The Silver Falcon (11 page)

“You have to hide the horsehair among the feathers as best you can, so the bird doesn’t get caught in it when it scratches. And it will scratch, because the stitches will make it feel unwell.”

William nodded apprehensively.

“Some birds try harder than others to get rid of the thread, using their talons. If a bird struggles too much, you can tie the forward talons together with a strip of leather. That way it can’t lift its foot to scratch its head.”

Watching a falcon be exposed to such indignity, William felt an ungovernable rage. Tears sprang into his eyes, and, for the first time since leaving Saint Edmundsbury, he asked himself whether his wish to be a falconer was right, after all.

Logan seemed to guess what he was thinking. “Seeling is not a pleasant task. At that moment the falcon hates men, because they are holding it tight and bending it to their will.”

“It must hurt, too.”

Logan shook his head. “I don’t think it hurts much. When you stitch the eyelids shut, the falcon barely twitches. I think it only struggles because it wants to escape. But seeling is absolutely essential. If you want to tame a falcon properly, you have to get it used to being handled by people. And that goes best when it can’t
see. Even birds that have been captured as nestlings, like these passagers, are better off being seeled so they stay calm, even if they’re already used to the sight of people.”

William understood Logan’s explanation, but he still could not conceive how anyone could do anything so humiliating to a falcon.

Logan trimmed the merlin’s talons, and Robert returned it to the block.

Once the same operation had been carried out on the second merlin, it was the one-year-old passager’s turn. It already had stitches, and it was time to half-unseel it so that it could become accustomed to seeing again. Robert went to fetch it, but Logan took his arm and held him back. “You fetch it,” he ordered William. “You’ve seen how Robert holds the birds.”

William hesitated for a moment, then picked up the passager in both hands, as he had seen Robert do it. His fingers encircled the falcon’s breast and back with a gentle firmness. Robert took its feet.

“First you have to check whether the eyelids have been harmed,” Logan explained. “If the holes have torn, and you think they won’t hold, you have to remove the thread and seel the eyes all over again. But this time you only pull the lids halfway up. The lids on this one are still perfect.” He undid the knot at the top of the bird’s head and loosened the threads so that the eyes were only half-covered. Then he did up the ends in a knot again.

William felt sick again.

Logan told him to put the bird back and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “You get used to it.”

William could not bring himself to nod.

“Come, we’ve still got things to do.” Robert elbowed William in the ribs and dragged him away from his dark imaginings. “Let’s go.”

“I think it’s horrible, too,” said Robert once they were no longer near Logan. “But my father’s right. The more often you see it, the more bearable it becomes.”

“Have you ever done it yourself?” William asked shyly.

“No, God forbid. And I’m not keen to start. Look, I’ve grown up with hawks. I love them, and I’ll be a falconer one day, like all the men in my family, but to be honest I prefer working with the hounds. Unlike falcons, they love their masters and become their most faithful friends. And the best thing is that you don’t have to inflict pain on them to train them.”

If Robert prefers dogs, why doesn’t Logan let him take over that side of things and leave the falcons to me? William wondered. Perhaps it was Robert’s love of the hounds that made him treat William so contemptuously? William came to the conclusion that Logan demanded the most from each of them in precisely the area they were least willing.

William took a deep breath. He would be the best one day. A falconer with the most superbly trained hounds and the most magnificent falcons that England’s nobles had ever seen. And if seeling was among the unavoidable tasks that fell to a successful falconer, he would do his best to carry out this disgusting job as well as it could possibly be done and to inflict no more pain on the birds than was necessary. And he would devise other ways to train falcons. Perhaps, one day, he would succeed in finding a better solution than seeling.

Once both young merlins had been successfully seeled, Logan assigned a bird to each of the boys.

“You will man them, following my instructions to the letter. In order to get them used to your hand, you will have to carry them on your fist for a couple of days. They can perceive daylight even through sewn-up eyelids, so you’ll have to start in the dark. You will feed them twice a day. That way they will get used to you. You must learn to judge their mutes and castings correctly. That’s the only way you can tell whether they are digesting their food properly
and are in good health. If falcons are to be good hunters later, they must have frequent opportunities to bathe, for that makes them courageous. And once they’re manned, I’ll show you how to train them to a lure—which first you’ll have to make, using feathers from the birds you want them to hunt. It’s only after a falcon has hunted a lure many times, earning the choicest tidbits, that it will love it and come back to its master whenever he uses the lure. Alfred and I will be watching you at every step. But you will have to do most of the work, because you can gain a full understanding of falcons only by working with them over time. When the merlins are trained, we’ll introduce them to the hunt and see which of the two is better. Sir Ralph wants to give the stronger one to his nephew.”

“Oh no, not Odon of all people,” Robert groaned quietly.

William looked at him in surprise. Odon was the squire who had brought him to the mews when he had arrived. He had appeared to be exactly what a young nobleman should be. What could Robert have against him?

Logan rebuked his son with a glance, then continued. “The other merlin is to go to Sir Ralph’s daughter, so she can get used to keeping falcons.”

William was overjoyed. At last he would learn to be a proper falconer. Taking on Robert, who already had much more experience with birds, was a challenge very much to William’s taste. He hung on every word of praise from Logan, soaking it up as the dry earth soaks up the summer rain. Since friendly words were not exactly the falconer’s strong point, William and Robert courted them all the more assiduously, fanning a healthy rivalry between the two boys.

Using an elderly falcon, Logan showed them how to hold their arms and hands in various situations. The falcon must always be able to stand safely and to tolerate long periods on the fist. They also practiced mounting and dismounting horses to the point of
exhaustion. After a while, in fact, Robert and William felt that they could have done it in their sleep.

When they had mastered holding the older falcon and could do it with confidence, Logan ordered them to carry the two merlins around in the dark tower, in silence, for three days and nights. The boys, and the birds, were allowed only a few breaks. But these breaks did not give them time to rest, for they still had to carry out most of their normal tasks. Though the merlins weighed very little, the boys’ arms quickly felt like lead because of the awkward posture. They would change hands, carrying the birds first on their right fist and then on their left.

The pain in his upper arms and shoulders, as well as the darkness, reminded William of his mother’s smithy. But instead of the resentment he had always felt when working in her workshop, carrying the falcon filled him with pride.

Although he was now sure he had chosen the right path, from time to time he still thought sadly of Ellenweore, Isaac, and the others. Had they forgotten him?

Logan had taught them that they should speak soothingly when feeding the falcons, so that the birds would learn to recognize their voices and lose their fear. Each of them had a particular way of calling his merlin, and the boys would never feed the birds together, so that they could gorge, or feed, in peace.

While William and Robert were occupied with the merlins, Logan and Alfred were training the newly unseeled falcons. Robert and William watched them as often as they could, in order to get ready for their next task. This meant that they were busy from the first glimmering of dawn well into the night, gulping their meals down hastily and hardly getting any sleep, but William was happier than he had ever been in his life.

Robert had gone off on his own to capture a special treat for his falcon. Pleased with himself, he held up the thrush he had brought down with his slingshot. His merlin would find it very tasty indeed. He stuffed the dead bird into his falconer’s bag.

That morning’s hazy, pale-gray sky had given way to a slate color that promised rain. Robert made haste, knowing a heavy downpour could break out any moment. Late August had been unusually hot, and the nights had been so muggy they had brought little relief. They had been waiting for a thunderstorm for almost a week, hoping it would deliver the cool weather they craved. The birds were flying low, which was an almost certain sign that it would rain soon. The little forest that covered the hill was not far from the falconry, but when the first fat drop of rain fell, Robert feared he would be soaked through in a few steps.

Cautiously, he slithered down the slope. He had started his climb at a different point, where it was not as steep and stony. Before he reached the path, though, he tripped on a root and fell the last part of the way.

He landed, heart pounding, against the trunk of a magnificent hornbeam. His sleeve was torn and his elbow was bleeding. Tears burned in his eyes. He did not notice the gash on his face until he wiped the tear away with his sleeve. His father must not see him crying. Logan would not mind a torn sleeve half as much as weeping.

As he stood up, Robert heard horses approaching. He stayed close to the hornbeam to let the riders pass, since the path was narrow. It was not until they got closer that Robert recognized Odon and the young de Aston. It was already too late to get out of their way. Odon reined in his horse and leaped down.

“What is it, Odon?” asked de Aston as he, too, came to a halt.

“Well, if it isn’t our little friend.” Odon pointed at Robert, sneering with malice. “All alone in the woods?”

Robert knew Odon well enough to know what would happen next. The villagers held their breaths with fear when Sir Ralph’s nephew rode through the streets in the company of his friends. He did not hesitate to humiliate anyone he could, with mockery or even blows. Although this time he was accompanied by only the young de Aston, the most harmless of his friends, Robert guessed that Odon would think up something degrading, and he felt his knees go weak.

William ran across the meadow toward the little forest. Although he scarcely had the time, he had started running again, and his stamina and form had both improved.

The clouds building up to the north looked very threatening. Logan had sent him off to find Robert before the storm broke. They had had an argument about the hounds a few days before and had not spoken since, but that did not matter now. William heard the first rumblings of thunder. He had no desire to be struck by lightning. He ran up the slope and took a shortcut over a bank. He heard voices and laughter, and he ducked down. You couldn’t be too careful. All manner of villainy lurked in the woods.

The voices were coming from the path, so he crept closer. Hidden behind a bush, he could see Odon and another squire. They were walking toward a third whom William could not see because his view was blocked by a horse’s hindquarters. William moved in order to see who was standing between Odon and the other squire. Robert! William was about to show himself and call him, when he saw Odon give Robert a shove.

“Go on then—show us your little pizzle,” he taunted Robert.

“Yes, out with it,” cried the other one, laughing.

Robert, his face flushed, refused.

“Ah, he doesn’t want to, the poor little fellow.” Odon grabbed a bare branch off the ground. “Do it. Or do you need help?” He poked Robert with the stick and laughed loudly.