Free The Silver Falcon by Katia Fox Page B

the open door, wafted about by the draft. Robert closed the door, and suddenly it wasdark. Fortunately, William’s eyes were used to adjusting to the dark quickly, thanks to his work in the smithy, and soon he could make out some details. The floor was almost completely covered with sand. In the middle of the room stood a dozen cylindrical wooden posts that had been driven into the ground, each fitted with an iron ring. There was a bird perching on nearly every block, its leash fastened to the ring.
    There were falcons of several sizes, colors, and markings. Sir Ralph must be very wealthy, for he owned—William counted lightning fast—nine falcons.
    With the ease of habit, Robert took a glove from a hook by the door and approached the first bird. It was only slightly smaller than Blanchpenny, and its plumage was completely different. So it couldn’t be a gyrfalcon. Robert knelt down beside it, released the leash from the ring, and took the falcon onto his fist. With his free fingers, he gripped the leather strips attached to the falcon’s feet. Robert carried the bird toward a wooden frame, explaining to William that the strips were called jesses, as if William didn’t know such a thing.
    William frowned at the sight of the falcon’s closed eyes, which looked as if they had been sewn shut. Robert raised the falcon to the wooden perch, lowered his hand until the bird’s feet touched it, then opened his fist to release the jesses. He wound the leash around the perch and carefully moved his hand away. Unable to see anything, the falcon stepped backward onto the perch. Robert wound the leash around the frame one more time so that the bird could not escape.
    “They all have to be on the high perch, so that we can replace the sand,” he explained quietly as he picked up the next falcon in the same way and put it beside the first.
    The high perch. William nodded, taking note of the new phrase so that he could master the language of falconry. Fascinated, he watched how easily the falconer’s son handled the birds.
    “Can I try?” William asked after a while.
    Robert shrugged and fetched another glove. “Of course, that’s what you’re here for.”
    William slipped on the gauntlet. In silence, he knelt down beside the falcon, imitating Robert, and took the creature onto his fist. Feeling the raptor’s talons through the thick leather of the glove set off an extraordinary feeling of happiness. He stood up cautiously and lifted up the falcon to the high perch. Although he had carefully noted each separate hand movement, something he had never managed when he was smithing, he was trembling inwardly with the fear of making a mistake. Only when he had carried the falcon to its perch without difficulty and fastened the leash did he relax.
    “Good.” Robert’s enthusiasm was muted, whereas William was almost bursting with pride. He lifted the next two birds onto the high perch without difficulty and fastened them, too.
    “Now we have to clear up the mutes and castings,” explained Robert as he handed William a small shovel and broom.
    “Mutes and castings?” William had never heard these words.
    Robert sullenly pointed at the birds’ excrement, which was embedded with small pellets that appeared to consist of undigested remains. “That stuff.”
    The boys began to clean the blocks, one by one, removing the mess from the sand around them.
    “The mutes should be white with a black spot. If they’re green or reddish, it means the falcon may be ill and we must call my father,” Robert explained, pointing at the droppings around the first block. “That’s what they should look like—do you see?”
    When they had finished, they put the birds back onto their blocks.
    “Now we’ll get something to eat,” whispered Robert. “Come on, I’m hungry.”
    At the door to the tower, William pointed to a ladder that led up. “Can I see the aerie?”
    Robert hesitated for a moment, then nodded his consent and started going