The Count and The Carpenter

Once there was a village carpenter and blacksmith called Pascal who received a mysterious visitor; a nobleman who called himself the Comte de Lupine and he asked Pascal to make him something.

“I shall pay for them both in advance”, he said, “Make me a bow of willow wood and six arrows with heads of silver and I shall be back within a fortnight  to collect them”.

And saying this the Comte de Lupine left a bag full of golden coins as large as the carpenters head.

Now Pascal worked day and night to make what the Comte had requested but then, when a fortnight had passed, the Comte did not return and the Carpenter thought that perhaps he might have forgotten about his order.

However, the next night; a bright full moon lit night, Pascal heard a strange growling outside of his house and then the howling of a wolf and, looking out through his window, he saw a gigantic, jet black wolf outside that was growling and bearing its white fangs and then, as if it had seen Pascal’s face at the window, it went to his door and began to claw at it with large terrible claws and, angry that it could not claw through the wood, it started to hurl itself against door as if trying to break it down.

Again and again Pascal heard its large body thudding against the door and the beast growling and snarling louder and louder with anger that the door was too strong.

But Pascal did not know whether the door would hold back the wolf forever and since the only weapon that he had was the bow of willow wood and the six arrows with heads of silver that he had made for the Comte he had no choice but to pick up the bow and place the arrow in it and he stood in front of the door and waited as the beast continued to the thud against it.

Then, suddenly, all went quiet; the loud thudding stopped and the growling and the clawing and Pascal wondered for a brief moment whether the wolf had given up and gone away into the night.

But then, with a loud shattering of glass and glass splinters flying everywhere, the wolf came leaping and crashing through his window and into room, its golden eyes glaring wildly, its talons raised in the air and foam dripping from its jaws.

If Pascal had not been holding the bow ready, just at that moment, he surely would have been torn to shreds by those long, terrible claws and been bitten by those large foaming jaws full of crooked fangs but, instead, he let go his bow string and his silver tipped arrow flew straight into the hairy monsters heart; then, frantically, before the wolf could pounce again, he took another arrow and fired it into the same spot; then another and another.

Six silver headed arrows he fired into the black wolf’s heart and, only when the last arrow had sunk home, did the wolf stop howling or clawing or trying to get back up.

But then, just as Pascal was panting with relief that the beast had stopped moving, he saw the features of the wolf suddenly begin to change; hair shrank into skin and long canine jaws became a human mouth and chin and, before long, the wolf had transformed completely into a human being.

Then, suddenly, to Pascal’s astonishment he recognised the face of the man upon the floor of his room. It was the Comte De Lupine.

One by one, he drew the silver headed arrows from his heart and realized that in the pocket which the arrows had pierced was a note and written on it were these words.

“Only six silver headed arrows from a willow wood bow could kill the devil beast I had become and so you see, I came to collect them and you, my friend, for the service you have done me shall receive even more than that bag full of gold I gave you before. Go to the house of the Comte de Lupine and show them this note and you shall be richly rewarded”.

And when the Carpenter went to the house of the Comte and showed the letter to the nobleman’s wife, he was given a crate full of gold almost as heavy as a coffin and with it he moved to a nearby town and set up a large carpentry business which employed 3 apprentices but he always kept that willow wood bow and those six silver headed arrows with the blood of the Comte still staining them to remind himself that it was not simply a dream he had had; that he had really, truly come face to face with a werewolf.