As the hellish chorus rounded the hill, the sound became more distinct and the villagers were able to make out barking – savage, broken barking that could not have been a wolf and was too loud to be dogs. Only deer could make that kind of noise. It must have been deer that were heard that evening, high on buckthorn berries or driven wild by fear of an unseen predator. But this was the first time their shrieks had torn through the countryside with such demonic fervour. It was no use rattling their crockery now. There was nothing to be done but remind their children that at night deer are even louder than dogs and their barks are lower, more guttural and more frightening. During the rut, the bucks’ calls that seek to ward off their rivals seem also to reveal their own desperation. Something must have truly frightened them, however, to cause them all to cry in unison. No one in Orcières had ever heard so many of them at once. They seemed to be hurtling down towards the houses by the dozen. No one was scared of the deer, of course, but everyone felt troubled by the prospect of whatever it was that had caused them so much terror.

Panic spread quickly through the village that night, perhaps because for weeks now it had been haunted by a larger threat. Since the spring, the newspapers had been full of worrying headlines. This had already led some men to search in their cupboards for their carnets militaires, just in case they were needed. The silent fear that they would be called away from home circled ever closer around the sons and fathers of Orcières, as if they were a pack of frightened deer. Even in the furthest depths of the countryside, it was clear that the world was subject to the whims of a handful of royals most of whom were related to one another. Sovereigns pictured sailing or playing tennis in L’Illustré National were part of prodigious dynasties that linked the King of England to the Kaiser to the cousin of the Tsar and back again; these family ties were about to be torn apart in spectacular fashion. As the summer wore on, tensions rose. It was already unbearably hot, and fear cast a shadow over everything. Europe was a tinderbox; the armies stood waiting as the commanders squared up to one another, forming pacts, not through kinship but because they were preparing for the worst. Meanwhile, in the village, men and women would stay outside talking for as long as possible before going to bed, savouring the evening air as if this were their last chance to do so.