Chapter 27

Capitaine Vasseur gestured at the dozens of injuries covering the bearded man lying on the floor, bound in chains. ‘A boy did this? With what? His teeth?’

‘Perhaps he did it to himself,’ Pierre said. ‘By all accounts the man is an imbecile. None of that matters now, for the beast has been captured.’

‘Who is he, though, this hermit? Why would he do it?’

‘That is not for us to decide. All will be revealed during the interrogation.’

The man on the floor began to moan. ‘Apolline.’

‘What’s he saying?’ Capitaine Vasseur asked. ‘Is he naming one of his victims?’

‘None of the children were named Apolline. I suspect the hermit has a wife.’ How curious , Pierre thought. What kind of woman would marry a man like that? And what hold did she have over him that even now caused him to repeat her name?

Hearing this, Garnier began to writhe and strain against the ropes that bound him. ‘No! Leave Apolline alone!’

‘She must be party to this too,’ Pierre said, the hermit’s reaction confirming his suspicions. ‘She should be apprehended as soon as possible.’

Word had spread like wildfire through Dole that the hermit Gilles Garnier had been arrested on the charges of murder, werewolfery and sorcery. Pierre had made sure of it. Someone had to claim credit for the capture, so it might as well be him. The men who’d captured Gilles Garnier had sent a runner ahead of them, and Pierre had made sure to meet them just outside the town gate. After getting a full accounting of what had occurred, he’d kindly offered to escort the prisoner to the conciergerie, so that the men could toast their efforts at the nearest tavern. The accused werewolf, bound and gagged in the back of a cart dragged by a dun-coated horse, gave him no trouble. In the time it took to secure the subdued brute in a cell – and claim a generous portion of the victory for himself – the story had started growing and changing. The men who’d apprehended the werewolf had already spread quite a few differing accounts. Although they’d only come across Gilles Garnier when he was in human form, by the fourth or fifth time they told the story, they’d apparently seen Garnier transform from a wolf into a man. The keening and crying of the accused had been forgotten, as were the extensive wounds over his body. Now they claimed that the werewolf snarled and cursed. Soon, who could say for certain that Pierre had not been there, had not been the one to maim and chain the beast?

Pierre knew he should be pleased that the werewolf had been caught. He was especially delighted to have received a visit from Father Ignace, whom he had neither seen nor spoken to in some weeks. The priest had asked a great many questions about Garnier, even offering to assist in the interrogation.

The interrogation would be Pierre’s personal triumph. There would be a subsequent trial with Monsieur Henri Camus as public prosecutor, followed by the inevitable execution. But his name would be known throughout the land – Pierre de Lancre, werewolf hunter. Word might even reach the king. He’d no longer be forced to lie to his father, to be accused of wasting the education his father had paid for. Now, when his father heard his son’s name spoken with such reverence, he would finally get the respect he so richly deserved.

But first he needed to follow up on information told to him by one of the men. Apparently, when they found the werewolf holding the dead boy, they had also seen two women. The first had run off into the trees; they’d caught only a glimpse of her. But the other had remained. She’d been upset, near hysterical at the arrest and the treatment of Garnier. One of the men had described her, and her honey-coloured eyes.

Pierre needed to speak with Mademoiselle Sidonie Montot.