{"product_id":"the-inquisitors-tale-isbn-9780525426165","title":"The Inquisitor's Tale","description":"\u003cb\u003eA Newbery Honor Book\u003cbr\u003eWinner of the Sydney Taylor Book Award \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAn exciting and hilarious medieval adventure from the bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eA Tale Dark and Grimm\u003c\/i\u003e. Beautifully illustrated throughout by Hatem Aly!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A profound and ambitious tour de force. Gidwitz is a masterful storyteller.” —Matt de la Peña, Newbery Medalist and \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What Gidwitz accomplishes here is staggering.\" —\u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIncludes a detailed historical note and bibliography\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e1242. On a dark night, travelers from across France cross paths at an inn and begin to tell stories of three children. Their adventures take them on a chase through France: they are taken captive by knights, sit alongside a king, and save the land from a farting dragon. On the run to escape prejudice and persecution and save precious and holy texts from being burned, their quest drives them forward to a final showdown at Mont Saint-Michel, where all will come to question if these children can perform the miracles of saints. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJoin William, an oblate on a mission from his monastery; Jacob, a Jewish boy who has fled his burning village; and Jeanne, a peasant girl who hides her prophetic visions. They are accompanied by Jeanne's loyal greyhound, Gwenforte . . . recently brought back from the dead. Told in multiple voices, in a style reminiscent of \u003ci\u003eThe Canterbury Tales\u003c\/i\u003e, our narrator collects their stories and the saga of these three unlikely allies begins to come together. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBeloved bestselling author Adam Gidwitz makes his long awaited return with his first new world since his hilarious and critically acclaimed Grimm series. Featuring manuscript illuminations throughout by illustrator Hatem Aly and filled with Adam’s trademark style and humor, \u003ci\u003eThe Inquisitor's Tale\u003c\/i\u003e is bold storytelling that’s richly researched and adventure-packed.\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ \u003c\/b\u003eA \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestseller ★ A \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Editor’s Choice ★ A \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Notable Children’s Book ★ A \u003ci\u003ePeople \u003c\/i\u003eMagazine Kid Pick ★ A \u003ci\u003eWashington Post\u003c\/i\u003e Best Children’s Book ★ A\u003ci\u003e Wall Street Journal \u003c\/i\u003eBest Children's Book ★ An \u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly \u003c\/i\u003eBest Middle Grade Book ★ A \u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book ★ A \u003ci\u003eHorn Book\u003c\/i\u003e Fanfare Best Book ★ A \u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book ★ A \u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book ★ A \u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book ★ An ALA Notable Children's Book ★ A \u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e Best Middle Grade Book of the Century\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003eIt’s no surprise that Gidwitz’s latest book has been likened to \u003ci\u003eThe Canterbury Tales\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e, considering its central story is told by multiple storytellers. As each narrator fills in what happens next in the story of the three children and their potentially holy dog, their tales get not only more \u003cb\u003efantastical\u003c\/b\u003e but also more \u003cb\u003epuzzling and addictive\u003c\/b\u003e. However, the \u003cb\u003egradual intricacy\u003c\/b\u003e of the story that is not Gidwitz’s big accomplishment. Rather it is the \u003cb\u003ecomplex themes\u003c\/b\u003e (xenophobia, zealotry, censorship etc.) he is able to bring up while still maintaining a light tone, thus giving readers a chance to come to conclusions themselves. (Also, there is a farting dragon.)”—Entertainment Weekly, “Best MG Books of 2016\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What Gidwitz accomplishes here is staggering. ‘The Inquisitor’s Tale’ is \u003cb\u003eequal parts swashbuckling epic, medieval morality play, religious polemic and bawdy burlesque\u003c\/b\u003e, propelling us toward a white-knuckle climax where three children must leap into a fire to save…a Talmud. And yet, the rescue of this single book feels like higher stakes than any world-incinerating superhero battle. Part of this is because ‘The Inquisitor’s Tale’ is dense with literary and earthy delights, including Hatem Aly’s \u003cb\u003eexquisite illustrations\u003c\/b\u003e, which wrap around the text as in an illuminated manuscript.”—\u003ci\u003eNew York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Puckish, learned, serendipitous . . . \u003cb\u003eSparkling medieval adventure\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003eAdam Gidwitz mingles earthy humor and high culture \u003c\/b\u003ein \u003ci\u003eThe Inquisitor’s Tale\u003c\/i\u003e, a medieval story that unfurls Chaucer-style, with revelers in an inn taking turns to explain why the king of France is trying to hunt down three child-saints and their holy dog. \u003cb\u003eHatem Aly’s marginal illuminations add sparkle\u003c\/b\u003e to this novel for 11- to 16-year-olds.”—\u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, “Best Books of 2016”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Three children persecuted for their religious beliefs band together to fight intolerance—and save their necks—in this \u003cb\u003efascinating\u003c\/b\u003e story set in 13th century France.”—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “Gidwitz continues to toy with narrative in \u003cb\u003ea well-researched and rambunctiously entertaining story that has as much to say about the present as it does the past\u003c\/b\u003e…The tale that comes into focus is one of religious persecution and faith, friendships that transcend difference, and a dangerously flatulent dragon—Gidwitz continues to have no problem mixing high and low.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “It is a time of miracles and saints, of fiends and dragons, all of which Gidwitz has meticulously teased from legends and histories of the Middle Ages…Gidwitz proves himself a nimble storyteller as he weaves history, excitement, and multiple narrative threads into\u003cb\u003e a taut, inspired adventure\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “Gidwitz strikes literary gold with this mirthful and compulsively readable adventure story set in medieval France…While the three protagonists initially come together out of necessity, the heartwarming friendship they form \u003cb\u003ecelebrates a common humanity that transcends the bounds of race, religion, and social class\u003c\/b\u003e. The author creates a \u003cb\u003erichly designed\u003c\/b\u003e medieval world, filled with imperious knights, farting dragons, foreboding forests, and soulless fiends, in which nothing is as it seems, including the tellers of the tales…Gidwitz's lighthearted touch nonetheless provides for insightful commentary on the dangers of narrow-mindedness and zealotry that will resonate with modern readers. \u003cb\u003eA masterpiece of storytelling that is addictive and engrossing\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “Gidwitz’s tale of medieval France \u003cb\u003esuccessfully combines the epic with the personal\u003c\/b\u003e, aiming for that \u003cb\u003eheartstopping\u003c\/b\u003e moment when characters readers have come to care about find themselves on a collision course with one of the great woodchippers of history—the Inquisition, agents of which are in hot pursuit of three underdog characters (and one actual dog) from the very start…This book \u003cb\u003eappeals to the heart, to the mind, and to any reader’s appetite for action\u003c\/b\u003e: read it for the thrilling escapes, the fart jokes, the stinky cheese, or the palace intrigue. Read it for the Talmudic wisdom, commonsense philosophies, and moments of doubt. Read it for the palaces and monasteries and the unbelievable descriptions of food. But read it.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “An \u003cb\u003eambitious\u003c\/b\u003e mash-up of medieval saints’ lives, the Joan of Arc legend, thirteenth-century French history, and elements of \u003ci\u003eThe Canterbury Tales\u003c\/i\u003e…Gidwitz presents moral issues that are currently relevant, and gives several theological arguments about good and evil a \u003cb\u003ebrisk, accessible\u003c\/b\u003e airing\u003cb\u003e. Scatological humor, serious matter, colloquial present-day language, the ideal of diversity and mutual understanding—this has it all.\u003c\/b\u003e”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ “\u003cb\u003eCleverly crafted\u003c\/b\u003e…Six years of extensive research and a natural storyteller's gift shine in [Gidwitz’s] \u003cb\u003espiffily spun\u003c\/b\u003e novel…Over-the-top skirmishes, comical triumphs over thugs, unlikely allies, religious persecution, stinky French cheese, noble acts of bravery, deep-seated emotion, profound theological questions--and a fatally flatulent dragon--intermingle in this \u003cb\u003esuspenseful\u003c\/b\u003e novel set in a medieval world where atrocities are committed in the name of God. In the style of \"illuminated\" medieval texts, Egyptian-born illustrator Hatem Aly illuminates Gidwitz's story with \u003cb\u003ewhimsical black-and-white drawings\u003c\/b\u003e that enliven this philosophical swashbuckler.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eShelf Awareness\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This ‘Canterbury Tale’-style masterpiece is \u003cb\u003eserious, scatological, violent, funny, philosophical and timely\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e, gift guide\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The children are like none we’ve met before: so dignified, so self-sufficient, so, well, medieval. And yet, they are \u003cb\u003efunny, intensely real and believably brave\u003c\/b\u003e…Gid\u003cb\u003ewitz and illustrator Hatem Aly breathe life into a tale that you won’t soon forget\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eChicago Tribune\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Gidwitz paints a \u003cb\u003evivid\u003c\/b\u003e image of medieval France, and \u003cb\u003ehis mix of heart and humor makes this book an utterly magical read\u003c\/b\u003e. Who else could weave a tale of acceptance, love and hope, complete with farting dragons?”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSan Diego Union Tribune\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brimming with action, history, humor and much more, Gidwitz has crafted a \u003cb\u003emasterfully seamless\u003c\/b\u003e novel that is \u003cb\u003ethought-provokingly relevant\u003c\/b\u003e, making this selection \u003cb\u003enothing short of brilliant\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eBooks to Borrow, Books to Buy\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Whimsical and winding…One of the most interesting parts of this story is the message it teaches: A story is established that brings together three characters from very different backgrounds. At first there is conflict between them, but the characters learn to work together. \u003cb\u003eWith the conflict in the current political atmosphere, perhaps this is something even adults could stand to learn\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eDenver Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003eGame-changing\u003c\/b\u003e…I have never read a book like this. It’s weird, and unfamiliar, and religious, and irreligious, and more fun than it has any right to be…As I write this review in 2016 and politicians bandy hate speech about without so much as a blink, \u003cb\u003eI can’t think of a book written for kids more timely than this\u003c\/b\u003e…As for the writing itself, that’s what you’re paying your money for at the end of the day. \u003cb\u003eGidwitz is on fire here, making medieval history feel fresh and current\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003eBetsy Bird, \u003ci\u003eA Fuse #8 Production\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003e[An] exciting adventure story\u003c\/b\u003e…Just as medieval manuscripts had illuminated drawings, \u003cb\u003egreat illustrations \u003c\/b\u003ego hand-in-hand with the story. \u003cb\u003eGidwitz finds a way to make the Dark Ages not so dark but exciting and full of mystery\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Clarion Ledger\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e, holiday gift guide\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eThe Inquisitor’s Tale\u003c\/i\u003e is \u003cb\u003ea well-researched and thoroughly engaging adventure\u003c\/b\u003e, which beautifully imagines the feel and texture of thirteenth-century France. It is \u003cb\u003ealso a moving exploration of friendship, curiosity, and love of learning in a world all too filled with narrow-mindedness and hate\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003eSarah Lipton, \u003c\/b\u003eprofessor of medieval history at SUNY, Stony Brook \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAccolades for \u003ci\u003eA Tale Dark \u0026amp; Grimm\u003c\/i\u003e:\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestseller\u003cbr\u003eSelection on the Today Show's Al's Book Club for Kids\u003cbr\u003eNCTE Notable Children's Books in the Language Arts Selection\u003cbr\u003eAn E. B. White Read Aloud Honor Book\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Editors' Choice pick\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e Flying Start\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book of the Year\u003cbr\u003eALA Notable Book\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Unlike any children's book I've ever read . . . [it] holds up to multiple re-readings, like the classic I think it will turn out to be.\" —\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Book Review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A marvelous reworking of old stories that manages to be fresh, frightening, funny, and humane.\" —\u003ci\u003eWall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eAdam Gidwitz\u003c\/b\u003e is the author of the critically acclaimed, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling Grimm trilogy. He spent six years researching and writing \u003ci\u003eThe Inquisitor’s Tale\u003c\/i\u003e, including a year living in Europe. Adam lives with his family in Brooklyn, NY. Find Adam online at adamgidwitz.com or @AdamGidwitz.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eHatem Aly\u003c\/b\u003e is an Egyptian-born illustrator whose work has been featured on television and in multiple publications worldwide. He currentlylives in New Brunswick, Canada, with his wife, son, and more pets than people. Find him online at metahatem.com or @metahatem.\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe king is ready for war.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eLouis of France is not yet thirty, and already he is the greatest king in Europe. He loves his subjects. He loves God. And his armies have never been defeated.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThis war, though, is different.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eHe is not fighting another army.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eHe is not fighting another king.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eHe is fighting three children. And their dog.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eA week ago, Louis hadn’t heard of these three children. No one had. But now they are the most famous children in France. And the most wanted.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eHow did this happen?\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThat’s what I’m wondering.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eIt’s why I’m at the Holy Cross-Roads Inn, a day’s walk north of Paris. It’s early March, in the year of our Lord 1242. Outside, the sky is dark and getting darker. The wind is throwing the branches of an oak against the walls of the inn. The shutters are closed tight, to keep the dark out.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eIt’s the perfect night for a story.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe inn is packed. Butchers and brewers, peasants and priests, knights and nobodies. Everyone’s here to see the king march by. Who knows? Maybe we’ll see the children, too. And that dog of theirs. I would really like to see that dog.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eI’m sitting on a wobbly stool at a rough, wooden table. It’s sticky with spilled ale.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“So!” I say, rubbing my hands together. “Does anyone know anything about these kids? The wanted ones? With the dog?”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe table practically erupts.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThey’re all trying to tell me at once.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eBeside me is a woman with thick arms, brown hair, and brown teeth. Her name is Marie, and she’s a brewster, a beer maker. I ask her where she’s from. She tells me she’s from the town of Saint-Geneviève.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“That’s where the girl is from!” I say. “Did you know her? Before she became famous?”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Know her?” Marie says, indignant. “I practically raised her! Well, I didn’t \u003ci\u003eraise\u003c\/i\u003e her, but I know her real well.”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eShe smiles with her brown teeth at me. I smile back.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Okay,” I say. “Let’s hear about her, then.”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eAnd so Marie tells us all about the most famous girl in France.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe one the king has declared war on.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCHAPTER ONE\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne’s story starts when she was a baby.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer mother and father were regular peasants. Spent all day in the fields, just like most of the folks in our town. But there was one thing that made them special. They had this dog. A beautiful dog. A white greyhound, with a copper blaze down its nose. They called her Gwenforte—which is a ridiculous name for a dog, if you ask me. But they never did ask me, so that’s what they called her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey loved Gwenforte. And they trusted her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd so one day they went off to the fields to work, and they left baby Jeanne with Gwenforte.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“What?” I interrupt. “They used a \u003ci\u003edog \u003c\/i\u003eas a babysitter?” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Well . . . Yes. I suppose they did.” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Is that normal? For peasants? To use dogs as babysitters?”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“No. I suppose it ain’t. But she was a real good dog.” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Oh. That explains it.” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou gotta understand: Gwenforte loved that little girl so much, and was so protective of her, that nobody worried about it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut maybe we should have.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFor as Jeanne’s folks were out in the fields, work­ing in the hot sun, a snake slithered into their house. It was an adder, with beady eyes and black triangles down its back. The day was hot, as I said, but the house was cool and dark because the walls in our houses are thick, made of mud and straw, and the only window is the round hole in the roof, where the smoke from the cooking fire escapes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe adder, poisonous and silent as the Devil himself, slithered in through the space between the thin wooden door and the mud floor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe baby girl lay asleep in her bed of straw. Gwen­forte, the greyhound, was curled up around her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut when the snake came in, Gwenforte sat up.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe growled.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe leapt onto the mud floor, right in front of the snake.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe adder stopped. Its forked tongue tested the air.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwenforte’s fur stood up on her back. She growled, low and deep in her throat.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe adder recoiled. He became a zigzag on the floor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwenforte growled again.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe adder struck.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdders, as you may know, are very fast.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut so are greyhounds.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGwenforte shimmied out of the way just in time and snapped her jaws shut on the back of the adder’s neck. Then she began to shake the snake. She danced around the one-room house, shaking and shaking that snake, un­til the hay of the beds was scattered and the stone circle of the fire was ruined and the adder’s back was broken. Finally she tossed its carcass into a corner.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne’s parents were coming home from the fields just then. They were sweaty and tired. They had been up since long before sunrise. Their eyelids were heavy, and their arms and backs ached.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey pushed open the door of their little house. As the yellow light of summer streamed into the darkness, they saw the straw of the beds scattered all over the floor. They saw the fire circle, ruined. They saw Gwenforte, standing in the center of the dark room, panting, her tail wagging, her head high with pride—completely covered in blood.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat they did not see was their baby girl.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWell, they got panicked. They figured the worst. So they took that dog outside. And they killed her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Wait!” I cry. “But the dog—the dog isn’t dead! It’s alive!”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“It was dead,” says Marie. “Now it’s alive.” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eI open my mouth and no sound comes out.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThey come back into that house and try to put their lives back together. They were crying, a-course, because they loved that dog, and they loved their little girl even more. But we peasants know that life ain’t gonna stop for our tears. So they clean up. They put the embers back in the fire pit, they pick up the straw from the beds. And that’s when they see her. Baby Jeanne. Lying asleep in the hay. And in a corner, the dead snake.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWell, they picked up their daughter and held her tight and cried for joy. And after a little bit of that, they looked at each other, mother and father, and realized the horrible mistake they had made.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo they took the body of Gwenforte, and they buried her out in a beautiful grove in the forest, a short walk from the village. They dug up purple crocuses and planted them all around her grave. As the years went by, we started to venerate that dog proper, like the saint she is. Every time a new baby was born, they’d always go out to the Holy Grove, and pray to Saint Gwenforte, the Holy Greyhound, to keep that baby safe.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWell, years passed, and baby Jeanne grew and grew. She was a happy little thing. She liked to run down the long dirt road of the village, stopping into the dark doorways, wav­ing to the people who lived inside each house. She came and saw me and helped me stir the hops in my old oak barrel. She visited Peter the priest, who lived with his wife, Ygraine—even though he’s not supposed to have a wife, on account of him being a priest. She would stop by and see Marc son of Marc, who had a little boy named Marc, too. She didn’t visit with Charles the bailiff, though—who’s my brother-in-law—because in addition to being our officer of the peace, he’s also about as kind as an old stick.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut of all the peasants in our town—and there were more than that, but I don’t want to bore you with long lists of people who don’t come into the story—Jeanne’s favorite was Old Theresa.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOld Theresa was a strange one. She collected frogs from the streams in the forest and put their blood in jars, to give to people when they were sick. She stared at the stars at night and told us our futures by how they moved. She was, I think it’s fair to say, a witch. But she was a nice old witch, and she was always kind to little Jeanne.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then, one day, it turned out little Jeanne was just as strange as Theresa.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was there the first time it happened. She couldn’t have been more than three years old. She was chasing Marc son-of-Marc son-of-Marc around my yard—when she stopped cold. She pulled up straight, like a stack of stones, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Then she went toppling to the ground, like somebody tipped that stack of stones over. She lay on the ground, and I saw her pudgy little arms and legs shaking, and her teeth grind­ing in her head. Scared the life out of me, it did. I ran screaming to Old Theresa, because she’s the only one not out in the fields. So we huddled over little Jeanne.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then, the fit stopped. Jeanne’s breathing was ragged, but she weren’t shaking no more. Theresa bent over and roused the little girl. Cupped her wrinkled hand behind Jeanne’s head. Jeanne opened her eyes. Old Theresa asked her what happened, how she was feeling, that sort of thing. I’m leaning over them, wondering if Jeanne’s gonna be all right. And then Theresa asks, “Did you see something, little one?” I don’t know what she means.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut finally Jeanne’s face clears up, and she answers, “I saw the rain.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then, at that very moment, there’s a clap of thunder overhead and the sky opens up and the rain starts to fall.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI swear it on my very life.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI crossed myself about a hundred times, and was about to go tell the world the miracle I just witnessed, when Theresa grabbed my wrist.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe had milky blue eyes, Theresa did. She held my wrist tight. And she said, “Don’t you tell no one about what just happened.” The rain was running down the wrinkles in her face like they was streambeds. “Don’t you tell a soul. Not even her parents. Let me deal with it. Swear to me.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWell, that’s a hard thing to ask—see a little girl per­form a miracle and not tell her parents or no one about it. But when Old Theresa grabs your wrist and stares at you with those pale blue eyes . . . Well, I swore.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAfter that, Jeanne spent a lot of time with Theresa. She had more fits, but she never did see the future again. Or if she did, she didn’t tell no one what she saw.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eUntil one day, a few years later. I was with her and Theresa when Jeanne had another one of her fits—falling down, shaking, eyes rolling back in her head—and when she woke up, she said there was a giant coming. Theresa said that was nonsense and to hush. There were no giants in this part of France. But she said it again and again. I couldn’t figure out why she was saying all this in front of me. Hadn’t Theresa told her to keep her mouth shut?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut then Jeanne said that the giant was coming to take away Old Theresa.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat scared us. I admit it. Theresa got real quiet when she heard that.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe next day, sure enough, the giant came. I don’t know if he were \u003ci\u003ereally \u003c\/i\u003ea giant or just the biggest man I’d ever seen. But Marc son-of-Marc father-of-Marc, who’s the tallest man in our town, only came up to the middle of his chest. The giant had wild red hair sticking up from his pate and wild red whiskers sticking out from his jowls. And he wore black robes—the black robes of a monk.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe called himself Michelangelo. Michelangelo di Bologna.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLittle Jeanne had been working with her parents in the fields when word spread that the giant was come. She came to the edge of the fields. She saw the giant striding toward the village, his black robes billowing behind him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWalking toward the giant, through the village, was my idiot brother-in-law, Charles the bailiff. He had Theresa by the arm, and he was bellowing some nonsense about new laws about rooting out heresy and pagan sor­cery and some other fancy phrases he had just learned that week, I reckoned. He bowed deeply to the giant and then shoved Theresa at him, like she were a leper. The giant grabbed her thin wrist and began dragging Old Theresa out of town.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne ran down from the edge of fields. “Charles!” she shouted. “What’s happening? What’s he doing with Theresa?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCharles spoke as if Jeanne were a small child. “I don’t know. But I imagine Michelangelo di Bologna is going to take her back to the holy Monastery Saint-Denis and burn her at the stake for pagan magic—for witchcraft. Burn her alive. Which is good and right and as it should be, my little pear pie.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLittle Jeanne cast a look of hatred so pure and deep at Charles that I don’t think he’s forgotten it to this day. I know I haven’t. Then she went sprinting out onto the road after the giant and Theresa, screaming and shouting, telling that giant to give Theresa back. You’ve never seen a girl so fierce and ferocious. “Give her back!” she cried. “Give her back!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOld Theresa turned around. Her wrinkled face con­torted with fear when she saw what little Jeanne was do­ing. “Jeanne!” she hissed. “Go! Quiet! Go back!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut Jeanne would not quiet. “You stupid giant!” she screamed. She came up right behind them. “Stop it! Stop it you . . . you red . . . fat . . . wicked . . . giant!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSlowly, the monk turned around.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis shadow engulfed the little girl.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe gazed down at her, his pale red eyes vaguely curious.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne looked right back up at him, like David facing Goliath. Except this Goliath looked like he was on fire.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then the monk did something very frightening indeed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe laughed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe laughed at little Jeanne.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen he dragged Old Theresa away.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd we never saw her again.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne ran home, her tears flying behind her. She threw open the thin wooden door of her house, collapsed on her bed, and cried.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer mother came in just after her. Her footsteps were soft and reassuring on the dirt floor. She lowered herself onto the hay beside Jeanne and began to stroke her hair. “What’s wrong, my girl?” she asked. “Are you scared for Theresa?” She ran her fingers through Jeanne’s tangled locks.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne turned over and looked through tears up at her mother. Her mother had a skin-colored mole just to the left of her mouth and mousy, messy hair like her daughter’s. After a moment, Jeanne said, “I don’t want to be burned alive.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer mother’s face changed. “Why would you be burned alive, Jeanne?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne stared up at her mother. Her vision had come true. Wasn’t that witchcraft?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer mother’s face came into focus. It wasn’t com­forting anymore. It looked . . . angry. “Why would you be burned, Jeanne? Tell me!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eJeanne hesitated. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. And she buried her face in the hay again.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Why, Jeanne? Jeanne, answer me!”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut Jeanne was too afraid to speak.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFrom that day on, Jeanne was different. She still had her fits, a-course, but she never opened her mouth about what she saw. Not once. More than that, she weren’t the happy little girl anymore. No more pok­ing her head in our huts or chasing Marc son-of-Marc son-of-Marc around. She got seriouser. More watchful. Almost like she were scared. Not of other people, though.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLike she were scared of herself.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then, about a week ago, some men came to our village, and they took Jeanne away.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“And that’s the end of my story.” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eI’m in the midst of taking a quaff of my ale and I nearly spit it all over the table. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“What?! That’s it? They took her away? Why?” I sputter. “Who were they? And what about the \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003edog\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e? How did it come back to life?!” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“I can tell you.” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eThis isn’t Marie’s voice. It’s a nun at the next table. She’s been listening to the story, obviously, and now she’s leaning back on her little stool. “I know about Gwenforte and about the men who took little Jeanne.” She’s a tiny old woman, with silvery hair and bright blue eyes. And her accent is strange. It’s as proper as any I’ve ever heard. But it’s a little . . . off. I can’t quite say why. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“How would you know about Gwenforte and Jeanne?” Marie says. “You ain’t never even been in our village!” \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“But I do know,” answers the nun. \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Then please,” I say, “tell us.”\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Dutton Books for Young Readers","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233688498405,"sku":"NP9780525426165","price":19.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780525426165.jpg?v=1767739950","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-inquisitors-tale-isbn-9780525426165","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}