Mercedes Lackey - Anthology (32 page)

 
          
"There!"
she said, holding up the hooded falcon on her leather-gauntleted fist, game bag
slung on her hip, leash properly fastened to the jesses and to the ring on her
glove. If ever anyone painted a portrait of her, this is how she would choose
to be memorialized: in her best brown riding habit—not a fancy court gown with
tight sleeves, trailing dagged hem, and fur-lined houpellande—and with her hair
tucked neatly under a tight coif, and not a single jewel. "Now we're ready
for the field."

 
          
She
cast a side glance at young
Bern
, who gazed at her with awe, and smiled.

 
          
He
wouldn't be in such awe if Valeria had been in one of her moods—for it would
have been a struggle to take her up; she'd have bated off the fist at least a
dozen times before she calmed, and then she'd have snaked her head around like
a serpent to avoid the hood. "Time for your catechism," she continued
merrily. "What bird is this?" "A peregrine falcon,"
Bern
said promptly. "And why is she called
a falcon?" she asked, wondering how detailed his answer would be.
"Two reasons; first of all, she has long, pointed wings and she waits on
up in the air. A hawk has broad, wide wings and hunts from trees or from the fist."
He screwed up his face for a moment. "Of course, you can hunt a falcon
from the fist too, but she has a better chance at the prey if you put her up so
that she can stoop. It's her shape—that and the way she likes to hunt—that
makes her a falcon. That's the first reason." He watched her alertly, to
see how sati-fied she was thus far.

 
          
She
was quite pleased, actually. "
Good,
and the
second reason?"

 
          
"She's
a falcon, because she's a girl. The boys are tiercels."
Bern
looked pleased with himself at answering
the question with both correct answers.

 
          
"Excellent,"
Honoria rewarded him, as she gestured to him to follow, and led the way out of
the mews. The birds watched with alert interest through the slats of their
stalls, and she wondered what was going through their heads.

 
          
"Now,
why am I hunting with a falcon and not a tiercel?"

 
          
"Because tiercels are smaller?"
Bern
hazarded, as Honoria used her free hand to
pick up her skirts as they entered the stable-yard. With spring gradually
coming on, the stable-yard was a mess of half-frozen mud, and the current
fashion of riding habits still had skirts long enough to mire the hem if one
wasn't careful.

 
          
As
if we women hadn't enough to hobble us already, she thought, as she made to
answer
Bern
's reply. "Most falconers do prefer to
hunt with the larger falcons, yes," she told him, continuing his education
as an austringer, one of the many skills he would need to qualify for
knighthood. "Most falconers will also tell you that females are more serious
about hunting, as well. They feel that falcons are more determined in a
tail-chase, less inclined to let the prey slip."

 
          
Bern
scratched his shaggy head, looking earnest.
"Maybe that's because they have to feed the babies and can't let anything
get away?"

 
          
Honoria
laughed delightedly. "That might be—but it is also possible that most
falconers let greed get the better of their judgment, and let slip at game that
is too big, too fast, or too difficult for a tiercel. I seldom take a peregrine
tiercel at anything larger than teal, and I have seen no difference in attitude
between Valeria and Victor. In fact, since Victor is small and more agile, he's
better at partridge and wood-dove than Valeria. But today, we hunt duck, and
for duck, we need Valeria's weight and strength."

 
          
There
were ducks returning form the south in one of the wheat fields below the castle
bailey; they were at a disadvantage there, away from water, though there was a
cow pond not far away. Honoria was going to take
Bern
out for his first lesson in hunting where
someone would actually explain what was going on, and why. The young squire had
been on many hunts before this, and had absorbed quite a bit simply by
observation, but no one had ever explained what was happening, step by step.

 
          
Bern
had a spaniel trained to flush on a lead;
he would handle the dog today, and Honoria the bird. Tomorrow, or the next day,
if ducks were still there, the positions would be reversed. He would not be
flying Valeria, however. He already had success this winter with his own
istrel, or "tower-falcon," a bird he had not lined, but had assisted
with training—Honoria would lend him the use of an older, steadier Icon called
Melisande, who had none of Valeria's temper. Melisande had once been as
high-rung as Valeria, but that had been in her prime ten years ago, and with
age came steadiness and wisdom the younger falcon lacked. This bird was
unlikely to fly off if her falconer made a mistake; birds of prey were
consummate opportunists, and an old bird, conditioned by ten easy years in the
mews, would allow herself to be called in to the lure and a ready meal rather
than seek freedom and uncertain hunting. Melisande had been Honoria's first
young peregrine, taken as a brancher, as Valeria had been last year.

 
          
She
and
Bern
walked obliquely toward the field; the
ducks weren't visible in the snow and stubble, but if you listened, you could
hear the quacking. She listened carefully, and paused whenever the quacking
sounded a little nervous.

 
          
Finally,
she signaled to
Bern
to let the spaniel loose.

 
          
The
dog knew the ducks were there; he could smell them, and had been so eager to
hunt he trembled. Now he went to his belly and crept toward the field like a
slinking cat, getting downwind, in position for a good flush.

 
          
Honoria
slipped off Valeria's hood; the falcon blinked in the dazzling sunlight, and
Honoria felt her talons tighten on the glove. She untied the leash from
the jesses
, and whispered to
Bern
.

 
          
"Now,
while the ducks think we can't see them, we put the falcon up. While she gets
height, the dog creeps in and holds for the flush."

 
          
She
loosened her hold on
the jesses
and gave her fist an
upward shove that signaled to the falcon she should take to the air. This was a
tense moment; if the ducks saw her and were spooked, they'd flush early, before
she got proper height for a stoop. If she got anything at all, she'd have to
take it in a tail-chase—always a dubious proposition with less than even odds
for the falcon.

 
          
But
the birds didn't flush, and soon Valeria was just a spot high in the sky,
circling overhead.

 
          
Honoria
pointed. "There she is—that's called 'waiting-on.' She's waiting for a
signal from us, or for the ducks to flush. We'll try to give her both at about
the same time."

 
          
By
now the spaniel was in place, on point, every hair quivering with repressed
excitement. Honoria gave a shrill whistle and waved her arm.

 
          
The
spaniel raced through the stubble into the midst of the feeding ducks, flushing
them perfectly; they flew up in all directions, quacking wildly with confusion
and leaving behind a cloud of feathers and down that floated away on the
breeze.

 
          
But
Bern
's eyes were on the falcon,
who
fell from the sky like a thunderbolt, in a perfect
stoop; her wings tucked in close to her body, her talons pulled in and fisted,
her eyes on one of the ducks among the twenty or so flapping heavily to gain
speed and distance. Some of them already knew she was coming, and there was
panic in their voices as they rowed the air, trying to find some means of escape.

 
          
But
for one fat hen, it was already too late.

 
          
Valeria
closed with the duck with
a
audible crack, like a
thrown stone striking a plank. And striking her was just what the falcon had
done.

 
          
"There!"
Honoria cried with satisfaction, as the duck fell, an inert, motionless weight.
"The falcon balled up her talons in a fist, and struck the back of the
duck's head! That's the best attack with a bird this size. Look, see how she
used the attack to bounce up and get more height, in case the duck wasn't
stunned or killed and she had to try again?"

 
          
Valeria
didn't need a second attack this time; at the top of her bounce, she went into
a second stoop and followed the duck down to the ground. Honoria and
Bern
ran toward the place where both had fallen.

 
          
As
soon as they got her in view, however, Honoria stopped running and motioned to
Bern
to stop as well. "All right, this is
where inexperienced or overexcited falconers lose their birds," she
cautioned. Valeria perched atop the duck, her wings spread over her prey,
glaring at them. "See how she's mantling? She's protecting her prey from
us. It's our job to convince her that we have something for her that's better
than what she just killed. We have to reward her both for making the kill and
for giving it up to us. Everything we do
has
to bring
a reward for her, or she'll leave us without looking back."

 
          
Honoria
reached into her game bag and orought out a pigeon breast, fresh and still
warm, with feathers and a little blood on the feathers. She slipped it into her
gloved fist and held it up, chirruping to her bird; the feathers ruffled in the
breeze, catching the falcon's gaze. Today, all the gods of hunting must have
been smiling on her; Valeria loved pigeon, and she hadn't yet tasted or even
seen the hot blood of the duck. Without hesitation, she shoved off the duck and
made straight for the glove, settling down on it like the lady she was, and
contentedly started to tear at the pigeon meat beneath her talons. She spread
her wings again and mantled over her meal, protecting it jealously from any
potential rivals. As she ate, Honoria tied her jesses to the leash and secured
the jesses
in her gloved fingers. Only when she was done did
Bern
run to fetch the duck.

 
          
"Lady
Honoria!" the squire said, as he walked back with the duck tucked under
his arm, his blue eyes round with amazement.
"The falcon
roke the duck's neck!"

 
          
Honoria
nodded, flushed with gratification at ter bird's success. "That's the best
and cleanest sort of kill," she replied with a touch of pardonable pride.

 
          
"The
next best is when they bind to le duck, either on the way down or on the round
and pierce the heart with their talons, hat's why the falcon is called 'the
bird of the foot,’ because they kill with their talons and not heir beaks.

 
          
What
would we have done if Valeria hadn't come to me?" Valeria plucked the bit
of pigeon daintily, and bits of fluff and feathers flew away in the breeze.

 
          
"Uh—make
in to her slowly,"
Bern
said, after a moment of hesitation. "If she looked nervous, or like
she was about to fly off, we'd go in on hands and knees."

 
          
"Or
crawl on our bellies if we had to," Hon-oria reminded him.
"Then what?"

 
          
"Bring
the glove with the pigeon in from behind and coax her up on it, bring it up
under her little by little,"
Bern
continued, more sure of himself now.