Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy

by Marian L Thorpe

  We moved back and forth from the kitchen, bringing a round of cheese and bowls of soup. My stomach rumbled. Jordis went to stand beside Dagney. “My lady?” I heard her say. “The food is ready.”

  She nodded, and spoke quietly to Perras and Donnalch. They broke off talking to come to the table, Donnalch pulling out Perras's chair and making him comfortable before seating himself beside Perras. He looked around. “Where is Ardan?”

  “I sent him and Cillian for ale,” Perras said. “I thought you would like a draught. Ah, here they are,” he added, as the outside door opened. But it was Gregor who entered.

  “Did you see Ardan, and Cillian?” Perras asked.

  “No, Comiádh, I did not,” Gregor answered, coming further into the room. “Shall I go to look for them?”

  “No, sit,” Donnalch said. “Ardan had something to say to Cillian; they will come when ready.”

  “Then let us begin,” Dagney said. “Cold soup is not to anyone's liking. Sorley, will you take those two bowls back to Isa, and ask her to keep them warm on the stove?”

  The soup, creamy on my tongue, tasted of the parsnips Isa had been peeling earlier, and of a pungent spice I could not name. As I ate, I watched the people around the table, curious as to how they treated their leader. Donnalch, I saw, ate with hunger, seemed happy with the simple food, and spoke to everyone in the same open, unassuming manner. Niav, who appeared awestruck at sitting at a table with her Teannasach, watched him closely, and without being asked, slipped into the kitchen at one point to return with more bread. As she put it on the table beside Donnalch, the outside door opened again. I looked up. Ardan and Cillian came in, carrying two earthenware jugs. Cillian looked pale, I thought, and distracted.

  “There you are,” Perras said. “Mugs are on the sideboard; who would like ale, in honour of the Teannasach's visit?”

  Mugs and ale were distributed, but I took only a small amount. The soup for the two men was brought from the kitchen, and we continued eating. I tried the ale. It tasted much like any other ale, I thought; I preferred wine, but had learned to drink what was offered in the last two years. I glanced over at Cillian. He seemed to be eating little, but had drained his ale and was pouring more.

  “Teannasach, forgive me if I overstep—” Perras began.

  “You cannot,” Donnalch said. “But I can guess what you want to ask: why am I here, and not negotiating with the Southern Emperor, am I right?”

  “You are.” Perras nodded, a slight smile on his lips.

  “It came to my mind that I needed to visit the Ti’acha, and the torps, to see what our people thought of the truce, and to hear what they wanted from a permanent peace, if we can reach that goal. Callan of the South accepted this; in truth, I believe he wanted much the same, time to consult his advisors and the villages. So here I am. Shall we go hawking this afternoon?”

  “Do you not want to discuss the treaty?”

  “I would like to speak with you, Perras, but I am also ready for some fun. We can talk in the dark of evening, and into the night.”

  Perras raised an eyebrow. “As you wish, Teannasach,” he said. “The fawkner has kept the birds ready; your falcon was flown last a few days ago, I believe. Will you take the young people, if they wish?”

  “Oh, yes, please,” Niav breathed. Donnalch laughed. I wondered if she wanted just to be near him, and if he knew that.

  “How could I say no?” he teased. “Yes, of course. Who would like to go?”

  “I will,” Sorley said. He, I thought, was at ease with the Teannasach, but I supposed he had met and spoken with him before. Cillian shook his head, but said nothing. A direct question from the Teannasach, and he didn’t bother to speak? But Donnalch showed no sign of offense.

  “And you, Lena?” he asked. I hesitated. I really wanted to stay, to ask Perras about what Gregor had said. I was troubled, too, by what the Teannasach had said about Callan: time to consult his advisors and the villages. Would he announce a new assembly, like he had planned...and I not there to be part of it? But I cannot refuse Donnalch, I thought; I am not Cillian, long part of the Ti'ach and known to the Teannasach.

  “Yes,” I said. “If I may. But I don't know anything about hawking.”

  “You don't need to. Just come and watch.”

  We all went, except Cillian, who had remained silent and withdrawn throughout the meal. Ardan and Gregor accompanied us—Ardan to guard the Teannasach, and Gregor to guard me, I thought—and the fawkner, a sturdy, sandy-haired man in his forties called Tómas. I followed the others to a long, low building on the west side of the courtyard; Jordis had pointed it out to me yesterday, calling it the mews. Where the hawks are kept, she'd said.

  Ardan led Donnalch's horse out, and Sorley followed with his own and a sturdy pony, saddled but also laden with saddlebags and rope. He handed the pony's reins to Gregor. The Teannasach and Sorley mounted, then swung their right legs up over the pommels of their saddles, to allow Tómas to fix a wooden support—a straight piece of wood crowned with in a curved piece set at right angles to the base—to the saddle on the right side. I frowned. What was that for? I watched Donnalch gather his reins in his left and, and lay his right arm in the curve of the wood. Tómas came out from the mews with a falcon, hooded, and with leather straps dangling from its legs, handing it up to ride on the Teannasach's gloved fist. It moved from Tómas's wrist to Donnalch's easily, sitting calmly and quietly.

  “Even the weight of a falcon can prove tiring, over an afternoon, with the arm always held up,” Gregor said in my ear. “The tuki takes the strain and gives the bird a smoother ride. A calm bird will hunt better.”

  I glanced over at him and smiled my thanks. I didn't know if I should speak; he had not whispered, but his voice had been pitched low. “What are the leather straps?” I murmured.

  “They’re called jesses,” he replied, keeping his voice quiet, but not whispering. “They stop the bird from flying from the hand until its handler wants to release it.”

  Sorley's bird—smaller, I noted, than Donnalch's, although I thought it the same kind—was handed up. He spoke to it soothingly. It had not, I noticed, transferred quite as well as Donnalch's, shifting its weight back and forth on Sorley's wrist. Sorley stroked its back with one finger, and the bird settled.

  “We will wait for you by the stream,” the Teannasach said. Tómas emerged from the mews with a third, much smaller bird, and swung up into the saddle of the pony. He had no tuki, but moved the bird to ride on the saddle's pommel in front of him. They rode off at a walk.

  Gregor motioned us forward, and we walked down the path to the stables to saddle our mounts. I wondered how Clio would react to the falcons. Are the Han horses trained to falconry? I wondered. Do officers of the Empire fly hawks?

  As if he had heard my thoughts, Gregor came over to me as I tacked up Clio. “Has she experience of falcons?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” I admitted.

  “Then stay at the back, away from the Teannasach and the Lord Sorley,” he said. “A frightened horse could scare the birds, and we don't want to lose one.” It made sense. I nodded my agreement, and swung up into the saddle.

  We rode down the track Gregor and I had followed earlier in the day, and across the same field. Where the land rose, Donnalch turned his horse up the hill, and again we climbed to the flat, windy plateau from where we had seen the Teannasach's arrival this morning. There we halted. I guided Clio away from Donnalch and Sorley, to the back of the group, and caught Gregor's eye. He rode over to me.

  “Should I dismount, and hold her?” I asked him in a whisper.

  He considered. “Not a bad idea,” he said. He glanced over at Donnalch, who was conferring with Tómas and Sorley. “Do it,” he said.

  I swung down from the saddle to stand at Clio's head, stroking her neck. She blew at me, then dropped her head to nose at the thin grass. I held her reins, watching the men.

  Donnalch removed the hood from his falcon and raised his arm. The
bird launched itself in one powerful push and flew, not high but directly away from us, across the ground. Clio raised her head and sidestepped, rolling her eye slightly. Automatically I calmed her, my eyes never leaving the falcon. The initial rapid wingbeats gave way to a flat-winged soar, the leather jesses trailing. Suddenly the bird twisted and flew upward, rapidly gaining height, and then folded its wings and arrowed down. I held my breath. Surely it would crash into the ground? At the last moment, I saw its wings and legs extend. Fur exploded into the air.

  “A hare,” Donnalch said. Tómas nodded, and went to the bird. I saw him offer it a piece of meat, then slip a hood back over its head. He raised it to his arm, picked up the hare with the other hand, and returned to the group, handing the bird back to Donnalch.

  Gregor too had dismounted and now led his horse over to me. “A good start,” he said.

  “I thought it would hit the ground. It came down so fast,” I answered. Niav and Jordis were talking in normal voices to Donnalch and Sorley, so I didn't bother to whisper.

  “You've not seen a fuádain hunt before?”

  “No,” I said. “There are seabirds that dive like that, straight down, but they are going into water. Does it ever miss and crash?”

  “She,” he said. “That's a female bird; you can tell by its size and colouring. The smaller falcon the lord Sorley flies is the tercel, the male. And yes, they do miss sometimes, especially when they're learning to hunt. Sometimes one is badly injured and dies. But not often.”

  Sorley unhooded his bird and I watched again as it flew, rose, dived, taking another hare. Clio did not react this time to the flying bird. A weak sun had broken through the clouds, and the wind had lessened. The fuádain took two more hares.

  “Shall we move?” Donnalch asked. “I've a mind to try for cailzie, and for that we need to be closer to the forest. The cock birds will be thinking of the hens, now, and perhaps out from the trees.”

  “Aye,” Tómas answered. “And perhaps the lassies can fly the merliún there, for colúir.”

  I remounted, and we rode east toward a band of dark forest. The land rose as we approached, and at one end of the trees a scarp of clay and rock rose like a wall. Crumbled soil and boulders lay at its foot. I could hear the coo of pigeons from the trees.

  We stopped some distance from the trees. Donnalch unhooded his bird and it flew, quartering the ground between the forest and us. The pigeons fell silent. The bird circled, went higher, and then plunged at something I could not see against the dark of the trees.

  I lost it for a moment, and then she flew up again, close to the evergreens. A pigeon broke from the shelter of the branches and the falcon was on it, pursuing it towards the wall of rock and clay. She rose, stooped, and falcon and pigeon together hit the side of the escarpment, tumbling down to a tiny ledge.

  I heard Donnalch swear quietly. Tómas walked rapidly towards the scarp, swinging something that looked like feathers, wings, fastened to the end of a leather strap. He whistled at the falcon, swinging the lure. She looked up; clearly unhurt, she had begun to pluck the pigeon. Tómas whistled again and held up his arm. She rose on her legs and raised her wings, pushed off—and spun helplessly, twisting on a snagged jess.

  Donnalch swore louder. Tómas dropped the lure and ran to the base of the scarp, looking up. “Caught on a root,” he said. “Up to the top, and lower me down on the rope.”

  “That scarp's not safe,” Donnalch said. “And the rains will have made it softer.”

  “Aye,” Tómas said. “But you and the other men, and the horses if need be, can take my weight. You nae wish to lose the bird, Teannasach?”

  “I'm thinking we'd have to be well back from the edge,” Donnalch replied. “Do we have enough rope?”

  The falcon gave a wild flutter, trying to free herself. Niav and Jordis turned away from the sight of the struggling bird. As the men debated I studied the scarp, my eyes searching the surface. “There's another way,” I said. Donnalch turned to me.

  “What do you mean, lassie?” he asked.

  “I can climb up to her,” I said. I pointed. “There's enough of a slope, and hand and foot holds, to reach where she is.” Donnalch studied the cliff face.

  “Aye,” he said after a minute. “I see what you mean. But, Lena, it's a soft clay, and the face will crumble if it's climbed. Better to see if we have enough rope, and send back for more if it's needed. Tómas has rescued birds from worse places than this, over the years.”

  A shower of clay and pebbles fell. The falcon battered the cliff face with her wings. Tómas made a worried sound.

  “She's not hanging calm,” he said. “She's bound to break a leg, if she keeps that up.” At his words, the falcon beat her wings again, and this time a feather fell with the clay. Donnalch frowned.

  “You said you could climb up to her?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” I answered. “I am trained, and experienced, in rock climbing. There are cliffs at Tirvan, and we had to climb them, in the dark, when Leste invaded.”

  “If we rope you, can you climb down?” I heard Tómas make a sound of protest. “Lena is lighter than you by a third, at least,” Donnalch said. “With the cliff so soft, it will be safer. If you are certain, Lena?”

  “I am,” I said, “except that I have never handled a hawk.”

  “Sorley, give me your bird,” Donnalch ordered. Sorley passed his hooded tercel over. Tómas, who had gone to his pony, dug in the saddlebags to hand up a pair of heavy leather gloves. “Put those on,” Donnalch said. I complied.

  “You'll need to hood her,” he explained. He slid the leather hood off Sorley's bird and then back on. “Like this. Get your arm where her feet can grasp it; she'll hold on, and right herself as soon as she can. Then hood her. She's upset, so she'll likely go for your hands, or try to, so keep the gloves on. She'll go quiet once the hood is on, and we can pull you up.”

  He had me unhood and hood Sorley's bird several times. I was clumsy, and tentative, but after a few tries he deemed it good enough. He looked up at the cliff face, where his falcon was still fighting her jesses. I realized the men had already ridden to the top of the cliff, and the girls had withdrawn to somewhere I could not see. Perhaps they had ridden back for more rope, just in case.

  I wondered, as I rode to the top of the cliff, if I truly could do this, and why I had offered. The rocks of Tirvan's waterfall had been stabilised and ropes added in the weeks before the Lestian invasion, in preparation for climbing; as well, I had climbed it so many times I knew each rock and crevice. This crumbling cliff face was something very different, and so was the situation. I had climbed the waterfall to defend my village. I was risking my life here for a bird. Maybe there won't be enough rope, I thought.

  But there was enough rope, Donnalch judged, to lower me. Tómas tied the rope around my waist and shoulders, knotting it in front. Then he knotted the other end around his waist. “You're sure?” he said, quietly, so only I could hear. I nodded. I knew my actions were foolhardy. I knew I was trying to prove something to these men. He held my eyes for a long moment. I wondered if he could see my doubts. Then he too nodded. I walked to the cliff, turned my back to the drop, and when I felt the rope tighten, stepped off.

  The rope taut under my hands, I scrabbled for footing on the cliff-face. The unstable clay shifted and crumbled. I had no grip. I pushed off, swung. Pebbles and clods of earth dropped from above, where the rope bit into the cliff edge. I looked up, and then down at the struggling bird, and swallowed my terror. “There's no footing at all,” I called. “You'll have to take all my weight.”

  Foot by foot the men lowered me. More soil and rock fell from above. I swung, pushed, dropped slowly. The bird grew closer.

  Suddenly a large chunk of soil fell, barely missing me and trailed by a shower of pebbles. I heard someone shout from above. “Hold on, Lena,” Donnalch called. “We need to get something under this rope.” I hung, waiting. Looking down, I could see the small ledge and the broken root that the
falcon hung from. She had gone quiet. I spoke to her, soothing noises, hoping she was not injured.

  “Lena!” Donnalch called.

  “Yes?” I shouted. The bird fluttered.

  “We must pull you up a bit; we're putting a saddle under the rope, to stop it cutting the cliff edge. If you can brace yourself at all, when we tell you, it will help.”

  “I'll try,” I called. The rope tightened even more, and I was pulled up. I tried to keep my feet against the cliff-face.

  “Now!” Donnalch called. I braced my feet against the wall, seeing a large rock protruding at eye height. I leaned in and grabbed for it, catching it under my gloved fingers. It didn't move. I hung on, waiting, breathing hard.

  “Good!” Donnalch called. “Down again now.” I let go of the rock, and let myself be lowered. No more soil fell from above me. I slid down the cliff face, and my foot found the ledge.

  “Stop!” I shouted. I manoeuvred over and got both feet on the ledge. It held. Slowly, slowly, I moved to turn my body on the ledge, shifting my feet and my weight in tiny movements. When I stood with back and hands flat against the cliff, I called up. “Give me just a little slack.”

  The rope loosened. I slid down to a crouch, my hand reaching out to the root. I extended one leg, and then the other, until I sat on the ledge. I pushed the dead pigeon off the edge to give myself more space. The falcon dangled beside my right leg. Murmuring to her, I grasped the root with my left hand, leaning until her talons could reach my leather-clad right arm.

  She grasped my arm immediately, the strength of her claws and feet evident through the leather. She scrabbled around, righting herself on my arm. I straightened as much as I could. The men had the rope just slightly slack. I needed now to let go of the root, and hood the falcon.

  I leaned as far back as possible and took my hand off the root, reaching slowly for the hood in my shirt pocket. I couldn't straighten entirely; the jesses were not long enough to allow it. I found the hood, turned it in my fingers, brought my hand to the falcon's head, watching her cold yellow-ringed eyes. She moved on my arm. I held my breath.