The Silver Falcon Read Online Free PDF

was nobody to be seen. Disappointed, he lay down in the grass, folded his hands over his stomach, and stared up into the sky. Although the ground was damp and the autumn cold crept gradually into his limbs, he remained there for a long while, motionless, staring into the bleak blue-gray void and dreaming of his future as a falconer.
    Suddenly, he heard voices and sat up. Not far off, two men were running across the meadow.
    William stood up and brushed off his damp behind. “Greetings!” He nodded politely and went up to the men.
    “Be off with you—you’re making the falcon anxious!” said the younger one pompously, though the bird was not stirring.
    “I won’t frighten it, I promise.” William looked at the older one. “Look, master,” he said in a gentle, even tone. “It’s not afraid; its feathers are all fluffed up.”
    The older one raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s well observed. Is your father a falconer, too?”
    “No, but I shall be one myself one day.”
    “I know you,” said the younger one with a sudden frown. “You’re that smith woman’s son. The lame one.” He laughed. “How could a cripple like you, of all people, become a falconer?”
    The bird took fright at his loud voice and hopped along the falconer’s arm. The falconer glared at his assistant and turned away.
    “Last year I had a sparrow hawk,” said William stubbornly.
    “Did you tame it?” asked the older man, scratching his neck.
    “No.” William bowed his head sadly. “It flew away.”
    “I told you, someone like you is better off as a smith. At least iron doesn’t fly away.” The younger one hooked his thumbs together, grinning, and mimed the flapping of a bird’s wings.
    “And I found a white gyrfalcon recently,” said William triumphantly, though without raising his voice.
    “A gyrfalcon? And a white one at that?” The falconer looked at him skeptically. “That I don’t believe. They only exist up north, far beyond where England ends.”
    “Yes, I did. It had flown away from its master. The king himself came and took it from me. That’s why I’m going to be a falconer, because I took good care of his Blanchpenny,” William boasted, though he knew he was on dangerous ground, since the king had not said that his wish would be granted.
    “A cripple for a falconer. Surely you don’t believe the king would allow something so ridiculous. If he really did say that, he was taking you for a fool. Wasn’t he, master?” The young man looked at the older one, hoping for confirmation.
    “He’s right. A hunt assistant must be able to run very fast and have stamina besides.”
    “But I want to be a falconer, not an assistant!” William protested.
    “Do you indeed? Who do you think you are?” the falconer went on. “Everyone begins as an assistant. If you can’t accept that, forget your dream. And now let us get on with our work.”
    “May I watch?” asked William contritely.
    “As long as you’re quiet and don’t get in the way, I don’t mind.” The falconer gave his assistant a few ill-tempered instructions and paid no further attention to William.
    He watched the men attentively, but the older one’s words would not leave him. If running was so important that it would determine whether he could become a falconer, then he would have to practice as long as it took for his foot not to be a handicap anymore.

Near Sevenoaks, December 13, 1184
    Y ou’re doing exceedingly well, my lady,” exclaimed the midwife. “Soon it will be time to push.”
    Alix de Hauville had just turned seventeen, and this was her first child. The labor pains demanded her attention for a while, but then her fear of the moment of truth returned. It was very possible that her husband was not the father. What if it was obvious right away? Alix groaned at the thought and allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the next powerful contraction.
    “You’re nearly there.” The midwife wiped the sweat from Alix’s brow.