The Forest Laird(100)

“Forgive me, Father James,” he muttered as he bustled in. “I detest being kept waiting, and I detest keeping others waiting for me even more. Three times I was waylaid by bustling busybodies on my way back from the latrines, and I sent a fourth accoster reeling with a flea in his ear when he sought to stop me over some petty grievance that he could have dealt with himself when it arose. What is wrong with people today? No one seems to dare to risk making a decision on his own without gaining approval from someone else first. Ah! We have food, I see. Excellent. Then let us eat.”

We ate in appreciative silence, but as soon as he had devoured a second wedge of bread stuffed with beef and fiery horseradish and washed it down with a deep draft of ale, my mentor pushed away his platter and sat back, belching discreetly into his sleeve.

“We have talked about your gift many times,” he began then, “and about how I first came to notice you. But why was it, think you, that I took such an interest in your cousin Will from the first time I saw him? Can you guess?”

I pushed away my bowl and shook my head. “Because he used a bow?”

“Aye, good man. It was precisely that. He used a bow. But not merely a flat bow. Those are commonplace. He had a bow of English yew, a longbow. In Scotland, and with him so young, that was remarkable, and I took note of it.”

“So did Andrew Murray, my lord.”

“Aye, so he did. But Andrew’s awe of Will came from Will’s skill with the quarterstaff, if I remember rightly. Andrew was obsessed with that weapon, and it served him well enough, if truth be told, but he was ever an indifferent bowman.”

“Were you ever a bowman, my lord?”

“Me?” His laugh was a single bark, and he gestured towards the window corner closest to him, where his long, well-used old sword stood propped in the angle of the wall. “No, not I. Old Grey-Tongue there was the only weapon I ever needed when the time came to the do the Lord’s work. Why would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know, my lord. Perhaps because I thought that might be the reason you took note of Will.”

“Hmm. No, I noticed your cousin purely because he was a Scot, in Scotland, carrying an English bow. It marked him either as a fool or as a man to watch. Some men will carry a weapon like that solely in the hope of setting themselves apart from the herd of their fellows, imagining that the mere appearance of being different will indicate that they are dangerous. Such men are fools, for anyone who cares to look will see right through their pretense. It was obvious from the outset that your cousin was not one of those. The very ease and casual respect with which he bore the weapon proclaimed his familiarity with its use. And that made him doubly impressive.”

I waited, but he said no more, and so I prompted him. “Forgive me, my lord, but doubly impressive in what way?”

“His youth, and his indubitable prowess.” He saw that I was still not following. “Think of what I said of the fool who carries such a bow for pure effect. His foolishness is evident in that he must lack the physique to use it properly. There is but one way to acquire those mighty archer’s thews, that width and depth of back and shoulders so enormous in your cousin and his friend Ewan. They come from years of discipline and practice; hours and hours of repetitive pulling, day after day and month after month. Your cousin had those muscles when I first set eyes on him, and he was yet but a boy. That told me he had great and admirable self-discipline, but even more, it told me that young Wallace, boy though he might be, was yet his own man. It told me he possessed sufficient pride and confidence to care nothing for what others thought of him, and would bow his head to no man other than those he chose to acknowledge as being worthy. I saw all that in my first glimpse of him, the way he stood, and the manner in which his unstrung bow stave hung in a case from his shoulder. Owning and using such a weapon, and such an English weapon, would set him apart from all his fellows and practically force him to walk alone in every endeavour to which he turned his hand and mind, and he would turn to nothing lightly. It crossed my mind then and there that our realm would always have need of men like him.

“And now I would bid you go and find him for me, to take my blessing to him and to deliver a message, assuring him of my support and encouragement in what he is achieving. And tell me now, if you will, why you are scowling at me with so much disapproval.”

I had not been aware that I was frowning. “Forgive me again, my lord. I am having difficulty understanding your point of view. What is it, precisely, that you see my cousin achieving?”

He gazed at me levelly. “Not quite accurate, Father, if I may say so. You understand clearly enough what I am saying, I believe. Your difficulty springs from being unable to believe that your Bishop could hold such unlawful, even sinful opinions, let alone give voice to them. Am I not right?”