A Man Called Will Scarlett - Ch. 1

CHAPTER 1



. . . and William Scathlocke woke up. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the dream. Robert Huntington had come with Wilfred deLacey to rescue them. During the fight that ensued, Matthew was struck with a stray arrow which killed him. William hated that day even though that was the day that Marian had been released from her betrothal to Matthew Huntington. They'd all been friends, and he hadn't known then that he might, one day, wish to marry Sir Hugh FitzWalter's daughter.


'THUMP! THUMP!' Came a hammering at his bedchamber door. Then Cedric, his gallic servant entered.


"Master William," Cedric began, "your father wishes to see you."


"Thank you, Ced, tell him that I'll be there presently."


Cedric bowed and retreated from the room. Will hauled himself out of bed. Hanging over the back on a chair were his clothes; fine brown hosen, a brown shirt, and a scarlet, sleeveless tunic. His slouched, ankle-boots lay beside his bed. He dressed quickly but before he went to see his father, Lord Phillip Scathlocke, he strapped a short dagger to the inside of his right forearm, under his sleeve.


William was two and twenty years old. His black hair was longer than was fasionable, he had green/gray eyes, and high cheekbones. He was thin and not very tall, but quite strong. And there was a scar running down his neck, just another reminder of that day nine years ago.


He didn't want to see his father. He could already see the conversation. It was going to be about his continuing of his unmarried stat. He hadn't told his father that he wanted to marry Marian, he knew how that would be met. Marian was a duaghter of a first generation knight - though Sir Hugh had been knighted by King Richard - and Will's family had held their title since the Norman invasion. His father was a pure Saxon, but his mother was Welsh, a fact which his father had managed to cover up, it was easy since she'd had a more saxon look about her and had died young, before anyone could notice. Since they were Saxons the Scathlockes could never rise far, this was why Phillip wished his son to marry a proper Norman lady, like Mary deLacey, the Sheriff's daughter. William could not stand Mary nor her brother Reynold, they were arrogant and excessively proud of their Norman blood. Will had another reason to dislike Reynold, the pale, gangly, freckled boy was after Marian, he'd been sweet on her since they'd met when they were small children.


Will frowned as he exited his bedchambers and strode down the hallway to his father's study. He knocked before he opened the door and entered. He saw his father sitting at his desk, writing on a piece of vellum.


"Father," William said flatly to announce his presense.


Phillip looked up at his son. "William, please sit down," his father gesturing toward the empty armchair in front of his desk. Will sat down and slid low down in the chair. His hands resting in his lap. "William," his father began, "you are no doubt aware of my wish for you to marry Sheriff deLacey's daughter, Mary."


"Yes," Will responded shortly.


There was a long pause of silence before his father said, "What do you think of her?"


Will refused to look at his father, but rather stared blankly at his hands. He waited to hear his father's exasperated sigh before he opened his mouth to answer. "She's - " he began, when there was a knock at the door.


"Come in," Lord Phillip said blankly.


Phillip's personal servant, Carl, entered and bowwed. "My lord," Carl said slowly, "Lord Guido of Gisbourne, is here to see you."


"Have him wait in the library," he said, then he turned to William and said in a menacing tone, "We shall continue this conversation later."


When the door clicked shut behind his father Will sighed, relieved not to have to answer that question to which his answer would have led to more question's who'se answers he would be more reluctant to disclose. Then he rose and stormed out the door, making a path towards the stables, and strangely as he stomped through the halls he began to wish that Michael, Nold's son, was there. But Michael wasn't, he had entered the priesthood several years before.


When he reached the stables through the courtyard, he stood and inhaled the sweet scent of fresh hay, horse manuer, leather, and saddle soap. It always made him calm, he wasn't quite sure why but it did, but he thought maybe it had to do with the closeness to the animals and to the earth, and to nature. He remembered his first visit to the stables, it had been when he was five-years-old with his mother, Adelaide . . . Everything had seemed so large then and almost magical, the proud, magnificent beasts allowing humans to sit upon their backs. Ever since that day he had loved to be in the stables and around horses. His mother had let him ride her favorite palfrey, Avis, that day; the stablemaster, Otto, had shown him how to brush her down and how to clean the mud off of her hooves. That was the first day he'd riden a horse, that was also the last time he'd seen his mother well. The next morning she had woken up with a fever, and within a week she'd had been so listless that she didn't even recognize him and he'd been banned from the sick room, a week later she was dead. It had seemed surreal to him, they had had such a good time one day the next she was ill, and then she was gone; even today, it didn't seem quite real.


"Milord, William, which mount would you like today?" Otto's dry voice interupted his reverie.


Will started. "Yes, Otto, I would like Gnash today." He saw a look of concern enter the old stablemaster's eyes, but he didn't say anything, as he left to saddle Gnash. William understood Otto's concern; Gnash was a large, wild, black stallion. Just last week he'd thrown Robbie, the stable boy, breaking his arm so badly that it had needed to be amputated. Normally, Will wouldn't ride him, normally he'd ride Ash, his brown gleding, but today he was feeling reckless and wanted to feel the wild, untamed energy of Gnash beneath him.


Soon, Otto led Gnash to him and helped him to mount. William nodded his head in thanks and urged the horse toward the gates of Scathlocke castle. But before he could even get out of the courtyard Gnash threw his head and reared back. Will fought for the reins and to remain in the saddle, fear and adrenaline surging through his veins. Then the stallion's hooves slammed into the cobblestones, rattling every bone in his body. He glanced around at the nervous faces around him and gave a wry smile before he rode out of the courtyard. He set off to the north at a trot. As soon as he was out of sight of the castle he changed his direction to the south, towards Sherwood, then he released his heavy hand on the reins and let Gnash gallop. The wind blasted his hair out of his face, whipping his cloak back. His face was being lashed with the black mane, but he was content to feel the surging muscles beneath him, it was obvious that this horse loved to run.


As he rode William forgot about the world and didn't realize where he was going. Until he heard the sound of hounds on a scent coming from his left, then a sleek brown hound burst out of the tall grass right in front of him. Gnash reared, letting out a blood chilling scream. This time as Will fought to hold his seat and the reins, he was losing. He fell back out of the saddle, slamming into the ground, his breath leaving him. The last thing his saw before his world went black was the stallion's black back coming down toward him fast.