The Amelia Project - Episode 79 - Joan (1318)

Episode Date: September 13, 2024

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Toast." A story about a a brave independent religious woman, who fell foul of the authorities. Guest written by Bob Raymonda, creator of the "Forgive Me!" podcast. Feauturing Alan Burgon as the Interviewer, Ciara Baxendale as Joan, Julia C. Thorne as Alvina, Hemi Yeroham as Kozlowski, Jordan Cobb as Jackie Williams and Erin King as Mia Fox. The Amelia Project is a production of Imploding Fictions. Story editing and direction by Philip Thorne and Oystein Brager, audio editing by Philip Thorne, sound design by Alexander Danner, music by Fredrik Baden, production assistance by Maty Parzival and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. Website: https://ameliapodcast.com/  Transcripts: https://ameliapodcast.com/season-5  Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ameliapodcast Donations: https://ameliapodcast.com/support Merch: https://www.teepublic.com/stores/the-amelia-project?ref_id=6148 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ameliapodcast/ Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ameliapodcast X: https://twitter.com/amelia_podcast Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/theameliaproject.bsky.social Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

When you're working out at Planet Fitness, it's a judgment-free zone, so you can really step up your workout. That's why we've got treadmills. And our team members are here to help, so you can be carefree with the free weights. They're also balance balls, bikes, cables, kettlebells, and T-Rex equipment, but like, no pressure. Get started at Planet Fitness by September 13th for $1 down and then only $15 a month. Hurry, you don't want to miss this $1 down sale that ends September 13th. $49 annual fee applies. See Home Club for details. Hello, Pip here again. I just wanted to tell you about our current bonus series, Ittabal's Inventions, which focuses on Kozlovsky and his weird, wonderful, sometimes baffling, often hilarious and occasionally terrifying, inventions. We've made minisodes to follow each of our regular episodes.

The one to follow Joan has just been released, and this is a very special episode as it was written by Hemi Yiroham, who plays Kozlovsky himself. So you can access that as well as the previous six mini-sodes and all future installments of Ittobal's inventions by supporting us for just a few dollars on Patreon or Apple Podcast subscriptions. And you'll also get all the regular episodes ad-free and a week early too. You'll also really be helping us out with the making of this show. Go to AmeliaPodcast.com and click on support the show for more info. Thank you and see you next time.

This episode is dedicated to our patron, Heldon Inkhart, who will freeze to death after licking a lamp post in sub-zero temperatures. Heldon Inkheart will reappear as a tourist guide in South Africa. Be like Helden and support the Amelia team on Patreon. Enjoy the show. Hey, what do you mean Mikael never gives up? You think he's still looking for you? For us? I don't want to talk about that clown.

I mean that quite literally. Oleg told me he wears white make-up, baggy trousers and an oversized cravat. Wait, I thought you said he had emerald eyes and a velvet suit? Yes. What do you mean, yes? Look, I really think I should know more about this Mikael. I mean, if you really think he's still out there and looking for us... Not now.

But... Please. This is our time, Alvina. You and me. I mean, how often do we get that? I'm having such a lovely time telling you my tales. Back at the office there's always a new story to chase, a new case file to read, a new death to fake. But sometimes it's nice to stop and, well, you know, just reminisce. I mean Leonardo.

I hadn't thought about him for years, yet he was such a good friend. Florence-ing. Florence-ing, yes. Oh, that reminds me. You said there was a story you wanted to tell me about... Ah, yes. About a woman. A religious woman. A brave, independent, religious woman who fell foul of the authorities. Her name was Joan of Leeds. Of Arc? What? Did you say of Leeds?

Joan of Leeds, yes. Are you sure you're not getting confused again? I was so sure you were going to tell me about Joan of Leeds, yes. Are you sure you're not getting confused again? I was so sure you were going to tell me about Joan of- Well, I mean sure I could tell you about Joan of Arc. But her story has received so much attention, hasn't it? Joan of Leeds, on the other hand, I feel hasn't really. What are you doing? Googling her.

Joan of Leeds. Huh, she is a real person. Well, of course she's a real person. I met her. Joan of Leeds, early 14th century, was an English nun who- Do you want me to tell you the story or the googly? Sorry, I want you to tell me the story. Please?

Tell me about Joan of Leeds. Gladly. ["The Star-Spangled Banner"] The Amelia Project. Created by Philip Thorne and Oestern Ulsbeck-Braga, with music and sound direction by Frederik Barden and sound design by Alexander Danner. Episode 79, Joan, 1318. Episode by Bob Raimonda. Bob Raymonder. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Toast. I'm sorry, but did you just say Holy Toast? Um, yes.

That is how it goes, my child. Us Catholics, you know, we're all about the bread. Yes, the body of Christ and all that. Right. Yes. I've grown up saying the Holy Ghost, but um... Of course. Let's just move past that, shall we? Now, please, continue. Forgive me, Father, for I've... Mm-hmm. Does it smell like fish in here?

Um, no, no, no. Don't think so. Can't say I've noticed anything. Um, you were saying... Sorry. Um, forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been seven days since my last confession. And what brings you in today, my child? Father Bartholomew, is that you? Um... since my last confession. And what brings you in today, my child? Father Bartholomew, is that you? Your voice sounds...different.

No, sister. I'm afraid your usual priest is, well, he's out sick today. Oh. Right. Yes, he came down with quite a serious case of typhoid. I'll be filling in for him in the meantime. How awful. Well, I'll be sure to keep him in my prayers.

I'm sure you will. Yes. Now, should we move on to your confession? Yes, of course. Let me see. I served myself a second helping of plum cobbler before I was sure that all the other sisters had theirs first. Right. I took the Lord's name in vain after dropping a bag of flour on my little toe.

Understood. And I may or may not have had unkind thoughts about Abigail the Prioress. Really? Now that sounds promising. Sorry what? Sorry? I mean, what made your thoughts toward the Mother Superior so unkind? Father Bartholomew doesn't typically ask for specifics. Right. Well, you see every man of God has their own way of offering absolution, and I'm not one to gloss over the finer details before providing penance. He doesn't typically comment on the quality of

our sins either. Of course. Well, you see, I always find that adjectives are the most useful parts of any conversation with God. What did you say your name was again, Father? God. What did you say your name was again, Father? Brother John. It's a pleasure to meet you, Brother John. And while I appreciate your desire for the finer details of my transgressions, I've been a part of this convent long enough to know a fraud when I see one. What are you really doing here? And what have you done to dear old Father Bartholomew? Now, now hang on, just- I don't know what you think you'll to dear old Father Bartholomew? Now, now hang on, just, just, um... I don't know what you think you'll get from me in this booth, but I assure you, Brother John,

this voice can carry quite a bit further than you might expect. Now, Joan, please stay calm. How do you know my name? Um... Who are you, Brother John? Some kind of pervert who gets his jollies off listening to young women recount their sins? No! Hmph. I know all about men like you.

No, no, no, no, no, no. All you need to know is that I'm a friend. A friend? Yes. A friend who's heard many a tale about the kind of woman you are. Ha! And the kind of life you'd rather be living than the one that was forced on you. I've a hard time considering someone who's come to me with a false identity as a friend. At least tell me your true name. In my line of work a name is a tool you use to get you from one job to the next, no more no less.

And what line of work is that then, brother? Well I'm glad you asked. I am one of the founding members of an organization whose principal mission is to offer our patrons something they can't find anywhere else. A new life. A new life? Yes. How? Well, you pegged me for a fraud.

Fraud is my business and my pride. We create fraudulent deaths and fabulous, fabricated new identities. Hm. So what are you doing here? What do you think? I have no idea. Oh, I think you do. The Lord has sent me here today to offer my help, Joan.

I appreciate the offer. Hmm? But don't need it. Alright. Have it your way. But since you've piqued my curiosity, I'll hume you. Your services, I assume, they come at a price. Oh yes, yes.

We're not cheap. Dying isn't free, neither is procuring a new life. So even if you do, as you say, know all about the kind of woman I am and the kind of life I'd rather be living, why would you ever consider helping me? You do understand that I've taken a vow of poverty for the rest of my life, yeah? Yes, yes I do, but you see my partner and I, we do like the occasional challenge. And we are still in the black from our last three gigs, so we can afford to do the kind of pro bono work necessary for a case like yours. Plus, there are other forms of payment than silver and gold. Like what? Cattle? Jewelry? Land? Sometimes. I've none of those either. We

want nothing so banal from you, my dear. You see, I traffic in stories. Stories? Yes, stories. The kinds of stories we tell ourselves to force us out of bed in the morning. The stories we shape in order to coax a lover into our arms, a weaver into crafting a tapestry in our visage, or maybe just convincing a barkeep to surrender a free flagon of ale. Living a life like mine, you eventually find it is the only currency

that's really even worth a damn. So all you want is my story? Yes. Why not? Where should I start? Wherever you'd like. Why not start with those unkind thoughts you mentioned earlier? Well it's nothing as scandalous as you're probably imagining it's just... Yes well, Mother Superior, Abigail, has this terrible tendency to put on her turn shoes without remembering to buckle them and everywhere she walks, whether she's out tending to the garden or hovering over the sisters in the kitchen so she can taste test the munch stew, the straps dangle out all over the place. How she hasn't tripped over by now is quite frankly a miracle and sometimes

When she passes me in the hall, I imagine what it'd be like to accidentally step on them You know to send her for a gentle tumble down the stairs. Oh my just that. I take it Sister Abigail Isn't your favorite person in the convent No Please elaborate. Sister Abigail, York's prioress, she's an old friend of my mother's. We've known each other for a long time, long before I came here. In fact, if it hadn't been for her meddling, I would never have come to this convent in the first place.

Oh, well, see, this is already getting very interesting. Please do continue. Go as far back as you'd like. I haven't caught anywhere else to be today, and I have assured the Mother Superior that I will be reporting back to her after a thorough confession. She sent you? What? No, no, no, no, no. I mean, you sent your spy on me? No, no, no thorough confession. She sent you? What? No, no, no, no. I mean, I sent you to spy on me. Or are you just making that up to intimidate me?

No, no, she did not. I knew you were a creep. I'm not. I knew it. No, no, no, no, Joan, please, please, you misunderstand. You are not forcing me to stay here, you weasel. I'm done with this. No, no, no, Joan, Joan.

Joan, I'm your friend. You are not my friend. You're a charlatan. You're a fish Fisherman, what oh why you dress like a fish? Because the Lord said judge not according to the outer appearance, but I mean Jesus said follow me And I will make you fishes of men. Oh stop it Brother John I told you I traffic in new identities Clearly not very

successfully. What? You might have at least put a little effort into your disguise. I'm wearing a crucifix. Over a fisherman's cape. You're wearing fisherman's boots and a fisherman's smell. Yes, all right, but I had to come straight from Whitby where I helped the entire crew of a whaling vessel. Remember what I said about my voice? No, please Joan. Help! No, no, no! There's a pervert in the confessional! Sarah sent me! Sarah sent me! Sarah sent you?

Yes. Me being here, you have your Sarah to thank for that. You know Sarah? I know many people. Sarah just so happens to be one of them. Can we please return to the booth now? It affords more privacy. Should have said that at the start. Have you ever been on a really horrible date?

I mean really, truly awful. Well before it gets so bad that you want to fake your death over it, perhaps you'd like to call in for advice at Josie's Lonely Hearts Club. Josie's Lonely Hearts Club is a semi-scripted audio drama set in New Mexico's second best relationship call-in show. If your favourite part of the Amelia project is embarrassing stories that lead people to seek a new life, if you enjoy quick-witted banter, if you want a good laugh about the strangeness of dating life without losing hope in your own, then we recommend you take

a listen to Josie's Lonely Hearts Club. So far they have 30 episodes out in three full seasons. They're currently on a three week break which gives you the perfect opportunity to binge and catch up before season four arrives on the 2nd of October. You can find Josie's Lonely Hearts Club wherever you listen to podcasts. with live trip tracking and highly rated drivers. Add your team to your Uber account today. You trust me now? If Sarah trusts you, then so do I. Good.

Though I must say, I still find this all very... Fishy? Yeah. Joan, when you realized Sarah had sent me, you said, thank the Lord. Yeah. Well, I have to be honest. People in your situation don't typically have a whole lot to thank the Lord for. I'm surprised to hear that you have retained your faith through this ordeal.

Well, there's little in the scripture, it was originally written that truly discourages a person from loving whoever they want to love. That came later and not from the Holy Father's word but man's. For men are fragile little creatures who love nothing more than to set fire to all that they don't understand. No, my relationship with our creator is strong because of this ordeal. I'm comfortable knowing that he loves me despite what people like Sister Abigail have to say about my beliefs. That's refreshing. I only wish I could have that kind of optimism. But when you've seen all that I have, it becomes harder to stay so firm in one's convictions.

So what then does Sister Abigail have to say about who you are? The mother superior was the only nurse made at my mother's side that night I was born. Twenty-seven summers ago, under a brilliant array of styles apparently. Father was away doing Lord knows what. Well, baking, probably. But Mother didn't mind. She was always happier with Abigail at her side anyway. She said it made her feel closer to God than Father ever had,

and that that closeness is what helped bring me into this world healthy and strong. So you and Abigail really do go way back? Yes. Now, please forgive me, but... I'm not seeing any disapproval here. That came later. I just thought I'd start at the beginning, no? Well it's your story Joan. I'm just here to listen. Abigail wasn't always the stern and hard woman that I know today. In fact, she was one of the most reliable fixtures of my childhood. She was just a young devout sister who loved God and her responsibilities in our community. Like, she'd regularly pay visits to our ailing neighbours in order to

offer them healing salves and she always made time to stop by our house for a visit. She taught me how to play Noughts and Crosses and helped mother tame my wild hair which according to them was always two brambles away from turning into a whole briar patch. It sounds like there was a lot of love in your childhood. Yeah, there was. We didn't have a lot but we didn't need it either. Father was the village baker and so he left before sunrise each day and didn't come home until sundown smelling of freshly made bread. And though there weren't many other children around for me to play with, there was Reggie.

Reggie? His father owned the farm which supplied my father with flour, milk and endless eggs from their chickens. Reggie was two years my senior, so he always knew the best ways to get into trouble around the village, whether that was stealing the pies his mother made to sell at the market or spiriting away bottles from the local winemaker. I must say I didn't expect a Reggie to show up in this story. A Rachel maybe, or a Regina.

But Reggie? I think you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. Ah. Although I can't blame you. Everyone else did too. As we grew up, and as our bodies grew lankier and less easy to predict, our parents came to the conclusion that Reggie and I would one day be married. They never quite agreed on whether it was the farm or the bakery

Reggie would be taking over, but they were convinced that we'd make a fine pairing and that I'd bear buckets of beautiful grandchildren. But that was never on the cards for you now, was it? No, we didn't love each other that way. We loved each other because we understood each other. We saw, in each other's eyes, a reflection of our own selves and the secrets we found too terrifying to come from. We figured we could play pretend for our family's sakes. Maybe have a child or two to keep them out of our hair

and continue to live as our true selves in the comfort of our own homes. But of course that was all before we'd taken any actions towards our innermost desires. Up until that point it was just hushed conversations among the late night songs of crooning crickets, wondering about what it'd be like to truly love the kind of person we knew we wanted to love. Then we met Matilda and Simon. Matilda and Simon? They were a set of golden-haired twins who had only recently moved to the village. Reggie and I began to spend our nights wandering the fields and meadows with them. And we realised they shared our...

...feelings. It honestly felt wonderful and before long we came up with a scheme. Reggie would show interest in Matilda and I would show interest in Simon. We do our best to convince our parents that these were the unions we saw for ourselves. All the while stealing away with our real true loves at night. I'm sure it felt like the perfect solution to an impossible equation. Simon and Matilda's father was the new blacksmith and the two new unions seemed beneficial for all three families. The wedding planning they'd been doing continued but now it

was to be a grand celebration that would culminate in all four of us being married together all at once. It would have been everything. We'd have built our homes next to one another and grown old together. No one would have questioned our closeness because of the bond that the twins had shared since birth that have just assumed that we were in-laws bound by our love for our growing family. It would have been... it would have been exactly what I wanted out of this life. And Neri Strayi could take that away from me. Until? Matilda and I at the time, I...

I'd like to think that the two of us were more careful, but... the true fact of the matter is that people in our village just don't pay attention to two young girls. It's considered normal for young women to be close, to be seen traipsing about town with their fingers intertwined. No one would have bat an eye at that. But... Simon and Reggie didn't have it so easy. They were boys. No, men. Who were expected to be rough and strong and withhold their

emotions in favour of stoicism. To go about the village flexing their well-defined muscles earned from hard labour. It wasn't so simple for the two of them to slip through the cracks right in front of everyone's faces. I have known many Simons and Ridges in my time. Have you watched them die as well? Yes. And I take it they weren't clients. The deaths, they were. Hmm.

Were they real? There have been a lucky few over the years that we were able to spare from such cruelty. But not nearly as many as my partner and I would have liked. You're doing God's work, you know that. Saving anyone you can from that kind of monstrous persecution. I do my best. You know, you can skip over this next part if you'd like. I would certainly understand, and it wouldn't do anything to affect the outcome of our conversation.

I can promise you that. No. It's been so many years since I've been able to think about any of this. It's important that I say it out loud loud so long as that's okay with you. Of course. I'm always happy to bear witness to a client's life, warts and all. It happened during Hocktide. All of our parents were busy preparing goods to be sold during the festival. We had to help them too, but in the evening, after the wares were passed out and the dancers would dance and we'd spirited away all the spare flagons of ale we could,

we found ourselves back at Reggie's farm. Matilda and I were lying on the grass, staring at the constellations in the sky as the boys disappeared to do whatever it is that boys like them do. as the boys disappeared to do whatever it is that boys like them do. Tussling in the hay, fumbling with one another's belt buckles when the worst thing imaginable happened. No. Reggie's father came home early and caught them. Limbs all twisted like if they hadn't held on to each other for dear life they might have floated right off into the sky. That can't have ended well. He was drunk and bellowed hellfire.

Chased Matilda and I off his property with a pitchfork before dragging Simon and his son by the ears directly to the town square. The Archbishop was in town for the Hocktide festivities and they were forced to confess their sins to him in front of God and everyone they knew. There was no trial and those boys, they were to be made an example of right there for everyone to see, tossed screaming and crying into the festivals blazing bonfire as they begged for their mother's mercy. Jesus. I am afraid I did warn you that this story was not for the faint of heart.

You weren't kidding. Oh, if only I was. But if you are both still willing to hear the rest, I promise it has a happy ending. You can't be serious. There's no coming back from something like that. I have no idea how she'd find the strength to keep going. Well... Resilience is a skill we learn to spite the ones who would happily see us burned at the stake.

And Joan... Ha ha ha! She was nothing if not resilient. I take it this is where the Mother Superior re-enters the picture? It is indeed. Yes. Abigail had never fully disappeared from our lives, though after she'd worked her way up in the convent her visits had become less frequent. But that next day, after I'd sat all night in the village square watching two of my best

friends turned into nothing but ash and soot long after the rest of the town had already gone home. She appeared. And after the briefest of conversations with my parents my fate was sealed. Miss Hildren and her family had already left under the cover of night for another town where they could start over without this staying on their reputation. And I was headed for the convent to take a vow of chastity and destitution. What were those first few years in the convent like? Abigail had me doing the worst of the worst tasks.

Mucking out the stables, peeling a thousand potatoes or scrubbing the entire floor with nothing but a hand brush, only to have a single spot of dust appear so she could make me start all over. It must have been tough, especially after what was, for the most part, such an idyllic childhood. It was, but it was all that I had. Eventually it got a bit better. And while I never saw Matilda again, there was a Hannah and a Louise and a Beatrix. Now she was my favourite. These were all sisters

that had been punted out to our convent because they couldn't be easily married off. Ah. You know, I'm surprised the Mother Superior has allowed you so many dalliances over the years. I would have thought she'd have worked harder to prevent them. She's done all she can to stop me from seeking out joy in this listless profession. First, engaging our other, less adventurous sisters to spy on me. Then transferring my flings to other convents entire countries away. But, I've always found ways to have my fun. And she's always been too faithful in a friendship

with my mother to send me away. It's funny what we'll do to protect the people that we love. Love? I'd hardly call that controlling wench capable of love. Then what happened? Sarah happened. But I thought she sent you. I imagine she's explained this already.

I would like to hear it from you. Sarah, my sweet, beautiful Sarah, with skin like warm milk and black hair as wild as the forests. I first saw her whilst I peddled our Convent strawberry jams at one of York's farmer's markets. She took my breath away. Not since Matilda had a woman made me feel like this. Like a girl again. Excited to walk hand in hand amongst the stars, whispering my innermost desires into her ears just to see the goose flesh rise on the back of her neck.

Surely Abigail has tried to keep you apart. That's the thing. She can't send Sarah away like she did with the others because Sarah isn't a nun. She's engaged to be married to a knight who lives in Beverly. Abigail's granted me this dalliance because she knows that it's temporary. After Sarah's word she'll move away from here and no longer be a problem in Abigail's eyes. But that isn't good

enough for me. Indeed. So Mr. Deathfaker, now that you've heard my story, what do you suggest I do? I have oodles of ideas on how I'd get you out of this pickle. But Sarah tells me you've got a plan of your own cooking. She told you that? Why don't we compare notes, and I'll let you know if I see any flaws in your design. I haven't talked about this to anyone but Sarah and Constance. Constance? Constance is a sister 15 years

my senior. We've worked together in the kitchen for years now. She knows and accepts who I am and has already arranged to have a funeral shroud brought in with her next grocery delivery. A funeral shroud? I see. And? I've got a few tricks up my own sleeve as well. I'm a talented seamstress so I've made a dummy my size stuffed with dirt and straw and tucked it under my bed. Well fry me like a kipper. Have you thought about the weight? The weight?

Along with the dirt and straw, I advise you to fill that dummy up with rocks. You wouldn't believe how much a body weighs once it becomes floppy and the arms and legs start dangling. Bloody nuisance. I mean, my back is in agony after transporting a corpse from Helmsley Cemetery to Pickering Castle last night. I'm getting too old for this. I need to recruit new henchmen. Rocks. Noted. Yes, sorry. Slight digression. Please continue.

Constance and I will stuff the dummy into the shroud under the cover of darkness. She'll tell Abigail and the other sisters that are past in the night, and that she's already prepared me for a funeral because of our close kinship. Constance works in the kitchen, you say? Yeah. Good. Tell her to rub onions into her eyes before she breaks the news to Abigail and the sisters. Good idea. And then I'll be free to go and finally live my own life, away from this wretched place and all these terrible memories.

Well, I must say I'm impressed. You are. I would love to say that my colleague and I would do things differently, or in a manner that would make yours look like child's play. But to be honest, you have a simple, solid plan. I like it. Thank you. Tell me though, Joan of Leeds, how can you be so sure that going only as far as Beverly will be enough?

I mean, what will you tell the new townsfolk about your relationship with Sarah? That's the best part. Oh? Sarah's betrothed his... Yes? Well, he's... he's like us. Oh!

And he has a love of his own in his squire, Richard. The two will be off fighting the King's walls while Sarah stays home to tend to their eventual children. And me? Well, I'll be a widowed cousin who came to live in their homestead in exchange for help around the house. I'll have my own quarters with a bed and a dresser and even a small shelf where I can collect whatever trinkets I want. And every single night that I want to look up at the sky in the arms of my love, she'll be just across the hallway, and we'll be free to embrace for as long as we desire. The perfect place for you to live out your days, and know this from one professional to another, you're making the right decision. There is always

another life out there for anyone willing to put in the work to create it. A better one where you can be true to yourself and to the people around you. Thank you, Brother John. Or whatever your name is. Well then, Joan, it was wonderful meeting you. Thank you so much for sharing your story. I wish you nothing but luck in your future. You deserve to live a life full of joy,

and I'm glad you're taking the necessary steps to do so. It was good to get all that off my chest. Hmm. Now, before I bid you adieu, might I interest you in a toast? Not if it's the Holy Kind. I've had quite enough of that in my time here. Oh, no, no, no. We can skip the Body and the Blood of Christ. I have a delightful bottle of meat.

You have that tucked under your cape? Oh, yes. I never travel without a bottle of something. And a few cups. Oh. But I'm afraid to admit I didn't quite consider the logistics of this exchange. Well then. It's a good thing you've got an actual woman of God here with you, isn't it? Oh! Ha ha! How delightful is that? Fairly standard, actually.

Well, I can't say I'm a regular in this kind of booth. No. I figured. So, to what should we raise a glass then? About our future with the ones we love, no matter what the world thinks of us. I would drink to that, but how about the father, the son and the... Holy toast! Ha ha ha! Cheers!

Ah! Oof! That really is delicious. Oh yes, if there's one thing I do take seriously, it's my spirits. Now go. Before you get cold feet. Trust me, brother. My feet have never been warmer. I don't get it. You don't get what?

Why did you tell me this story if Joan of Leeds wasn't a client of the Brotherhood of the Phoenix? Because she was. She just didn't know it. She was? Sister Abigail. Yes? Her sworn enemy.

The woman who tortured her with a life in the convent. She seemed like a dreadful woman. She wasn't. What? Quite the contrary. In fact, she only ever brought Joan to the Sisterhood in order to protect her from suffering Simon and Reggie's fate. Really? Yes.

But... don't you think that's a little extreme? Oh no. No, I don't. I mean, it wasn't like Joan and Matilda were ever found out. Abigail had every right to think that that girl wouldn't survive into adulthood if she didn't make some serious changes right away. You see, she herself had had to make those changes at the same age. When she fell in love with Joan's mother. Oh no! Yes, that close friendship of theirs. It was a lot more than that. So once Joan met Sarah and Abigail realized that this cycle wouldn't stop,

she sent word for Kozlovsky and me. The Knight and his squire? They were recent clients as well. We knew they'd be amenable to the situation due to the nature of their own relationship, so we sent them to plant the idea in the girls' heads. You know, sometimes a person has to feel like they're in control in order to make the change they need in life. Even if you're there, working behind the scenes, giving them the push required for them to make the jump. That's beautiful.

It really is, Alvina. It really is. Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first the credits. The Amelia Project is a production of Imploding Fictions. This episode featured Alan Bergen as the interviewer, Keira Baxendale as Joan, Julia C. Thorne as Alvina, Hemi Yeroham as Kozlovsky, Jordan Cobb as Jackie Williams, and Erin King as Mia Fox. The episode was written by Bob Raimonda

with story editing and direction by Philip Thorne and Einstein Braga, audio editing by Philip Thorne, sound design by Alexander Danner, music by Frederik Barden, production assistance by Marti Patsival and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. This show is kept going by listeners who choose to support us. If you'd like to make a one-off contribution or become a regular supporter, go to AmeliaPodcast.com and click on support the show for more info. Thank you to all of you who are considering supporting us, and if you can't afford to support us financially,

you can always leave us a nice rating and review on your podcast app. A shout out to our super patrons at the time of recording. That's... Celeste Joes Heat312 Jem Fidic Albina Sant Amelie & Allison Stephanie Weitniller Rafael Eduardo Vifas Verastaki Alison Thro Patricia Bornwagner Price Scott McCliff Heisinger Michael West

Diana Bertrand Breiter Tim McMack and Blythe Varney Natalee Aurora Lee and Vy Huadine MrSquiggles Tony Fisher Tibby Florian Byers Kourtney Mays Rensen Boo Mark Scrobonek Astra Kim Olivia Dodson Philip Hansen Michael David Smith Alicia Hall Without your loyal support, this show would quite simply not exist. And now, the epilogue. So the story did have a happy end. Go Joan! That's the kind of resilience I admire.

And Joan really lived out the rest of her days as a man on a small island off the Spanish coast? Some days Joan chose to live as a man. Other days as a woman. In modern parlance, we would say that Joan defied the gender binary. I've always been fascinated by Joan of Arc. But the way you told the story gave it a whole new dimension. And eventually the church made her a saint, right? Yes, although that was much, much later, long after Joan's actual death. It's always the way, isn't it? Oh, but Joan held no bitterness, no regrets.

This was someone who started life as a peasant's daughter and ended up a national hero, leading an army and transcending gender roles in the process. Joan of Arc lived life to the hilt and made no excuses for it. What I don't understand is how you didn't burn up. I am very proud of fireproofing Joan's garments. That was not an easy thing to do at that time. To survive being burned at the stake, it is not a grace offered to most people. There is a reason we talk of hellfire,

for death by burning is by far one of the most hellish ways to die. Sure, but... I mean, what about you? I mean, you were right there hiding in the pyre, weren't you? I have a relationship with fire. A relationship? Yes. But that will be the subject of another story. DumDums and Dice would like to welcome you to the grim darkness of the 41st millennium in The Valentine Heresy, an actual play podcast sitting the Genesis adaptation of Warhammer

40,000's Dark Heresy RPG. Newly promoted Inquisitor Lucius Valentine has received visions of the death of the immortal God Emperor. With few options before him, he teams up with hive-bred criminal siblings Lyric and Alto. Together, they must defeat a cabal of shadowy foes to save the Emperor and the Imperium. Can this trio of unlikely heroes survive in a galaxy where there is only war? trio of unlikely heroes survive in a galaxy where there is only war? The Emperor is going to die in a year. My job is to make sure the Emperor doesn't die. Because if the Emperor dies, the Astronomicon goes out. And the only thing keeping the Imperium alive

is the fact that we have a very large navy and a very large army and space marines, and they shoot everyone. It's delightful. Praise the emperor. Thanks for that. But if the Astronomicon goes out, we have no navy, we have no ability to defend ourselves, and the Xenos and Chaos will overrun us instantly because there will be no defense. So every planet will turn out like Galen's glory? And that would be the best case scenario. Which is why we need to keep the emperor on his throne.

I spit in my palm and put my hand out for a handshake. Am I supposed to do something in return? Is this, I'm sorry, I just don't know what this is. Otto's like, yeah, like this. He spits in his hand and puts it out towards you as well. Then I spit in both palms and shake their hands separately. We have an inquisitorial band. Warhammer 40,000, The Valentine Heresy, available now.