December 22 - The Siege of Sancerre

This is the second part of a two-part series. The first was published on December 15.

Sancerre, August 1573

The Sancerrois had defended their town valiantly. Artillery and bombs had been pounding the walls of the city early in the occupation, but to little effect. The enemy had suffered more so than the villagers during these attacks, despite the menacing presence of canons, explosives, slings and other war machinery. But the success of repelling enemy advances would soon give way to despair and destitution. The siege became a slow poison, seeping into the very bones of the town.

The Catholic troops had encircled Sancerre, and cut off the supply of food This proved a more devastating advance than anything conjured up with canon, explosives or slings. The villagers, staunch in their beliefs, refused to surrender, clinging to their faith as their greatest fortress. But as winter turned to spring, and weeks into months, their resilience faced an enemy more relentless than any army: hunger.

The siege brought forth a macabre ingenuity in survival. Wine was plentiful, but the meat quickly ran out and then the flour, forcing the the council to expropriate all flour within the city's wall by early spring. Then, in March and April, mules, donkeys and horses were eaten. Horse was preferred, and soon the price of horse meat soared as a result. Everything was consumed, including the head and guts. Then came the smaller domesticated animals. All were eaten, even the hunting dogs whose thighs were considered particularly good on account of their tenderness. Rats and mice were not spared either, the latter cooked whole on coal and eaten as such.

By June, the bread had run out and with all sources of meat exhausted, the villagers had to extend their creativity . Vine leaves, roots, and even boiled leather became sources of nourishment. Tenderised leather found many uses, moonlighting as fricassée, pâté and tripe, and everything was used; harnesses and all other leather objects. Paper and parchment were consumed too, boiled until they were tender enough to chew. The turn then came to weeds and other shrubbery, the hooves from horses and oxen as well as the shells of nuts and even slate, ground into flour to make something resembling bread.

But the relentless hunger would eventually propel the villagers to even darker acts. Desperation forced villagers to eat human and animal excrement, and eventually the inevitable happened; cannibalism. At the end of July, a villager and his family was discovered having a pot roast containing their three-year old daughter who had recently died of hunger. They were discovered with the remains of their child having already eaten the brain, liver and guts. They were condemned to death for their act.

Pierre stood on the wall where he had stood every day since the enemy army had first arrived, contemplating what he had seen. Florian was standing next to him, a shadow of his former self. There were almost no people left in the town. The ones who hadn't succumbed to hunger had left on their own accord.

"What will become of us captain"? Pierre asked

Florian, moving according to the breeze as if he was tree about to be blown over, shook his head.

"I don't know Pierre. But whatever happens, you have fought valiantly."

Pierre didn't feel as if he had been fighting at all, at least not in the past few months. His thoughts were consumer by food, his hunger gnawing at him. And he knew it was gnawing at the captain.

"I hear the council is planning to leave, surrendering the village."

The captain grunted, with a barely perceptible nod.

"I hear that too. And you know what. Maybe it is time to leave."

He grabbed his spear and pistols, and walked past Pierre, padding his shoulder.

"Come on Pierre. Should we go see what's outside the walls?"

Pierre smiled, feeling relieved.

"That sounds like a plan".