The Book of Lies by James Moloney Read Free Book Online

these three for an audience.
    “We don’t need Mrs Timmins,” seethed Dominic, too enraged to see sense. “I’m ready, Fergus.” His fists were still in position. “You think you can lord it over the rest of us, well now’s your chance.”
    The trouble was, as Marcel could see, that was exactly what was going to happen.
    “Wait!” he shouted, stepping between the two boys as they stared at each other menacingly. “If you’re going to fight someone, Fergus, it should at least be a fair fight.” He put up his own fists to show that he was taking Dominic’s place.
    “But he’ll make a mess of you instead, Marcel!” cried Hugh, behind him.
    Oh, great. Even Marcel’s new friends thought he would lose. In fact, now that he was here, facing Fergus, he wasn’t so sure he had done the right thing. Fergus suddenly looked a lot bigger.
    He glared at Fergus, whose round face was bloated with arrogance, as though he had won the fight already. Marcel would love to bring him down a peg or two, tussle that woolly brown hair and iron out those thin little lips so that they couldn’t curl into a permanent smirk. So what if he’s got shoulders like a plough horse? If I’m fast on my feet, he told himself, he’ll never land a punch.
    Hugh was looking at those shoulders too. “It’s still not a fair fight,” he cried. “If this is some kind of challenge, then neither of you should have the advantage.”
    “What are you talking about?” asked Fergus, dropping his fists.
    “What about a race?” suggested Hugh.
    But Fergus sneered at the idea. “That’s for babies.”
    “A horse race, then,” said Marcel, as he recalled his morning’s work.
    Fergus eyed him cautiously, but there was no doubt he was interested now. “A steeplechase, you mean, like the way cavalrymen race?”
    Marcel wasn’t sure what a steeplechase was, but if it meant he didn’t get beaten up… “Yes, all right. When Old Belch comes back we can ask him if he’ll lend us two horses.”
    “I’m not waiting for that ”, Fergus announced impatiently. “If we’re going to have a steeplechase, then let’s have it now.”

Chapter 4

The Race
    F ERGUS AND HIS LITTLE band of followers hurried off towards the stables. Marcel found he had his own troop close on his heels. “We’re coming with you,” said Dominic, keeping up as best he could.
    “Maybe you two should race as well,” said Marcel. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know if I’ve ever ridden before.”
    They stopped in their tracks, staring at him dumbfounded. “Well, you’re about to find out, then,” Hugh commented drily.
    They dragged open the heavy door of the stables and crammed inside. Fergus headed the march past the stalls. “I’ll take this one,” he said almost instantly.
    Marcel was not surprised when he led out thesplendid chestnut stallion and began to strap a saddle on to its back.
    Then it was Marcel’s turn. Forget the lame horse and the dispirited one, he thought, and no plough horse was going to win him this race. That left only the dappled mare.
    At least she looks up to a race, he thought, as he took her outside to where Hugh and Dominic waited with the saddle. Fergus was standing ready beside his chestnut mount, but each time Marcel and his friends tried to heave the saddle on to their horse’s back she shimmied sideways.
    Marcel wondered whether she’d respond to her new name.
    “Stand still, Gadfly!”
    The mare flared her nostrils and threw her head about wildly as though she were thinking of escape.
    “Hurry up, or I’ll start without you,” Fergus threatened.
    Marcel left the saddle to his companions and turned to confront him. “We haven’t decided on the course yet.” He looked around the grounds of the orphanage, planning a route in his mind. “What about twice round the inside of the orphanage walls?” he proposed.
    “No, that’s not a real race,” said Fergus. “We’ll go through the orchard first, then follow the stone wall