Read Online Shield of Three Lions by Pamela Kaufman - Free Book Online

under pale bushy brows, and he, too, reached for a dagger.
    “We don’t want any Scots here,” he wheezed. “Just move on and there’ll be no trouble.” He raised his dagger as if to throw.
    “Our beasts need water.”
    The squire hurled his weapon, but was no match for the Scot. I saw one dagger lying at Twixt’s feet while the red-haired wight clutched his bleeding hand and howled in anguish.
    Enoch leveled his pike and pushed on the
N
. “’Tis anely a scratch and I mean no harm. But I want water.”
    “So take it,” the squire mumbled, “and then be on with ye.”
    Enoch dismounted, picked up his thwitel, glared at the choleric squire, then lifted me to the ground. The pathetic clerk smiled with boiled gums. “You’re a pretty child. Would you care to share our mess?”
    I shook my head fearfully.
    The squire, who’d paid me no heed till now, turned with sudden interest. “A
pretty
child
indeed
. Who are you, boy? What’s your name?”
    “T—Tom,” I said quickly before Enoch could give my true name.
    The Scot stared, as intrigued as the squire.
    “Tom.” The squire weighed the name as if ’twere a bag of oats. “Glad to meet ye,
Tom
. I’m Magnus Barefoot, squire to Sir Roland de Roncechaux. And this is my coz, Clerk Walter Pafey who just returned from the Holy Land.”
    I said naught.
    “Where are you from, Tom?” he persisted, leaning ominously.
    “From—from Scotland,” I said.
    Enoch’s face was a study in speculation and I prayed he wouldn’t betray me.
    By now the squire knelt so his eyes were level with mine. A brown speck like a grape-seed rode in one green iris. “Strange, you don’t look or sound like a Scot.”
    I felt strong hands pull me back and Enoch answered. “This be Tom, my wee brother what’s riding with me to Paris. He doesnaspeak as broad as me because he’s ’prenticing for the Church and uses the Latin tongue. Say somewhat in Latin, brother.”
    “
Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres
,” I bleated.
    Magnus Barefoot rose and faced Enoch. “Common Scots don’t have wolves as pets,” he said coldly.
    “Namore do we,” Enoch agreed. “This beast war a gift from the laird where I be steward. The wolf bit his young daughter. Now pardee, we mun take our water.”
    Balked, Magnus stepped away as I stared at the Scot, astonished at his fast wit. He pulled me to the edge of the stream where we stood with our backs to Magnus Barefoot. I dared not look at the Scot, grateful as I was, for I was also fearful. What was his motive?
    When we turned to leave, we faced the squire again. He now smiled unctuously at Enoch.
    “Forgive me, Scot, for my former harsh words. Wanthwaite Castle was sacked by Scots two days ago and all of Northumberland’s men be alerted to suspicious characters.”
    “Scots doona attack across the border and ride south,” Enoch replied.
    I waited for my doom to fall at the word
Wanthwaite
, for soothly the treacherous wight meant to confront me now.
    “I admire you Scottish wizards,” Magnus continued in that same oily wheeze, “and especially in your art of physic.”
    Enoch raised his brows and waited. I, too, was much perplexed.
    “You must have noted how my poor coz suffers from every sickness known to the Infidel, a heavy price for Crusading. I’ve often heard that the piss of a young boy can cure blisters. Do you think your brother would oblige by giving his water?”
    “No, I won’t!” I cried, seeing his purpose. He might not want to fight Enoch in direct combat but if he could expose me, I was lost.
    Both men looked down on me, Magnus with triumph.
    “That’s no’ Christian, bairn,” Enoch scolded. “Take us to the sick man, Squire Barefoot.”
    The Scot’s heavy hand led me back to the clerk. The poor fellow looked so grateful and beseeching together that for one wild moment I wondered if I could be wrong.
    Enoch leaned close to the patient. “Ah, the worms hae delved deep. ’Twill take careful application, but