The Silver Falcon (45 page)

The experienced falconers and William looked at him as if he was quite mad.

“An open break like that doesn’t heal. It festers and then kills the bird,” John’s falconer declared, shaking his head.

“But miracles happen all the time,” Odon insisted. “Let William try, my lord.”

William felt a wave of heat flow over him. John’s bird would die, and no one could prevent it.

Odon rested his gaze on William. It was filled with pure contempt and visceral hatred. One thing was for sure: Odon knew exactly what he was doing.

John looked up at William, his eyes filled with tears. “Do you really think you could help her?”

William gulped with dismay. “No, Your Highness, I don’t think so.” He lowered his eyes humbly. “But I’ll try, if you insist.”

“Then try.” The prince’s voice sounded more pleading than commanding.

“It will take a long time, and even if the break heals, it’s unlikely she’ll ever fly again,” William warned.

“Nevertheless, keep her here and try,” John commanded. “I’ll speak to your master to make sure he gives you every assistance.”

William bowed. “As you wish, my lord.” He took the bird in both hands, lifted her up, and carefully carried her away.

“You’ll wish you’d rotted to death in our dungeon yet,” Odon hissed at him so that no one else could hear.

William paid no attention. Let Odon think he had already broken him. They would find a way to save the bird, even if at that moment it seemed completely hopeless.

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Robert complained. “The falcon will never recover from this injury—a child could tell you that. What were you thinking when you said you would try? When she dies, which she certainly will, Odon will say it’s your fault. You’re putting your life at risk.”

“And what else, may I ask, could I have done, do you think? Should I have said, ‘No, Your Highness, I can’t save your bird and I won’t even try’? You were there. You know Odon would never have let it rest. He would have accused me of not
wanting
to try. This way at least we stand a chance.” William sighed. He had seen Marshal’s incredulous expression.

“We?”

“Please, Robert, I’m going to need your help.” William put all his powers of persuasion into his expression, and his friend’s initial resistance crumbled.

He put his arms around William with a smile. “You know you can count on me. We’ll do the best we can to nurse her back to health.” His face broke out in a broad grin. “What I wouldn’t give to see Odon’s face if we succeed. Come, let’s strap her up as quickly as we can.”

“No, I think we should prevent the wing from moving and splint the break. The wound needs to stay open for a while, or else John’s falconer is right, it will get infected and kill the bird.”

Robert held up his hands. “You’re the herb collector. We’ll do whatever you think is best.”

Before the prince left Ferrières, he came to the mews one more time to have a look at his falcon and bid William farewell.

“I’ve arranged everything with de Ferrers. You can take as long as you need to take care of her. All that matters is that she gets better.”

“You know I can’t promise anything, my lord.”

“I know, but I’ve heard so many good things about you that I am full of hope. I’m sure you’ll succeed. And for safety’s sake, I’ll pray for God’s mercy, too.”

“We’d better do the same,” muttered Robert once Prince John had left. “Perhaps the prayers will help, if nothing else does.”

Odon crouched behind a large bush and watched the path through the forest. Since the hunt during which John’s bird had been injured, he had spent months with the prince, constantly moving. He had endured his moods and battled alongside him. It was hard to win John’s respect. Odon breathed in deeply to drive away the oppressive tightness in his chest.

Lately, he had been increasingly preoccupied with the worrying thought that William might have saved John’s falcon, contrary to expectation. Fortunately, though, he had thought ahead and given a lad named Guy the task of getting work in the mews and spying for him.

Odon snorted with impatience. The path led directly to the falconry; the boy would have to come along here soon. Odon rubbed his chin complacently and grinned. An idiot like William was no match for him. Even if he did manage to bring the falcon back to health, Odon would be able to prevent him from enjoying the prince’s gratitude.

Odon heard Guy approaching and checked that the boy was alone before stepping out from his hiding place.

“Well, Guy, now we’ll find out whether you’ve earned the tidy sum I’ve promised you,” he said harshly, flexing the muscles in his jaw to look more menacing.

At first, the young man was startled by Odon’s unexpected appearance, but then he nodded eagerly.

“I want to know everything, every detail, about what has happened in the mews since we left. How is John’s falcon? Is she dead?”

“William and Robert have made herbal poultices and watched her day and night,” he reported, not without pride. “Nobody would have expected her to recover, but the wing has healed, and the falcon has even done some flying. She probably won’t be able to hunt as well as she did, but perhaps she will,” he answered, shuffling his feet nervously when he saw Odon turn red with fury.

“God forbid,” Odon sputtered angrily.

Guy relaxed a little and smiled with relief when he understood what this knight wanted to hear. “I’m sure she won’t be able to hunt properly again.”

“It won’t do William any good that he’s looked after the falcon. You’re to take care of that, understood? The last thing I need is for John to feel indebted.”

Guy obviously did not understand what Odon expected of him.

He held a purse under Guy’s nose and shook it so that the coins inside—large and small—jangled. “This is a small fortune. Think what you could do with it.” He moved his head from side to side, as if thinking about how to spend such a princely sum himself. But when Guy approached and eagerly tried to grab the purse, Odon hid it behind his back in a flash. “First, you must hear what it is you have to do.” He looked around, so that Guy had to come very close to him to hear his words. He whispered precise instructions in his ear. “Here, with this it will be child’s play,” Odon ordered, pressing into Guy’s hand a small package wrapped in a scrap of linen. “And don’t forget, I know where your mother’s hut is. Should you try to take the money without fulfilling your side of the bargain, I shall have to pay her a visit she’s unlikely to welcome. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, you can rely on me. As soon as I’ve done what you order I’ll leave this place. No one will suspect who gave the order. People will think it’s a mistake.” Guy grinned. “The others all flatter him, but he means nothing to me.”

“That’s good, Guy. Now go.”

When the young assistant was out of sight, Odon rubbed his hands together. “It was really foolish of you to make an enemy of me, William.”

To William’s great happiness, Prince John had asked Sir Walkelin to care not only for his falcons but also for Marguerite. He would be unable to offer his ward a proper home while he was waging war. What better solution could there be than to leave his ward with his friend de Ferrers, who had raised two daughters as well as two sons. So Marguerite stayed in Ferrières with Goda, her handmaid.

Goda was not really ugly, just plain, a self-denying old maid of nearly thirty who simply went unnoticed by men. At night, when she thought Marguerite was asleep, she would often beg the Almighty for a husband, weeping heartrending tears and whispering fervent prayers.

Marguerite felt pity for her at these times, but the next day she would round on Goda furiously when she said Marguerite was unlikely to find a husband if she did not behave in a more ladylike way.

“As if behavior were all that matters. Goda is a perfect lady. She can sew, she can sing, and she’s an attentive hostess, and yet she’s an old maid,” said Marguerite heatedly, one morning in the mews.

Robert and William smirked at each other.

“Well now, if you came with a decent dowry, dear Marguerite, and promised to help me with my work, I might be willing to
marry you.” William sighed dramatically, though of course he would have married her without a penny if it were seemly.

“Only her uncle won’t give her away to the first man to happen along, my dear Will,” said Robert with a pompous air. “I think you’re forgetting that she’s the prince’s ward and a valuable commodity, a match with which alliances can be sealed and favors repaid. He’ll probably marry her off to some long-serving, faithful, but ugly knight with a fat belly, so that the knight can sit back at his ease and ensure his succession. Or else she’ll have to capture the heart of one of England’s enemies.”

William knew his friend’s prediction was probably close to the mark, regrettably. Perhaps a young noble would be the one to hold her hand one day. But Marguerite was strikingly beautiful, and she was John’s favorite ward. The thought of her belonging to someone else one day almost broke his heart.

“In that case I’d rather join a convent,” Marguerite hissed, like an enraged cat. “I refuse to marry some ugly, old fellow.”

William just looked at her helplessly as she stalked off angrily. Something indescribable bound him to her. Even Robert, who seemed to have something against every woman William liked, had obviously noticed it.

“She would be right for you, Will,” he said with a quiet sigh as he watched her go.

William knew he was right, but Marguerite’s future looked just as Robert had described it. That was why every moment he could spend with her in the mews was like a precious gift. With every day he spent near her, she meant more to him. Her easy manner and her laughter, but also her seriousness and curiosity about the ways of falcons, made him inexpressibly happy.

He racked his brains for a long time over how he could please her. At length he suggested to de Ferrers that she be allowed to train a small passager and that he give it to her as a gift afterward. De Ferrers liked the idea immediately, for with Marguerite’s falcon
he could strengthen not only his own connection to John but also that of his sons. William knew it would be very prudent to earn the prince’s favor, for he was now again so close to his brother Richard, who was still without a son, that it was generally believed he would be named as his successor.

At first it had looked as though Arthur was the leading contender. The son of Richard’s older brother, Geoffrey, former Duke of Brittany, Arthur had seemed a possible successor as long as John continued to make life difficult for his brother. Now, however, they were united in brotherly love, at least to the extent possible for two men who were so different, and rumor had it that Richard would decide in favor of John.

For all that, William was not particularly interested in making himself popular with John; what interested him was Marguerite. Training her would give him time with her and would let him give her his full attention. The assistants grumbled, of course, because Marguerite was allowed to go wherever she pleased, even though she was not a man, but their complaints made no difference to William. If he had not been the son of a female swordsmith, he might have believed that women were less capable than men. Besides, Marguerite had learned more about falcons in a short time than the assistants, none of whom would ever train a hawk on their own.

As expected, Marguerite threw herself into the task and took it extremely seriously. She was not at all soft and did not even complain when her arm grew weak from carrying the bird. My mother would like her, even though she’s a baron’s daughter, thought William as he watched her, and the realization cut him to the quick.

Marguerite had often watched when he was handling John’s injured falcon; from time to time she had helped out and learned a great deal. William treated the open break in the bird’s wing with herbal dressings whose recipes he had learned from Enid.

At first, the falcon scarcely improved, and William felt discouraged, but after a while she began to recover. It took three full months for the break to heal and the wound to close. Thanks to William’s attentive, loving care, and to the selection of the finest tidbits to eat, she recovered her strength, which earned him Marguerite’s undisguised admiration. When he started flying the falcon again, John had not yet returned to Ferrières. Marguerite’s passager was fully trained, so she did not come to the falconry as often as before. In addition, de Ferrers insisted that she be educated as a lady while she was in his household. She received lessons from a priest, and she had to sing, embroider, sew, and learn to keep accounts. Whenever she thought she was unobserved, though, Marguerite would steal away to the mews.