When, at last, it was quiet again, the villagers could hear the trudge of heavy footsteps coming from the woods. They were accompanied by the sound of clinking metal, indicating the approach of someone with an animal. The cloud had shifted and the moon was now shining brightly on the thickets surrounding the village, where something was moving through the undergrowth. Those with more active imaginations wondered if they might see a giant wolf emerging from the shadows, dragging a limp foot caught in a hunter’s trap, or even the infamous Champawat Tiger. In fact, it was a hooded, monk-like figure that came into view, accompanied by a weary-looking mule, bowls clinking on the haversack on its back. The adults crossed themselves as the children crouched behind them in fear. No one here had ever seen a pilgrim pass through the village. Walkers heading south from the Auvergne had once crossed the woods on their way to Spain, but it had been a long time since anyone had come through the village to reach Santiago. The appearance of this harbinger of doom should have alerted them to the fact that this night marked the end of an era. That this was their last evening in the old world and that the new day would herald the beginning of four years of suffering. The sight of the wandering stranger should have helped them realise that tomorrow they would wake up to the dawn of a new age which would be rung in with madness, gunfire, fear and, above all, blood.

Spring 2017

Spring 2017

The advert promised an oasis of tranquillity, a simple gîte tucked away in the hills. It was hard to make much out from the three available photos, but they seemed to confirm this description. Zooming out on the map, the house was a tiny dot in an ocean of green, surrounded by peaks and valleys in the heart of the Causses du Quercy Natural Regional Park. Lise was convinced she had found a peaceful hideaway. Others might have said the back of beyond. According to the blurb the simple house at the top of a hill had been built in the nineteenth century. The nearest neighbour was ten kilometres away, the nearest town a twenty-five-kilometre drive.

Lise had come across the advert whilst browsing the internet. Most people would have clicked away from the page after reading the description, but in many ways the house provided exactly what she was looking for: nature, sun and isolation.

And it really was isolated. Lise noted with interest that the gîte came with far fewer amenities than the other houses advertised on the website. It seemed to have none of the conveniences of a normal holiday home: no swimming pool, no air conditioning, not even a television. There was also no telephone, which meant no Wi-Fi.