Read Online The Forest Laird by Jack Whyte - Free Book Online

emotionless, and as he spoke it struck me that my carefree friend and cousin had changed greatly in the past few days. “Forbye four dogs that sought to kill you,” he added in that same tone. “You didna murder anybody.”
    Ewan grunted something deep in his chest that might have been a sardonic laugh. “I doubt the folk who find Laird William and his men will see it that way.”
    “That was Laird William? The knight?” Again I noted the flatness in my cousin’s voice.
    “No knight, that one,” Ewan replied. “Nobly born, but base in all things else. Aye, that was William, Laird of Ormiston, the craven who kept far off, then tried to kill you two when he thought himself safe from me. Who else did you think it might have been?”
    Will still wore that expression that was new to me, a stillness marked by cold and angry-looking eyes.
    “It matters not. He’s dead, and so he should be. Where will you go now?”
    “Back to the forest, to Ettrick. There’s nothing to keep me here now. And if they hunted me before, they’ll really hound me now.”
    Will stared into the fire, and what he said next came as a surprise to me as much as it did to Ewan.
    “Come with us, then, to Elderslie. To our kinfolk there. No one there will ken you for an outlaw. They winna know you at all. We’ll say you worked for my father and werena there when the farm was attacked. Afterwards you found us, then brought us to Elderslie. They will be grateful for that, and my uncle Malcolm will find a place for you. He’s a good man, for I’ve heard my father say he set great store by him. And you, you’re strong—worth your wage to any man that hires you. You’ll be better off there, working for us, than hiding in the forest a’ the time.”
    The big man produced what I now knew to be a smile. “Working for you, eh? How old did you say you are?”
    “I’m ten. But I’ll soon be eleven. And I didn’t mean working for me. I was talking about my uncle Malcolm.”
    “And what about my face?”
    “It’s a good face … once you get over the fright of it. You can wear your mask at first, if you like, till folk get to know you.”
    “Hmm.” Ewan’s broad brow, the only unmarred surface on his face, furrowed. “How am I to know if I would like it there?”
    “The same way we’ll know. We’ve never been there either, so we’ll find that out thegither. But you’ll like it. And besides, I’ll need you there to teach me to be an archer.”
    Ewan Scrymgeour placed one massive palm across his eyes and shook his head, then inhaled a great breath. “Well, William Wallace, that might be a good idea, and it might not. I’ll ha’e to think on it. Now get you two to bed, the both of you. I’m going back outside to talk to my mother about it.”

CHAPTER TWO
    1
    “N ow sit down, all of you, and tell me again. Will, you tell me. And this time, take your time. Tell me all of it and leave nothing out. Sit.”
    Sir Malcolm Wallace’s voice was a deep, rumbling roll of sound, his mouth hidden beneath a bushy, greying beard. He was nowhere near as large as the archer Ewan, but he somehow conveyed the impression of being much larger than he was. I suspected that had more than a little to do with the fine quality of his clothing, which even I could see had been tailored to emphasize the width of his chest and shoulders. He had dropped into what was obviously his own chair by the unlit fireplace, one side of his head and upper body bathed in light from the window in the wall. Will, Ewan, and I stood in what felt to me like darkness in the middle of the large, wood-panelled room.
    All three of us moved obediently to sit facing him on three straight-backed wooden chairs, and as Will cleared his throat nervously, I looked about me, noting the richness with which I was surrounded. Sir William’s house was as big and solid as its owner, built of sandstone and far more grand than the house in Ellerslie where I had lived for the past two years with his