“Well!” Raoul turned fiercely on the newcomers. “Who’s the cursed one?”
“We dinna know,” said Alianora.
Gui spat toward Holger. “When first I saw you helmetless, I didn’t imagine you a knight,“ the boy taunted. “Now when I see you bursting in on helpless women, I know you’re not.”
Raimberge entered behind Hugi. She went to her father and kissed his cheek. With a glance that swept the hall, she called: “Worse than beasts, you, who turn on your own liege lord!”
Odo shook his head. “No, ma’m’selle,” he said. “The lord who fails his people is none. I got little ones of my own. I’ll no hazard them being eaten alive.”
Raoul struck the wainscot with his spear butt. “Silence, there!” he barked. “The wolf dies this night. Name him, Sir ’Olger. Or her. Name us the wolf.”
“I—” Holger felt suddenly ill. He wet his lips.
“We canna tell,” said Hugi.
“So.” Raoul scowled at the grim rough-clad assembly. “I feared that. Well, will the beast confess himself? I’ll slay him mercifully, with a silver knife in the heart. “
“Iron will do, while he’s human,” said Odo. “Come, now. Speak up. I’d not like to put you to torture.”
Frodoart stirred. “Before you do that,” he said, “you must peel my hands off your throat.” They ignored him.
“If none will confess,” said Raoul, “then best they all die. We’ve the priest here to shrive them.”
Gui fought back a sob. Raimberge grew death-still. They heard Blancheflor cough at the dark end of the house.
Yve seemed to shrink into himself. “Very well,” he said, tonelessly. “I am the wolf.”
“No!” Gui shrilled. “I am!”
Raimberge stood for a moment, until a hard smile touched her lips. “They both lie nobly,” she said. “The skin-turner is myself, though, good folk. And you need not slay me, only guard me until time that I go to my wedding in Vienne. That far from the lands of Faerie, I’ll be beyond range of the powers which forced me to change.”
“Believe her not,” said Gui. Yve shook his head violently. A hoarse call might have been Blancheflor taking the blame on herself.
“This gets us no further,” said Raoul. “We can’t risk letting the loup-garou go free. Father Valdabrun, will you ready the last rites for this family?”
Holger drew sword and sprang before the high seat. “You’ll not kill the innocent while I’m alive,” said a voice and a will he recognized with amazement as his own.
The blacksmith Odo clenched his fists. “I’d be loath to overfall you, Sir ’Olger,” he said, “but if I must for my children, I must.”
“If you are the Defender,” said Raoul, “then name us our enemy.”
The stiffness fell again, stretched close to breaking. Holger felt the three pairs of eyes bum at his back: careworn Yve, ardent Gui, Raimberge who had been so hopeful. He heard the wheezing of the sick woman. O Christ who cast out demons, aid me now. Only afterward did he realize he had said his first conscious prayer since childhood.
What came to the forefront of his mind was something else, the workaday engineer’s approach. He was no longer sure of his old belief that all problems in life were practical problems. But this one was. A question of rational analysis. He was no detective, but neither was the warg a professional criminal. There must be—
It blazed in him. “By the Cross, yes!” he shouted.