Thursday and Friday before Easter, 1198

In his homespun robes the preacher did not look much like a warrior, but his moves betrayed hard years of fighting in the Levant. No sooner had Michi raised the alarm than Bruder Cornelius was on his feet, walking stick now a weapon. With his hounds at his heels he rushed the wolves that were now snarling and snapping at the hobbled mounts. The mules and horses struggled with their restraints, crying and braying and rolling their eyes in terror. Michi had already struck one of the attackers down, but several others surged in from the opposite side of the camp as soon as he had turned his back.

"It's the horses they want!" cried Madeleine, grasping a smoldering branch from the fire. Cornelius struck another of the wolves, and his dogs rushed in as well, snarling and barking. The wolves backed off, but Madeleine's palfrey, its flank streaked with blood, broke its hobble and galloped away. The line broken, the other animals struggled free as well, and were soon disappearing into the dark--all but Stephan's destrier, held back by Madeleine just long enough for Stephan to take the harness. Three wolves now lay dead; the others backed off and did not give chase. Stephan quickly set out after the mounts while his companions tended wounds and rebuilt their shattered camp.

The morning was grey and frigid, and the group broke camp quickly for one more day's journey. They reached the gates of Verdun in the hour after nones. The city sat on two low hills embraced by a curve in the Meuse, with the glow of an early spring sun picking out the castle on one hill and the cathedral on the other. "Four pence for each of you," the guards demanded at the gate, recognizing them as outsiders, "and a shilling for each animal. Who sponsors you in our city?" Gaspard fumbled for the letter Daria had given him. "Lapidary, I believe he is called. Francis Lapidary?" The guards knew him, and gave Gaspard directions to his home on the Chandler street while Cornelius negotiated down the toll.

Bruder Cornelius halted the group in the market square, at the foot of the great steps leading up to the cathedral. "I told the guards we were pilgrims, come to see the relics," he said. "And so we are." He led Madeleine, Gaspard, and Stephan, along with Celestine, inside, while Michi waited in the square with the animals. He was soon an island in a sea of lepers and cripples. "I might have alms for ye," he replied to their calls, "but first what news of this town?" He soon fell into conversation with a man named Juste, whose wits were not dimmed by his lack of eyes. "There is a new lady, arrived just a week past. The granddaughter of DuCraindre, who died last fall. She arrived from outremer with an entourage of soldiers, and will inherit her grandfather's six manors."

They met Francis Lapidary at his home not far from the square, where he kept shop with his wife, children, and two servants. It was a prosperous establishment, and all were well-fed. "I can keep two of you here--and your servants, of course. For the others I have secured the private room at the Brochet et Sangalier. The master of the house has a vouchsafe from me, so you are welcome for as long as your business keeps you. I have heard from your contact; he will not arrive in Verdun until a week after Easter day." That word was met with some dismay--it meant it would be a week at least before they returned home. "Oh, and one other thing: The count holds an Easter feast. All are welcome, and half the town turns out. For visitors of your station," here he addressed Gaspard, Stephan, and Madeleine, "I have secured seats in the hall."

Michi, Gaspard, and Stephan and his squire were consigned to the inn, where they did indeed find the room waiting for them, with two large beds and no other guests to share them with. The next day was spent in general business about the town. Curious about the robber-baron, operating little more than a day away, Michi plied locals about his reputation. "He recruits his band from Brabant, on the other side of the forest," one townsman told him. "No man of Blois has been seen among his gang. The duke of Brabant should do something about that scourge--it's been twenty years he's been operating, and no-one lifts a finger to stop him."

That night Gaspard supped at Lapidary's house, and it was well after fire curfew that Michi and Stephan came to fetch him back to the inn. The three of them had gone only a few paces from Lapidary's when a cry came from the darkness ahead: "Stop! Murder!" The moon was just past full, but the narrow street was draped in shadow beneath the tall houses on either side. Other voices were taking up the hue and cry as a shape appeared in the dimness ahead: a person, running. Michi gave chase as the figure turned a corner. His target was fast, but Michi tackled the young man just before he reached the market square. Two guards came panting up behind, followed by a growing crowd.

"We seen him, down by the canal," one of the guards explained, his breath thick and white in the cold nighttime air. "Him and a buddy on the shore, pushin' in a body." The prisoner seemed unable to explain himself. "I've done nothing!" he sputtered, cringing. Townsfolk were reaching in from the crowd, shoving him and calling him names, and even throwing the occasional rock.

"Let's see what you were about," the guard said, leading them down to the edge of the canal. Behind the crofts of the nearby houses a dirty strip ran along the canal that fed the mill. The soft mud was crusted with ice, but even the deep chill did little to suppress the odor of the nearby tannery. Not far down the shore, where the guard pointed, a long heavy bundle lay just out of the water. "Now we'll find out who's suffered your treachery," the guard declared as Stephan knelt to cut open the bundle. But where he expected a face he was met by a blunt, hairy snout. Not a dead man--a dead bear!

The crowd was briefly silent, then some broke into laughs. "There's your murder!" one voice called out. "I'm slaughtering a pig on Monday--shall we call the hue and cry for that as well?" joked another. The guards were bemused, but not ready to release their captive. "Where did he get a bear then?" one asked. "Have you seen one in town lately? And why was he toying with it?" "Maybe he's a bear-baiter?" one townsman said. "Maybe he just found it," someone else replied, and the youth echoed that: "Yes, that's it. I just found it." He glanced about nervously, as if he expected the crowd to lash out at any moment. "I  was--I went out for a piss and just saw it here." It was hardly convincing, but the it was late and cold and most of the townsfolk were in their night clothes. The crowd was thinning; the novelty was wearing thin. Reluctantly, the guards conceded that they had no crime. "But I'll be watching for you--Richard, was that what you called yourself? Make sure you stay out of any more trouble."

Cornelius watched as the youth quickly made his way into the maze of Verdun's streets, but Madeleine, who had joined the onlookers, was more interested in the dead bear. "Its throat was cut," she pointed out. "But not here. Look--there's very little blood in the wrappings. And look at these other wounds." Gaspard examined them. "It looks like ritual woundings, though I know of no arcane rite that would involve such a design," he said. "It's almost like some kind of sacrifice." The clotted, bloody fur gleamed dully in the moonlight. "Aye," said Bruder Cornelius. "But sacrifice to what?"