They entered their quarters and Vallon fell onto his bed, covering his eyes with his forearm. Hero wandered about in a pall of misery.
The entrance flap parted and Drogo looked in, wearing a smile from the gallows. ‘Well, how did you find him?’
Vallon breathed deep. ‘Less charming than his reputation had me believe. To think that Richard and Raul sacrificed their lives for that vain wretch. And here’s what makes the pill even harder to swallow. It seems that Walter’s free to leave whenever he pleases. Or he was. Our arrival without the full ransom only complicates the situation and makes him resentful rather than grateful.’
Drogo laughed. ‘How did he react to the news of my presence?’
‘With fear, rage, blind hatred. He’s not without influence in the Emir’s court. If I were you, I wouldn’t walk alone at night and I’d employ someone to taste my food before eating it.’
Drogo looked down on Vallon with something close to pity. ‘You should have listened to me. You wouldn’t have grasped the challenge so eagerly if you’d known what kind of man my brother was.’
Vallon uncovered his eyes. ‘If we knew the outcome of our actions before we committed to them, we wouldn’t get up in the morning.’
Prayers mingled with smoke as the company made their way to the Emir’s pavilion. Stars streamed across the plateau in a misty arch and a splinter of moon hung between the icy cones to the south. The throne room was packed. The Emir must have decided to make the occasion a public demonstration of his judicial wisdom. He carried a ceremonial mace and sat aloof, picking his nose, while the infidels abased themselves. Faruq ordered them to stand.
‘Certain new facts have reached his Excellency. He’s asked me to examine them.’
Vallon could guess who’d brought them to the Emir’s attention. Walter stood to one side of Suleyman’s counsellors watching Drogo with a stare you could have strung beads on.
‘I’ll deal with this,’ Vallon told Hero. He bowed to Suleyman before addressing Faruq. ‘Excuse my poor Arabic. What little I have I picked up while I was a prisoner of the Moors in Spain.’
Murmurs rippled through the crowd and those at the back stood on tiptoe to get a better view.
Faruq hushed the chamber. He didn’t speak until the loudest sound was the guttering of the oil lamps. ‘Here is the first difficulty. You say that you came here to rescue Walter.’
‘There was no other motive.’
‘Yet you brought with you his stepbrother, a man who nurses hatred for Walter.’
‘Drogo’s presence wasn’t part of my plans. The very opposite. He tried to thwart our efforts at every turn. When we escaped from England he was so determined to stop us that he followed us to Iceland.’
‘Where you had him at your mercy.’ Faruq pointed at Drogo. ‘Yet look. Here he is.’
‘He’s a hard man to get rid of.’
‘You could have killed him.’
‘I could, but if I had, we wouldn’t have completed our journey.’
The interpreter cupped his chin. ‘Oh, yes?’
‘Drogo fought bravely with me against the Vikings and Cumans. After standing shoulder to shoulder with a man in battle, it’s hard to dispose of him.’ Vallon glanced at Suleyman. ‘It is for me, anyway.’
Faruq began to pace, enjoying his role of prosecutor. ‘So, you allowed Drogo to live.’ He smiled at the audience and they responded with sceptical shakes of the head. He whirled and shot out an accusatory hand. ‘Do you deny that you used the moneys entrusted to you by Walter’s mother to line your own pocket?’
‘Every penny was spent on the enterprise. We kept accounts. Examine them if you wish.’
‘But you’re a mercenary who undertook the enterprise for personal gain.’
‘I hoped we would profit from trade. Unfortunately, our expenses exceeded our costs. It’s all in our accounts.’
‘Accounts you kept yourself. How much is Drogo paying you?’
‘Drogo doesn’t have any money. He’s only here by my charity.’
‘I don’t believe you. Walter doesn’t believe you.’
Vallon felt as if he were sinking in a mire. ‘Believe what you like. It’s the Emir’s decision that counts, and I’ll bow to his judgement.’
Faruq glanced at Suleyman before striking another judicial pose. ‘This is what I think. You travelled here with Drogo for the purpose of releasing Walter only so that you could kill him. With Walter dead, Drogo would inherit his father’s title and estate. In return he would reward you with gold.’
Vallon’s answer came out as a snarl. ‘If I wanted to get my hands on Walter, I wouldn’t have arrived with only one quarter of the ransom.’
‘Stay calm,’ Hero whispered.
Vallon nodded and faced Faruq. ‘Examine the bare facts rather than dig for ulterior motives. Interrogate us separately if you wish. We travelled here from the grim north and in the course of that journey we lost many men and all the falcons but one. His Excellency has inspected the haggard and I know that with all the powers and forces at his command, he couldn’t obtain one half so beautiful. Does it satisfy the conditions or not?’
Faruq and Suleyman engaged in close debate, the audience straining to interpret the outcome. At last the Emir waved Faruq aside and began deliberating. He expounded for a long time, swaying on his throne and using both hands to indicate how painstakingly he’d weighed the merits or otherwise of their case. The audience nodded as he made each point. Finally the Emir lowered his mace and Faruq stepped forward to deliver judgement.
‘His Excellency has heard with interest the story of your labours. He commends you on your perseverance, offers his condolences for the deaths of your companions. The falcon you have brought him is a bird of rare beauty and promise. Nevertheless, it doesn’t satisfy the terms of the contract. The problem is this. His Excellency asked you to bring him four falcons. You have delivered only one.’ Faruq pressed a finger to his lips. ‘Now, in all his dealings his Excellency is a man of his word. If he undertakes to grant one of his captains two horses, two horses is what he will give the man. Likewise, if a captain pledges ten archers for a campaign, ten archers is what his Excellency expects to receive. There can be no exceptions. How could it be otherwise? If today his Excellency were to ignore the deficit in your ransom, tomorrow his followers would expect him to demonstrate the same leniency towards themselves. They would say, look at the forbearance with which our lord treated those infidels. How much more generously will he overlook the shortcomings of his own people.’
‘Sir Walter told me that his Excellency would have given him his freedom, ransom or no ransom.’
Suleyman darted a poisonous look at the Norman.
‘Sir Walter presumes too much,’ said Faruq. ‘What is in his Excellency’s power to give is also in his power to withhold.’
‘If he’s decided to keep Sir Walter a prisoner, I have nothing more to say. My task is finished and my interest in these proceedings is exhausted.’
‘The proceedings are finished when the Emir says so.’
Vallon shrugged.
Faruq approached him with an expression of contrived friendliness. ‘His Excellency is intrigued to learn that you were a prisoner of the Moors. Presumably you bought your release with a ransom. Yes?’
‘No. A ransom was promised but never delivered. After eighteen months of degrading captivity, I killed my guard and escaped.’ Vallon looked at the Emir. ‘It was because I’d been a prisoner myself that I felt a degree of empathy with Sir Walter.’
Suleyman ignored Walter’s attempt to attract his attention. He stroked his moustache and studied Vallon and then summoned Faruq and murmured into his ear. When the interpreter addressed Vallon again his tone was as soft as balm.
‘There is a way to resolve the difficulty to everyone’s satisfaction.’
Vallon saw Walter grin and nudge one of his companions. Whatever cat-and-mouse game the Emir was playing, Walter was part of it. Possibly the instigator.
Faruq walked away. ‘You brought with you two things that exceed even the falcon in beauty. I refer to the women.’
Vallon’s cheeks grew hot. ‘The women aren’t chattels.’
Faruq pretended he hadn’t heard. ‘The captain who escorted you here wishes to take for his wife the girl with the sun in her hair and the moon in her eyes.’
‘Syth is betrothed to Wayland and is carrying his child.’
Wayland stiffened. ‘You mentioned Syth’s name.’
Vallon shook his head. ‘Later.’
The Emir gave an airy wave when he heard of Syth’s condition. ‘Very well,’ said Faruq. ‘His Excellency will not separate a man from his wife. He’ll say no more on the subject.’
‘It’s all right,’ Vallon told Wayland.
‘What’s all right? What’s going on?’
Vallon hushed him as Faruq began speaking again.
‘His Excellency understands that there is no such claim on the Varangian woman called Caitlin. The Greek youth who speaks such good Arabic told us that her family is dead and that she’s alone in the world. His Excellency takes pity on her and pledges to place her under his personal protection. Agree to this and the Emir will discharge all other claims. He will release Walter, if that’s what he wants, and you’ll be free to continue on your way. Separate ways.’
It occurred to Vallon that the Emir had wanted Caitlin from the start and that all the posturing was directed to that end.
Drogo tugged his elbow. ‘What’s he saying about Caitlin?’
Vallon took one pace forward. The audience craned.
‘Hero is misinformed about my relationship with the Icelandic woman. The truth is, I sealed a union with Caitlin in Novgorod.’
‘You’re betrothed?’
‘We’re lovers.’
Hero gasped. A moan rose from the audience. Their Emir had been humiliated in public. Suleyman’s face set in a scowl. He said something to Walter that made the Norman wince.
‘Once again we have two stories,’ Faruq said. ‘One from the Greek and one from you. Where lies the truth? Be warned. His Excellency will find it.’
Suleyman shielded his mouth and held muttered discussions with his counsellors. Vallon’s company all spoke at once, Drogo demanding to know why Suleyman had mentioned Caitlin and Hero apologising for creating the awful misunderstanding. Out of the clamour it was Wayland who made himself heard.
‘Ask him why he needs two casts of gyrfalcons.’
‘Because that’s what he demanded. Forget it. This is no longer about the falcons.’
‘No, I mean what practical purpose do four falcons serve? Ask him. Go on.’
Vallon put the question wearily and passed on Faruq’s blunt reply. ‘He says that one falcon can’t catch a crane.’
‘Not one of his sakers, perhaps. The gyrfalcon can kill almost anything that flies.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘You’ve only seen the falcon in a cage. I watched her hunting and she’s deadly. On the night we first met, Hero said that the Emir was planning to hold a contest with a neighbour to see who had the best falcon. I’ll back my gyrfalcon against any cast of sakers. Tell him.’
‘She’s not your falcon. If you’re convinced of her qualities, describe them to the Emir and let him test them for himself.’
‘She won’t fly at her best for anyone but me.’
Hero broke in. ‘Do as Wayland says. The Emir’s about to announce a decision, and you can be sure it won’t go in our favour. If Suleyman agrees to the contest, it will give us time to straighten out the lies and confusion.’
Vallon saw the wisdom of Hero’s suggestion. ‘You tell him. Dress it up in such flowery language that the Emir won’t be able to refuse. Get the audience on our side.’
Hero began to speak just as Faruq turned away from Suleyman. He spoke again of the perils of their journey into the realms of ice and fire. He described Wayland’s ordeal with the white bear, the battle with the Vikings, the four-month journey to the south. He extolled the gyrfalcon’s virtues, pointing out that she alone had survived the ordeal and that the Emir must surely take this as a sign of God’s will.
Suleyman chewed one of his moustaches while the audience waited for his decision. He summoned his hawkmaster and the two men spoke at length, breaking off to point or stare at Wayland. Faruq hovered in an attentive stoop until the Emir raised his mace, and then he straightened up.
‘This is not a trifling matter. Is the English falconer certain that the falcon can kill a crane unaided?’
Vallon glanced at Wayland. ‘I’ve never heard him make an empty boast.’
‘On no account must the falcon disgrace his Excellency. She must win the contest.’
‘Even if she doesn’t,’ said Wayland, ‘she won’t shame him.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Vallon said. ‘She has to win.’
‘She will.’
‘You don’t even know the rules of the contest.’
‘There’s time to learn them.’
Vallon put aside his misgivings. He looked at the Emir and gave a stiff nod. ‘The falcon won’t disappoint.’
Faruq glanced at Suleyman. ‘His Excellency agrees.’
The audience buzzed. Faruq raised his voice to outline various practical matters.
Vallon turned to Wayland. ‘How long do you need to prepare the falcon?’
‘Three weeks.’
‘You have twelve days. If that isn’t enough, say so.’
‘She’s a haggard. She’s been killing almost daily for more than a year. All I need to do is get her fit.’
Vallon faced the interpreter. ‘The falcon will be ready.’
‘His Excellency will issue a challenge tomorrow. If the white falcon outflies his neighbour’s sakers, he will release the Norman and send you away with gifts.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘His Excellency is even-handed in his dealings. You have declared before his court that the falcon won’t fail.’ Faruq let the claim linger. ‘If it does, his Excellency will be put to scorn by his rival. You can’t accept the rewards of success while refusing to pay the cost of failure.’
Too late, Vallon saw the pit he’d dug.
Faruq continued. ‘If the falcon doesn’t triumph, his Excellency will give the English youth to Walter as his slave.’ Faruq stayed Vallon with an upraised palm. ‘And you as champion of the falconer must also pay a forfeit.’ Faruq allowed a space so that there could be no misunderstanding. ‘In your case, the Varangian woman.’
Wayland grinned. ‘What was that last bit?’
Vallon knew there was no way back. Before an audience of a hundred, he’d promised Suleyman a victory. It took all his self control to give a calm response. Behind Wayland he could see Hero’s appalled gaze and Walter’s smirk. He smiled and patted Wayland’s arm. ‘Nothing important. From now on, concentrate all your attention on preparing the falcon.’
XLIX
Wayland began planning his campaign the moment he hurried away from the Emir’s pavilion. First he had to sharpen the haggard’s hunting urge by cleansing her of the internal fat she’d accumulated during her months of inactivity. Washed meat and stones was the remedy. He calculated that two days after purging her she would be ready to fly free, giving him nine or ten days to harden her muscles. Her flight at the bustards had demonstrated her innate fitness. The cold would act as a tonic. In his mind’s eye she was already raking through the sky, climbing into the clouds, stooping with destructive splendour.
Ibrahim the hawkmaster brought him back to earth. He was waiting beside the gyrfalcon’s enclosure at the far end of the tent. He shook his head and was still shaking it when Wayland reached him.
‘You wait and see,’ Wayland told him. He rummaged in his bag of hawking furniture and brought out a dozen pebbles, each about the size of a horsebean. He showed them to the hawkmaster. ‘Rangle,’ he said. He set a pot of water on the brazier and dropped the pebbles into it. When the
water was scalding, he drained the pebbles and spread them on a cloth. He mimed eating them and rubbed his stomach to show that they would stir up the grease and mucus in the falcon’s crop. In the morning she would cast them up covered with glut. A four-or five-day course of stones would make her as keen as if she’d gone without food for a week.
He prepared to unhood the falcon. Ibrahim stopped his hand. He waggled a finger and went off to his store of nostrums and potions. He muttered to himself and returned with a spatula heaped with fine white crystals.
‘What’s that?’
Ibrahim didn’t say. He told Wayland to cast the falcon. With the falcon firmly gripped, Ibrahim cut a piece of pigeon breast about the size of a grape and coated it with the crystals. He opened the falcon’s beak and shoved the meat so far back in her throat that she was forced to swallow it.
He indicated that Wayland should place her on her block and give the purgative time to work. Then he retired yawning into his sleeping quarters. Wayland stayed up, watching the falcon. Only one lamp had been left burning and it was very quiet in the mews. After a while the falcon stretched her neck up and gaped. Wayland looked towards the hawkmaster’s quarters. He tried to relax. His thoughts turned to Syth. He hadn’t seen her since they’d arrived. Hero had told him she was well looked after, but why had the Emir mentioned her name? Vallon hadn’t explained. There didn’t appear to be any Seljuk women in the camp.
The falcon staggered on her perch. Wayland jumped up. She hunched over, making gagging sounds. He hurried into the sleeping chamber and shook the hawkmaster.
‘Something’s wrong with the falcon.’
Ibrahim grumbled and rolled over, pulling his blanket over his head.
When Wayland returned to the mews, he found the falcon on the ground, snaking her head back and forth. She cocked her tail and excreted a copious and foully discoloured mute. He unhooded her and moaned in panic. She’d been poisoned. He carried her up and down the mews until his arm drooped with exhaustion, then he placed her back on the block and sat watching in a stupor of despair. Her mouth leaked a greasy drool. Sinister clicking sounds came from her innards. His head sagged into his hands. The lamp burned out and his eyes closed.
Hawk Quest Page 67