The Forest Laird Read Online Free PDF Page A

forehead.
    When he turned back to us, his face was covered by a mask of green cloth that he must have pulled down from his hooded cap. It was drawn tight beneath what chin he had, its only openings three ragged-edged holes, one for breathing and one for each eye. The right eye gleamed at me from its opening.
    “There,” he said. “That’s better, no?”
    “Better?” My voice was no more than a squeak.
    “My face. It’s one to frighten children. So I keep it hidden—most of the time.” He tilted his head so he could look at Will. “So now that I can tell ye’re no’ here to rob me, I have some questions to ask you.” He bent suddenly and grasped my ankle and I stiffened with fear, but all he did was twist it gently and pull it up so he could look at the back of my leg. “Your legs are covered wi’ dried blood, caked with it. And so are yours,” he added, nodding at Will. “Why just your legs, and why just the backs of them?”
    “You know fine well.” Will’s voice was little louder than my own, but I could hear defiance in it. “You did it—you and your friends. Used us like women … like sheep.”
    “I did what ?” The giant stood for a moment, opening and closing one massive, craggy fist, and then he quickly stooped and grasped Will’s ankle as he had mine. “Lie still,” he growled as Will started to kick. “I’ll no’ hurt you.”
    I had tensed, too, at his sudden move, ready to hurl myself to Will’s defence, but then I remained still, sensing that there was no malice now in the man’s intent. And so I watched as he flipped Will over to lie face down, then pinned him in place with a hand between his shoulders while he pulled up the hem of my cousin’s single garment, exposing his lower back and buttocks and the ravages of what had been done to him. I had not seen what now lay exposed to me, for neither of us had spoken of what had happened, but I knew that what I was seeing was a mirror image of my own backside. I vomited painfully, hearing the giant say again, “Lie still, lad, lie still.”
    When I finished wiping my mouth they were both watching me, Will sitting up, ashen faced, and the giant leaning back, his shoulders against the steep bank at his back.
    “Sweet Jesus,” our captor said, in what we would come to know as his curious soft-edged and sometimes lisping voice. “Listen to me now, both of you. I know the sight of me frightened you. That happens often and I’ve grown used to it. But know this as well. I had no part in what was done to you, and no friend of mine would ever do such a thing. I know not who you are, nor where you came from, and I never saw you before you came across that ridge up there.” He flicked a finger at Will. “When did this happen?”
    “Yesterday.” Will’s voice was a whisper.
    “When? Daytime or night?”
    “Daytime. In the morning.”
    “Where?”
    “At home, near Ellerslie.”
    “Near Ellerslie ? That’s in Kyle, is it no’?”
    Will nodded. “Aye, near Ayr.”
    “Carrick land. Bruce country. But that’s thirty miles and more from here. How did you get here?”
    “We ran.”
    “You ran ? Thirty miles in two days? Bairns?”
    “Aye, we ran,” Will snapped. “They were chasing us. Sometimes we hid, but mostly we ran.”
    “Who was chasing you?”
    “The ones who— The ones who murdered my father, Alan Wallace of Ellerslie. And my mother. My wee sister Jenny, too.” Now the tears were pouring down Will’s cheeks, etching clean channels through the caked-on dirt.
    “Christ!” The green mask swung back to face me. “And who are you? His brother?”
    I shook my head, feeling the tears trembling in my own eyes. “No, I’m his cousin Jamie, from Auchincruive. I came to live with Will when my family all died of the fever, two years ago.”
    “Aha.” He looked back at Will. “Your name’s Will Wallace?”
    “William.”
    “Ah. William Wallace, then. My name is Ewan Scrymgeour. Archer Ewan, men call me. You can call