The Silver Falcon (69 page)

While the table was being cleared, the mightiest barons in the land, friends and confidants of Marshal, came to them. They greeted William and Marguerite more warmly than before, clapped Marshal jovially on the shoulder, and congratulated him on his son’s excellent match—and on his grandson, who would bind him even more closely to the king.

“Don’t you want to introduce the boy to everyone?” Odon chipped in, his words slurred. “Where is the boy? I want to pay him my respects.”

On the other side of the hall, one of the hunt assistants ran in and gave William a sign.

“What’s happening? Where’s my grandson?” the king asked angrily.

“I’ve sent Robert out to look for him, sire. He’s probably run off again, the little adventurer. Excuse me a moment.” William signaled to the assistant to come over.

“Richard’s nursemaid has been stabbed, and the boy has been taken away,” the assistant whispered agitatedly, loud enough for the men around William to hear. “Robert told me to ride straight back to the forest. But I thought it better to inform you first so you could get some extra men ready,” he stammered, noticing that the king was staring at him.

William was about to rush off, but John held him back. He gave a sign, and several knights surrounded him. Even before the king could give his instructions, Robert and Adam came into the hall. They were not alone.

“Richard!” Marguerite rushed to Adam and took her son from the boy. “Is he all right?” she asked anxiously, kissing and hugging the child. She looked her son in the eye and checked his body.

Robert held the maid.

Odon stood motionless beside the other barons, pale and silent.

“This woman stabbed Emma and took the boy into the forest,” Robert told William, bowing to the king. “Get down on your knees in front of the king,” he ordered, shoving the maid to the ground.

“Why did you do that?” asked the king with seeming calm. Only the swollen vein in his neck showed his anger.

“His father told me to. My own true beloved,” she replied, smiling confidently.

“William!” The king turned to his newfound son-in-law and looked at him angrily. “Why did you do that?”

The king’s knights formed a circle around William.

“I did nothing of the sort,” he stammered in astonishment. “I’ve never seen this woman in my life.”

Marguerite looked at him skeptically.

Out of the corner of his eye, William noticed Odon grinning with glee.

“Not him,” said the maid, waving her hand grandly. “He’s not the boy’s father, and he’s certainly not my beloved.”

“So who is?” asked the king severely.

“Another lord, a better-looking one.” She looked at William disdainfully.

“And does this lord have a name?”

Odon was almost invisible behind the other barons.

The maid shrugged her shoulders and looked at the floor.

A child’s voice suddenly rose from the throng. “Excuse me, sire.”

“And who are you?” John asked.

“My name is Adam, sire, Adam of Caldecote. I’m one of Lord Elmswick’s sons.”

“I see,
one
of his sons.” The king seemed to understand perfectly. “What do you want, Adam?”

“I promised never to be a coward, sire.” Adam looked at the ground, fidgeting, and then looked up. “So I’ll tell you what I know.”

William saw tears in the boy’s eyes. Adam had promised
him
never to be a coward, and suddenly he felt sorry for the brave little fellow. Whatever he was going to confess—he seemed to find it hard.

“I’ve seen my father with her,” Adam announced with a sob, his voice constricted. “
He’s
her beloved.”

“Elmswick!” roared the king, and an angry murmur ran through the crowd. After a moment or two, Odon stepped forward.

“Is this your lord?” John asked the maid, pointing at Odon. “Look carefully before you speak.”

She did not look up. “I mustn’t say anything. He’ll hurt me,” she whispered.

“If you don’t want to be tortured, you’ll look at him and tell me whether he’s the man,” the king demanded.

The maid looked up and nodded. “He told me I should raise the child. That I was better for him than her,” she said, pointing at Marguerite. “He knows what’s good for the boy, since he’s his father.”

“Your ignorance will cost you your life,” roared the king. “Odon isn’t his father, but I am his grandfather!” He turned away. “Lock her up. She’ll hang for this.” Then he approached Odon with a menacing air. “Whereas you, Elmswick, are not ignorant but underhanded. For someone like you, death at the end of a rope is far too soft a punishment. Why did you have my grandson seized?”

“I didn’t know,” Odon claimed desperately. “I just wanted to teach William a lesson. I wouldn’t have done anything to the boy. Please believe me, sire!”

The king took a deep breath. He appeared to be exercising all the restraint in the world. “You are of noble birth, and your father was a loyal servant to the crown. Therefore, I believe you when you say you didn’t know Richard was my grandson and will show mercy.” His words, though mild, still sounded menacing.

Odon did not seem to notice. He relaxed visibly and was obviously relieved.

But William could not believe what he was hearing. Was the king really going to let this traitor get away with it, just because he came from a good family?

“I give you thanks, sire,” said Odon, falling down on his knees before the king.

William’s nostrils flared. He had to hold back from protesting aloud. Then the king’s voice rang out again.

“Your title shall be forfeited, and you shall leave your manor. Should any lord ever grant you safe harbor, he too will lose his lands. Since no blame attaches to your wife, however, I grant her permission to leave you and go back to her father’s house, with your children, so that he may take them into his care. No harm will come to him from me.”

Everyone heard the king’s words. Some of the barons stepped back so as not to stand too close to Odon.

“Without a title or a manor, you are a nobody from now on,” King John continued, looking at Odon with contempt. “No baron will employ you, if his title is dear to him, and yet you will have to feed yourself by your own labor. Henceforth, you will spend your days as a day laborer or a beggar. And on the day that news of your death reaches me, I shall arrange a feast in celebration, to thank God.” John bowed slightly. “Now get out of my sight!”

William cleared his throat with relief, and when Marshal cleared his throat, too, one of the lords said, with a laugh, “Like father, like son” and ordered his page to give both men something to drink.

William looked at his father with interest. Did they have something else in common? A bodily feature, perhaps, like the one that linked Marguerite, Richard, and John?

“My lords, please forgive me if I withdraw with my son,” Marguerite said apologetically, gesturing modestly to point out
her condition and the exhausted child on her arm. She curtsied in front of John and nodded at the lords with a friendly smile, then gathered herself to leave.

“Allow me to excuse myself, too,” said William hurriedly. He sensed that Marguerite was angry, and he wondered why. Had she not understood that he had nothing to do with the taking of Richard? He bowed deeply to the king, searching his face for permission to leave.

John nodded graciously, and William hurried after Marguerite. He stroked his son’s back affectionately and then held out his arms to take the child from Marguerite, for he was far too heavy for her.

William waved to Adam to come over, and Robert came, too. He handed William a torch and took one himself. Then he went ahead with Adam.

Marguerite did not say a word on the way to the tent. It was not until they had drawn the curtain over the entrance to the tent, and Richard had joyfully said “Emma,” that she turned furiously on William, eyes blazing. He put down the boy next to the bed where the nursemaid was resting.

“Comfort Emma, so she gets well quickly,” she said softly, smiling. The boy cuddled up to the nursemaid, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and fell asleep almost immediately. She went up to William and rebuked him in an angry whisper. “What happened today is simply too much. Odon arranges for our son to be taken from us, and you, you lie to me!”

“But I—”

“Don’t try to talk your way out of it,” she interrupted, snorting with fury.

“I’m not,” said William, provoked. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“So you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Marguerite fought for breath; her voice was close to cracking. “I mean the news of your origins. Why did I have to find out from the king instead of
you? I kept you informed about the situation with my uncle right from the start. But you? You didn’t look as if this evening was the first you heard about being Marshal’s son. Or am I wrong?”

“No, I—”

“I thought so. It’s humiliating that I’m the last one to know. What other lies have you told me? Did Odon have other reasons to take Richard from us?”

“No, believe me! I’ve never lied to you,” William protested indignantly. “I didn’t know myself until—”

“Not saying anything is just as reprehensible as saying something false. You told me Isaac was your father.”

“For God’s sake, let me speak,” William shouted, immediately regretting his loss of temper.

Marguerite’s jaw dropped. She looked at him in disbelief.

“I only found out myself some days ago. I always knew that Isaac was my stepfather but until recently all I knew about my father was that I owed my existence to a knight. My mother wouldn’t tell me more, and when Isaac died I couldn’t bring myself to ask her the truth. I knew it would upset her. So Isaac was my father until Marshal confided in me.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. Where was your trust? Why did you keep it secret from me?”

“I don’t know.” William shrugged and looked miserably at Marguerite. “You were so preoccupied with Isabelle’s accusations, and I was ashamed and hurt. Marshal had known for a long time that he was my father. So many questions bothered me. Why did he keep it secret from me for so long? Was I a matter of complete indifference to him? Why didn’t he ever try to see me? But I was tremendously proud to be the son of the most famous knight in the land, and I had to get things clear in my own mind. You know that I’ve always admired him. When I was a boy, I dreamed that my real father would come and get me. But he let me down. He told me it was what my mother wanted, and he had no choice. I needed to think it over.”

“And?” Marguerite asked sharply.

“His being my father has brought me nothing but good, for without it I would never have got you.” William attempted a winning smile and stepped closer to her. But Marguerite’s eyebrows were still furrowed with fury. In truth, her anger had nothing to do with him. It was from the fear of losing her son, a fear that still sat deep in her bones, and he knew it all too well.

He took her in his arms and kissed her. “Richard is fine,” he whispered reassuringly in her ear. “Odon will never be able to harm us again.”

Before they went to bed, William went to see Robert to thank him. “I can rely on you. I never should have doubted it.” He embraced him. “I need you, not just as a falconer, but above all as a friend.”

“You can always count on me, Will, you know that.”

William nodded, then turned his attention to Adam, who was sitting by the fire not far away and immediately jumped up.

“You’re a good boy, and today you proved to me that you meant it when you promised never to be a coward. I’m very proud of you.”

“Even if it’s my fault that my father has to live in poverty now?” “It’s his fault, Adam, not yours.
He
did all these terrible things, and now he’s being punished for them.
You
were concerned with justice. Perhaps he’ll think things over and become a better person, so that at least he doesn’t end up burning in hell.”

“You’re bound to send me away now,” Adam whispered, close to tears.

“Why would I do that?”

“My father isn’t a lord anymore,” said Adam in a small voice.

“You’re a good page, and you’ll be a fine, loyal squire.” He patted Adam’s shoulder kindly. “Go to sleep now, and don’t worry.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Thank
you
, Adam.”

“Our son is a brave boy, just like his father and grandfather,” Marguerite remarked when William joined her in bed. It was her way of saying she was no longer angry with him.

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing her.

“I’m homesick for Roford,” she confessed quietly, passionately returning his kiss.

O
ver the years, I have carefully, and with great enjoyment, researched the historical facts of this period, but turning real events and hearsay into interesting stories is a fascinating challenge. I hope I have succeeded in ensnaring you, the reader, with my novel, for that would be the greatest reward. If you are wondering which of the events I have described are fiction and which history, perhaps the following notes will make things clearer, though of course they cannot include every historical detail.

De arti venandi cum avibus
(On the Art of Hunting with Birds) is the definitive reference book on falconry in the Middle Ages. It was written around 1250 by Friedrich II, Holy Roman Emperor of the German Nation. Because of this work, Friedrich is thought to be the man who introduced the hood to Europe.