Clash of Empires Read Online Free

and your mother,” he says. “And some butter as well.”
    Marie Verheyen is not her mother, but it was a necessary subterfuge that they have maintained. The soldiers’ belief that she is Willem’s sister is what has kept her alive.
    â€œThat is very kind, monsieur,” Cosette says cautiously.
    â€œI have no doubt that your stay is arduous enough,” Belette says. “I am happy to do what I can to ease the passing of the days.”
    â€œI am indebted to you, monsieur,” Cosette says. She takes the cloth-wrapped bundle.
    Belette falls in step alongside Cosette as she continues to the church. “Allow me to escort you,” he says. “With both General Thibault and Captain Baston away, I fear the discipline of some of the men is not what it should be.”
    â€œIt was merely an accident, monsieur,” Cosette says.
    â€œBut of course,” Belette says.
    The entrance to the church is a large pointed archway. Belette leaves her there with a smile and a small bow.
    Inside, the seats are wooden and new, replaced by the French, although the altar is made of stone and as old as the church itself.
    Marie is waiting there. She looks up, her nose twitching as Cosette enters. “What happened?” she asks.
    â€œAn accident in the garden,” Cosette says. “Courtesy of Private Deloque.” She grimaces. “I smell like the back end of one of their fiendish saurs.”
    Marie uses a foul word to describe Deloque.
    â€œBut now we have fresh bread and butter,” Cosette says. “Courtesy of Sergeant Lumpy.”
    Marie laughs. “Belette is an odd-looking man.”
    â€œHe has a kind heart,” Cosette says.
    She sets the cloth down on the pew next to Marie and wipes her hands as best as she can on her dress.
    â€œNow your dress smells as bad as you do,” Marie says.
    â€œI will go to the rock pool to bathe after breakfast,” Cosette says. “I will wash the dress then also.”
    â€œI will go after you return,” Marie says, and Cosette nods.
    Only one of them is allowed to leave the abbey at a time.
    Cosette sits and they break the bread together. Marie sniffs at it.
    â€œIt is not fresh,” she says. “In fact, I would barely call it bread.”
    â€œBut still better than the rest of the slop they call food,” Cosette says.
    â€œSadly true,” Marie says.
    â€œDeloque grows more impertinent by the day,” Cosette says. “Belette says we must take extra care now that Thibault and Baston are away.”
    â€œBelette is right,” Marie says. “These are foul, brutal men. We have been lucky so far. The soldiers fear Thibault and respect Baston but with them both gone I fear for our safety. Horloge is a milksop.”
    Captain Horloge is in charge in Baston’s absence. He is a small man, no older than eighteen and still struggling to grow more than a short fuzz on his upper lip.
    Marie breaks off a crust and dabs it at the butter, then chews it slowly. “When we first came here, what did I tell you?”
    â€œTo survive,” Cosette says.
    â€œWhatever it takes,” Marie says. “Your honor and your virtue are precious, but not as valuable as your life. This ordeal will end. Do whatever you have to do to survive.”
    â€œHow is Monsieur Verheyen?” Cosette asks, uncomfortable with this line of conversation. Back in the village of Gaillemarde, her sister, Angélique, had done what was necessary to survive and had ended up as a meal for a monster.
    Marie does not answer, but stares at Cosette until the girl nods.
    â€œI will do whatever it takes,” Cosette says. “How is your husband?”
    Maarten Verheyen had been thought long dead, until they had discovered him incarcerated here in the abbey.
    â€œI fear for him,” Marie says. “He grows weak. He has been a prisoner here too long, without proper food or fresh air. We all