Reign Read Free Page A

the terrible ones that appeared when Claude least expected them. He’d be cooking rice over the fire and he’d hear his father’s voice mocking him. He’d kneel down on the floor, stooping to get something, and he’d wince, thinking of his father beating him with his belt. Even though Arthur had been dead for weeks, Claude could still feel his dark presence lingering. He seemed to possess Claude in moments, and more than once Claude had turned to his father’s bottles of rum, drinking to forget.
    As the fire dwindled, Claude listened to the bleating of another horse being slaughtered. They had continued sacrificing more animals. Two horses, three goats, a cow. Some weeks there were more. They had tried everything, but the pagan gods would not be appeased. The plague had spread to other towns, and any chance Claude had of escaping had long passed.
    He started into the house, again noticing the ropes that hung in the corner of the kitchen. His mother had dried clothes on them after a wash. They were thick enough… long enough. Just one would do, tied to the rafters in the back bedroom or maybe a tree in the woods. He could end it today, tomorrow, whenever the pain and isolation grew too much. What was the point, anyway? What purpose did he have in this place now? Who was he without his family?
    He heard footsteps outside. It was a few men, possibly Gerard—he could just make out their voices. They knocked only once before entering.
    Claude backed up against the wall, watching Gerard enter with Louis, a man a few years older. They, like him, had already lost their families to the plague.
    â€œI told you,” Claude said. “I’ve given you all the surplus I have. You can check the pantry.” He pointed to the cupboards in the corner, where he kept the last of his rice and flour. He’d hidden an extra supply in the woods, burying it in a chest in case he ran out of food. They had been stopping by more frequently in the past weeks. They wanted everything he had.
    Gerard walked around the tiny cottage. He seemed to notice that many of the possessions had been cleared out. He stared down at the bare table, the five wood chairs, a mat where Enzo and Jacques had played. “We don’t want your supplies,” Gerard said, not looking at him. “We’re looking for your father. We need him for something.…”
    â€œMy father passed already,” Claude said. “I buried him myself. What do you need him for?” It was strange how quickly Gerard’s presence could make him feel like a child—scared, helpless, begging not to get hit.
    Louis, a fat redheaded man, smiled his three-tooth smile. “The pagan gods won’t be appeased by animal blood. We need to sacrifice a human to them to stop the plague.”
    â€œYou were going to sacrifice him?”
    Gerard laughed. “No, boy. He’s the executioner—we wanted him to take the life. It wouldn’t be his first. But I suppose you can do it—you’re the executioner’s son.”
    â€œI—I’m nothing like my father,” Claude stammered. “I can’t do it—I won’t.”
    â€œYou’ll be paid handsomely,” Louis said. “We’ve collected money from the dying’s families. We need this to end.”
    â€œIt won’t end this way,” Claude said, his voice breaking. “And I don’t need money. Or supplies. I need peace, and I won’t get it slicing the throat of some innocent.”
    Gerard shook his head. “We will all get peace this way—it’s the only way.”
    Before Claude could argue any further, Louis came up beside him and tied his hands. He was a burly guy—three times Claude’s size. Claude had no chance against him.
    â€œWe’ll take you to the house,” Louis said. “Three inside are already dying of the plague. You must kill one of them and hang them upside down until