The Silver Falcon (38 page)

Odon and Maud went away, and William stumbled to his place. He sat down beside Robert and put his head in his hands. “I’m tired,” he whispered.

“Perhaps you’re right. We should go to bed.”

In silence, they made their way back to their room.

“She’s not worth wasting a single thought,” said Robert gently as they lay on their straw mattresses.

“I know,” William murmured, and yet the memory of Maud’s mockery and disdain kept him awake for a long time that night. He tossed from side to side. Robert was already asleep, and the other men who had been allocated to their room had gone to sleep, too. Maud and Odon deserved each other, thought William bitterly, getting up quietly. He had to get out from this stuffy, overcrowded accommodation. He stepped carefully over Robert and two more snoring men and crept outside.

William shivered in the clear and frosty night. He had not brought his cloak with him. Dressed only in his shirt, he would not be able to stay outdoors for long. He looked searchingly up into the firmament and started. Where he had expected to see twinkling stars, the sky was glowing red. The night was not yet over, and it would not be dawn for a long time yet. It looked almost as if something was on fire in the distance, and yet…William shook his head. The light was very different from anything he had seen in the sky before. It was of such a peculiar, almost godly beauty that he could not take his eyes off it. Even when he heard the cry of the
watchman, who had noticed the glow, he still could not stop looking at it. Soon more men came running up, pointing at the sky.

“It’s a sign,” one of them shouted. “A sign from God!”

William felt every hair on his body standing on end. What kind of a sign could it be? Perhaps the bloodred sky presaged some awful misfortune? William crossed himself, and the other men did the same. Some even fell to their knees in terror and began to mutter the Lord’s Prayer.

Whatever kind of sign it was, it was far too cold to stand around any longer. If he did not want to catch his death, he had to return to his room and warm himself up. After a last look at the strange light, he went back and folded himself up in his wool blanket. He closed his eyes, and he could still see the light as if it shone deep inside him.

The following day, the disturbing glow was on everyone’s lips. The news spread through the castle like wildfire. Those who had seen it described it to the others in moralizing terms; those who had missed it kicked themselves. Robert and the other young men became irritated because William just shrugged when they asked him why he had not woken them up.

Evil presentiments and gruesome speculations about the mysterious glow circulated, casting a pall over the boisterous mood that had prevailed before.

Only a few days after the remarkable apparition in the sky, a messenger dashed into the courtyard and hurried to de Tracey. Wide-eyed and gasping, he reported that King Richard had been taken prisoner on his way back from the Holy Land.

A disbelieving murmur ran through those present. A few crossed themselves in fear; others spoke excitedly among themselves.

“The glow in the sky,” someone cried.

“A sign from the Lord,” another wailed.

The messenger could not give any details of Richard’s imprisonment, except that Leopold of Austria had captured him and was holding him in one of his castles.

De Tracey gave orders that the messenger be given food and drink and a place to sleep that night, so that he could ride back out at daybreak and further spread the news.

Speculation about what would happen now turned into a heated argument. De Ferrers called for cool heads. To reassure them, he insisted that no one would dare to harm a hair of the English king’s head during his imprisonment. They should worry more about Prince John, who was extremely ambitious and had been making every effort to seize the throne during Richard’s absence. The lords who had gathered at de Tracey’s decided it would be prudent to return to their estates and await whatever might come to pass.

D
uring the night, their best hunting bitch had been whelping, and now she was in a wooden box filled with straw surrounded by a dozen healthy puppies.

Robert had been sitting with her since late the previous evening, and he was by her side for the dawn birth. He cut the cord for two of the first five puppies, since the bitch had been unable to do it herself, and laid them in front of her so that she could sniff their scent and lick them dry. When there was a pause in the delivery, he felt her belly and could tell that more puppies were waiting to see the light of day. He softly encouraged the exhausted bitch not to give up until the last puppy arrived.

At daybreak, David woke up and went to the kennels. He loved the dogs more than anything else, and he looked in on them every day. He was overjoyed that the puppies had finally been born. He knelt beside the box to look at them, his eyes full of devotion, but did not touch them. Blind as tiny moles, they squirmed about clumsily in search of their mother’s teats.

Much moved, Robert looked at them and stroked the bitch’s head affectionately. “You did very well. William will be pleased when he gets back from the village.” The bitch looked at him trustingly with her round eyes, wagging her tail weakly.

Hounds were important helpers during the hawking session. This was why William insisted that Robert train them himself, a task Robert was all too happy to take on since he still preferred working with dogs over working with falcons. Although he could now claim to be a good falconer, he had not developed a connection
like William’s, whose understanding of falcons was extraordinary, far beyond that of most people.

Robert sighed at the thought of his friend. His unchaste desire to be physically close to William was flaring up more and more often, causing him much distress. He knew it was a sin and felt genuinely ashamed, and yet he was helpless against it. It was wrong to think of William in this way, and he himself was no better than that miserable worm lurking in the apple offered by the serpent to Eve. Because Robert knew this, he was all the more grateful for his friend, and he wanted to be devoted to him for his whole life.

Hoofbeats in the courtyard roused Robert from his disturbing reverie. He stood up, composed himself, and went outside.

“Sir Odon,” he said, bowing humbly upon seeing this unexpected visitor. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m on my way to Sir Walkelin’s. My horse stumbled and hurt himself, and I’m thirsty,” growled Odon.

The mews was at least a mile away from de Ferrers’s hall. Did Odon really have to make a stop here? Concealing his displeasure, Robert went to the spring and fetched a bucket of fresh water. Odon dismounted his horse and approached Robert. He snatched the wooden dipper out of Robert’s hand and drank without a word of thanks.

Robert gave the visibly exhausted horse a bucket of water, too, taking the opportunity to check the injured ankle. It was grazed and badly swollen. He tried to comfort the noble beast by stroking its neck. It will need a couple of days’ rest and a dressing to recover, he thought, but he did not say anything. Odon surely knew what he was doing. When Odon went to mount the horse again, the exhausted creature drew back.

“Stubborn as a mule, this nag, but I’ll cure him of that,” roared Odon angrily. It took him two attempts to get back in the saddle. He rode away without saying farewell.

Robert watched him go for a short while and then headed back to the kennels. When he entered, he found David standing with his back to the half-open door, gasping for air as if someone had him by the throat. Immediately, Robert counted the puppies. None of the young were missing, and they all seemed to be in perfect health.

“David, whatever’s the matter?”

The boy pointed outside agitatedly and made some noises that sounded more animal than human, and yet they demonstrated how badly he wished he could express himself.

“En,” David stammered. “En!” With a terrifying grimace, he tried to make himself understood to Robert. Tears ran down his cheeks as he punched himself in the face and belly, kicked at the air, and fell to the ground.

At first, Robert thought poor David must be possessed by the devil and tried to calm him down. But the boy kept calling for En. William had told Robert about Enid, including the gruesome way she and her child had been killed. David had obviously witnessed the terrible deed and wanted to tell Robert about it now. Robert could feel the poor boy’s fear in his own soul. He was overcome with cold horror. If he understood David’s wild gestures correctly and could believe them, Odon, or a man who looked like him, had been among the murderers.

David stared toward the place where he had seen Odon riding off, and he kept pointing in that direction. Then he hugged himself and began swaying from side to side, humming a desperate-sounding children’s song.

Robert went up to the unfortunate boy and held him tight. “Don’t be afraid, David. I’ll protect you and make sure no one harms you, all right? I promise. But William mustn’t hear of this, do you understand? It would worry him terribly.”

When William came back from Oakham that evening, David had already gone to bed. He slept with his knees to his chin and
the blanket pulled over his head. Every now and again he groaned to himself.

Robert knew his friend was still thinking about avenging Enid’s death, but he knew, too, that William was not a match for a knight like Odon. When it came to lures and slingshots, he knew what he was doing, but he did not know how to handle a sword or a lance. If he heard that Odon might have been involved in the attack on Enid, he would throw himself blindly at him at the first available opportunity. Since Odon was stronger and knew all the fighting arts, he would thus seal his own death.

At the thought of losing William, Robert’s heart twisted painfully. Never would he allow that. He had to protect his friend, and that meant not mentioning a word about David’s damning behavior. He looked over at the sleeping boy, anxiously hoping that William would not notice David’s fear.

“Odon arrived today,” said William quietly.

“Really?” Robert said, pretending to be surprised. “What has our master done to deserve that honor?”

“He wasn’t the only important visitor,” said William with a sarcastic smile. “There was a whole crowd of lords, even Marshal and the Earl of Arundel came. I think Sir Walkelin summoned them. They were taking counsel with each other about the king. I didn’t catch everything, only that old de Ferrers offered himself as a hostage. They obviously can’t put the whole ransom together all at once.”

“With the riches of all the lords, as well as the church?” Robert shook his head in disbelief. “I wonder how much they’re asking.”

“It must be a huge sum. Just think: every nobleman has had to hand over a quarter of his income, and even the monasteries and abbeys have had to pay. And yet it’s obviously not enough. But they’ve reached an agreement with the emperor. Richard will be released in exchange for a down payment on the ransom and the princely number of two hundred noble hostages. It seems Queen
Eleanor herself will go and fetch her son from the emperor. Rumor has it that John and the French king were threatening Richard’s throne.”

“Well, you heard quite a lot,” said Robert in amazement. He was glad that William was too preoccupied with the news to notice David’s restless sleeping.

“I spoke to Marshal briefly,” William went on. “He said being a hostage was not as terrible as it sounds. In fact, it is a great honor. Apparently even one of the king of Navarre’s sons is willing to take Richard’s place. Besides, he says, nobles who sacrifice themselves for their king are not held in chains or in damp cells. They will be treated like guests, though they have to defray their own costs as well as those of their servants, and obviously that’s expensive. The plan is that the families of all the noble hostages will move heaven and earth to ensure that everyone in the land pays their feudal levies so that the prisoners can be released as quickly as possible.”

Despite the reassurances, William’s concern over the situation was writ large on his face. And then his expression suddenly softened. “Marshal told me about Athanor. I knew it was the first sword my mother made on her own, but not that he always carries it. He showed me,” he announced, his cheeks flushed with pride.

This touching sight made Robert feel as if he were carrying a red-hot stone in his guts. Every fiber of his being was run through with his attraction to William, and it grieved him. If he was to lose his friend, he would never get over the loss. He had to find a way to prevent David from ever catching sight of that villain Odon again.

“I haven’t seen my mother for such a long time! It’s been more than eight years since I left Saint Edmundsbury,” William murmured.

“Perhaps it’s time you went and visited her. You’ve talked about it often enough,” suggested Robert. After a long pause he continued. “You could take David with you. Who knows what might happen here while Sir Walkelin and Henry are away. Melva
isn’t as hale and hearty as she was. She can’t shake off that cough. I’m sure David would be better taken care of, for the moment at least, with your family.”