Jacques laughs. “I knew, when I first came to Maxey demanding reparation, that you were the one to cheat. You have a fool’s face.”

She feels her uncle tug her sleeve. “Come, Joan,” he whispers. “Come quickly.”

But she pushes his hand away. There is a sudden roar of voices. The man from Maxey has lunged at one of them, perhaps in an attempt to break the circle and run. But Guillaume’s father is ready. He has something in his hand, and she feels her stomach lurch at the sound of a muffled thud, followed by a moan and a whimper so small it could have come from a child.

It is like a bad dream, a dream where you don’t feel your legs move, but you find yourself in another place. When she looks up, she is in the clearing, in front of these men. At her feet, the man from Maxey touches the side of his head. He is dazed, blood oozing through his hands.

For a moment, Jacques’s friends are so stunned, their bodies jerk, like horses that have been spooked. Even her father’s eyes are wide and aghast. Where has she come from? It is as though she has materialized from thin air.

He soon shrugs back to himself. “Leave us, Joan,” he says. His voice is calm. He looks at her as if she were a beetle he could pick up and squeeze slowly between his fingers.

“You have no place here.” It is Guillaume’s father who speaks. His grip tightens on a rock, its edge shining with blood, and she thinks of the stones she picked up that day from the field. “This doesn’t concern you.”

She holds up the torch, as if to inspect each of their faces and memorize them. She is buying time. A decision must be made and made quickly. Her father will not leave, and because he will not leave, she knows his friends will also stand their ground. She looks over her shoulder. Perhaps Durand will come and save both of them? Would they really kill a man in front of not one but two witnesses? Yet from behind her, there is nothing, no sound but rainfall hitting the leaves.

The man from Maxey, still groaning, has slowly picked himself up. He is standing behind her, trying to conceal his giant body.

“You have what you came for,” she says, though her eyes are on her father. “You have your money.”

“Jacques, he may talk,” Guillaume’s father says. He is suddenly pale. He glances at the rock in his hand. “We had better finish what we have started, and soon.”

Her gaze is still fixed on her father. This moment feels personal. It is like there is no one else in the clearing save the two of them. So, who will give way first?