Read Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren for Free Online Page B

was still the lad of seventeen I had last seen. And in truth, though I had thickened across the shoulders a little, I still saw myself as the scrawny boy I had been. Some of that was due to my never growing as much as I expected. My father was a large man, wide of shoulder and deep of chest, yet I took after my mother’s family. They were lean and not necessarily tall.
    Deep in thought, I began to ride to my uncle’s house at Dunfield, a good day’s journey to the north. It was late afternoon; and as I set out, the chill was already biting through my cloak and breeches. As dusk approached, I decided warmth might trump caution and I might wish to consider a room at an inn. I was no longer riding an expensive mount and my clothes were quite road-worn. I did not look wealthy in the slightest. Unfortunately, I was already following my usual habits of avoiding swashbucklers, by not traveling on the highway that ran more directly from London. The little road I was on wound through the Hertfordshire countryside, and there was not an inn in sight.
    Thus, I considered myself lucky when I spied a dilapidated barn well off the road. The surrounding field was not cultivated, and I saw no houses nearby. I rode down the overgrown path cautiously and saw no one. However, I heard the rustle of movement inside the aged building after I dismounted to investigate the door. I thought it an animal, until I heard a furtive whisper. I drew both pistols and held my ground. If they wished to shoot me, they could have already done so. It seemed an unlikely place for highwaymen, anyway.
    “Hello?” I queried. “I do not mean to trespass. I am merely seeking shelter for the night.”
    “Do not shoot,” a voice said, with the awkward catch and squeak of a boy on the verge of manhood. There was a snicker and a muffled curse, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh and then a squawked “ow!” A youth emerged from the canted opening between the sagging doors. He shot a glare back over his shoulder. I guessed he was the speaker, as he seemed caught somewhere betwixt boy and man.
    I pointed both pistols skyward and said, “Greetings,” in my friendliest voice.
    “What da ya want?” the boy asked, doing his utmost to keep his voice steady.
    “I am just on the road and in search of a place to spend the night. I will move on if this structure is occupied, which apparently it is.”
    He regarded me as if I were daft. “Where ya be headed?”
    “Dunfield.”
    “Are ya lost? The highway be o’er yonder.”
    “If I were on the highway, you would be older and armed.”
    He considered my words and nodded thoughtfully. “Tisn’t much ’ere abouts, lest ya ’ave ta hide from farmers real careful.”
    “Well, that is a pity,” I sighed and returned the pistols to my belt.
    The moon was well waned, not that it would have shown through the damn clouds anyway. Riding on once night fell would be difficult. And finding a place to hide from farmers, as he suggested, would be even more so. Not that I felt great need to hide from farmers. Providing them explanation for my presence could prove tedious, though.
    The boy seemed to work his courage up as the weapons were taken out of play. “Do ya ’ave food? Ta share? You can stay if’n ya ’ave victuals.”
    He was eyeing my horse and few bags. By the looks of his arms, which were almost skeletal, I gathered he would just as soon eat my mount as ride it.
    I nodded. “I bought more provisions than I need for such a short trip. I would be happy to share in exchange for a safe place to sleep.”
    He understood my meaning. “We’ll cause ya no trouble.”
    “Then we have an agreement.” I eyed the building. “Is there an opening large enough for my horse?”
    He shrugged and grinned. “Aye, ’alf the back wall be missin’.”
    With a chuckle, I led my horse round, and entered to find a band of eight boys lurking in the shadows and straw. The one I had been speaking with, Big John