Authors: Phoebe Conn
As everyone got ready to leave, Brendan was grateful that Erik hadn’t needed any help with his three falcons, as the thrall had never trusted the regal birds. Their wickedly hooked beaks and sharp talons signaled danger so clearly he skirted their three-sided enclosure each time he left Erik’s house. To avoid damage to their feathers, the falcons were not kept in cages. Instead, they sat atop perches out in the open, held in place by a leash attached to the jesses, the leather straps fastened to their legs. Ingeniously connected by a swivel, the birds could move about without becoming entangled in their leashes, but they could not fly away.
Because they were traveling some distance, a cadge was used to transport the falcons. Consisting of a wooden frame worn over a cadger’s shoulders, it provided a comfortable perch for the birds and enabled the falconer to take more than one bird into the field. In an effort to involve Soren in the sport as more than a spectator, Erik had asked him if he would like to be the cadger that day, and the boy had beamed with pride as though the chore were an honor. Erik chuckled to himself as their small procession left the farm, for he had found a way to not only make Soren walk, which was his punishment for riding Sleipner, but also to make him enjoy it.
Erik led the way with two of his father’s hunting dogs and Soren and the falcons behind him. Then came Dana and Berit riding side by side, while Thora preferred staying back a way with the twins because they always let her join in their games. Brendan brought up the rear, but he was enjoying not having to work at physical labor and didn’t consider being last demeaning. The day was warm, and while his mount was a fine bay gelding, he wished more than once he could have ridden Sky Dancer again.
Erik turned often to glance over his shoulder at Soren, and each time, his half brother waved and smiled. I will have to give him more of my time, Erik thought to himself. While the lad had shown no interest in the falcons before that day, the majestic birds clearly had his full attention now, and that would be a good place to start. Hoping to find pheasant, Erik led the hunting party well past the boundary of the farm, through the cool depths of the adjoining woods, and out into an open meadow.
Once everyone had dismounted and Soren had placed the cadge on the ground, Erik motioned for them to come close and be silent as he issued a stern warning to Grena’s twins. “It’s been a long while since our last hunt, and I don’t want you to forget that the falcons are not merely pretty pets who like to strut and sing. You must not touch them, nor distract them in any way. First, the dogs will find the pheasants nesting in the grass. When they take to the air, I will send up one of the falcons to make the kill.”
Brendan moved up close behind Dana and watched as Erik pulled a thick leather gauntlet on his left hand. He then stepped over to the cadge and unfastened the swivel and leash from one of the peregrines. Relishing the coming kill, she stepped up on his padded wrist, her long-clawed, yellow feet taking a firm grip as his thumb closed over her jesses. He turned so the bird would face into the morning breeze, and it ruffled her feathers softly. Her breast was beige with a soft pink tinge while her back, wings, and tail were a dark brown that would appear black once she took to the air.
Confident the bird was eager to fly, Erik sent the dogs out, and as predicted they soon flushed a plump pheasant. As her quarry struggled into a clumsy flight, Erik removed the falcon’s hood and immediately her dark eyes adjusted to the brightness of the morning sun. He cast her off, and she soared into the air, a vision of deadly grace as she rose higher and higher. She circled for a moment, then drew in her wings and plunged toward the earth, diving for the hapless pheasant and an inevitable kill.
Fascinated by the falcon’s beauty and prowess, Dana didn’t realize Brendan was standing so near until he whispered softly in her ear, “Falconers train only female birds because they are far better hunters than males. Do you suppose the lust for blood is part of every female’s nature?”
Startled not only by the sound of his voice but also by the impertinence of his question, Dana turned slowly to face him. Erik had loaned him a pale blue kirtle that day, and it not only complemented his dark tan, but enhanced the sapphire sparkle in his eyes as well. A playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but she was not amused. As always, he was far too sure of himself and actually seemed to be enjoying baiting her. She had already planned her strategy for dealing with him, however, and did not react angrily.
“Be careful, Brendan,” she warned in a lighthearted tone. “Or some of the blood spilled here today may well be yours.” When his taunting smile became what she considered a lewd grin, Dana turned her back on him before he could reply. She could feel his presence like the warmth of a winter cloak, but she pretended not to notice and did not move away.
Brendan was quite pleased with their exchange until he recalled Erik had mentioned that Dana carried a knife. She was again dressed in green that day, and the flowing tunic that covered her chemise was open at the sides, allowing a glimpse of the narrow leather belt that encircled her waist. Did she truly wear a knife suspended from it? He licked his lips as he decided that before the day was over he would satisfy his curiosity on that point and, he hoped, several others.
Chapter Seven
While Brendan drank in the marvelous fragrance of Dana’s perfume and fought against the nearly overwhelming impulse to slip his arms around her waist and draw her back against him, Dana continued to give Erik her full attention, as though the most distracting man she had ever met were not standing so close he was undoubtedly treading on her hem. Completely unaware of the silent interplay of emotions taking place at her side, Berit was hanging on Erik’s every word, fascinated by the ease with which he handled the falcons.
He called each by her name, his voice soft and yet commanding as he released them in turn to take to the sky. There were small brass bells affixed to their jesses so they could be found should they stray, but none did. They flew with the effortless ease of their kind, gliding on the wind currents, circling their prey, and then swooping down, their talon-tipped feet outstretched as they overtook their hapless quarry with unerring accuracy.
“How did you teach them to relinquish their prey?” Berit asked in a breathless whisper as the last bird to fly returned to Erik’s padded wrist.
Pleased to see by her rapt expression that she was genuinely interested, Erik readily explained. “It’s a matter of trust. The falcon learns she will be well rewarded for her work, so she has no fear of going hungry. You must remember this bird is an eyas, one taken from the aerie when she was newly hatched, as were the others. I trained them to hunt as they do, and these three were all apt pupils. A hawk of passage is caught during its migration and tamed. That’s another challenge altogether.”
“I’m sure it is,” Brendan remarked with bitter irony. “It’s always more difficult to tame an animal that has tasted freedom.”
Erik frowned slightly, but he did not scold Brendan for speaking out of turn. He merely nodded to concede the point and then asked if anyone else would like to don a glove and send the falcon up to hunt. When Soren immediately volunteered, he gave the boy some additional instruction and then allowed him to take charge of the bird. He had wisely chosen to have the most docile of the three fly last, so an accident would be unlikely, but he again stressed the need for caution, as her talons were as sharp as the others’.
Soren had hunted with Eric before, but not recently, and he had not recalled it being such a thrill. When the falcon was again in the air, he knew he would never be happy until he had one of his very own. “Could you take me to where you caught these, Erik, so I could find one to raise?”
“Would you like that?”
“Oh, yes, very much,” Soren enthused as he watched the falcon flying overhead.
Erik glanced toward Dana, and seeing her encouraging smile, he agreed. “I’m afraid we would be too late to find a bird of the right age this year, Soren, but we can start to look for one early next spring if you’re still interested.”
His gaze firmly glued to the soaring falcon, Soren nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, I’ll still want one.”
Neither Thora nor the twins shared Soren’s sudden love for birds of prey, and they were content to watch the hunt without taking an active part. The sport was exciting, the time passed quickly, and soon the sun was high overhead, signaling the morning’s end.
“We’ve enough pheasant to feed the whole household,” Erik remarked proudly as he slipped the hood over the head of the bird that had just landed on his wrist. He bent down to return her to the cadge and fastened her leash before straightening up. “Let’s all move over into the shade of the trees and have something to eat.”
Rather than bump into the thrall, Dana remained in place until she heard Brendan move away. She knew he had been talking about himself when he had mentioned the difficulty in taming animals that had tasted freedom, and she was glad Erik had accepted the comment so graciously. Brendan had then stood silently at her back for the remainder of the hunt, but how could she have forgotten that she had intended to tell him to stay with the horses?
Not about to let the man confuse her thinking any further, Dana chose a place where the grass was thick for their picnic, and Soren brought the cadge into the shade nearby. With their hoods covering their eyes, the falcons thought night had fallen and slept contentedly.
Erik spread out a blanket to sit on, and Brendan brought over the baskets of food. He moved out of the way as Dana and Berit took their time to arrange the picnic meal attractively while the children complained they were much too slow. With good-natured playfulness the pretty women ignored their younger siblings’ comments until they had everything prepared to their satisfaction.
They had brought cheese, dried fish, bread, and fruit for what had been planned as a light snack, but as the children sat down it was clear they planned to make a full meal of it. Erik poured ale for the young women and himself, and buttermilk for Soren, Thora, and the twins. He then leaned back against the oak which shaded their blanket, content to wait for the ample meal they would have that evening. With that same thought in mind, Dana and Berit took only a piece of fruit to enjoy with their ale.
When everyone had begun to eat, Dana looked up just as Brendan turned away and started toward the horses which had been left at a distance to graze on the succulent grass encircling the trees. She had succeeded in putting him out of her mind for the moment, but now she was overwhelmed with guilt. He hadn’t asked for anything, nor had he made any pointed remarks about being left out. As a thrall, he was probably used to eating whatever scraps he was thrown, but unlike the hunting dogs which lay at Erik’s side, he had not been content to wait for such meager fare.
“Erik,” Dana whispered anxiously, “what should we do about Brendan?”
Brendan was by that time seated on the far side of the horses, so Erik saw no reason to whisper as he answered her question. “We’ll just give him whatever is left.”
“If the boys don’t slow down, there might not be anything left,” Berit teased as she winked at her brothers. At twelve they were almost as tall as Soren, and their appetites were as hearty as their mother had predicted.
Dana noted how rapidly the bread and cheese were disappearing, and instantly came to a decision. She gathered what she considered an adequate portion for a man, and since there was no extra tankard, she refilled her own with ale.
“What are you doing?” Erik asked incredulously.
“Brendan’s not caused us any trouble today, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be given something to eat.” Dana didn’t give Erik time to object. She rose to her feet and started off toward the slave as though she routinely carried him his meals.
Brendan was looking the other way. He didn’t really know what he had expected from Dana and Erik, but simply being ignored certainly wasn’t it. After enduring three wretched years of slavery, it still hurt to be treated with such casual indifference. He had once had so much, and he would never grow accustomed to having nothing. It was worse to be reminded so forcefully that he was an outsider in a land he despised. The sadness of his situation ate at him with a gnawing pain which overcame whatever feelings of hunger he might have had. He didn’t care if he didn’t eat until midnight. He didn’t care at all.
When she reached him, Dana was discouraged by the bitterness of Brendan’s expression, but having brought him something to eat, she could scarcely turn around and walk off without giving it to him. “Brendan,” she called softly.
Astonished to have his solitude interrupted, Brendan leapt to his feet. When Dana held out the tankard and the cloth bulging with bread and cheese, he was absolutely dumbfounded. He took them from her very carefully so as not to spill a drop or crumb. He wanted to reach out and hug her for realizing he was hungry too, but his hands were full and prevented such an unbridled show of gratitude.
Dana watched a look of wonder replace the one of stunned disbelief that had first crossed Brendan’s features, and began to laugh. “It’s only some bread and cheese. I’ve not brought you an entire banquet.”
“It’s not what you’ve brought, but that you cared enough to do it,” Brendan confided softly, and his glance shone with triumph, as though he had won some important concession from her.
Dana was certain the conceited Celt had again read more into her gesture than was there, but she didn’t want to argue about it. “The children will be finished soon. Keep an eye on them so they don’t become lost in the woods.” She turned away then and hurried back to the others, knowing Brendan would have undoubtedly boldly invited her to sit down with him had she remained any longer.