The Silver Falcon (58 page)

William was puzzled by her words.

Ellenweore blew off some iron filings from one of Isaac’s files, rubbed the handle with a piece of leather, and hung it in its place. “You once told me that David and Robert were as dear to you as Jean and Rose are to me.” She paused, looking as if she was remembering something. “They disappointed me badly once, too, but I wouldn’t have let them go for all the world. I was unbelievably proud, but my love for them was greater.”

William felt he had been found out. Was he arrogant? Too proud to forgive?

“Look for him and talk to him,” Ellenweore counseled him, breaking into his thoughts. She stroked his hair, just as Isaac used to.

When Marguerite came into the smithy looking for him, William was glad that he did not have to talk about Robert any longer. Between him and Isaac, he had lost two of the most important people in his life in quick succession.

“We’ll stop at Oakham on the way back. I hope to find Robert there and have a chance to speak to him,” William said to Marguerite as casually as he could while they were saddling the horses before their departure.

“Good,” she said with the appearance of indifference, but a tiny smile of satisfaction played on her lips.

They said their farewells to Ellenweore, Jean, and Rose.

“Come and visit us soon,” said Marguerite, embracing them one by one.

William seconded her invitation, and Jean immediately threatened to turn up in a month or two.

“Nothing could make us happier,” Marguerite assured him, beaming.

Ellenweore kissed and tickled her grandson one last time. William was surprised at her tenderness. Had she been so affectionate with him when he was an infant? He embraced her, closing his eyes and trying to implant in his memory her scent of charcoal and iron.

They waved to the smiths and assistants, who had gathered outside, and set off.

During the ride to Oakham, William remained stubbornly silent. Walkelin de Ferrers had died the previous year. It felt strange to be returning to Oakham Castle without him there. William reflected, questioned himself, covertly eyed Marguerite, and came to the conclusion that only death was final. He would ask Robert to come back—that is, if he found him.

Marguerite, radiant with happiness on this glorious spring day, looked at him and blew him a kiss. She loved him; William was sure of it now. Robert posed no threat there, even if he did desire Marguerite. Had he not proved, by going away, that he could be trusted?

When they reached Oakham, William found, to his relief, that Robert had indeed gone back there. Henry de Ferrers was on the mainland with the king, so only the steward was at the castle. William talked to him, then asked Marguerite to wait for him while he went to the falconry alone. The path awakened memories of the many good years he had spent here and strengthened his wish to get Robert back.

William could not find him in the mews, so he started looking outside. He took the path leading to the big field where they used to train the falcons to the lure, and he passed the copse of
oaks. Suddenly, he noticed two men running after each other. Despite the distance, he recognized Robert and one of the stable boys. Robert was looking around like a man with a guilty conscience.

William became curious and followed them discreetly; he hid behind a bush and watched them. Despite the dense undergrowth, he could see both men clearly.

Robert was standing by a tree with his face against the trunk, like a child playing hide-and-seek. The stable boy had followed him, and he looked around anxiously before pressing himself against Robert. William saw him whisper something in Robert’s ear. What happened next was so incredible that William thought he would choke.

Robert lifted up his smock to his chest and offered his exposed rear to the stable boy. It shone like the full moon, and the stable boy seemed to like the look of it. He rapidly bared himself, too, and, filled with lust, thrust into Robert.

William closed his eyes in disgust. He felt faint. His stomach burned with acid.

“How could you, Robert?” he cried in dismay, once he had run far enough away. He vomited, then spat on the ground. He thought of the time he was so close to death. Robert had cared for him and washed his naked body. Had his friend touched him in an impure way? William felt defiled, cursed, and helpless, and he kicked furiously at a pile of rotting leaves. A hedgehog that had been hiding inside scampered out and fled to the nearest bush.

When Robert came into the falconry a short while later, William was waiting for him in the mews.

“William,” cried Robert in surprise, taking a step toward him. “How wonderful to see you.”

“Why?” William asked aggressively. “Why do you do that?”

“What do you mean?” Robert asked, taking another step toward his friend. He went to touch his arm, but William pushed him away brusquely.

“Don’t you dare touch me. A man like you who sins against nature will bring down the wrath of God upon his head and deserves neither my friendship nor my forbearance.” William drew back.

“Please, Will,” Robert pleaded in dismay. “I’ve never wished anything bad for you. You were never supposed to find out. That’s why I left.”

“You’re a traitor.” William spat. “A godforsaken sodomite, a sinner, a transgressor, a criminal.” It came pouring out with such force that William shocked himself.

“I’ve never betrayed you, William. It’s love that binds me to you. And friendship.”

“Coming from your mouth, even a good word like ‘love’ sounds sinful. I shudder to think what you did to me when I lay sick and close to death.” William felt goose bumps breaking out all over his body. He had always trusted Robert. How could he ever do so again?

“I didn’t touch you in any improper way, truly,” Robert pleaded. “I washed you, I wiped away your waste, I cared for you until you were well, but I promise you I have never touched you impurely. You’re my best friend, the only person who means anything to me. But I always knew I couldn’t have you, and I’ve accepted that.”

“You, have me?” William snorted with anger. “The way the boy in the woods had you? It’s disgusting, Robert.”

“Forgive me. I can’t help it.”

“Nonsense. Of course you can help it. Go, get yourself a wife, and find the right path. Then I’ll forgive you. The blacksmith’s daughter has her eye on you. Why don’t you court her?” William stared at him, baffled. The girl was a beauty; all the men were after her, but Robert did not give her so much as a second glance.

Robert shook his head. “I’ve tried, believe me. I went to the woods with her, and she tried to seduce me—she didn’t care that we weren’t married—but I couldn’t do it.”

“What do you mean, you couldn’t do it? You could have married her if your conscience told you it was wrong otherwise.”

“I couldn’t, William.” Robert pointed at his crotch. “It wouldn’t work. My flesh wasn’t willing. When it comes to women, I don’t know what to do. I don’t like them. The softness of their bodies repels me.”

William couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Very well, not her then, but someone else,” he said angrily. “You certainly liked Marguerite.”

“Oh no, Will. I love Marguerite like a sister, no more. I love only you. I feel so much desire for you that it hurts. Ever since Thorne,” he added under his breath.

William snorted. It wasn’t Marguerite that Robert loved; it was
William
. That couldn’t be. “I came to ask you to come back to Roford,” he said expressionlessly.

“Really?” asked Robert, touched but unsure.

“But under the circumstances,” William went on unshakably, “we have nothing more to say to each other. Marguerite and I will journey on today. Without you.”

“William, I beg you, let me come with you.”

“So that you can corrupt my son, too?” As he uttered the words, William knew he was doing Robert an injustice, but at that moment fear and disappointment were stronger than friendship and compassion.

Robert stared at him, wide-eyed. “No, William. I would never do that! You have a son? May I see him? Please, I swear I would never touch him.”

“You will not accompany us. My decision is final, and don’t you dare follow me to the hall,” replied William with a slight tremor in his voice. He left the mews. The light outside was blinding, but it
offered a good excuse for the tears that were running down his cheek.

Not far from the hall, Marguerite ran up the path toward him with the child on her arm.

“For God’s sake, dearest, what happened? You look as if you’ve seen the devil himself.”

“Robert won’t be coming with us,” William said through gritted teeth, taking Marguerite by the arm and pulling her away.

“Why not? What’s the matter?”

“Not now. I’ll explain some other time. Please.” William stormed off, sniffling. How could he make her understand what he didn’t understand himself? At the beginning of the day, he had rejoiced at the thought that Robert would be coming back, but now he just felt dull and empty. He would miss Robert, yet he couldn’t find a way to see beyond his anger. He had known him for so long. How could it have escaped him that his friend was a sodomite, accursed and condemned to continue to suffer long after his earthly life was over?

They departed for Roford that very day, and on the way back they stopped at Smithfield. William had decided to visit the market there again; though after the events at Oakham he did so only halfheartedly. Marguerite was exhausted after their journey, so he arranged accommodation for her and the child in an inn and wandered toward the marketplace on his own.

Memories of his first visit to Smithfield came flooding back, forcing out all thoughts of Robert. He thought about Tanner, FitzEldred, and FitzOwen, and a wave of sadness came over him. When he was close to the square where he had met the two merchants for the first time, a gyrfalcon being sold by one of the bird dealers caught his attention.

The falcon was almost snow-white, with a few pitch-black flecks on her breast and back, and had an aura like few birds that William had ever seen. He went closer and looked more carefully. She was unusually large, even for a female gyrfalcon. Her posture, beak, legs, and feet were as perfect as her markings and the condition of her plumage. William rubbed his hands together. They were moist with excitement, and his fingertips were tingling. This was a still quite young gyrfalcon from the north, perhaps Iceland.

William shook his head and turned away as if uninterested, though he found it difficult to take his eyes off the bird. A little farther on, he stopped and pretended to look at another trader’s wares. There was certainly no need to ask the price of such a noble beast; a bird like that was sure to be exorbitantly expensive.

While William looked around at the other stalls, the image of the falcon would not leave him alone. What would King John say to a bird like that? William knew how keen he was to own the most beautiful falcon in the land, and a white gyrfalcon was something rather special, even for the king. As far as William knew, he had only one such bird. It was to him that William owed his marriage to Marguerite and, as a result, her lands and the title of Lord Roford. How he would love to give him such an extraordinary gift as a token of his gratitude.

William strolled on, but the bird did not leave his thoughts. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t at least ask the price, thought William. It was not until he was standing in front of the dealer’s stall that he realized his feet had taken him there on their own accord.

He looked at the dealer’s other birds and then took another close look at the gyrfalcon. Her eyes had been seeled. William sighed. Would it become customary one day to use hoods for manning? His experiences with the hoods had all been positive.

“When did you catch her?” he asked the dealer as casually as he could.

“Not quite a month ago, noble sir,” the man replied, puffing out his chest. “North of York. She found her way to England all by herself, the little beauty. Damned rare, something like that. And as you can see, she’s already been seeled.”

“So she’s still completely wild and hasn’t been trained at all.”

“Well, for someone who knows what he’s doing…” the dealer answered ingratiatingly, bowing slightly.

“Oh, I know very well what I’m doing, and I tell you she’ll be very hard to train.”

“She’s still young and has the experience of hunting that falconers value so highly,” the dealer insisted self-confidently.

“What you mean is that she’s tasted freedom long enough to want it back. It’s certainly risky buying a bird like this. You can’t even see her eyes. She might be blind for all I know.” William turned away as if to leave the stall.

“God forbid, sir. I saw her round, shining eyes before I had them sewn shut.”

“A man who doesn’t really understand seeling can cause a serious injury.” William did his best to look doubtful, shaking his head in apparent mistrust.

“Well, I warrant you wouldn’t know what to do with such a magnificent bird anyway. Gyrfalcons should be flown only by kings, after all,” said the dealer, now visibly affronted, yet there was a hint of pride in his voice.

“One more reason to give me a good price. You won’t find many buyers here.” William looked around and pointed at the simple peasants who had gathered around the stall to gawp. “Tell me, how much do you want for the bird? But think carefully. Set the mark too high, and I’ll do an about-face and won’t be back. You know you’re going to have difficulty selling her at this market. Not that there aren’t enough rich men in London, but a white gyrfalcon isn’t for them, as you pointed out.”

“Well, there are royal falconers here,” the dealer boasted, feigning indifference and waving his hand airily.

“Indeed? I know most of them and I haven’t seen a single one. But if you think…” William turned away, trying to look utterly unconcerned.

“Wait, sir!”

“So how high is your price?” asked William, still walking.

The dealer named a figure that took William’s breath away. The bystanders shook their heads in disbelief. Some of them went away, making contemptuous remarks; others stayed where they were, just so they could see whether William would buy the bird for such an outrageously high price.