He needed the answers to convince Matilda to stay with him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“She’s not a gyrfalcon, although closely related to that kind. I can see why you thought she was.” Gervais stroked the hawk’s breast with one bent finger. He clucked his tongue and the hooded bird swivelled her head around. “She’s a saker. Saker falcons breed in the east and winter in the heat of Arabia. I brought her back with me. She was too well trained to leave behind and then... I could find no other to replace her.” Stepping back from the perch, Gervais took Tilda’s arm and led her through the mews to another perch, and a smaller falcon.
“Why,” she said, “it’s a merlin.” The sleek blue feathers ran down to its tail, while under its belly, the white breast was flecked with acorn brown.
“And yours,” he said.
She covered her mouth, bottling her exclamation of delight.
“You like her?” he asked.
“I do.” She beamed up at Gervais and he reflected her smile with one of his own.
“She’s already trained by my falconer, so all you have to do is teach her to respond to your calls.” He signalled to Tobias, the falconer, who stepped forward.
Tobias exchanged the long mews jesses that kept the merlin tethered to her perch, for shorter ones for hunting. The thin leather straps were attached by an anklet to each leg, then in turn to a field leash, which would link to a glove. Gervais chose a leather gauntlet for Tilda and she slipped it onto her right hand. Tobias handed her a small piece of meat, and she held it by the perch between her finger and thumb. The merlin obediently hopped from the perch to her hand. She weighed little compared to the larger saker. The bird tore at the strip of meat with her beak and pecked enthusiastically.
“It’s important to keep them lean and hungry, my lady,” Tobias said. “Or else they’ll never come back when released to fly.”
“She’s well manned then?” Matilda asked.
“Indeed, my lady. You know something of falconry?” Tobias asked.
“A little. I watched my father manning—training a new falcon—and paid attention. Can we fly her? Oh, please, my lord.”
Gervais pursed his lips. “I suppose.”
The merlin was returned to its perch while the horses were brought round from the stables. Tilda mounted her mare, a gentle palfrey befitting her stature, and Gervais his gelding, and they rode out of the castle, down the paths to the meadow. Behind them followed Tobias and his assistants, each carrying a small perch and bird.
She watched Gervais first with his saker, and he explained his actions succinctly. He lifted his arm and the saker took flight. The bird soared and swooped down on a small rabbit emerging from a warren hole. The fight was brief; the rabbit lost.
“I shall call mine... Zeus,” she said, grinning.
Gervais laughed. “For a female?”
“Oh. Then... Diana.” She held out her gauntlet and accepted Diana onto her wrist. She spoke low to the bird, soothing it as it settled and calmed. She fed it a tiny piece of chicken with bones, which kept it busy long enough for her to keep it familiar with her voice. With her hood removed, Diana shook out her wings, and upon Gervais’s instruction, Matilda released the jesses from her hand.
She thought for a moment it was a mistake. Diana circled upward in a spiral, climbing the invisible currents of air with such speed, it was hard to track her movement. “Where’s she going?” she said, alarmed, shading her eyes from the bright sun.
“Wait,” said Gervais.
A small flock of pigeons fled the nearby trees, driven out by one of Tobias’s boys. Among them was a small white dove. Diana hovering for a second, abandoned her climb, and swooped down with her legs stretched out. With precision, she skimmed the tops of the grasses, shot up, and using her razor-sharp talons struck the dove and gripped it tight. The two birds tussled, spinning in the air, before Diana claimed her quarry. She dragged it down to the ground and sat on it, pecking at the white feathers. Tobias ran over to claim the kill. Relieved of her prey, Diana darted here and there, tempted by other small birds.
“Magnificent,” Matilda said. “Did she not do well, my lord?”
“Brilliantly. Now, this is important, call to her. She must come to you, or she will never be your companion.”
Matilda picked up the leash and lure; she swung it around her head, clumsily at first until she had the measure of the arc. Diana ignored her and the offering. She flew across the meadow, enjoying her freedom. Tilda bit her lip, and glanced at Gervais, who seemed unperturbed by the merlin’s stubbornness.
“Whistle,” he suggested.
“I can’t.”
“Dear lord.” He dismounted and stood by her, whistling softly.
Diana’s bell answered. From out of the blue sky, she dived, catching the lure and nearly pulling the leash from Matilda’s hand. Hungry, the bird pecked at the raw meat, and Matilda waited for her to finish before replacing the hood. Tobias collected Diana from Matilda’s gauntlet and returned the falcon to its mobile perch.