Ellerslie!” Alex shouted. “Help!”
A cuff to the side of his head cut him off. Before he could get a breath to yell again, a gloved hand roughly covered his mouth and turned his head about.
“Be still, or I will have ye gagged,” the guard hissed.
“But we saw soldiers, down by –” Alex's protests were cut off by another blow to the head. Numb and confused, he allowed himself to be marched away. They came to the far side of the sprawling camp, where iron manacles hung from a log lashed high between trees.
A scrawny, hunched man with long greasy hair emerged from a small lean-to. “Captives!” he cackled, breaking into a nearly toothless grin. He rubbed his gnarly hands together. “It's about time someone brought me some captives.”
Chuckling gleefully, he snapped manacle irons tight around their ankles. He roughly raised Alex's and Craig's arms and snapped manacles onto their wrists, leaving them standing with arms stretched uncomfortably high over their heads.
The guard rubbed his big nose on his sleeve. “Keep a close watch on these two, Jack. They were caught trying to force their way into Wallace's chambers. If they babble any lies about soldiers and the like, make sure they regret it.”
A second, older guard spoke up: “But don't get tooexcited, Jack. No decision has been made on what to do with 'm. They came into camp under Sir Ellerslie's protection, so ye'd best not start flogging 'm yet.”
A look of disappointment spread over Jack's face. “What? Am I to just sit here and watch 'm, then?” He pulled back clumps of hair with his dirty fingers. “We're fighting a war with Hesselrigge, and this is the best ye can bring me by way of captives?”
“Patience, Jack, patience,” said the older guard. “We'll get ye more captives before long. Wallace may want a confession flogged out o' these two yet. But lower those wrist chains so they can lie down. I don't want to get into trouble with Sir Ellerslie. We'll have to wait and see what the morn may bring.”
Jack turned to the other guard for support, but he scowled and looked away. Reluctantly Jack climbed onto a crate and cranked long spokes that stuck through the log. The log turned, slowly unwrapping the coiled chains.
“A wee bit more, Jack,” the older guard ordered quietly.
Cursing, Jack cranked the spokes until the wrist chains almost reached the ground. “That does it!” he grumbled, as he stiffly stepped off the crate. “That's as far as it goes. I hope ye bring me better news the morrow. I didn't become a jailer to be sitting about with bairns. I suppose I'm to feed and water them and give 'm blankets too?
Bah.”
Jack spat.
The ratty blanket Jack threw them stank. When Alex looked at it closely, he could see tiny bugs scurrying about in the dirty weaves. Still, it was a cold night and he and Craig had little choice but to use it, lying back-to-back for warmth, their manacled hands dangling a foot off the ground.
They chose not to touch the moldy dried chunk of bread Jack flung at them, nor did they drink the dirty water he placed barely within reach in a battered metal bowl. Alex shifted his weight to avoid a rock that was digging into his side. He hoped it would not rain, doubting very much that Jack would give them shelter.
The night passed slowly. Alex heard the sounds from the camp gradually die down until there was only the occasional snort of a horse and far-off snores. His head lying awkwardly in the dirt, Alex hoped Sir Ellerslie would come to help them. He wished very hard to try to make it happen. Sometimes, when playing cards, wishing very hard would make the right card come up. Someone once told him if you want to win, you have to learn how to wish.
Alex could feel Craig's back shaking and knew he was crying. He wanted to console him, to say something anything – that might cheer him up, but nothing came to mind. Wishing someone could hear his wishes, he thought the night would never end.
Alex must have
A cuff to the side of his head cut him off. Before he could get a breath to yell again, a gloved hand roughly covered his mouth and turned his head about.
“Be still, or I will have ye gagged,” the guard hissed.
“But we saw soldiers, down by –” Alex's protests were cut off by another blow to the head. Numb and confused, he allowed himself to be marched away. They came to the far side of the sprawling camp, where iron manacles hung from a log lashed high between trees.
A scrawny, hunched man with long greasy hair emerged from a small lean-to. “Captives!” he cackled, breaking into a nearly toothless grin. He rubbed his gnarly hands together. “It's about time someone brought me some captives.”
Chuckling gleefully, he snapped manacle irons tight around their ankles. He roughly raised Alex's and Craig's arms and snapped manacles onto their wrists, leaving them standing with arms stretched uncomfortably high over their heads.
The guard rubbed his big nose on his sleeve. “Keep a close watch on these two, Jack. They were caught trying to force their way into Wallace's chambers. If they babble any lies about soldiers and the like, make sure they regret it.”
A second, older guard spoke up: “But don't get tooexcited, Jack. No decision has been made on what to do with 'm. They came into camp under Sir Ellerslie's protection, so ye'd best not start flogging 'm yet.”
A look of disappointment spread over Jack's face. “What? Am I to just sit here and watch 'm, then?” He pulled back clumps of hair with his dirty fingers. “We're fighting a war with Hesselrigge, and this is the best ye can bring me by way of captives?”
“Patience, Jack, patience,” said the older guard. “We'll get ye more captives before long. Wallace may want a confession flogged out o' these two yet. But lower those wrist chains so they can lie down. I don't want to get into trouble with Sir Ellerslie. We'll have to wait and see what the morn may bring.”
Jack turned to the other guard for support, but he scowled and looked away. Reluctantly Jack climbed onto a crate and cranked long spokes that stuck through the log. The log turned, slowly unwrapping the coiled chains.
“A wee bit more, Jack,” the older guard ordered quietly.
Cursing, Jack cranked the spokes until the wrist chains almost reached the ground. “That does it!” he grumbled, as he stiffly stepped off the crate. “That's as far as it goes. I hope ye bring me better news the morrow. I didn't become a jailer to be sitting about with bairns. I suppose I'm to feed and water them and give 'm blankets too?
Bah.”
Jack spat.
The ratty blanket Jack threw them stank. When Alex looked at it closely, he could see tiny bugs scurrying about in the dirty weaves. Still, it was a cold night and he and Craig had little choice but to use it, lying back-to-back for warmth, their manacled hands dangling a foot off the ground.
They chose not to touch the moldy dried chunk of bread Jack flung at them, nor did they drink the dirty water he placed barely within reach in a battered metal bowl. Alex shifted his weight to avoid a rock that was digging into his side. He hoped it would not rain, doubting very much that Jack would give them shelter.
The night passed slowly. Alex heard the sounds from the camp gradually die down until there was only the occasional snort of a horse and far-off snores. His head lying awkwardly in the dirt, Alex hoped Sir Ellerslie would come to help them. He wished very hard to try to make it happen. Sometimes, when playing cards, wishing very hard would make the right card come up. Someone once told him if you want to win, you have to learn how to wish.
Alex could feel Craig's back shaking and knew he was crying. He wanted to console him, to say something anything – that might cheer him up, but nothing came to mind. Wishing someone could hear his wishes, he thought the night would never end.
Alex must have
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