Read Online Battlesaurus by Brian Falkner - Free Book Online

and Fran ç ois in a group of other young men from the village, near to, but separate from, a group of girls of similar age that includes the Delvaux sisters, Ang é lique and Cosette, and Fran ç ois’s sister, É milie.
    On a low wooden bench nearby, the old blind woodcutter, Monsieur Antonescu, sits alone, guzzling happily from a bottle of plum brandy. He hums to himself, tunelessly, although Willem is sure that in the old man’s head the melodies are vibrant and joyful.
    At seven, just after the setting of the sun, the mayor strikes a flint to light a tallow torch, then hands the flaming brand to the oldest resident of the village, Madame Gertruda. She has had this honor for five years, since the previous oldest resident, Madame Monami, passed over.
    Madame Gertruda walks steadily toward the bonfire: a pile of wood and scrub in the center of the village square. After closing her eyes in prayer for a brief moment, perhaps thanking God for another year (or maybe cursing him for it, depending on her mood), she tosses the torch onto the pyre and steps back quickly as the dry brush, some of it dripped with pig fat, whispers, then howls into flame.
    Within minutes there is a lively fire leaping in the square, putting out heat and light to counter the cooling air and slowly fading glow of the sky.
    There is applause from the audience, and Madame Gertruda turns and curtsies happily.
    Today, apparently, is a good day.
    The feast is waiting on long tables around the edges of the square. Wooden plates are handed out by the children, who have to wait for the adults to fill theirs before helping themselves.
    Willem, in his first year as an adult, is handed his plate by Cosette, and thinks as he takes it that she will be prettier than her sister when she is fully grown. She is nearly an adult already, at fourteen years. She has long, golden-brown hair just a little darker than her sister’s. A narrow face but wide, straight teeth. A lazy eye adds to a kind of asymmetrical lopsided beauty. Unlike some girls in the village whose aspirations mainly revolve around finding a suitable husband, Cosette talks of being a writer and of living in Paris or Salzburg, two cities that hold some special romantic appeal for her. He smiles at her, but she ignores him and saves the white perfection of her teeth for Jean, next in line.
    For a moment there is a quickening of his pulse with anger, with jealousy. But it fades quickly. Willem shrugs as he moves on. He should not be offended. This is the way of things. But that brief pain? What was that? Was that like the feeling his father had for his mother? She often spoke of love, but that is something alien to Willem.
    Father Ambroise—Fran ç ois’s father—raises his hands for silence when all have overflowing plates on their laps. One of those hands is half gone, shot away in the same war injury that had nearly claimed his life, over a decade ago. All that is left are the thumb and forefinger, all-important as without them he could not have been ordained. A one-handed priest cannot perform communion.
    He offers a prayer for the coming season, blesses the food and the villagers, and wisely keeps it short, knowing that after a day of fasting, the people will be impatient for their plates.
    After the prayer, Willem sees Cosette helping Monsieur Antonescu back to his seat. She holds his arm to guide him and carries his plate with her other hand. Once he is settled she hands him the plate and Monsieur Antonescu nods briefly in thanks. Only then does Cosette return to the tables to fill her own plate.
    Fran ç ois eats just a small amount, then sets his plate aside. A moment later his pipe is in his hand and he tamps tobacco into it while he watches the others eat. He rises and finds a half-burned switch that has jumped from the bonfire. He blows on the end till it glows, then uses it to light his pipe.
    As he returns to his seat beside Willem, a log collapses somewhere in