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reached the bottom of the hill.
    Cabusse, who later recounted this adventure (for the Brethren disdained any talk of their own exploits) laughingly told me that the hardest part of the whole affair was not to enter battle but to convince the villagers to join in, so terrified were they of Fontenac. However, once their minds were made up, nothing could stem their fury. After the battle, they coldly put to death all of the wounded and immediately set to stripping them of their clothes and boots, vociferously demanding their share of the plunder, not only arms but horses, despite the fact that it was Raymond Siorac’s two sons who, alone, had participated in their capture.
    To each of these lads, the captains gave a horse and saddle, and to the village they presented another two horses to be shared by all in the fields. But the villagers, accustomed to the use of oxen, preferred to sell the horses and divide the money. The Brethren kept the rest, to wit, six handsome and powerful horses, as apt for working in the fields as for saddle riding and which would be useful when the time came to break ground at Mespech.
    Without suffering a single casualty, they killed that night six of the outlaw baron’s band. And they took one prisoner: the horse guard, whom Cabusse had knocked unconscious along the les Beunes river. When he was returned to the village, it was extremely difficult to prevent the villagers from tearing him apart. But one prisoner had to be kept alive in order to have someone to bear witness againstFontenac. To judge by the number of horses, two of the assailants must have slipped away on foot in the darkness, despite the full moon. Of course, it must be pointed out that, once past les Beunes, the forest of chestnut trees provides a deep, well-shaded cover for the full five leagues that separate Taniès from Fontenac.
    The following Monday, the date of the sale of Mespech, the captains had the bloodied bodies piled in a cart and delivered to La Boétie along with the prisoner. This latter was sequestered in the city jail, but La Boétie displayed the bodies at the gibbet in Sarlat, which stood in those days opposite the la Rigaudie gate. The populace immediately crowded around. The gawkers apparently included several young women, although the six ruffians were stark naked.
    La Boétie lingered awhile nearby with the captains, not so much to enjoy the spectacle as to listen to the townspeople and note which of them seemed to recognize friends among the hanged bodies of Fontenac’s men, with whom they had been drinking of late in the taverns of the town. And, indeed, as the winds began to shift against the robber baron, tongues began wagging.
    As for the prisoner, the executioner began his inquisition an hour after arriving in Sarlat, and he told all and more than all. Indeed he revealed some well-nigh unbelievable atrocities committed two years previously, which weighed heavily on the conscience of this churl, clearly made of weaker stuff than his master.
    In 1543, a rich burgher of Montignac, one Lagarrigue, had disappeared. A month later, his wife left the town alone on horseback never to reappear. The prisoner’s confession shed sinister light on these disappearances. Fontenac had kidnapped Lagarrigue on the way from Montignac to Sarlat at dusk one evening, killing his two servants and sequestering his captive in his chateau. Then, secretly, he alerted the wife to her husband’s plight. And, on condition that she breathe not a word of his whereabouts to a living soul, not evento her confessor, he promised to release the man for a ransom of 8,000 livres. She was to deliver this sum alone, and without anyone’s knowledge.
    This unfortunate lady, who nourished an extraordinary love for her husband and who trembled at the thought of losing him, was mad enough to believe the robber baron to be a man of his word. She obeyed him in all particulars. Once the great doors of the chateau had closed upon her, and the ransom