The Silver Falcon (19 page)

William did not know how many days had passed since Leonard’s death; time seemed even longer, hope of rescue even slimmer than before. At some point he would be old and mad; lonely and alone he would die, like Leonard. And nobody would care, just as no one seemed interested in the fact that he was sitting in this wretched dungeon. William sharpened his stone. He had torn a strip of cloth from the hem of his tunic and wrapped it around his hand to protect it against injury. His arm ached, and he decided to take a break.

He heard a muffled voice in the corridor outside his cell, and his ears pricked up. If he was not mistaken, the jailer had already been around twice. It was almost dark, and nobody else came at this hour. Was there another prisoner soon to join him? What else could the jailer want? William’s heart began to beat faster in a panic. Perhaps they were coming for him. At the thought that his last moment might be upon him, he realized how fond of this miserable life he still was. He did not want to die; he was still young and wanted to live, wanted to be a falconer, wanted to feel the wind and rain on his skin again. William curled up in his corner, frightened. If only he could be as tiny as a mouse. Then he could scurry through the guards’ legs, race up the stairs, and escape.

It was dusk by the time Robert slipped across the upper bailey. The setting sun painted a sea of colors on the western horizon—orange, violet, and soft pink. Anxiously, he directed his gaze at the dark clouds sweeping in from the east. William would need the light of the moon on his flight. On no account could he risk a torch; its flame would betray him from afar. Robert tried to put aside his fear for his friend. There was no going back now anyway. The situation had become dangerously critical.

Sibylle had eavesdropped on her mother again and had learned that she wanted to be rid of William once and for all. Sibylle had come to Robert in the mews during the afternoon and insisted that they, come what may, free William that very day.

Robert crossed the courtyard unseen and hid in the agreed-upon place. He found the food that Sibylle had hidden in a hole in the wall as planned, and he put the water skin on top. It would not be long before she came into the courtyard, too.

Looking bored, she strolled casually to the entrance to the cellar and knocked on the heavy wooden door. Robert crept a little closer to the corner of the wall so that he could hear what she said.

“The boy is to come to my mother,” she told the guard disdainfully when he opened the door. “Immediately!” She made as if to turn on her heel and leave. Robert held his breath.

“What?” asked the jailer suspiciously. “Now?”

“Well, I don’t think she means Christmas,” retorted Sibylle haughtily.

Robert had to smile. She was playing her part well.

“And why does she send you and not one of her men?”

“How should I know? Ask her yourself. Do you think I was keen to come?”

The guard scratched his head.

Sybille persisted. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“I don’t know,” muttered the jailer. “I don’t like it.”

“Very well. I’ll go and tell her you don’t like her order.” Sibylle really did turn away now.

“No, mistress, I’ll go and fetch him. Unless you want to come with me.” The guard gestured invitingly and, to Robert’s surprise, Sibylle accepted. The door closed behind her, and then there was silence.

Robert grew anxious. Even if she was the lord’s daughter, the thought of her going down to the cells with the jailer and the soldier made him feel weak.

William huddled in his corner as his emotions swung from fear to a glimmer of hope and back again. When the footsteps stopped outside the door, his heart almost did a somersault. Perhaps they weren’t going to kill him; perhaps they finally were going to release him?

He heard the rattle of the heavy bunch of keys. In case this late visit had a less joyful purpose, he gripped the egg-size stone he had sharpened, doing his best to hide it in his fist. He had waited too long for justice to be done. If he had to hold out any longer, there wouldn’t be enough of him left to emerge from the dungeon alive. If it was not that the lord of the manor had come back and was having him released, he would make use of the opportunity and try to escape, for that was perhaps his only chance of survival. Quite soon he would be too weak to run away.

As the iron key turned in the lock, William closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

The jailer and a soldier stepped into the dungeon.

William opened his eyes briefly to see what was happening.

Each of the men carried a torch. When one was thrust toward him, William shut his eyes tightly.

“There he is, see?”

“My mother won’t wait forever. Let us go now. The stench is unbearable.”

A shiver went down William’s spine. Sibylle! He had recognized her voice immediately, and yet she sounded alarmingly strange. He opened his eyes in disbelief. Yes, it was the lord of the manor’s daughter. How coldhearted she could sound, thought William resignedly. He felt sick with disappointment. He had trusted her. But blood was thicker than water, after all. The lady of the manor had probably convinced her that William had killed the priest.

“Stand up. The lady wishes to see you.” The jailer kicked him in the side.

William stood up carefully, not letting the pain show.

The young soldier was eyeing Sibylle like a hungry wolf.

Serves her right, thought William bitterly, not rewarding her with a look.

“Go on ahead, mistress.” The soldier showed her the way with a suggestive gesture, then followed her.

William’s anger at Sibylle broke over him like a hot wave. His mother had always said you couldn’t trust noble folk.

While the guard was locking up, Sibylle nudged William swiftly and winked. Suddenly, William doubted his judgment and clutched the stone in his fist as though his life depended on it. Had she come to help him? Yes, all things considered, there could be no doubt about it. Gratitude flooded through him. The stairs were steep. William’s heart was beating so hard, it was fit to leap from his chest. After only a few steps, his throat was burning as if he had been sprinting. How was he supposed to run away? He was far too weak from his imprisonment. He would collapse, exhausted, after a few paces.

“You will have to take him to the lady by yourself. I’ll stay here. We’re not allowed to leave the guardroom unattended,” the jailer murmured to the soldier, stroking his dirty red beard.

“With the greatest pleasure, given such charming company.” The young man’s eyes rested on Sibylle longer than appropriate.

William could hardly restrain himself, but a look from Sibylle told him to remain calm.

“Better tie him up,” the guard ordered.

William held his crossed hands out in front of his chest, trying to keep the stone hidden between them. Fortunately, the light was so dim that nobody noticed the stone. The man wound the cord around William’s wrists and pulled it particularly tight. “Is that how you like it?” He grinned mockingly. Though the cord was cutting into his skin, William made no reply.

“Let’s go.” The guard opened the door and gave William a push.

He stumbled on the threshold and nearly fell over.

“Weakling,” the guard snarled contemptuously.

The soldier took a torch from the wall, let Sibylle lead the way, and followed her.

William breathed in the balmy summer air. Could there be anything more wonderful? A hot meal, a jug of fresh ale, a pallet with a straw mattress, a hot bath, and clean clothes.

“Make haste. Over to the tower,” the soldier ordered, pushing him forward.

William staggered for a moment, but he stumbled on so that he would not be shoved again. He saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye. When he saw the hand signal, he understood. It was Robert. So it was true: Sibylle had come to rescue him. She had played her part outstandingly well; even he had been taken in. William pretended to stagger again, then fell to the ground.

“You’d better get up, or I’ll help you.” The soldier kicked him. He never saw the stick whistling down on the back of his head. He just let out a muffled groan as he collapsed.

Robert’s shadow emerged from the darkness. With Sibylle’s help he grabbed the soldier by his feet and bundled him into the
dark corner. Once there, he tied him up with a cord and stuffed a rag into his mouth. It would be a while before the soldier could call for help, even if he came to quickly. “And now let’s be off!”

“The rope! Can you get it off me?” William held out his hands and dropped the stone he had been hiding between his palms.

“You came prepared, eh?” He cut the cord. “It’s your knife, by the way. You left it behind. I blamed myself for not coming after you. Maybe it would have helped.”

“I wouldn’t have stood a chance against Odon, even with the knife. He would have just taken it off me, and I never would have seen it again. Thank you, my friend.” He smiled at Robert to cheer him up.

“Your purse and some food are in there.” Robert indicated a small bundle. “I’ll come with you for a while. Say good-bye to Sibylle quickly—we need to go.”

William embraced the girl warmly. “Take care of Robert while I’m gone. Odon must never find out that he helped you, or he will fare badly. I don’t even want to think about what your mother will do to you when she hears what you’ve done.” He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. Between you you’ve saved me from madness and certain death. I hope I can make it up to you someday.”

“You’ll probably have to make it up to someone else. I’m not sure we’ll ever see each other again.” A pained smile crossed Sibylle’s face before she ran past him toward the tower and went in without looking back.

“We need to leave,” Robert urged him, looking apprehensively at the soldier lying in the corner, still unconscious.

“I hope you didn’t kill him,” said William, quite out of breath. They had left the castle far behind and were out of view at last. “Though he deserved it, the way he was staring at Sibylle.”
William stopped. The fast walk had used up an enormous amount of his strength, far more than he had thought possible after his imprisonment in the dungeon. Exhausted, he sank to the ground.

“I’m less worried about the soldier than I am about you.” Robert untied the bundle and offered William a hunk of soft white bread from the lord’s table. “Here, you need to get your strength back.” He opened the water pouch and held it in front of William’s nose. “Drink.”

After a few eager bites and a couple gulps of water, William felt a little better. “You must tell Logan how sorry I am. I would have loved to stay with you all.”

“I’d prefer it if I just came with you.” Robert’s voice sounded pleading.

“No, that won’t work.” William spoke from the heart, with the voice of conviction. “Your future is here at Thorne, in the falconry you’ll take over one day. Logan needs you. He would never get over it if he lost you as well as your mother and Nesta. We’ll see each other again someday. Trust me, I know.”

Robert kept quiet.

William ignored his friend’s tears so as not to embarrass him. “Go home now. Be thankful for everything.”

William’s newly won freedom gave him fresh courage. When Odon found out about his flight, he would come after him. Of that William was certain.

By sunrise he was exhausted. Over the last few miles he had fallen several times, struggled to his feet, and trudged on. After a piece of bread and a few sips of water, he had thought he might be able to last a little longer, but finally he had been forced to accept that he was too grievously weakened. With his last ounce of strength, he sought out a hiding place.

He found a soft, mossy hollow beneath the massive root of a tree. Using his knife he cut two leaf-heavy branches from a shrub, curled up in the hollow, and spread them over him as camouflage.

By the time he woke up, it was broad daylight. He had slept deeply and dreamlessly. As he stood up and stretched, William felt surprisingly well. Judging by the position of the sun, it was already after noon. He ate the last piece of cheese in his bundle and drained the water pouch. He would need to fill it up again at the earliest opportunity. He checked his remaining provisions. He had been so hungry that he had eaten more than half his food on the first evening. Nonetheless, he ate another slice of ham and an apple. He needed strength to continue his journey.