It is February 1431. A chill freezes the air of the great room within the castle of Ruan.

Up in the galley of this makeshift courtroom, 60 pairs of eyes stand staring. The eyes

of men that have poured over the most rigorous philosophical texts of the time, absorbing the

granular detail of every law and loophole, every facet of global policy they can. They've been

called to Ruan, the Duchy of Normandy's seat in the Kingdom of France, and the military base

of the King of England, from the comfort of their diocese, or the familiar power of their university

residences to stand judge at the trial of what many regard as the single biggest threat to the

English crown. The one who's frequently being described as a genius military strategist and a

kingmaker blessed with the gift of prophecy, who many also believe has been sent by God to

save the Kingdom of France. Heavy footsteps and the clanking of chains are heard, approaching from

outside the room, and just then a heavy door swings open, letting in a gust of winter wind,

and the 60 men look up, gasping at the sight of the pale, diminutive, 19-year-old woman being

led into the courtroom. The woman's ankles and wrists are clasped in iron, her body wasted,

sickened and malnourished. Is this her think the men? Is this it? But as the young woman takes the stand,

she tilts her head to the galley, her back seeming to straighten, her body seeming to grow,

as she stares each of the men, one after the other, defiantly in the eye.

And when she is asked to state her name, she replies proudly, in my village, I was known as Jeanette.

Now I am known as Jean, or simply, Joanne.

There are a few whose lives speak to the idea of legacy, like Joan of Arc, as she has come to be

known in the English-speaking world. It could be said that she existed more in her future than she

ever did in her present. Her cult following, for example, would not really start to take hold

until a good 400 years after her death. The name now associated with the May, French feast day,

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