The Silver Falcon (13 page)

The sun was as warm as in summer, though autumn had begun, and the October sky was brilliantly blue and clear. William moistened his right forefinger and held it up in the air. The wind was easterly, but fortunately not so strong that it would spoil the forthcoming hunt with the young merlins. Sir Ralph and the fencing master had come to the mews with two other squires and were waiting.

“I haven’t forgotten the thing with the stone,” Odon hissed at William when no one was looking. “Sometime I’ll catch you alone, and then you’ll be in trouble.” Odon spat on the ground near William and went over to his friends to show off in front of
them, for he was the first of them to get his own falcon. But when one of them observed that the merlins were the smallest birds in the mews, Odon took a more critical look. Once he had established that his companion was right, his anticipation was somewhat dampened.

William could not resist a smirk, but he turned away when he saw that Odon was looking at him menacingly.

When everyone had gathered, the little hunting party set off for the flat terrain merlins preferred for hunting.

William and Robert bore their birds safely and proudly. They kept a careful but discreet eye on Logan, so that they would not miss any of the instructions he kept issuing by means of small gestures. Their first hunt with the merlins, Logan had told William and Robert, would remain in their memories forever. Like first love.

The two boys were apprehensive. At last they would see whether they had trained their falcons to be bold hunters.

Before a falconer could give a suitable name to a bird he had trained, the falcon had to show what it had in it. Despite their friendship, each of the boys naturally hoped his merlin would prove to be the best. They took up their designated positions with their birds. The two squires who had accompanied Odon moved through the grass and flushed out the songbirds.

The moment the first birds rose, William cast off his merlin. Biting his lip with tension, he watched every beat of her wings. As though she had been hunting all her life, the merlin picked out a lark that had become separated from the flock, flew low and swift after it, pursuing it single-mindedly, and struck after a thrilling chase.

Sir Ralph was delighted, and even Logan seemed thoroughly satisfied.

William ran over to the little falcon as she crouched over her prey and covered it with her wings. Logan called this “mantling”; it was how she protected her prey from the prying eyes of envious rivals. The merlin began to tear greedily at the lark.
A falcon was allowed to gorge on her first catch for as long as she wanted. Earlier, Logan had emphasized to William that it was important to pay close attention to the falcon during this time, because it would take a good while for her to eat her fill. Some falcons ended up almost unable to stand upright, let alone reach their prey with their beaks, they were so gluttonous. And in the early evening hours, like now, they became particularly easy pickings for eagles and eagle owls, who viewed falcons as competitors.

Later, on other hunts, the falconer would have to rush to lure the falcon away from her prey with a bit of prepared food—a heart or a liver—so that the kill would not be shredded and devoured. The more experienced a falcon became, the easier it was to distract her from her kill and back onto her master’s fist.

Next it was time for Robert’s merlin to prove herself. More birds were flushed out, and the merlin took off. But she could not immediately single out one bird from the fleeing mass. At first, in her bewilderment, she chased the whole flock, then changed course and went after a young thrush that was straying from the other birds. Flying as low and swift as William’s merlin, Robert’s falcon pursued her prey. Both boys watched the scene tensely and were relieved when she struck successfully.

Both boys could be proud of their merlins, though William’s had emerged as the clear winner of the competition, because she had selected her prey more decisively.

“You’ve trained very good hunters there,” Sir Ralph praised them, shaking their hands. “They’re a delight to behold. What are you going to call them?” He looked at Robert first, questioningly.

“Will—” Robert cleared his throat. “Willowy.”

“And Grace,” William added with a smile. He had been racking his brain for two days trying to think of a name, and he suspected it had been no different for Robert. But they had not breathed a word about it to each other. William thought Grace was just right
for his little merlin because of her particularly elegant flight, so he had chosen that name even though it would not be quite so suitable for a bird that would belong to Odon.

“Splendid.” Sir Ralph laughed out loud.

The birds’ names showed not only how similar the falcons were but also how close the young falconers were.

“So Grace shall go to Odon and Willowy to my daughter. Come here, Sibylle,” he called to the girl. And while Odon was busy showing off in front of his friends, Sibylle hurried happily over to the lord of the manor and curtsied before him.

“Father.” She kept her eyes down demurely.

“The falcon I promised you.” He nodded to Robert.

Robert stepped forward and held out the merlin to Sibylle. He bowed to the lord’s daughter as if she were unknown to him and they had not spent the previous day roaming about together. “This is Willowy, mistress, your merlin,” he said respectfully.

With flushed cheeks, Sibylle held out her fist, which was already clad in a deerskin glove. Her father had had it made for her specially.

“Willowy,” she repeated gently, skillfully holding out her hand to Robert so the merlin stepped onto it without hesitation. She supported the diminutive falcon exactly as Robert and William had taught her. “You’ve eaten—no, gorged—too much.” She laughed softly. “You’re far too heavy for such a pretty little bird.” She looked at Robert with the same amount of affection that she had bestowed on the falcon.

Robert turned away in embarrassment. William smirked, having realized long ago that Sibylle had a soft spot for Robert. When William had teased him about it once, Robert had flown into a rage and stayed away from him for half a day, offended.

When Odon saw that his cousin was holding her bird on her fist, he strode up to William. He held his gloved fist a little too high and a long way in front of his body.

He hates not being the center of attention, thought William contemptuously, deliberately ignoring him.

Grace remained on William’s fist, even though Odon had approached far too quickly, with spurs jangling.

William felt extremely proud that he had trained the merlin so well, but at the same time he felt a surge of helpless anger. Odon had no idea about falcons and didn’t deserve Grace. Giving her away was worse than William had imagined. But he wanted to be a falconer, and he knew he would not be able to keep all the falcons he trained. With a little good fortune, he would not lose Grace forever, though. When she was molting, she would stay at the mews, and she would need to be trained again before the following hunting season. Nonetheless, it felt dreadfully hard to surrender her now, especially to Odon of all people.

And here he was, stepping up without a single word of praise for the falcon or the hunt, looking haughtily at William and waiting for him to place the falcon on his outstretched hand.

“You think you’re something special, but you’re just a servant, and don’t you forget it,” Odon growled quietly.

“This is Grace,” William said as calmly as he could, although he felt an urge to scream. The bird stepped onto Odon’s fist, surprising him and sending him stumbling a few steps back. The merlin adjusted her grip before finding a reasonably comfortable position. But Odon lacked experience. His hand position was insecure and unskilled, something Grace could feel. In her anxiety, she bated off his fist and ended up dangling upside down from her leash.

“Look at this, Logan, your bird is worthless. It’s not well,” Odon shouted like a spoiled child. “I don’t want it.”

“Nonsense, that falcon is perfectly healthy. You just have to help her back into position. Go to it,” retorted Sir Ralph angrily.

William fought back the tears welling up in his eyes. Normally, Grace was the definition of calmness. How could
she get so agitated? Anguish weighed on his chest like a heavy stone. Then he remembered where he was, quickly gripped her securely under her breast, and helped her back onto Odon’s fist.

“She doesn’t know you well enough yet, Master Odon,” he said, apologizing for the merlin in a raw voice.

When it had come to Odon’s attention that Sibylle was visiting the mews almost every day, he had mocked her and boasted that he would soon master a bird like that himself, without the help of “some falconer’s underlings.” But this humiliation with Grace had exposed him as a braggart, even to his friends.

He looked at William with hatred. “It’s your fault. You’ve brought it on badly,” said Odon, now on the offensive.

“She has been exceedingly well trained, master,” he declared firmly. “You just need to become more confident in handling her. Grace feels it when you are hesitant, and that’s why she becomes anxious.” He knew full well that his words were bound to stoke Odon’s fury, but he found it impossible not to defend the merlin.

“The boy is right, Master Odon,” Logan observed.

Even Sir Ralph agreed. “I reckon you have a lot to learn yet, Odon.” Turning to Logan, he went on. “I suggest you take the lad under your wing for a few days.”

“I’ll only stay with the falconer. I want nothing to do with those two,” roared Odon, gesturing with his head toward William and Robert. “I won’t have them telling me what to do.”

Sir Ralph took a deep breath.

“That’s what we’ll do,” Logan agreed. “Leave the falcon here for now, and come to me first thing after sunrise tomorrow morning. Then I’ll show you all about feed and mutes, and tell you what you need to pay attention to, Master Odon.”

When William heard that Grace would stay a while longer, he smiled with a sigh of relief and decided to give her a particularly delicious treat that evening.

“Have an eye for yourself, cripple, for I’ll be near you more often now, and I’ll soon wipe that damnable grin off your face,” Odon hissed at him before departing.

E
nid leaned over her brother, happy to have found him at last. “David.” He was lying under a bush, sleeping like a log. She gripped his shoulders and shook him gently.

The boy rubbed his eyes and groaned.

“You mustn’t run away again, understood?”

David shook his head and made a few signs with his hands. Apparently he had seen a pretty girl. Enid looked around, but there was nobody nearby.

“Strangers can be dangerous,” she warned. “How many times have I told you?”

David wiped his face with the back of his hand. His features contorted themselves into something like a smile.

“I don’t care how beautiful she was. If you frightened her, she may set her people on us.”

Her brother shook his head again and hid his face in his hands.

“I hope she didn’t notice you,” replied Enid. It was a long time since she had spoken so many words at a time. The sound of her voice sometimes felt oddly hollow, strange somehow. The solitude was not always easy to bear, even if she did have David, and so she feared losing him all the more. Once, after eating berries that poisoned him, he nearly died. Then he had cut himself with a knife and bled terribly. Another time he caught a fever, and once he even ran into a troop of soldiers. Enid had managed to rescue him at the last moment.

Her fear of losing him, and ending up alone, was great. Alone in the forest, without her brother, she was sure to go mad. She understood, of course, that David wanted to meet other people; she felt the same way, after all. But she could always hear Nana’s words: “Be sure not to let anyone find you.”

Enid was at home in the forest. The animals, the plants—she knew them all. But people were a puzzle to her. Just like David this afternoon, she sometimes secretly watched travelers as they came through the forest. Most of them stayed on the path for fear of losing their way. They told each other gruesome stories about the fairies and goblins that lived in the forest and the mischief they got up to, but Enid knew none of those things existed. The forest was big, and it seemed dark and impenetrable, but only to those who did not know their way around. She knew exactly where flowers grew in small clearings and where to find nuts, berries, and all the other good things the forest had to offer. She set traps to catch small animals, made warm clothing from their skins, and used their meat to keep up her strength when it grew cold and the forest no longer brought forth fruit.

Enid stroked David’s tangled mop of hair. “Let’s go back to the hut.”

Her brother looked at her with his child’s eyes and nodded.