The Bodyguard by Joan Johnston Read Free Book Online Page A

back. “Life isna fair, lad. My only sister and her husband were forced from their home by a greedy English landlord. I’ve the support of them now and the bairn that’s on the way. If ye’re English like ye say, ye can rot in hell for all I care. Now get out!”
    He opened his mouth to plead at least for a drink of water before he began his journey but shut it again. He would die of thirst before he would beg. It was plain he would get a better reception at an English tavern. “How far to the closest English stronghold from here?”
    “That’d be Blackthorne Hall near Mishnish. ’Tis a wee bit of a walk. Ten miles or so, if ye follow the road.”
    “Ten miles!”
    “Ye’d best get started if ye expect to lay yer head on a fine pillow tonight,” the innkeeper said.
    He considered asking if anyone might be headed in that direction who could give him a ride but decided he would likely be refused. He did not need another humbling. He swayed on his feet and grabbed at chairs along the way to hold himself upright as he struggled toward the door.
    When he had nearly reached it, a small voice said, “Sir, here’s a cup of ale and a bannock to fill the emptiness inside.”
    He found himself staring down into the sympatheticblue eyes of a narrow-shouldered boy dressed in a too-small shirt that exposed his wrists and too-short trousers that exposed his bare ankles, which stuck out of a pair of too-large shoes. He guessed the child was nine or ten.
    “What’re ye doing, brat?” the innkeeper demanded.
    The child held out the pewter mug. “Here, sir. Drink it quickly.”
    He reached for the mug, surprised by the kind gesture from one whose circumstances did not appear to be much better than his own. “Thank you.”
    The innkeeper crossed quickly, his hand raised to knock the mug aside, but thought better of it when he turned to confront him. Instead, the innkeeper took out his wrath on the boy who had offered succor.
    “That’s the last of yer defiance I’ll suffer,” the innkeeper said as his open palm landed on the boy’s cheek, leaving a stark red welt. He yanked the bannock out of the boy’s hand and crushed it in his fist. The boy cowered as the innkeeper poised his fisted hand for another blow.
    “Enough!” he roared, dropping the mug and catching the innkeeper’s wrist with a grip strong enough to make the man cry out. He knew he could not hold on for very long. His strength was nearly gone.
    The innkeeper was clearly furious at being said nay in his own establishment. “If ye want the care of the lad, then take him,” the innkeeper said, easily jerking himself free. “I’ve no more use of him.”
    “Oh, please, sir, dinna throw me out,” the ladpleaded, grabbing the innkeeper’s apron with both hands and hanging on.
    “I’m the one you’re angry with,” he said, realizing the trouble he had caused. “Don’t blame the boy.”
    “Be gone with the both of ye,” the innkeeper said menacingly. “Or I’ll have the lads throw ye out.”
    He looked around the room and saw several of the innkeeper’s burly friends rising from their seats. “Come with me, boy,” he said.
    The boy eyed him askance. “Ye can give me work, sir?”
    “I currently find myself traveling without my valet,” he said with a wry—and painful—twist of his mouth.
Do I really have a valet somewhere?
he wondered. “Would you care to take service with me?”
    “I would, sir,” the boy said, a quick grin flashing.
    “You will not suffer for your kindness. I promise it.”
    “Thank ye, sir.”
    The raucous laughter of the patrons showed what they thought of his job and his promise.
    “Ye’ll be wantin’ food for yer journey,” the innkeeper said. “Take this!” He threw the crumbled bannock at the boy, but nearly half the oatmeal biscuit hit the battered stranger in the chest.
    Something inside him broke at that final insult.
    “Enough,” he said in a feral voice. “That is quite enough.” He would have