The Blue Falcon Read Online Free PDF Page A

falcon, Mallory and Thurwell hungered for freedom. And Conan, so like his father, needed the thick walls of some manor to give him ease. To ride out to some adventure made his heart pound and his blood race, but only because he knew he could ride home to the secure walls of his father’s house -- his house. Thurwell and Mallory would spend their life’s blood to escape such ties. Conan would willingly spend his life to secure them.
    “ Would that I could make them a hood like yours, my friend,” Conan said to his bird. “ I would hide the thought of wandering from their eyes and keep them ever near me.”
    The great bird flapped his wings and turned his head in full circle as if in protest. “ Yea, you are wise, Mars. They would not serve me so tethered.” The hood was replaced on the falcon’s head, and with Mars riding his arm, Conan walked toward the hall to join his friends.

 
     
    Chapter 2
     
    The blue and red of Anselm took on a new meaning now that Sir Conan was home. Conan’s victories in contests of arms had become as well known as his love for birds, Mars in particular. His shield was blazoned with the blue falcon’s image, and he was often called the Blue Falcon. And the deep midnight blue of the huge falcon that rode his arm or shoulder cast an eerie shadow when Sir Conan entered a crowded hall.
    Much of what belonged to Lord Alaric de Corbney could be seen from the six outer bastions of Anselm’s great outer wall. Of course there was other land, smaller keeps and farming villages, but Anselm was the largest and strongest possession of this respected family.
    This harvest in the year 1187 was to be celebrated with food, drink and frivolity. Masses had been paid for and sung with copious devotion, and those squires to be knighted had confessed, prayed and fasted. Now the harvest would reach an unusual culmination: Lord Alaric would host a contest of arms.
    Anselm housed every patron of mentionable birth or honorable station, but word of the tournament had spread even throughout the common folk in neighboring towns. In the hamlet, the villagers leased any vacant corner to travelers. Crude tents and meager shelters crowded the land beyond the outer bailey for those unable to find housing within and for serfs eager to see the contests but unable to pay the price for the humblest lodging.
    Banners of many colors and repute crossed the drawbridge to enter Anselm and take part. Knights whose prowess in battle was well known but who lacked wealth in lands and influential family traveled in search of tournaments, when they weren’t hiring out their battle skills as mercenaries. If they were successful in the joust, they could demand ransom for the horse and armor of the knight beaten. Should the landless knight lose himself, he would forfeit the articles of his profession -- his horse and armor -- unless perchance the victor or some visiting dignitary offered the sum of his ransom in exchange for the knight’s service.
    On this day, Conan de Corbney would show his battle skills in the joust and melee. Lord Alaric was not worried about paying ransom for his eldest son. Rather, Conan would add monies of his own to his father’s purse. And, if the day was well spent, some damsel in the gallery would catch his eye.
    This son had been the life and breath of Alaric. At the age of fifty-seven years, Alaric would witness his son’s skill on the field of battle. His manhood had fully arrived, and the time had come for him to live by his oath: service to God and his king, and the promise to uphold the chivalric code, living by the virtues of piety, honor, valor, courtesy, chastity and loyalty.
    Alaric smiled to himself as he noticed the young boy beside Conan’s pavilion. It was Galen, his youngest, a son who promised one day to be as powerful as Conan.
    “ What is your business here?” Alaric asked Galen as he approached.
    “ I was only looking at his things, my lord,” Galen an swered, blushing slightly as