Will in Scarlet Read Free Page B

up. Will tried to yank his caught leg from the wolf’s mouth, and with a sudden snap he was free.
    The wolf fell back a few steps with a metal greave in its jaw, the leather straps dangling loose. Apparently, Will hadn’t secured them as well as he thought—lucky for him.
    He scrambled across the leaf-strewn floor to his sword, grabbed its hilt with one hand, and swung it in a great sweeping arc behind him. He didn’t even have time to look at what he was hacking. He just felt it connect.
    Again and again his sword struck the wolf, until Will’s strength failed him and he fell panting and sick to the ground.

    He was half frozen when Geoff found him two hours later. The leg had stopped bleeding, but he could barely unclench his fingers from his sword’s hilt. He’d been standing there that whole time, listening for the next attack, which never came. But he’d kept his eyes on the carcasses, waiting for them to transform into men. They’d stayed wolves. Just dead wolves.
    When Geoff appeared in the brush, Bellwether in tow, Will finally allowed his sword’s point to fall to the dirt, but he still couldn’t let it go.
    Osbert swore loudly as he looked over the scene. Geoff wrapped a thick woolen blanket around Will’s shoulders.
    “Well, I’ll be bloodied,” Osbert said. “Wolfbait, my foot! All hail young lord
Wolfslayer
!”
    The men cheered and clapped Will on the back.
    “Now,” said Osbert, “can we please go home? It’s cold out here.”

TWO
    That lord is named Sir Guy of Gisborne, the Horse Knight
.
A name that in certain parts of the kingdom inspires worry
.
In the rest, fear
.
    —T HE S HERIFF OF N OTTINGHAM
    Will’s toes hurt worse than anything. It had stung when Nan sewed the cut on his cheek closed. His shoulder, covered in a deep blue and yellow bruise, throbbed painfully whenever he moved, and the wolf bite on his ankle had swollen to an angry red. But nothing compared to the excruciating torture of having his frozen toes thawed in a pot of hot water.
    The pain began as nothing more than a slight tingle. Then what were once stone-numb toes came alive with tiny needle pricks, which grew into stabbing thorns and, ultimately, molten spears of hellfire. He pleaded with Nan.
    Please, please, put my poor toes back on ice
, he’d begged.
    Not if you want to have those toes in the morning
, she’d said.
You’re lucky they haven’t blackened and turned frostbit as is
.
    I don’t need them all
, he’d cried.
I can do without one or two if it’ll make it stop!
    In the end, he managed to suffer the torment and keep all ten, and once the ordeal had passed, he slept, not dragginghimself from bed until well after first light. The castle was frigid even though the servants kept roaring fires going throughout the night, and Will had to crack a layer of ice from his water-pot just to wash his face and hands. The shock of the freezing water woke him up, at least. A bad-tasting film covered the inside of his mouth and tongue, and he discovered that he’d bitten his cheek last night and not even known it. After rinsing his mouth out with ice water, he scrubbed his teeth clean with a twig of hazel.
    His mother surprised him by delivering breakfast to his room. She said little but hugged him in a tight embrace. He ate bacon and a butter roll, and Nan brought him a steaming bowl of porridge. With the first bite, Will realized it was sweetened with molasses. Nan watched him eat, arching her eyebrows but saying nothing.
    Will thanked them both while silently preparing a plan to find Nan’s hidden molasses stash. She’d practically dared him to.
    Lessons for the day were canceled, and so he was left to his own devices, free to roam. Normally, this would be a very dangerous thing, but Will was still too sore to get into any real mischief. Shackley Castle was an old keep, not nearly as grand as the large stone castles of other lords. The main building’s wooden walls dated back to Will’s great-grandfather