Kings of the Boyne by Nicola Pierce Page A

dog by his side and could feel his eyes upon him, waiting for his young master to stir himself. And then Daniel fancied he could smell his pet, his meaty breath and … and then … Daniel heard him … a low, guttural growl.
    Only Daniel knew that it couldn’t be Horace becauseHorace was dead. Slowly, very slowly, he opened his eyes and pushed himself up to lean on his elbows and looked around … meeting the hungry gaze of an enormous wolf.
    The beast’s black coat and dark eyes lent it a dreadful majesty while it displayed its fangs in a fleeting sinister grin. Both wolf and boy acknowledged their roles in the scene. The wolf was in charge. It stared at its prey calmly as if they had signed some sort of contract in which Daniel had promised not to run, not even to move. All Daniel could think was that he hoped death would be immediate.
    The wolf sniffed half-heartedly at the ground, nosing through the twigs that Daniel had dropped, all the while building itself up to the moment when it would finally act. Daniel watched it because he couldn’t do anything else. Briefly he wondered about reaching for his knife. But he knew the second he moved the wolf would pounce, as it was going to anyway. In fact, he fancied that the wolf was simply waiting for him to make the first move and start the proceedings.
    ‘Stay where you are.’
    For a moment, Daniel thought he had dreamt the voice, or stranger still that it was the wolf itself offering advice. In his terror, he could only whisper, ‘I can’t move.’
    ‘Good,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Keep staring at him, exactly like you’re doing.’
    Already shocked to his core, Daniel made no reaction as he recognised the voice of Mrs Watson. He merely did exactly what she told him to; he maintained eye contact with the wolf, who showed some confusion at the sudden arrival of this tall woman in her floppy hat. She was somewhere to Daniel’s right and he resisted the urge to look at her which meant that he received as nasty a shock as the wolf when an axe suddenly soared between them and thudded into the tree behind them.
    Daniel croaked in panic, ‘You missed!’
    Mrs Watson ignored him while the wolf was startled by the large flying object that had just about bumped his nose. Briefly he considered holding his ground until the woman quickly followed up with a large rock that bounced clumsily off his forehead. He yelped in fright and, with a speedy twist, darted off into the bushes, tearing them as he ran. Mrs Watson listened to his fading footsteps but Daniel could only hear the blood pumping inside his head. He shivered violently while his body seemed encased in a freezing sweat.
    ‘I didn’t want to kill him. There’s no need for murder when he could be so easily frightened off.’
    Daniel didn’t know what to say to this. He was still distracted by his thumping heart and clung to the grass beneath him as if afraid he might fall a second time.
    Mrs Watson strode over to the tree and tugged her axefrom it, giving the blade a quick wipe of her sleeve.
    ‘You … you saved my life!’
    His rescuer shook her head. ‘All you had to do was stand up and show him how tall you were, make some noise, hold his gaze. Wolves are opportunists; he saw you lying on the ground and assumed you were wounded and would not put up a fight.’
    She was standing over Daniel, reminding him that he had yet to move an inch. Suddenly mortified, he got to his feet, feeling more than a little unsteady.
    ‘What were you doing anyway, taking a nap in the middle of a forest?’
    Daniel blushed as he confessed, ‘Um, I fell out of the tree. I’m gathering firewood for camp; at least that’s what I’m meant to be doing.’
    He pointed to the small scattering of twigs. She did not look impressed.
    ‘It’s getting late,’ said Daniel. ‘I’d better get back in case they come looking for me.’
    He could have explained about Robert and Henry believing she was a murderous Jacobite but he was