Read The Devil's Recruit for Free Online Page A

some indiscernible fear crept into my chest and stomach. ‘The sergeant?’
    ‘Yes. He is always there, watching. He keeps to the dark corners. The boys are all afraid of him. He has a bad leg, but he can limp as fast as others run, they say. His face is covered in scars, but no one sees it – he keeps his hood up. And he has a patch over his eye. James said the right, but I knew it was the left. I was right and now he owes me a penny.’
    The fear tightened. ‘How do you know you were right?’
    He looked surprised at my question. ‘Because I saw it. All the other boys ran away when he came towards us. James wanted to too, but I called him a coward, so he stayed. Some of the boys had said the man was a Spaniard, because of his skin. But he speaks Scots, and we could understand him.’
    ‘He spoke to you? What did he say?’
    ‘He asked us our names, and when we told him, he asked us who our fathers were, and then he smiled and went away. His face did not frighten us so much when he smiled.’
    I lowered my voice. ‘Zander, did you tell your mother of this?’
    He shook his head, the sullen look returning. ‘No. She did not let me speak.’
    ‘Don’t tell her. You promise me?’
    ‘I promise,’ he said, in the manner of a little boy well-used to the giving of such promises. ‘Can I go down to the ship again? If I tell you first?’
    I looked at the child who had filled my heart for nine years, the bastard son of another man, and I felt my nails press into my own palms. ‘No,’ I said. ‘You cannot.’

4
At Baillie Lumsden’s House
    William shook his head as he mopped the last of the stew from his bowl with a hunk of the bread we had shared. ‘I do not think it is anything to be concerned about. The poor fellow must be so used to children running at the sight of him, he would have been intrigued by two who did not, and probably said the first thing that came into his head.’
    As ever at this time of day, the cookshop was filled with advocates, notaries and clerks. I usually took my mid-day meal in the college, but the principal had given me business to do out in the town this afternoon, so I had taken the chance to spend a half-hour with my lawyer friend William Cargill here instead. I had drawn William aside from his favoured table by the fire, to a bench where we might talk more privately.
    ‘Have you seen him?’
    ‘The recruiting sergeant?’
    I nodded.
    ‘I don’t think so. I have seen Lieutenant Ormiston andthe other officers, but the sergeant has never taken my notice. I think that is the way he prefers it. I have heard he has been greatly disfigured by his injuries, and rarely shows himself ashore.’
    ‘He comes out at night,’ I said, ‘when they make their tour of the inns and alehouses. He’s Ormiston’s watchdog. The innkeepers and brewsters are always glad when he has gone from their place. He has not his master’s power to charm, it seems, and does not encourage conversation, but I suspect they are two halves of the one coin.’
    William signalled for the cook’s boy to bring us more ale. ‘You are not much taken with the lieutenant, are you, Alexander?’
    I did not see any need to deny it. ‘It takes more than a studied manner and a fine cut of clothing to endear a man to me,’ I said. ‘And I do not like his pretending to know more of me than he does.’
    William looked at me pointedly. ‘How many of your own scholars have taken ship for the wars when their college days were done?’
    ‘Too many,’ I said. ‘Many more than will come back.’
    ‘Aye,’ said William sombrely. ‘But those who have gone will speak of old teachers, fondly remembered. There is nothing sinister in Ormiston knowing your name, or in his sergeant taking a moment to speak kindly to the only two boys in the town not to run away from him.’
    I conceded that William might be right, and our conversation moved on to other things – the unwelcome interestof English archbishops in the affairs of