The Silver Falcon (33 page)

Marshal greeted him courteously, exchanged a few pleasantries, praised his falcons, and then turned to William with an amiable smile. “I’ve brought Princess with me. She’s an old lady now, but she’s still a good hunter. Would you like to come see her?”

William bowed briefly. “Princess is a female lanner, too,” he told his master and asked for permission to leave. FitzOwen gave his consent—he had little choice—but he had to make a visible effort not to show how much he envied the attention Marshal paid his young falconer. William handed the falcon to Jack and followed Marshal.

“How old is she now?” William asked when he saw how magnificent Princess looked. He gently stroked her back.

“She was still young when I brought her to the smithy. It was her second autumn.”

“Twelve, then,” William murmured, impressed. “A grand old age for a falcon.”

Marshal nodded his agreement and looked into William’s green eyes. “I’ll be watching you today. Come and see me again later.”

“Yes, my lord, as you wish.” William bade him farewell with a small bow and then stood still for a moment, inexpressibly happy. It took him a while to come to himself, but then he made his way over to a group of young falconers standing not far away from his master. They were talking over one another, boasting of their birds’ daring exploits and daredevil flights during previous hunts. William stood silently among them for a long time, but he soon found their conversation boring. They belonged to the merchants and were telling tall tales that made William self-conscious. Perhaps it was because the barons’ falconers were staring at them disdainfully from a distance, occasionally pointing at them and laughing mockingly.

William knew that there were men of the lowest sort among the barons’ falconers. Right at the bottom of the hierarchy stood the falconers’ assistants, most of whom came from simple peasant families. Then came the apprentices, who would be falconers themselves one day. They, too, began their working lives as simple assistants, but they were gradually entrusted with more important duties and were allowed to learn to man and train birds, as he had been. Many came from families in which falconry had been the tradition for generations; some were the bastard sons of barons. The older, experienced men who trained the others were called falconers or master falconers.

Good falconers were sought after. The best served the mightiest barons, owned several horses, and earned a good living. A royal falconer was more than a keeper of valuable birds. He enjoyed the particular trust of his king, was permitted to eat at his table, and was closer to him than many other courtiers. Most of these men
came from noble families, had owned falcons since childhood, and kept their own falconers, assistants, and dog handlers. They were men like the de Hauvilles, Richard de Ystlape, Gilbert de Merk, Henry de la Wade, Roger de Cauz, and others. And yet the talk everywhere was of one Henry Falconarius, whose father was a commoner. It was certainly difficult for a lowborn to keep up with the others but obviously not impossible. If a falconer caught the king’s eye, he could go far. Once accepted into the king’s service, he could be granted lands and could even rise to the lesser nobility, for a falconer’s skill and talent for handling birds were more important than his origins. For this reason, William despised the barons’ falconers, who considered themselves superior simply on account of their birthright.

He was about to join FitzOwen again when he noticed a young man in the distance. There was something familiar about him that caught William’s attention. He reminded him of someone, but who? William approached the young falconer, and when he turned around William’s jaw dropped.

“Robert,” he called, hurrying over to him.

“William?” Robert’s eyes were sparkling, and his voice sounded oddly tight. “I can hardly believe it, William.”

They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, grinned, and then pushed one another gently as they used to.

“How are you?” asked Robert, looking at him searchingly.

Robert, Logan, Sibylle—that was all before Enid. William sighed quietly. “I’m alive. I…it’s…” he stammered. There was so much to tell, and he could not find the words.

“Later, you can tell me everything later, in your own time.”

“Are your father and Sir Ralph here, too?” asked William, keeping his voice low and looking around anxiously.

“No. My father’s dead. I was too young to take over the mews. Sir Ralph found himself a new falconer and I found a new master.”

Before William could express his sorrow or say anything else, the hunting party came to life and they had to part in order to go back to their masters.

“I’ll see you later.” William waved at Robert.

Robert waved back, his knees weak. William was back! Robert found it difficult to concentrate on the hunt. He kept looking anxiously for William, and he could not calm down until he found him. He watched him out of the corner of his eye. A smile played on his lips. William’s gait, a bit wooden with its slight limp, was so familiar he was overcome with wistfulness. Robert remembered the day they had first met.

He had not been pleased that another boy was to be trained alongside him by his father, so he had immediately decided that he would never like the intruder.

Three years had passed since Robert had helped William escape, and in that time William had become a man—not a particularly tall one, but powerful. He probably still ran a lot and built up the strength in his arms by regularly hanging off tree branches and lifting himself up thirty or forty times, as he had done at Thorne. Robert took a deep breath. Thinking about William made his stomach feel strangely unsettled. It was so good to see him unharmed, though terrible things must have befallen him after his escape. The new look on his face was proof of that. The thought that someone might have done harm to his friend was almost unbearable.

Robert’s thoughts strayed from the hunt, and he hoped his young master, Hugh de Ferrers, did not notice. Nothing had been the same since William’s flight from Thorne. Scarcely a month later, Sibylle had been sent to stay with relatives, and Logan had died in his sleep the following winter.

Robert approached his master and bowed. “My lord, may I draw your attention to something other than the falcons and the ladies for a moment?”

The young de Ferrers smiled and bowed graciously. “By all means.”

“Do you see that young man over there?” Robert pointed at William. “He is an excellent falconer—he would be perfect for Oakham.”

“What manner of nonsense is this, Robert? Never mind that he’s a nobody, the boy’s scarcely older than you. We’re looking for a
master falconer
,” he said testily.

“Forgive me, my lord, but you are mistaken. He is exceptionally gifted. I know him well, for he learned with my father,” Robert insisted.

“It honors you that you speak up for him, but I’ll say it again. He’s too young. Forget it.” De Ferrers sniffed with annoyance.

Robert struggled to hold back. Hugh was himself a little too young to keep Oakham, and yet his father had entrusted him with the task while he and his older son sallied forth to accompany Richard on the Crusade. Robert was prepared to get down on bended knee before his master, but he knew it would be utterly futile. But surely there was something he could do. “Please, at least watch him,” he said, agonizing at the thought of losing his friend again.

Although the birds of a few other barons flew spectacularly and caught plenty of prey, William and FitzOwen’s falcons made an impression. People talked in admiring tones about the skill of the young falconer, wondered where he came from, and congratulated his master on a successful hunt.

Robert went to find William, who was busy with the female lanner, and after a short time it was as if they had never been apart.

“Heavens above, how I’ve missed you,” snorted Robert when William mimicked a couple of conceited young falconers stalking
across the field, looking around to make sure they were being admired. “Come, I want to introduce you to my master.”

De Ferrers was still deep in conversation with some other barons, so they stood aside and talked about hunting, their masters, and above all about the fabulous birds on display.

“You act with the skill of an experienced falconer. You radiate calm and security,” said a voice from behind them. It was Marshal. “The falcons obviously feel it, too; they are so relaxed on your fist.”

William blushed in response, and Robert’s heart missed three beats. He was all the more glad when Hugh de Ferrers, visibly surprised that Marshal was standing with the two boys, joined them.

“A wonderful hunt, Sir William!”

“Hugh! Well, I agree and was just praising this young man’s extraordinary talent,” Marshal said with a laugh, clapping William on the shoulder. “And his master doesn’t seem to have the slightest idea how good he is.”

William cleared his throat in embarrassment.

Robert was full of admiration for his friend.

The young de Ferrers glanced from William to Marshal and then at Robert. After a short pause, he bowed to Marshal and said, almost inaudibly, “I was planning to entice him away.”

Robert could hardly believe his ears. Moments before, de Ferrers had dismissed this idea as nonsense.

“Oh, you’re doing the right thing, my dear Hugh. He’s something special, this young man. Your father will like him.”

De Ferrers nodded, pushing Robert forward. “My young falconer here knows him from before. They were trained together.”

“Ah, so you must be Logan’s son. That definitely speaks in your favor,” Marshal said to Robert, as if it went without saying that he would know where William had learned his craft.

Robert nodded, astonished, and looked over at his friend, who seemed just as surprised. How did he know all this?

“Hugh’s father, Sir Walkelin, and Hugh’s older brother, Henry, are by our king’s side in his battle with the unbelievers,” Marshal explained to William. “Walkelin was always a good friend to me. If you become falconer at Oakham Castle, we’re sure to see each other again soon.” He smiled at de Ferrers, bade him farewell with a nod, and left.

“I need a master falconer, and although you seem a little young to me, I’d like to take you into my service in that capacity,” said de Ferrers, scratching his still-downy beard.

“It would be a great honor, and it is truly generous of you. Believe me, I would enter into your service with the greatest pleasure. Yes, I would like nothing better. It would be a dream come true,” he stammered. “But I promised to take care of a friend named David. He is only a little younger than I am; he has lost his family and can’t look after himself because he can’t speak. I have put him up at Saint Bartholomew’s until I can bring him to live with me. I can’t let him down. He needs me. I’m sorry.”

Robert looked at his master, his eyes wide with panic. “Couldn’t we take this David back to Oakham with us? Perhaps he could make himself useful there? And when we’re out hunting or traveling with you, Melva could look after him.”

Hugh de Ferrers stroked his almost hairless chin thoughtfully. He was probably weighing up whether it would be more difficult to take the mute boy back to Oakham with him or to explain to Marshal why William had not become his falconer.

“Very well, as long as the boy’s no trouble,” he said to William. “If you feed and clothe him out of your wages, it’s all right with me. Let’s shake on it. Then I’ll speak to your master about when he can release you.”

William shook hands with de Ferrers to seal the agreement. “FitzOwen won’t be happy unless some trade comes his way as a result,” he blurted out.

De Ferrers grinned mischievously. “Well, in that case he’s going to be disappointed.”

The two boys watched him as he made his way over to FitzOwen. Despite the distance, they could see the merchant’s joyful demeanor when the young lord approached him. First, FitzOwen went red, probably with rage, then white, as if he was afraid; finally he nodded, apparently somewhat mollified, and shook de Ferrers’s hand.

“I wouldn’t have believed it, but you were right,” said Robert happily, fighting back the emotion that suddenly overcame him. “Remember? When you left Thorne, you promised we would see each other again. And now it looks as if we’re going to be working together again, too.”