On this date in the year 1430, a peasant girl, the daughter of Jacques d’Arc and 
Isabelle Romée, known as Joan of Arc, was handed over by the English-allied Burgundian faction to the English and the pro-English Bishop of Beauvais Pierre Cauchon. She would be held prisoner and then put on trial and eventually burned at the stake. From Wikipedia. Joan of Arc
….is considered a heroine of France and a Roman Catholic saint. She was born to a peasant family at Domrémy in north-east France. Joan said she received visions of the Archangel Michael, Saint Margaret and Saint Catherine instructing her to support Charles VII and recover France from English domination late in the Hundred Years’ War. The uncrowned King Charles VII sent Joan to the siege of Orléans as part of a relief mission. She gained prominence after the siege was lifted in only nine days. Several additional swift victories led to Charles VII’s coronation at Reims. On 23 May 1430, she was captured at Compiègne by the English-allied Burgundian faction. She was later handed over to the English,[6] and then put on trial by the pro-English Bishop of Beauvais Pierre Cauchon on a variety of charges.[7] After being convicted,[8] she was burned at the stake on 30 May 1431, dying at about 19 years of age.
Twenty-five years after her execution, an inquisitorial court authorized by Pope Callixtus III examined the trial, pronounced her innocent, and declared her a martyr.[9] Joan of Arc was beatified in 1909 and canonized in 1920. She is one of the nine secondary patron saints of France, along with St. Denis, St. Martin of Tours, St. Louis, St. Michael, St. Remi, St. Petronilla, St. Radegund and St. Thérèse of Lisieux. Read More
You can also read more about Joan of Arc here at History.com
Of course, immediately upon reading that this event had occurred on today;s date, my mind took me to the works of Leonard Cohen and his song “Joan of Arc”
Joan of Arc – By Leonard Cohen
Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
as she came riding through the dark;
no moon to keep her armour bright,
no man to get her through this very smoky night.
She said, “I’m tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
a wedding dress or something white
to wear upon my swollen appetite.”
Well, I’m glad to hear you talk this way,
you know I’ve watched you riding every day
and something in me yearns to win
such a cold and lonesome heroine.
“And who are you?” she sternly spoke
to the one beneath the smoke.
“Why, I’m fire,” he replied,
“And I love your solitude, I love your pride.”
“Then fire, make your body cold,
I’m going to give you mine to hold,”
saying this she climbed inside
to be his one, to be his only bride.
And deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and high above the wedding guests
he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.
It was deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and then she clearly understood
if he was fire, oh then she must be wood.
I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
I saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long for love and light,
but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?
