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'Tonight is Walpurgisnacht？ de Lancre muttered； 'and they will all e。 See； even now they are mencing their blasphemies and obscenities。'
Sabat nodded； watched the naked bodies cavorting in the lighted room。 Obviously they were preparing for a black mass。 A wizened deformed hag busied herself in front of a black…clothed altar； above which hung an inverted crucifix。 She was stirring something in a bowl； an ointment of some kind； men and women queuing up to have it smeared on their sexual parts。 Some were already copulating openly on the stone floor。 The orgy had begun。
'The ointment of iniquity；' Pierre de Lancre whispered； 'a concoction forbidden by law according to King Henry IV； made from toads' blood and the hearts of sacrificed babies。 The use of it alone is enough to earn them all the death sentence。'
Sabat watched； his contempt openly displayed on his aquiline features as he saw a handsome adolescent having the 'ointment of iniquity' smeared on his arousement； the hag taking her time； her toothless mouth twisted into a lusting grin as she slowly massaged the cream into the pulsing flesh。 The youth was tensing； her fingers were moving faster and faster。 Then he was doubled up； writhing as though in pain。 Everybody was laughing； even the copulating couples stopping and turning to watch。
'They are all in there；' the witchfinder hissed。 'Let us mete out the fate they deserve！'
Sabat was at the heels of his running； stooping panion as de Lancre covered the space between the low oak and the dark shadows cast by the house。 But nobody inside was likely to look out of the window anyway； they were too engrossed in their own activities。
Sabat was reminded of how he and Daunay had crept up on the chapel； experienced a momentary pang of fear in case de Lancre should suddenly thrust a pistol into his back。
'Give me a hand with this brushwood。' A whispered mand and Sabat found himself helping to pile dead fir branches up against the door； a pile that grew in seconds as they both worked feverishly。
'Good；' the witchfinder's lips stretched clown…like in what was supposed to be a smile of satisfaction。 'Now the back door。 Quickly。'
Two heaps of dry branches ready to be fired。 Pierre de Lancre had a tinder…box in one hand； a pistol in the other。 Sabat's mouth went dry at the sight of the weapon but； as though to reassure him； the other passed it over； butt first； then produced another from the folds of his cloak。
'We light the fires；' de Lancre gave a throaty laugh that embodied all the anticipation and pleasure of an eager boy at the start of a 5 November firework display。 'They will not realise what is happening until it is too late。 But if any should run the gauntlet of fire； Sabat。。。' He left the sentence unfinished； cocked his pistol meaningfully。
The fires were lit。 Sabat coughed in the pungent smoke； tried to keep his smarting eyes fixed on door and windows。 De Lancre was somewhere at the rear of the house doing likewise。
The occupants were still unaware of what was happening outside。 The big room was only dimly lit now； just those black wax candles on the altar giving an eerie glow； the repulsive hag a naked wizened silhouette with a bent back and drooping breasts； gesticulating fiercely。 The whole pany had thrown themselves prostrate； fearing whatever devilish monstrosity she might call up。
By now the flames had got a hold on the front of the house； the woodwork dry and rotten and burning quickly。 Sparks showered up； the thatched roof caught。
Screams。 Too late； the trapped coven realised the danger！ A stampede of naked bodies； some being knocked down and trodden in the rush。 The heat from the burning door threw them back。 There was no sign of the witch。 Probably she was one of the trampled； her followers losing faith in her now that they faced a death akin to the fiery halls of hell itself。
No； she had not been crushed； Sabat spotted her at an upstairs window； a grotesque oil…painting in a blazing frame； perched precariously as she summoned the courage to jump and called upon the evil powers to protect her。
A shot rang out； a resonant report from an antiquated flintlock pistol that belched fire and clouds of sulphurous smoke。 Sabat jumped； had not heard de Lancre's approach。 The latter laughed； a kind of killing snarl； those lips drawn back over broken and blackened teeth； pointed with the smoking pistol。
'So much for Marie Gaufridi； the witch of Labour！' he shouted。
The hag would have fallen back into the room had not her scrawny fingers secured a hold on the burning window frame； a hand that seemed impervious to fire。 Swaying； a hideous monkey…thing at treetop height； gibbering unintelligible curses； sunken eyes that singled out the two men standing below。
The bullet had ploughed into a breast； severed a nipple； and appeared to have gone on into the body。 Surely it had pierced her heart but she still lived； screaming and cursing。
'Go on； Sabat；' the witchfinder's killing cry。 'Finish her。 What are you waiting for？ Her magic is such that she must not live。 Even now I wonder if it is possible to kill her！'
Sabat's pistol came up； his hand shaking and having to be supported by the other。 Trying to draw a bead； but it wasn't easy。。。 not without looking into those hate filled orbs！ 'You could feel their intensity； their power。
Sabat tried to close his eyes but the lids refused to drop。 A harsh voice was screaming at him 'kill me and you will be cursed for eternity。 Spare me and my power shall be yours；'
Those horrendous features seemed to undergo a change； blurring like a reflection in a pool then clearing。 Younger； so much younger； and beautiful。 Sabat felt his stomach tightening into a ball； the vomit rising in his throat。 Oh God； it wasn't possible！ Marie Gaufridi； the witch of Labourd； had bee Madeleine Gaufridi alias Madeleine de Demandolx de la Palud alias Marie Boulle！
'Kill her； Sabat； before it is too late。 We dare not trust the fire to consume one such as her！'
Still Sabat held his fire； gazing into those eyes but no longer did they transmit blazing hatred。 Instead they pleaded； became misty with tears of sorrow。 Promises replaced curses and threats。 'Spare me； Sabat； and I will be yours forever。 I am not evil； only accursed； a victim of Louis Nevillon who controls me in life and in death so that I shall always be reborn to be his； I cannot die except by your hand； you who are Quentin； a friend of Louis Nevillon and as powerful as he。 But I do not want to die because I shall be parted from your
'What are you waiting for Sabat？ Shoot her； or else give me the pisto！！'
Sabat's finger tightened on the trigger and in the same instant he moved the barrel an inch to the left； sighted against one of the blazing wooden frames； squeezed。 Again that thunderous roar and leaping flame； everything obscured by the villainous black powdersmoke； a curtain that was slow to shift in the windless atmosphere。
It seemed to take an indeterminable time to disperse and when it was gone there was nothing to see except a gaping blazing hole in the upper storey where that window had been。 Of Marie Gaufridi there was no sign。
'Well done； my friend；' Pierre de Lancre clasped a hand on Sabat's shoulder。 'You got her and not just the people of Labourd but the whole of France； nay the world； is well rid of her。 Let us stand here and listen to the screams of the dying； witches burned in a mass demonstration of justice such as is the law of this land according to our beloved king；'
Sabat stood and watched as manded； seeming to be detached from himself just as he had on that fevered night when pneumonia and Quentin had claimed him。 There was no way out； no escape for anybody trapped in that inferno。 Screams of agony were proof that some still lived； the unfortunate ones。 The smoke was eddying； a stench of burning wood and thatch and 。。。 roasting human flesh！ Sabat turned away； threw up； but Pierre de Lancre did not appear to notice。 He was too engrossed in watching the finale of this latest hunt。 Tomorrow he would embark upon another。
Now there was only the sound of crackling flames and crashing timbers； the night sky lit up by this huge funeral pyre； the execution chamber of the damned。
'They are all dead；' de Lancre wiped the barrels of his pistols on his cloak； pushed them into his belt 'That is another job well done； Sabat。 A satisfactory conclusion and all due to you for leading me here to them。 My friend； I am in your debt。 If you ever have need of me do not hesitate to call upon me。 Do that and Pierre de Lancre will e； that I promise。'
And then the witchfinder was gone； a fleeting shadow that merged into other shadows and left Sabat standing there alone； bemused； wondering about Madeleine and if she still lived。 His one consolation was that he had heeded her plea and put his bullet wide。 If she still lived and kept her promise then she was his。
It was an exciting thought； one that caused him to awake with an erection and do things to himself as he looked at the still slumbering form of Madeleine Gaufridi beside him in the cold grey early morning light。
'You must destroy them all； Sabat' Madeleine followed him to the door after they had both breakfasted on the cold meat from the previous night's 'roast'。 'It will not be easy but the future of you and I and Louis depend upon it。 Take the Renault。 It is stolen so take care in case the police spot it。 When your work is done return here and you will be well rewarded； that I promise you。'
Sabat walked across the clearing to the parked Renault； got the feeling that it was a kind of repeat performance； a re…run of the time he'd been sent to get Daunay。 Misgivings clouded his brain； bringing on a depression that had not really left him since that dream about the witch of Labourd。
Pierre de Lancre's words hammered until his temples throbbed。 'If you ever have need of me do not hesitate to call me。 Do that and Pierre de Lancre will e； that I promise*
And Sabat knew that he needed help； for once in his life he could not go it alone。
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SABAT HAD left the Renault on the outskirts of Lucerne。 He dared not risk the possibility of being stopped by police on the lookout for the stolen car。 He boarded a bus； then walked the rest of the way to the mune； not hurrying because there was plenty of time。
From across the road it was barely visible through the trees and bushes； just a glimpse of a roof and a chimney that had a faint wisp of smoke curling up from it。 The cannibal cult were at home。 He walked on； found a recreation park； and spent an hour or two relaxing on a bench by the side of a pond。
Already it was evening； houses on the opposite side of the street beginning to cast their shadows。 There was not much time left and he still had not formulated a definite plan。 The weight of the ？38 back in its holster was forting。 Maybe that was the only way； to go in there shooting； take as many of them with him as possible before the sheer weight of numbers bore him down。 No； it had to be more subtle than that。
His dream of the previous night had never really left him。 He thought of Pierre de Lancre。 At a time such as this there was no better man to have on one's side。 But it had only been a dream and there was no chance of the witchfinder ing。 Had Sabat met him on the astral plane then there would have been a faint prospect of help。
A similar situation： that place in his dreams； the coven trapped inside by fire。 But it would not work here。 This was a thriving city。。。 an army of fire…engines would be screaming to the scene before the first smoke pall had a chance to settle； the flames doused within minutes。
And then he knew； a solution that came to him with shattering suddenness。 A blinding inspiration and so damnably simple。 The rope triangle oft used by the powers of evil to imprison their victims in a particular place； a device that wa