Reign by Lily Blake Page B

“They think you’re worthless. You’re nothing. Their sons are out helping their fathers in the fields. Some of them are going off to fight. And you can’t even watch a man’s head come off without retching in the bushes.”
    Claude kept his eyes on the floor. Enzo had left one of the wooden horses there, and he stared down at it, noticing how the light from the window cast its shadow on the floor. He always went back to the same moment, the only memory that could bring him away from here. Lily standing by the stream, picking flowers. Lily looking up at him and realizing he was staring at her, staring at her purple-blue eyes and black hair, noticing the way her corset dipped in the front. Lily smiling back.
    She was three years younger than he, the daughter of the village blacksmith. Her parents wouldn’t discuss marriage until she turned fifteen, but he was certain she was meant for him. Every time they passed in the village square or he met her gaze at church, he was even more certain. One day, they’d be together. One day, she’d be his.
    Claude heard some of the words: useless , coward , good-for-nothing . His mother tried to protect him (bless her, she always tried), but nothing could change his father’s course once he’d decided it. Claude didn’t respond. He closed his eyes, trying to picture Lily that day at the stream, but that only angered his father more. Soon he was up from the table, taking his belt off and folding it in his hand. He’d raised his arm for the first blow when they heard the boys screaming outside.
    â€œMama! Papa!” Enzo’s voice called. “Help, Papa, help!”
    Drunk as he was, their cries woke his father from his anger. He started toward the back door, Claude and his mother close behind. When they got outside, the late afternoon sun was streaming through the trees. Enzo and Jacques were standing at the edge of the woods, looking at two men who’d arrived on horseback. Claude had never seen them before—they must have come from another village, taking a path in the forest. One of the men was still on his horse, but the other had fallen to the ground.
    â€œGood lord, what’s happened?” Claude’s mother said, looking down at the men. The one on the ground was twisting in pain. His skin was a strange pinkish color. His nose bled onto the grass.
    â€œThere’s a sickness.…” the man on the horse said. Claude could tell he was dying too; his fingers were blackish green. He had giant, swollen lumps in his neck. “Please, we need…”
    He struggled with his words. Claude scanned the woods behind them, knowing they must’ve come through the forest. The family’s cottage faced the trees, the brilliant green hills disappearing behind them. He’d heard about the plague that had swept through centuries before. There had been recurrences since, but was that what this was? How could he know what it would look like up close?
    â€œThe Black Death…” his mother whispered, confirming it.
    â€œStay away from us,” his father yelled at the men. “We can’t help you. Go back where you came from.”
    Claude ran to his brothers and pulled them farther away from the men. “You didn’t touch them, did you? How close did you come to them?” he asked, pushing his family back against the house. He covered his mouth and nose with the front of his shirt, gesturing to his brothers to do the same.
    Jacques looked terrified. He turned over his hand, which was covered with the man’s blood. “I was trying to help.…” he said, his voice a sad whisper.
    â€œMama, we tried to help them!” Enzo repeated. Then he looked up at his parents. His mother’s face had turned into something unrecognizable. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
    â€œMama?” Enzo asked. “Mama, why are you crying?”

Chapter Two
August 29, 1517
    Claude carried