Prologue

June 1556

‘I’m glad they caught the werewolves,’ Sidonie whispered to the girl sitting on the ground beside her. The girl’s eyes were closed, her head tilted towards the sky as she bathed in the late-afternoon summer sun. She wore a threadbare dress that reached only to her knees, and her bare feet were tucked into the warm earth.

Sidonie went on. ‘I wasn’t afraid for myself. I have Maman and Papa to protect me. There’s no one to protect you.’

‘I have you to protect me.’

‘I have only five years. And I’m a girl!’

The girl reached for her hand, her palm rough and calloused against Sidonie’s smooth skin. ‘That may be true, but you have a good life. And your maman and papa love you.’

‘Don’t your maman and papa love you?’

The girl lowered her pale-green eyes and did not answer. She never spoke about her family or where she came from. She never spoke about much at all. Months had passed since Sidonie found her hidden in the cellar among their sacks of chicken feed. She’d wanted to tell Maman, but the girl made her swear on God’s name that she would say nothing. It was wrong not to tell, but it was only a little secret. She’d been smuggling food to the girl ever since. It was a blessing that neither the servants nor her parents had found them out. Because even though feeding the chickens was Sidonie’s job, their land was not so big as to hide a whole other person.

Papa had been busy with the werewolf attacks. As the only doctor in their village, it was he who was called when the bodies were found. Sidonie knew all the village children, but not the three who had died. They must’ve been from the orphanage. Those children were kept apart, not even going to church on a Sunday. Maybe you needed a family to take you to church? But if they could not come to God, could God go to them? When Sidonie had asked Papa how they’d died, he’d shouted at her to hold her tongue, to not speak of it to anyone. It had scared her, for Papa seldom raised his voice and never at her. He had dropped to his knees to look her in the eyes. His expression softened. Such things were not for children to know, he’d said. While Papa would not elaborate, the village elders and the priest insisted it could be nothing other than a werewolf.

Papa was an important man, so when two men were caught, he went to the trial. There was to be an execution soon, but Maman told Sidonie not to talk about it, for it upset Papa.

Something was thrust under her nose, pulling her from her thoughts. It looked like one of her old handkerchiefs, the cream linen now stained and smeared with dirt. She unwrapped it and inhaled deeply.

‘You found fraises des bois!’ Sidonie stared hungrily at the wild strawberries. ‘Where did you find them?’

‘That’s my secret,’ the girl said, pushing the bundle towards her.

Sidonie quickly put three of the small red berries into her mouth. They were sweeter than honey and tasted of sun and earth.

‘You have some,’ Sidonie said, holding out a berry.

‘They’re all for you.’

Sidonie held the fruit to the girl’s mouth. ‘Open.’

She pressed her lips together and shook her head, tangled midnight hair covering her face. Sidonie dropped the fruit and leaped onto the girl, tickling her sides until the body underneath hers shook with laughter.

‘Have mercy!’ she pleaded.

Sidonie rolled off and collected the discarded strawberry, popping it into the girl’s open mouth before she could protest.

While the girl ate her treat, Sidonie looked towards the darkening sky. ‘I should go. It’s almost time for supper. Come to my window after dark and I shall have some food for you.’

‘I will.’

‘Do you want to come home with me? I’m sure Maman and Papa would welcome you.’

Sidonie had asked the question many times and the girl always gave the same answer.

‘Some day, but not today.’

‘Will you sleep in the stables tonight?’

The girl followed the direction of Sidonie’s gaze, looking towards the small wooden structure that housed her family’s three horses. ‘No. Your papa left early. I was still there when his horse was saddled.’

Sidonie’s eyes widened. ‘Was it Jean-Philippe?’ she asked, naming Papa’s manservant. ‘Or Papa himself?’

‘I heard voices and stayed hidden in a stall. Your papa came over to where I was hiding. It was still dark, but he held a lantern. I thought he saw me, but then he moved away. I’ll bed down with the chickens tonight.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘I’ll be well. Go now, before you’re missed.’

Sidonie dragged her feet on the walk back to the sturdy stone house at the edge of the village. The light from the setting sun reflected off the glass of the small windows. Mama would rarely shutter the windows as theirs was one of the only houses to have glass. Sidonie stopped when she felt something sharp poking into the soft underside of her foot. Balancing on one leg, she removed the other shoe and was shaking the stone free when she heard furious hoofbeats. Papa! Quickly replacing her shoe, she broke into a run, reaching the small courtyard at the same time as Papa. He dismounted and landed heavily, stumbling into her. His strong hand grabbed Sidonie’s arm, keeping her on her feet.

‘Jean-Philippe!’ Papa shouted. ‘Jean-Philippe!’ When no one answered his call, Papa slapped the mare’s rump, and she trotted towards the stables.

‘Papa?’

His grip tightened and Sidonie squealed at the sudden pain as he dragged her inside the house. He kept hold of her arm while he shouted for Maman, who had been in the kitchen. She had a smudge of flour across her forehead when she joined them in the parlour room.

‘Heavens, Philbert, whatever is wrong?’

‘Where are the servants, Sabine?’ he asked.

‘Let go of Sidonie, you’re hurting her.’

‘Where are the men?’ he barked, dropping Sidonie’s arm.

‘Gone. It is the Feast of St John. I gave them leave to join their families.’

Papa pulled off his hat and ran his hands through his hair. ‘They are coming for me.’

‘Who?’ Sidonie asked.

‘They named me a werewolf,’ Papa said. ‘They tried to arrest me in the village.’

‘Philbert, calm yourself,’ Maman stated patiently, closing the distance between them and placing her hands on Papa’s chest. ‘The two werewolves were caught. You spoke at their trial. You have no connection to these men.’

He shook off her hands and began to pace around the room like a caged animal. ‘Of course not. I saw them for the first time at the trial. I can only think ...’

‘You do not speak sense,’ Maman said. ‘Did you say something to lead the gendarmes to believe you had a connection to the werewolves?’

‘Not that. The bodies ... the way they were killed ... I have seen wounds like that before. They were all children from the orphanage. I sought guidance.’

‘Maman?’ Sidonie whimpered, moving to her maman’s side and reaching for her hand.

Maman looked down at her daughter and pulled her close. ‘At the conciergerie?’

‘No, I made no accusation. I was conflicted, I went to the church. Father Gabriel was not there; I spoke with a different priest. He advised caution and prayer. I did as he advised, and now I am accused!’

‘Will they follow you here?’

‘I thought that with the protection of my home, my servants and my good name I could remain here until whatever madness this is passes.’

‘Philbert,’ Maman said, the colour draining from her face. ‘We are alone. You and I, and Sidonie.’

Maman’s other hand dug into her shoulder as Sidonie heard the unmistakable sound of horses and men approaching. Scant seconds passed before someone began pounding on the door.

‘We have to get her to safety,’ Maman said. ‘To my sister, or your brother in Paris?’

‘There is no time.’

The banging on the door intensified. A raised voice demanded that the door be opened.

Maman dropped to her knees, gripping Sidonie’s arms tightly. ‘Listen to me carefully, ma chère.’

Sidonie’s eyes filled with tears as she looked towards the shaking door. ‘It will break,’ she said, her heart beating faster than the men’s fists on the door.

‘You must hide,’ Maman said firmly. ‘Go to your bedchamber and climb out the window. Keep to the shadows. Move only when you’re sure of no one seeing you. And then find somewhere safe. Can you do this? Sidonie, are you hearing me?’ Maman shook her to get her attention.

‘I don’t want to leave you!’ Sidonie cried, gripping her maman’s dress as tight as she could.

‘Sabine!’ Papa shouted as the door began to splinter.

Maman fumbled at her neck, her special jewel coming away in her hands. She called it a pendant – a purple stone on the end of a long gold-link chain.

Maman pressed the stone, warm from her skin, into Sidonie’s trembling hands. ‘This will protect you. Never forget that your maman and papa love you. When it is safe, we will come and find you. Now go.’

The door broke apart and men began to pour into her home.

‘Go!’ Maman said, pushing Sidonie away before the men could spot her.

Angry shouts echoed behind Sidonie as she raced through her bedchamber and out of the window, her small feet landing soundlessly on the soft earth. Dusk was falling, but in the fading twilight she could make out the shape of the chicken shed. There she could find safety. She stepped out of the shadows, stopping when she saw three men standing at the front of the house. If she moved now, they would see her. She remained as still as she could beneath the shadow of the windowsill and closed her eyes.

If she could not see them, they could not see her.

Something moved beside her. Sidonie’s scream was quickly stifled by a hand over her mouth. A sticky hand that smelled of wild strawberries.

‘Stay,’ the girl whispered into her ear.

Voices carried through the open window above them.

‘Monsieur Philbert Montot, you are accused of the dual crimes of werewolfery and sorcery. You are summoned to appear before the Inquisition for interrogation.’

‘Capitaine, I am innocent!’ Papa said. ‘You know me – I am a man of good and honest reputation. I would know the name of my accuser so I can confront him.’

The capitaine replied but Sidonie couldn’t quite hear his words.

‘I only spoke to him once!’ her papa cried. ‘Why would he accuse me?’

‘I have my orders, monsieur. Come with me now and profess your innocence before the Inquisition.’

Sidonie held her breath.

‘I will come,’ Papa said, his voice so soft Sidonie had to strain to hear it. ‘If you swear before God that my wife and daughter will come to no harm.’

‘Your wife, Madame Sabine Montot, is also accused. She must also face interrogation.’

‘Capitaine?’ said an unidentified male voice. ‘Do we bring the daughter?’

‘No!’ cried Maman, her protest cut off by the sound of a slap and then something heavy hitting the floor.

Sidonie squeezed her eyes tight. Holy Mary, Mother of God, make it go away, please make it go away , she prayed.

‘Sabine!’ Papa called out.

‘God’s bones! What have you done!’ the capitaine cursed furiously.

‘You killed her! You killed my wife! Murderers!’ Papa shouted, his voice getting further and further away.

‘Take him to the conciergerie. Leave the daughter. May God protect her. It’ll be the orphanage for her.’

The hand on Sidonie’s mouth tightened.

‘What about the wife, Capitaine?’

‘Leave her. I’ll have to report what happened. There will be an investigation. This will mean your position or your neck.’

Sidonie kept her eyes closed as the footsteps and voices faded. She opened them only after the sound of the cart taking her papa away had disappeared in the night.

The girl seemed frozen in place. She was no longer holding Sidonie back. On shaking legs, Sidonie rose and climbed back through the window. Crouched in the shadows of her bedchamber, she peered through the door to the parlour.

One man remained. He held a rounded bottle with a short neck, his thumb gently stroking the seal. He tugged on the cork with his teeth and spat it out, tilting the bottle and pouring Papa’s best wine over something lying still on the floor.

‘They won’t hang me, not for this. It’s only a woman,’ the man muttered to himself. He knocked over a candle, setting fire to the dark shape on the floor. Then he quickly went out the open door to escape the flames.

The fire burned fierce and high, rapidly spreading to the woven rugs and curtains. Crawling on her hands and knees, coughing from the smoke and the stench of burning flesh and hair, Sidonie moved towards the blazing thing.

‘Maman?’ Tears running down her cheeks, she reached for the wreckage that was once her beloved maman.

Hands grabbed at her, but she slapped them away. ‘Leave me be! Maman needs me!’

She tried to hold on to Maman’s pendant and beat the flames with her other hand, screaming as the white-hot fire burned her. It was too much. She couldn’t put it out.

Thin arms wrapped tight around her middle and pulled her through the door, out into the cool night air. Sidonie’s unburned hand opened and she dropped the precious pendant, Maman’s last gift to her. There were shouts, people running towards the house, but it all seemed to be happening so far away.

The arms let her go, and she tumbled to the ground.