A Man Called Will Scarlett - Prologue

PROLOGUE
         

         Will looked about, his ears straining for any sound of pursuit. He sat there on his mount, his heart pounding in his throat. Slowly he began to relax as he heard only normal noises of the forest. He'd run away from his tutor, he did not know why he needed to know the things that the man was teaching him. Often Brother Peter would pursue him, but today he wasn't. His black hair flopped into his eyes and he left it there, he liked it there. He grinned broadly, he was free! His mare started into a trot as his urging. He was following some old animal trails. Soon he reached the spot where he always stopped. He removed the mare's tack and let her loose to graze. He removed a few sheets of vellum from his belt and settled down into the grass. The vellum contained some poetic verse that Marian FitzWalter, Sir Hugh's only daughter, had written.

The mist slides across the ground
Making not a sound.
Silently stepping forward
Acting oh so bored.

         
She didn't show anyone else, not even Matthew Huntington, the Earl of Huntington's youngest son. A loud 'CRACK' resounded through the silent forest. His head jerked up, dropping the sheets into his lap. He heard a rustling to his left. 'Oh, no,' he thought. He carefully picked up the vellum, sliding it back into his belt. Then he hoisted the saddle blanket and the saddle and began to approach the roan mare. She looked up and stood still while he deftly saddled her. He stuffed his foot into the stirrup and began to drag himself into the saddle.
         

"Step down, young sir, or I'll put an arrow through your pony's head," said a calm voice from behind him.
         

William slowly lowered himself to the ground and silently cursing himself for wearing his fine clothes, and for carrying his purse. He turned around, his feet shuffling in the brown, fallen leaves. The man stood on the edge of the clearing, almost immediately William was struck with a wave of pity for the man. His hosen was patched in several places, his toes were sticking out of the end of his boots, his stained tunic was torn and poorly repaired in many spots, and his cloak was ragged.
         

"What's in your purse?" the man asked, licking his cracked lips.
         

"There is nothing in it," Will quietly replied.
         

"I don't believe you."
         

Will loosened his belt, removed the empty purse and tossed it towards the man. When he lowered his bow, Will didn't move, sensing rather than seeing that there were more outlaws hiding in the shadows of the trees. William studied the man's face; it was ruddy and dark, with his dark blonde hair hanging in greasy strands across his face. Nevertheless, there was something about his expression and his nose that made Will feel like he should know him.
         

Then there was the sound of someone crashing thought the underbrush. The outlaw had dropped the empty purse and raised his bow again. Matthew Huntington burst into the clearing. Then he froze when he saw the outlaw. Too late did William hear something behind him. Someone seized his left wrist and pressed a dagger to his throat, cutting his neck from beneath his ear to just below his chin. He resisted the urge to swipe the blood off his neck.
         

"Your names, both of you," snarled the man holding William.
         

Will winced from pain and from the man's sour breath. He looked at Matthew who was staring dumbly at the blonde outlaw who still had his bow aimed at Matt's chest.
         

"William Scathlocke," Will said, only to curse himself roundly for not using a false name. Only then did Matthew give his name. Will saw the blonde outlaw's face rise, then fall, and then appear pensive.
         

"Seize the boy," the blonde thief said to the unseen men, "then we return to our shelter."
         

William closed his eyes hoping that Marian FitzWalter wouldn't show up, hoping that her tutor had kept her. He did not want her to stumble into this mess.
         

The two young men were dragged, shoved, and pulled through the dense forest. Soon they stood in front of a crude house, the blonde outlaw banged on the door, which slowly opened. He had a hurried, whispered conversation with whoever was behind the door before it opened fully. The two boys were pushed roughly inside. Before William could see properly, he'd been pushed through another doorway, and forced to sit on the ground. He heard the curtain across the doorway fall into place.
         

"Bloody outlaws." He heard Matthew mutter somewhere to his left. William touched the slice on his neck, his fingers came away sticky with hot, red blood. He wiped his fingers on the front of his crimson doublet. Then he turned to where he thought Matthew was and said, "You surprised them, ye could've run fer help."
         

He heard Matthew sigh and shift position. "You couldn't have in my position."
         

"And what, pray tell, was your position," William snapped.
         

"My position was having Warren aiming an arrow at my chest," Matthew said tightly.
         

"And why, the bloody hell, does it matter that his arrow was pointing at you?"          


"Warren's my brother, Will."
         

The thought brought William up short as he remembered that Warren Huntington, the Earl of Huntington's third son, had turned to outlawry and banditry, rather than go with his brother Richard on Ceour de Lione's Crusade. He was never spoken of and Will had only been a small lad at the time.
         

Just then, he heard a rustling. His entire body stiffened, every muscle taunt; he stood. "Who's there?" he demanded.
         

"Will," came a low, trembling voice, "is that you?"
         

"Marian." He heard a shuffling and then he could see her. Her unruly, black hair had escaped its braids, framing her pale, delicate face. He light blue eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and he could see the trails that they'd tracked through the dirt on her face. He embraced her and said, "They got you too?"
         

"Yes," she sniffed, pulling away and looking at him.
         

"How," asked Matthew, "you're always so careful?"
         

Marian sat back on her heels and looked at the two boys - tears in her eyes - "I got away early, I was happy, I was careless," she said with a slight shrug as if it didn't really matter.
         

Will's mind began to churn; they had either to be rescued or to escape. Moreover, escaping didn't seem likely since they didn't have any weapons, they were out numbered, and they had no idea where they were. "Does anyone know that we're in the forest?" William asked.
         

Matthew nodded, "Robert knows that I'm here."
         

"Reynold deLacey saw me enter the woods, he'll probably have told his father, the Sheriff, by now," Marian said quietly.
         

Then there was a pounding and the sound of the outlaws shouting . . .