Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom

slowly and deliberately. He wished he could eat his lunch here, at his
desk, while he read the next few pages of the Aeneid. As the boy
walked toward the door, he brightened, remembering that his father
had agreed that he should begin private Greek lessons with Master
MacFarlin, and that they would be starting today, in two hours. Cutler
was eager to read about the adventures of Hector and Achilles in the
original Greek.
The boy paused in the doorway. His gaze moved left, then right,
while he counted slowly to fifty. The brick-fenced school yard was
deserted. Over the top of the fence, he could see the older, mellowed
brick of his mother’s herb garden wall. All was quiet, serene, peaceful.
It was late spring, and the warm sun, after a typical wet and chilly
southern English winter, felt wonderful.
Reassured, Cutler Beckett stepped through the doorway and went
down the three steps, hugging his books and slate against his thin
chest. He wandered down the path, his mind’s eye filled with images of
waves of Greek warriors attacking the walls of Troy.
He never saw them coming.
The first indication that his fellow students had lain in wait for him
came when a hard blow smashed into his back, and a voice screamed
that hated nickname into his ear. “Cuttlefish! Cuttlefish, where were
you? Did you think you were too good to play with us? Come on,
cuttlefish! Let’s play!”
Young Beckett fell forward onto the path, landing hard. He tried to
get up, but another assailant—he thought it was Lord Wolsey’s son,
ten-year-old Richmond—was holding him down. All he could see was
the boy’s buckled shoes and stockings. He figured it had been the
biggest of them, twelve-year-old Jeremiah, son of Sir Thomas
Grahame, who had knocked him down. The third boy, also ten years
old, was the young Lord Marcus Pangborne, he of the red hair,
freckles, and foul mouth. Cutler could hear him, shouting curses and
urging the others on.
“Hit him again! He’s a bloody cuttlefish! Damn you, you stinking,
slimy cuttlefish!”
A blow slammed into his left ear, making his head ring. Dazed,
Cutler tried to curl up into a defensive ball, but they were all holding him