by Amanda Scott
“Aye.” He enjoyed watching her, and apparently Zeus did, too. “I thought you were angry with me,” he said.
Color flooded her cheeks, but her tone was even when she said, “Why?”
“You would not even look my way in the hall, and you ran away before I had finished my dinner. I wanted to tell you that I’d caught him.”
Without replying, she glanced around. “Where is Small Neddy?”
“Listening to the men tell stories in the hall, I expect. About all he’s suited for is trapping rabbits, preparing food, and feeding the other birds. He’s useless for training them, so he’d just be in the way here now.”
“How long will it be before Zeus takes food?”
“He took some from me earlier, but if you mean how long before he is manned, before he looks to me for his food and to the gloved fist as his natural perch, it usually takes me two or three days.”
“Two or three days!”
Goaded, he said, “It takes most falconers and austringers longer than that. Only a good one can manage the trick so quickly. Even then, it is an ongoing process, for the bird will soon return to its wild ways if left alone.”
“But how will you stay awake so long?”
“The lad will have to help. All he has to do is feed the other birds and carry this one about for a few hours at a time whilst I sleep. I can manage the rest.”
“I could help.”
“I do not think that is a good idea,” Patrick said gently, having no wish to offend her. “Recall that Sir Hector warned me to stay away from the maidservants, and I warrant Lady Farnsworth would not like your being out here in the mews.”
She was silent.
“Well?”
“It is true; she would not,” Elspeth admitted.
“You had better go in then. Neddy may return any moment, and his mouth rattles like a beggar’s clap-dish.”
“I do not think he would say anything purposely to get me into trouble,” she said, “but he might speak without giving thought to any consequence. Do you really think Zeus can be ready when we leave for Stirling?”
“Sir Hector asked only that he be manned to the fist by then, and ten days should be plenty of time for that,” Patrick said with a smile.
“Aye, it is ten days,” she said with a sigh. “The way Drusilla and Jelyan behave, one would think they were departing tomorrow, but I think he means for the family to leave on Thursday, to give us three days for the journey. Her ladyship will not travel on the Sabbath, you see, and certainly not on Palm Sunday.”
He had hoped she would return his smile, but she did not, and the intensity of the disappointment he felt surprised him. He reached for her, but the bird bated the instant he moved, and for the next few seconds his concentration was fixed on returning Zeus to his fist. When he looked again, Elspeth was gone.
With a sigh, he told himself it was just as well. He liked women, and he had enjoyed more than one liaison with a willing lass, but a dalliance now would complicate matters considerably.
The hawk was glaring at him again, and he glared right back, only to regret it when Zeus took another dive. Predatory birds, as he knew, did not appreciate a direct look. One did better to look beyond them. Perhaps, like humans, they saw it as a mark of submission when an inferior did not dare meet their fierce gaze.
The following day passed much the same way as its predecessor for Elspeth. She had only to think she could take five minutes to herself for someone to give her another task to do. Jelyan’s mending and other plain sewing had taken most of the afternoon, and although she had finished ironing Drusilla’s garments the previous day, she had to endure an hour with that young lady while Drusilla decided yet again what she would take to Stirling and what she would leave behind. From experience, Elspeth knew Drusilla would change her mind many times and would probably end up taking everything she could stuff into her sumpter baskets, but that did not alter the present circumstance one whit.
The falconer did not appear at either the midday meal or at supper.
Spying Small Neddy at the latter meal, Elspeth took him aside and told him to take food out to Patrick.
“Aye, he did say I should bring him summat tae eat,” the lad said, nodding.
“Well, do not dawdle. He must be hungry.”
Shooing him on his way, she went upstairs to turn down the bed that Drusilla and Jelyan shared and lay out their nightdresses. Intending to slip out to the mews again as she had done the previous night, she hurried down the service stairway, only to encounter Lady Farnsworth at the bottom.
“Elspeth, I am glad I found you. I stepped downstairs to speak to Cook, and she said you would be coming down any minute, so I waited for you.”
Elspeth suppressed a sigh. “Yes, my lady?”
“I have some small tasks I want you to see to before you go to bed.”
“Yes, madam.”
How nice it would be, she thought, just to do as she pleased for once without having constantly to be at someone else’s beck and bay.
Chapter 6
It was late by the time Elspeth finished the myriad tasks Lady Farnsworth had assigned to her. Knowing that, nonetheless, her ladyship would expect her to rise at her usual time the next morning, she hurried downstairs to her bedchamber as soon as she was free. Fortunately, she carried a candle, for someone had already snuffed the torches in the kitchen and in the corridor that led to her chamber and the postern door beyond it. Entering her room, she set the candle in its stand on the side table and was preparing for bed when she heard a male voice in the corridor.
Curious, she moved to stand with her ear to the door. Then, certain the voice was Patrick’s, she snuffed her candle, eased the door open, and peeked through the crack. Light spilled into the narrow corridor from somewhere to her right. Knowing that the falconer’s chamber and the one allotted to the cook and kitchen maid stood between hers and the kitchen, she deduced that he had lighted candles or a torch in his chamber and that the door stood open.
He was walking toward her with the glow behind him, reciting something, holding the hawk on his gloved left fist. His eyes were shut, and so were the hawk’s. Despite Patrick’s recitation and the fact that he was walking, both man and bird looked sound asleep.
She watched silently as he walked to the postern door and turned. Then, half afraid she would startle the hawk, even more afraid that she might anger Patrick, but unable simply to shut her door and go to bed, she stepped into the corridor.
She saw that he swayed on his feet. Zeus opened one eye and shut it again.
“Patrick,” she said softly.
The hawk made a sound like a robin’s cheep, and Patrick opened his eyes.
He smiled wearily. “Is that your chamber, lass?”
“Aye.”
“I did not know. I’m sorry if I wakened you with my muttering.” His voice was low and vibrant. It seemed to touch her deep within.
“You didn’t wake me,” she said. “I came down only a short while ago and was getting ready for bed.”
He frowned. “What are they thinking, putting you so close to the falconer’s chamber? Or does another maidservant share your room?”
“Nay, but the previous falconer was in his forties, and despite Drusilla’s claims, he was not a flirtatious man. I warrant no one has thought about the unsuitability of letting you sleep so near to me. Or perhaps Drusilla has thought of it and is biding her time, waiting for a chance to make trouble.”
“Who sleeps in that chamber between us?”
“Cook and the kitchen maid. I did share my chamber with our last scullery maid, but the present one lives with her parents in the village up the burn.”
“Doubtless Sir Hector thinks the cook keeps an eye on you.”
“Perhaps, but I do not think anything would waken her or the kitchen maid. They both sleep like the dead.”
“You should not be out here talking to me like this. It is unseemly.”
This from the man who had kissed he
r in the mews, she thought. With a smile, she said, “I doubt that you could manage any unseemliness at the moment. You were asleep on your feet only moments ago, and Zeus looked as if he were asleep, too. Indeed, he still looks that way.”
Glancing at the bird, Patrick nudged it with his free hand, and for a moment Elspeth feared that the hawk would fling itself off the fist again, but it did not.
“He’s not quite asleep yet,” Patrick said. “It would not do for both of us to fall asleep, though. He must stay awake, and to that end, so must I.”
“I could walk with him for an hour, so you could sleep.”
Patrick’s eyes twinkled, and she felt her heart begin to pound. She had been foolish to make the offer, because she needed sleep to get through the day ahead, but that twinkle was irritating. Clearly, he thought she could not do it.
In a teasing voice, he said, “Put your hand to his chest as you did to the hawk that first night in the mews, but take care. My fingers smart from his pecking.”
“He won’t peck me,” Elspeth said confidently.
“Don’t be too sure,” he warned.
Gently, she stroked the bird, and Zeus allowed it, his manner tolerant almost to the point of disinterest.
“You have no glove,” Patrick said.
“You can lend me yours,” she said.
“It is too large for you.”
“I’ll manage,” she said. “It will not matter if my fingers don’t fill it. It need only protect my hand and wrist.”
“His talons sometimes poke through.”
“Try it,” she said.
As if he were still humoring her, Patrick said, “I expect he’ll accept the stool in my chamber as a perch long enough to make the trade. I brought him in because Neddy is afraid of him, and I can be more comfortable here, but I’m exhausted, and if he and I both go to sleep, the time is wasted.”
“Then let me help,” she said.
“If he will let you carry him, I’ll gladly agree, although I don’t doubt I’m mad to let you put yourself at risk.”
She followed him into his bedchamber, knowing that if anyone caught her there, her punishment would be severe. No one would come now, though, and somehow she knew she could trust Patrick not to harm her.
In moments she had pulled on the large gauntlet, and to her delight when she placed her forearm and fist before the bird as Patrick directed, Zeus stepped onto her arm as if it were perfectly natural for him to do so. He was large but not nearly as heavy as he looked.
“Don’t look directly at him,” Patrick said quietly. “He’ll soon grow used to you. And don’t worry if he squirts mutes all over the floor. It’s only dirt, and I’ll clean up any mess he makes. Do you really think you can manage him?”
“I think he is too tired to make trouble,” she said, feeling inexpressible delight at the hawk’s acquiescence.
“Very well then, walk him up and down the corridor, or take him into your chamber if you fear that someone might come. Have you any light in there?”
“I put out my candle before I opened the door.”
“I’ll light it for you,” he said, going to her room on the words and returning with her candle. “This one will burn out soon, so I’ll mark another one to show you when to wake me. Be sure that you do. You must not oversleep in the morning.”
She nodded. “What do I do if he flings himself off like he did before?”
“Just put him back again if you can, or open my door,” Patrick said. “I’ll waken at once and help you.” He looked at the hawk, sitting quietly on her arm, and shook his head with a smile. “I think he likes you.”
“Sleep then,” she said. “We will do very well without you.”
Nodding, he followed her to the door and shut it behind her.
Calculating that with the time he had spent trapping the hawk and watching it he had been awake nearly forty-five hours, she was determined to let him sleep as long as possible. Remembering that he had talked to the bird, and unable to think of anything she knew well enough to recite, she began counting aloud.
Zeus kept his eyes open, watching her, but by the time she reached one thousand, he had shut them again. Remembering Patrick’s instructions, she touched the hawk’s breast, and its eyes opened again.
She had meant to count to five thousand, sure that to do so would take her more than an hour, but when she lost count and feared that she had dozed off for a moment or two, she stopped counting and tried talking to the bird instead.
“What do you think of this, Zeus? Do you like us, or do you wish Patrick had just left you flying free? How wondrous that must be!”
Unfortunately, she could think of little to talk about, particularly since the bird seemed uninterested and all she really could think about was the man sleeping just the other side of the closed door.
Zeus tried to sleep but woke each time she touched him. Patrick had told her that the hawk would not have “given in” until it stayed asleep even when touched. At that point, he said, Zeus would truly have accepted the fist as his normal perch.
When the candle in her chamber began to gutter, she lit the second one and set it in the pool of wax, holding it until the wax cooled and it stuck. Zeus watched the process with interest, so afterward she paced the confines of her room, hoping that his interest in the flame would keep him awake for a while. It had been a long day, though, and her determination to stay awake ebbed as the time crept past. She watched the flame inch closer to the mark Patrick had made on the candle, and when it touched that mark, her resolve weakened. She counted to one hundred, then to one hundred again, knowing that little more than three minutes had passed.
When she stumbled, she realized she might hurt the hawk if she tripped over her own feet. Accepting defeat, she went into the corridor and turned toward Patrick’s room. She was passing the cook’s chamber when he emerged from his.
“Good lass,” he said, reaching gently to take the hawk from her. “I’ll stay awake easily now, and the way he’s behaving, I don’t doubt he’ll give in before the coming day is done.”
She nodded, glad that she had not had to waken him and unnaturally aware of his presence. She stared at him, finding it hard to breathe normally.
He smiled. “Go to bed, Elspeth.”
She nodded again. Gently, he gave her a push with his free hand, whereupon she collected her wits and went to bed.
The castle stood atop a hill in the distance, its crenellated walls and turrets creating a crown that glittered like gold in the last rays of a blazing sunset. The sky beyond it was a peachy pink and purple, making a spectacular backdrop, but the castle seemed no nearer than it had seemed the last time she had seen it.
She walked and walked. It seemed as if she had been walking forever, and the castle just seemed to hover in that same unreachable distance.
The sky overhead darkened, and nervously she fingered the heavy key dangling from its ring on her kirtle. She did not want to be caught in a storm, but neither could she stop to take shelter. She had to go on, and quickly.
A hand shook her shoulder, and candlelight flickered near her face.
“Elspeth! Elspeth, lass, wake up!”
Startled, Elspeth shot upright on her pallet of sheepskins, nearly banging heads with the kitchen maid, who jumped back, jerking her candle out of the way.
“Cook says Mistress Drusilla will soon be a-shoutin’ for ye, d’ye no get up and get about your work,” the maid said.
Wiping sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand, Elspeth muttered, “What time is it?”
“Time tae be taking up the ladies’ water,” the maid said. “When ye didna come tae fetch it, she sent me tae see were ye still sleeping. Be ye sick, Elspeth?”
“I’ll probably wish I were before the morning is done,” Elspeth said. “Jenny, help me do up my dress and then hand me my comb and cap.”
“How came ye tae oversleep then? Ye never do.”
“Never mind that. Just hurry.”
T
he day deteriorated from there. Everyone seemed to be in a bad humor, despite the fact that a messenger had arrived in the night from Stirling with news that the Queen had gone into labor and that the grand fête was still set for the evening following the King’s birthday. Although clearly his grace had no qualms about enjoying such a splendid celebration during Lent, he had apparently drawn the line at celebrating on Palm Sunday.
One might expect that with a sennight yet to go, preparations would simply go on as before, but the news sent the household into a tizzy instead, and Elspeth endured even more scolds than her oversleeping might otherwise have incurred.
She missed her dinner because her morning chores were not done, and although she had expected to catch up by suppertime, Lady Farnsworth’s tirewoman gave her a new gown for her ladyship and told her she was to hem it before their departure. The skirt contained yards of material.
“I’ll do it as soon as I can, Martha,” Elspeth said quietly.
“See that you do. We depart for Stirling on Thursday next.”
“Yes, I know.”
She had hoped to get outside, but it was as if a conspiracy existed to prevent it. She did not see Patrick all day, nor did she see Small Neddy, so she went to bed that night without knowing if the hawk had given in or not. As she passed Patrick’s door on the way to hers, she listened but heard nothing to indicate that he was there. Nor would she have had the nerve to knock if he were.
Less than a quarter hour later, as she lay in bed waiting for sleep, she heard him in the corridor, pacing again. For a few minutes she resisted the temptation to get up, then pulled on her bodice and skirt in the dark and opened the door.
He was looking right at her when she did, and the relief she saw in his weary face gave her a sense of deep satisfaction that vanished abruptly when he said, “You look like someone dragged you through a bush backwards, lass. Did it not occur to you to comb your hair today?”
Stiffening, she said, “I got out of a warm bed to see if you needed help again tonight, Patrick Falconer. A man with any manners would show some gratitude.”
He had the grace to look ashamed but said defensively, “I was afraid you might suffer a scolding if anyone else saw you looking so untidy.”