped beside her, smiling as if he wanted to say something. Lerch quickly spoke up, "Your Majesty, Archbishop Chartres is waiting for you in the church. The purification ceremony requires your personal participation."
Charlie nodded upon hearing this, then turned to Joan and said, "You can go to the inn and see; I've prepared a surprise for you."
Joan of Arc watched with some suspicion as Charles rode off towards the church, then turned to arrange for the troops to be stationed in the city. When she finished and returned to the church square, she found Lerch still standing there. Remembering Charles's words, she asked, "Mr. Lerch, do you know where the inn His Majesty mentioned is?"
Lerish thought for a moment, then pointed across the street: "There are many hotels in Lance, but this is the only one still in operation. However, it seems that Lord Chartres arranged for someone to check in this morning. You may need to go and ask him yourself."
Joan of Arc nodded and took Metz to the inn.
When they entered the hotel, the chubby owner at the front desk was writing something down. Hearing someone come in, he didn't even look up: "This hotel is not accepting guests today. Please look for another place."
Joan of Arc removed her helmet: "I'm looking for someone. May I ask who lives here?"
The boss looked up upon hearing this and was startled to see two "knights" standing in front of him. He quickly stood up, forcing a smile, "Oh dear, I almost neglected our distinguished guests. I've been so busy today, I'll take a look at you two right away."
He pulled out a plaque and read: "Father Juvenal, Deacon Bailid, the Dac family—"
Joan of Arc abruptly interrupted him: "Dark? Which Dark—"
"Jeanne? Is that you?" A woman came downstairs. "I heard your voice from upstairs!"
Joan of Arc rushed forward: "Mother! What brings you here?"
Isabella wanted to hug her daughter, but the armor made it difficult for her to grab her, so she could only hold her daughter's arm: "It's not just me, your father and Pierre are here too. Botticul brought us. He said you've done something great, and His Majesty wants us to see you."
She then cupped her daughter's face in her hands, examined her closely, and gently ran her fingers over the faint scratches, saying with heartache, "It's such a pity that you've gotten like this before you're even married."
Jeanne awkwardly pulled her face away, only to find her father and Pierre had also come downstairs and were greeting Metz. She lowered her face as much as possible and turned her body to the side, not wanting the faint scars to be seen: "Father, you've come too."
Old Jacques reached out, seemingly wanting to touch his daughter, but ultimately withdrew his hand. He tried his best to control his emotions, but his voice still trembled slightly: "How have you been these days? Have you been injured? Where did you get the armor you're wearing?"
Jeanne brushed aside Pierre's outstretched hand as he reached for his sword, her tone light: "I've been doing well these days. You know what? I led His Majesty's army and drove back the English. I'm even a knight now, with my own company!" She pointed to the iris on her breastplate, "This armor was a gift from His Majesty. With it on, what injury could I possibly suffer?"
Pierre jumped up excitedly: "Jeanne! You've become a knight? Then you give me—"
"Shut up!" Old Jacques grabbed his ear. Pierre winced in pain and quickly changed his tune: "A horse! A horse, is that alright?"
Isabella ignored the father and son, and gently stroked Joan's hair: "I knew it. You have the blood of the Rommel family, you are a child loved by the Lord."
Old Jacques loosened Pierre's ear, about to say something, when another person entered through the door. Metz knelt on one knee: "Your Grace, Duke."
Everyone was startled. The hotel owner knelt down along with Jacques and his family, but Joan of Arc remained standing motionless. Jacques couldn't help but urge in a low voice, "Jeanne—"
"Young lady, what are you doing in this inn?" Alanson asked.
Old Jacques looked at his daughter in surprise as she replied. Joan of Arc answered frankly, "Your Highness, I have come here to see my parents and brother."
Alençon glanced at him, then quickly stepped forward to help old Jacques up: "Don't kneel. So you are Joan of Arc's father."
Old Jacques stood up, unsure of what to do with his hands. He turned to look at the hotel owner kneeling on the ground, then at his daughter. His lips trembled a few times, but he couldn't utter a single word.
Alençon then looked at Pierre, who had jumped up beside him, and laughed, "Is this your brother? He looks quite like you."
Pierre, mustering his courage, said, "I'm the best swordsman in Domrémy! I taught Jeanne her swordsmanship!"
Alençon smiled and looked him up and down: "How come I've never heard Joan of Arc mention you? You're so capable, why don't you come and be my squire?"
Pierre was overjoyed and was about to kneel when old Jacques stopped him, saying, "My lord, you mustn't! This lad is impetuous and only knows how to boast. Please don't take him to heart!"
Pierre panicked: "Dad! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—"
"I said no, and that's final!" Old Jacques' eyes suddenly reddened, and his voice lowered. "I've already lost one... I can't lose another son."
Pierre retorted angrily, "But why didn't you stop Jeanne when she left?"
Joan of Arc's hand trembled slightly. She didn't dare look at her father again, but instead reached out and embraced her mother.
The church bell tower tolled its evening bells, the bells signaling the end of the purification ceremony. Lights were lit to proclaim Reims' return to the embrace of France, and candlelight shone through the stained-glass windows onto the faces of the crowd.