The Silver Falcon (39 page)

“Do you really think so?” He shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right. Would you like to come with us to Saint Edmundsbury, if Sir Walkelin gives us a few days off?”

“I’d like nothing better in the world than to meet your family,” Robert replied truthfully.

William nodded with satisfaction.

Just two days later, their request was granted. Fortunately, the two older falconers’ assistants were accustomed to getting along without the head falconer for a few days at a time. Nevertheless, William continued to give instructions until the moment before their departure.

“Good heavens, Will, you can’t leave them alone for one moment,” Robert teased him with a grin.

“But this time all the animals are staying behind, and we’re not going away because it’s our duty to do so,” William explained, clearly troubled by a guilty conscience. “What happens if one of the falcons falls ill?”

Robert just sighed. He had heard that Odon was not leaving Oakham until the day after they did, so he was anxious. Just as long as Odon did not come into the mews while David was still there.

“I’ll ride with you for a while and then head a few miles north for one or two days,” he told William as casually as he could as they checked the horses’ harnesses. It was just too good an opportunity to miss; Robert wanted to use it to make some inquiries about Odon.

“Does that mean you don’t want to come to Saint Edmundsbury after all?” asked William, visibly disappointed.

“Of course I will. It’s just that there’s something I need to do first,” Robert reassured him, nodding vigorously. “An affair of the heart, if you know what I mean.”

“Woe betide you if you don’t tell me about it,” William threatened with a laugh.

William told Robert how to find Saint Edmundsbury.

As they parted, William waved and said, “Come and join me soon, you old heartbreaker.”

Without knowing what he was hoping to discover, Robert rode to Elmswick and kept his ears open.

Evidently, the young lord did not enjoy great popularity. Robert learned that the common people feared Odon and his men. He obviously still preferred to pick on those who could not defend themselves. Having a title and power had not changed him one whit.

Apart from Odon’s familiar bad traits, Robert did not come across anything new. Just as he was beginning to think he would have to leave empty-handed, fate came to his aid.

In one of the inns, he noticed a particular knight—one of Odon’s companions, he gathered from the braggart’s talk. Although the red-cheeked man, whose name was Bevis, was obviously drunk, Robert offered him a tankard of ale and tried to question him. He cursed his own master in the hope that Bevis would do the same, and he boasted of fictitious amorous adventures with women in order to loosen the man’s tongue.

Bevis spoke of heroic deeds and told tedious tales of being a soldier—nothing that had anything to do with Enid. So Robert claimed his master had slain a goblin who was about to steal a bag of gold from him, and suddenly Bevis, gesturing expansively, began to talk of a horrible witch in the forest. When he noticed that everyone was listening, he reveled in their attention and reported that his master, Sir Odon, and another man had been there, but that only he had been brave enough to kill the terrifying woman when she tried to bewitch them with a gruesome song. The chubby knight boasted of this grisly deed; he clearly considered himself a hero for it.

Robert could hardly contain himself. The red-cheeked Bevis was a nobody; he had seen that immediately. He was convinced
Bevis was only claiming the grisly deed as his own in order to show off. The real murderer, of course, must have been Odon. Robert took a deep breath. How fortunate that he had convinced William to bring David away from Oakham. If he was to be named as the only witness against Odon, there would be no chance of success against any judge in the land. Odon’s services to the king were too valuable for a simpleminded youth to accuse him of anything.

The following day, Robert turned northeast to follow William to Saint Edmundsbury. After a few miles he arrived at a very pretty little market town. A delicious smell of roasting meat wafted over to him from one of the stalls. A loud rumbling from his stomach reminded him that he had eaten hardly anything the day before and nothing at all so far that day. Robert dismounted his horse, took his place in the line of customers, and looked around him. The town was swarming with people, some carrying heavy baskets or bundles to market, others pushing or pulling wheelbarrows. The street was filled with carts loaded with barrels, flagons, and baskets. Pigs rooted in the dirt, cats raced about the houses, chasing mice, and children played in the quieter corners.

Robert watched a young, dainty fellow clumsily trying to load a small but heavy barrel onto a wheelbarrow. Amused, Robert was considering helping the man when a knight on horseback swept by so close that the man lost his balance and fell into the filth. Robert recognized the rider immediately. It was Odon!

Without so much as looking back at the poor fellow, Odon just rode on.

“You’re next.” A women tapped Robert’s shoulder from behind. He turned around, looked at her as if she were a ghost, and shook his head. No, he had to follow Odon and see where he was riding in such a hurry.

William felt strangely apprehensive as he rode into the smithy yard after so many years. Two new buildings had been added, a stable and a dwelling house; otherwise, not much had changed since his departure.

The yard had been swept clean. In front of the house, the last few fragrant herbs swayed in the light breeze. A dog ran up to them, hackles bristling, and barked furiously. William sighed with disappointment. He knew, of course, that Graybeard must have died long ago, but his absence was unexpectedly painful.

“All right now, that’s enough!” He heard a woman’s irritated voice and then saw Rose hurrying out, a little less light on her feet than she used to be. Her hair was beginning to go gray, her hips had thickened somewhat, and she looked worn-out.

“How can I—” she began before stopping short. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! William?” She looked at him more closely as he dismounted. Then she spread her arms wide and fell on him delightedly. “My God, William, how you’ve grown. You’re a man, a real man,” she observed, holding his face with both hands. They smelled of flour and spices, as they always had, as if she had just been making pies.

For a moment, William felt like a child again, as if he had never gone away. “It’s good to be home again,” he sighed. “Are you all well?”

“Yes, my boy. Your mother and Isaac have their hands full, as usual. Isaac’s daughters are married. Marie lives close by—she has four children and comes to visit often. I hope you’re going to stay awhile, for then you’ll see her. God, it’s wonderful to have you back. Oh yes, Agnes has three children, too. The youngest was born this spring, and we haven’t seen her since then.” Rose smoothed her apron. “Let’s go to the smithy and find your mother.”

“Wait.”

Only now did she notice David, who was standing beside the dusty horse, looking a little lost. “Well, well. Who’s this that you’ve
brought with you?” she asked kindly. William could tell from the tone of her voice that she knew David was different.

“This is David,” he said. “David’s sister was my—” William swallowed. He and Enid had not really been married. “Wife. She’s dead.”

Rose looked at him in silence; her eyes held more compassion and distress than she could have expressed with words. Then she turned to David, stroked his arm, and nodded at him with a smile. “Welcome, David.” She took his hand, just as she used to take her sons’ hands, and took a deep breath. “Now let’s go to the smithy. William’s mother will be so surprised.”

When William opened the door to the workshop, he felt nerves rising in him. His hands suddenly felt damp and cold, and his pulse raced as it always had. Would his mother be satisfied with what he had achieved, or would she apply the same standards to him as she did to herself and demand more than was possible?

The thick, pungent smoke in the workshop momentarily made William feel faint. Time seemed to have stood still here. The rhythm of hammer on metal—three ringing blows on the iron, then one on the anvil—was still familiar, and all of a sudden he felt at peace. He looked over at Rose and put a finger to his lips to indicate that she should wait by the door with David. Then he walked over to Ellenweore’s anvil. She was standing with her back to him, busy with the fire. William picked up some tongs and smiled when one of the older apprentices recognized him. He winked and put a finger to his lips again.

“The round-nosed tongs,” Ellenweore ordered one of the assistants, without looking around, and held out her hand.

William put the flat tongs in her hand and gestured to the assistant to stand back.

“For goodness’ sake, I said the round-nosed tongs.” Ellenweore turned around furiously and stood silently still, as if changed to stone.

“William!” she exclaimed, putting down the piece she had been working on and embracing him. She held him so close he could feel her heart beating. She did not let him go for half an eternity; then she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked at him proudly. Finally, she turned to the others and asked, beaming, “Doesn’t my son look wonderful?” Although William now towered over her, she put her arm around him and stroked his curly brown hair affectionately. Suddenly, she laughed in embarrassment. “He’s become a man.”

William had been expecting a cooler welcome. He used to long to receive the affection from her that he got from Rose, but in vain. For the first time, he felt how much his mother loved him. He could see in her eyes that she had missed him, and he was happier than he had been for a long time.

“Come and say hello to my son,” cried Ellenweore with a laugh, waving to everyone to join the circle.

Peter, who had worked in the smithy with Isaac even before Ellenweore, was the first to come and shake William’s hand; then came Brad, the former apprentice, and a couple of men William did not know. And then someone else emerged from the background.

“Let us through now,” said a commanding and energetic voice.

“Jean,” cried William, even though he could not see him.

The crowd of men divided and Isaac, followed by Jean, walked up to him.

“Father.” William embraced Isaac.

“Let the boy go now. I want to bid him welcome, too,” said Jean, clapping William on the shoulder with mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Not as strong as a smith, but a fine fellow nonetheless.”

“Let’s go to the house and have a drink,” suggested Isaac, nodding at Jean and Peter. He went over to his wife. “He’s become
a splendid fellow, our William.” He put his arm around her and looked at her lovingly. A boy popped up beside Isaac. He looked about as old as William had been when he’d left Saint Edmundsbury. The resemblance to Isaac was great, though the boy had his mother’s red hair and freckles.

“Henry?” William could hardly believe how tall his brother had grown.

The boy looked at him defiantly and nodded.

“So you’re already working hard and helping in the smithy,” William observed, glancing at his leather apron.

“As much as I can,” Henry confirmed with a vehement nod.

William could see in his mother’s eyes and smile how proud she was of Henry. “It’s good that you have at least
one
son who loves smithing,” he said quietly.

Ellenweore and Isaac gave their assistants a few instructions and then led the little procession over to the house. Along the way, William introduced David to his mother.

Once they were sitting at the table and had drunk to William’s visit, he told them about his work as head falconer with the de Ferrers family at Oakham, explaining that they were Normans and owned lands on the mainland.

“A marvelous country, Normandy,” Jean declared, putting on the strong Norman accent he had always been able to mimic and laughing happily.

William relished his time at Saint Edmundsbury. The smithy no longer felt threatening, and everyone made him feel as though he had been sorely missed. Old quarrels were forgotten, and his friendship with Jean was as close as ever. William talked to Isaac, allowed himself to be indulged by Rose as always, and felt more content than he had for a long time. If only Robert would come soon and they could enjoy their time at Saint Edmundsbury
together. William had eight days, one for each year he had been away.