The Silver Falcon (18 page)

“From Mistress Sibylle,” the young man whispered, pushing a large piece of roast meat, a small cheese, and a fresh red apple toward him. “She’s very worried about you.”

“What about the falconer? Has he asked after me at the castle? Will he ask the lady for clemency?” A spark of hope kindled William’s heart.

“I don’t know,” whispered the young man, shrugging. “But I don’t think so. No one even half in his right mind mentions your name. Nobody dares.”

The laughter from the soldiers in Leonard’s corner grew louder.

“She said she would speak to her father when he returns. I’ll try to come again soon,” said the young man, winking at William conspiratorially. “That stinks,” he said loudly, turning toward the soldiers. “The bucket’s full.”

“Then empty it, little one. It’s your old man’s job. It’ll give you a taste of what’s waiting for you when you take over his work.” They laughed unkindly and showed him the way to the door.

The young man dragged the bucket out and soon came back.

“Thanks,” whispered William, lowering his eyes in shame.

Though tormented by hunger, William gave the emaciated Leonard some of the meat. Weeping with gratitude, the old man fell to his knees and gnawed at the meat with his toothless gums until the sun went down.

“You won’t lead me astray twice, Satan,” he hissed when William tried to share his meat again after the young man’s next visit. Outraged, he held out two crossed fingers.

Although the sight of this poor man distressed William, and brought home to him the fate that awaited him, his company was certainly better than complete solitude. William had cursed Mad Leonard several times during his first few days, but after a while he started telling him about his life in the mews and the training of falcons. The confused old man was probably not even listening, but the sound of his own voice comforted William, as it had on that night in the forest when he had run away from Orford. Sadly,
he thought of Arthur and Sir Baudouin, but most of all he thought of his mother, Isaac, Jean, and Rose. If he died there, he would never see them again. None of them knew he was rotting in this wretched hole, so they couldn’t come to his aid. Perhaps Sibylle would talk to her father when he came back from Normandy. But how long would it be before he returned?

R
obert sat on a large stone in the lower bailey, his shoulders slumped and his chin resting on his knee. “My father behaves as if William never existed. He never talks about him, but he can’t fool me. I know he’s worried. Even though he’s never shown it—he likes William, but he’s afraid, like everyone here.” Robert tossed a stone into the small puddle in front of him and looked at Sibylle. “What’s it like for William in that dungeon?”

“The jailer’s son Eadric brings him food every now and again. I get it from the castle kitchens. He’s a little bit in love with me.” Sibylle made her confession with a small, embarrassed smile. “Believe me, I would never take advantage of that under normal circumstances, but William needs our help. Look, here he comes.” She pointed at a red-haired young man, who was almost a head taller than she. He was carrying his father’s basket and was escorted by the two soldiers who normally went to the dungeons with the jailer.

Robert and Sibylle waited quite a long time, but it did not seem as though the young man was coming back. Sibylle fidgeted nervously on the rampart where she had settled herself. “I can’t understand what’s taking so long.”

“Look, the door’s opening.” Robert pointed at the entrance Eadric and the men had disappeared through earlier.

Sibylle leaped joyfully down from the wall, but when she saw that not only the young man but also his father were coming out, she became frightened. The jailer had grabbed his son by the ear. Eadric’s face was contorted with pain.

“Come, let’s creep a little closer. Maybe we can hear what happened,” whispered Robert.

The jailer stopped by the door with his son, then gripped him by the shoulders and shook him. “Who put you up to it?”

Sibylle put her hand to her mouth, terrified. “Please don’t let him give me away!” she whispered to Robert. “My mother will beat me black and blue if she finds out.”

But Eadric kept his peace, and when his father struck him again and repeated the question, he just shook his head defiantly. After yet another blow to the ear, the jailer gave up and rained further blows on his son all the way home.

“If he doesn’t betray you, you should reward him with a kiss later on,” Robert teased her, raising his eyebrows. “For if he’s kept his mouth shut, we still have a chance of saving William eventually. As for me, I’m not going to stop thinking it over. First, we have to hope that William won’t starve without his extra food. Next, we have to find a way to get him out of there as soon as we can.”

Every day, William hoped the jailer’s son would come back, but he came no more. Had he been caught? Or was William no longer important to Sibylle? He was tormented by hunger, and when, a week later, Mad Leonard stopped rattling his chains, William felt abandoned by everyone, God and men.

The soldiers dragged the dead man out, and William stayed behind, utterly bereft.

At night, when no sounds penetrated from outside, the darkness and solitude became pure intolerable agony, and the constant dripping somewhere in the distance roared so loud in his head that William thought he would go mad. He scratched at the fleabites on his bony rib cage and fingered his raw and sagging skin with
disgust. The itching did not stop until the bloodred spots that covered him all the way down to his belly had been scratched raw.

William slept restlessly, occasionally waking in terror and screaming when mice or rats rustled through the straw. At those times he would comfort himself with thoughts of the smithy. He imagined how it would feel to be there instead of in this dungeon; he longed for Rose’s pasties and her loving care and saw before him the smiling faces of Isaac and his mother.

One night, when loneliness was threatening to drive him to despair, he thought he heard Nesta whispering. She enticed him with her gentle voice. “Come to me,” she seemed to whisper. “For where I am there is light and peace.”

But William’s will to live was stronger, and he withstood the temptation to give up. His mother would be proud of him one day yet.

He stood up, took the sharp stone he had loosened from the wall days before, and sharpened it some more by scraping it against the wall of his prison cell.

“It’s time we got him out of there.” Robert wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed loudly. “We can’t just leave him to rot in that hole. It’s already been a week since Eadric was caught. We have to think of something, or else William will be too weak to escape.”

“But how, Robert? How are we supposed to rescue him?” Sibylle sounded as though she had given up hope.

“For heaven’s sake! If I knew that, he’d have been out long ago,” Robert rebuked her.

“You’re right. I know it’s not your fault,” said Sibylle gently, resting her hand on his arm.

Robert pulled away, stood up, and paced about. “We can’t sneak into the dungeon; we’d never get out again. What if we bribed Eadric’s father?”

Sibylle shook her head. “I can’t think what with. I have neither money nor jewels. Besides, he knows full well what would happen to him if he was caught, and I don’t think he’s keen on ending up in his own dungeon. If we went to him, he would betray us to my mother.”

“What about force?” As he made this suggestion, Robert himself did not seem to believe it was a possibility.

“When the prisoners get their food, two soldiers always escort the jailer. We can’t do anything against three, but for the rest of the day, and at night, there are only two men in the guardroom,” said Sibylle thoughtfully. “I know that much from Eadric.”

The dungeon that held William was one of several cellars beneath one of the castle’s outbuildings where food and weapons were also stored. Sibylle had not been able to find out more from the castle servants without arousing suspicion. But neither she nor Robert had yet set foot in the cellars.

“Eadric could draw me a map. But how would we get in and then out again?”

The mere thought of entering the dungeon voluntarily was so awful that Robert shuddered. “Whom do the castle’s men fear most?”

“My mother. What are you thinking?”

Robert stroked his chin. His beard was still soft and fluffy, like a young bird’s down, but soon he would be able to risk shaving it with a sharp blade. He remembered that William had started shaving the previous autumn. Beards did not grow very fast at his age, so William shaved only every few weeks and had cut himself on the throat the first time. The sight of the blood dripping out had caused a very strange sensation in Robert’s knees. William was his best, his only, friend. That was probably it, for the sight of blood from the animals they hunted had never caused him any discomfort.

“Robert, what are you thinking about?” Sibylle interrupted his reflections.

“Does your mother ever demand unusual things? Is she occasionally unpredictable?”

“Occasionally? She’s as hard to predict as the weather in April.” Sibylle snorted.

“In that case we may have him out soon, after all.”

“You’ve thought of something. How? Tell me.” Sibylle rushed toward Robert until she was standing so close to him that their noses were almost touching. “Out with it.”

Robert did not like her being so close. Something about it felt wrong, probably because she was the lord’s daughter. He took a step back and explained what he was thinking.

“That’s wonderful! I shall pray for our success, for it’s not without danger.” Sibylle glowed with righteousness. “I just hope you’re right, and that I can be convincing enough.”

“If the jailer doesn’t believe you straightaway, you’ll have to stay calm.”

“But the guard is bound to send the soldier, too,” Sibylle fretted.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him. Just get hold of some food without anyone noticing and I’ll bring a filled water pouch. If we do free William, he’ll have to flee immediately. Maybe he should take a horse from the stables?”

“Odon would be able to follow the hoof marks easily. He’d soon catch him. William will travel more slowly on foot, but he’ll be harder to find. So far he hasn’t actually committed any crime, but if he becomes a horse thief, he’ll get no mercy. If they caught him, they’d string him up on the spot, and we wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.”

“You’re right. No horse, then.” He looked at Sibylle intently. “You’ll get into a lot of trouble with your mother if she finds out you had a hand in this.”

“What can she do? Shout, rant, beat me? It’s a small price to pay for William’s life, isn’t it? And maybe nothing of the sort will
happen. She’s not going to throw
me
in the dungeon. It’s you who has more to fear if they catch you.”

“I don’t mind.”

They discussed every detail of their plan again. Then Robert said, with a conspiratorial look, “So we meet here tomorrow morning and take our chances.”