by Alexa Aston
“How long until your little eyases appear?”
She noted the curiosity on his face and approved of it. “Less than a month. Cleo’s eggs have hatched as early as twenty-nine days and gone for as long as thirty-three before the eyases have made their appearance.”
Elinor reached under Horus and rotated both eggs. “I turn each egg daily to help them develop properly. I have to take great care not to break an egg because if I do, one of the parents will eat whatever is inside.” She closed the door of the cage and stepped back as Horus resettled himself.
“May I see them?” he asked hesitantly.
“Of course. But you may want to dress first before I help you rise from your pallet.”
Hal glanced down at the blanket draped across him. Before he could ask, she gathered his clothes and brought them to him. She had washed and scrubbed them, getting out most of the bloodstains, and then dried both pieces by the fire.
“I tried to mend the gash in your tunic from where the highwayman’s blade tore through it. I am sorry such a fine garment was damaged and that my repair is obvious.”
He took the clothing from her. A smile played about his lips as he fondly stroked the gypon. “My mother made this for me. She is an excellent seamstress.”
She frowned. “You told me your mother is a healer.”
“Aye. That, too. Mother can do anything she puts her mind to. Why, she could probably learn falconry if she had a tutor such as you.”
Elinor wondered again if once she revealed to the baron that Jasper had died, whether or not her cousin would provide someone new to help her with the raptors. Not only would she be caring for Cleo and Horus, but if both eggs hatched, she would have two little ones to train. It would mean that she needed help, for she couldn’t do all of it on her own.
“I need to fetch more water from the well. I will leave you to dress.”
Elinor left the warmth of the cottage and took her buckets to the well. She drew the water slowly, allowing Hal time to clothe himself before she returned. Cold still pierced the air, causing her breath to appear in puffs, but no more snow had fallen in the past week. She decided it was time to retrieve Jasper and bring him home.
As she headed for the doorway, Cleo returned to the clearing, a duck captured in her talons.
“Eat your fill and I will send Horus out to you,” Elinor told the falcon, knowing the raptor understood her after so many years together.
She entered the cottage again and rested the buckets next to the fire. Glancing at Hal, she saw he now wore his clothes. Elinor doubted she would ever see him any other way again. Disappointment flooded her. She shook it off, hoping he never learned of her wanton ways with him.
“Are you ready to try and stand?”
“More than you know,” he replied. “Although my limbs feel weak, I’m also restless. I’m not a man to stay still.”
Elinor looped his arm around her neck and realized he was still hot. The back of her hand immediately went to his brow but it surprised her when it merely felt warm to the touch and not burning.
“Hmm. I thought you still had fever,” she told him.
“Nay, it’s done and gone,” he assured her.
“But you are still quite warm. Your arm and your hand both.”
He laughed. “I’m always this way.”
She smiled. “And I am forever cold. Even on a hot summer’s day, I can feel a chill unexpectedly race up my spine.”
He brought his arm about her shoulders again and she wrapped hers around his waist. After several efforts, Elinor got him to his feet.
“Try not to put any weight on your broken leg,” she warned.
“I can hobble with the best of them,” Hal told her. “I just need to move before I lose my mind.”
They crossed the room to the small mews where Horus sat, diligently warming his offspring, his eyes studying the stranger as they approached.
“This is Horus. He is a peregrine falcon, as is Cleo. Falcons are known as raptors, or birds of prey,” she told him.
Hal studied the male in his cage. “It surprises me that while his back is dark brown, his wings look almost blue-gray.”
“Aye, that is the coloring of a peregrine. Horus is also a buff color underneath.”
Hal leaned closer. “I can see. Are those spots on his belly?”
“Aye. Dark brown flecks run throughout the buff.”
“His face is identical on both sides.” Hal pointed. “That black stripe on his cheek matches the other side to perfection. He is beautiful, even with that hooked beak of his.”
“Beware of his beak. And his talons,” Elinor warned. “Don’t go putting your finger inside his cage, especially as he guards his young. He would tear you apart in seconds.”
“I don’t plan to.” Hal thought a moment. “Are they named from peregrinus?”
“You know that word—what it means?” she asked, surprised because it was Latin. Only priests and educated noblemen knew that language from old. Jasper had taught the word to her the first day she came back with him. It was the only Latin she knew.
Hal shrugged. “I am curious by nature. I pick up new words, here and there.”
“You are right. The peregrine falcon is named from peregrinus. That is a foreign word that means to wander. Jasper always told me of all the many types of falcons, peregrines are the fastest flying birds in the world.”
“I would believe that after I saw Horus plunge through the sky and then rise just as fast. He gifted something to Cleo. In mid-air, I might add. I was fascinated.”
Elinor laughed. “’Tis his way to seduce her. Unlike an English noblewoman, she doesn’t need fine jewels or beautiful clothes. Cleo is a hungry, greedy girl who enjoys food as a gift.”
“What do they eat?”
“Other birds, usually. Cleo is in her mews outside now eating a duck she brought back. Sometimes, she’ll return with songbirds. Pheasants or pigeons. Even bats if she’s hunting at night for herself. She stalks and catches her prey mid-air, thanks to her speed.”
“I don’t think it was a bird Horus brought to her when I saw them together. He dived to the ground and then soared back up with something in his talons.”
“My guess would be he brought Cleo a field mouse or rat. At times, they’ll hunt hares or squirrels. Rarely do they seek mammals, unless it’s on a planned hunt for the baron and his guests or when Jasper and I take them out to provide food for the castle’s inhabitants.”
“Where am I?” Hal asked suddenly.
“You are on lands owned by the Baron of Nelham. He lives at Whitley Castle and all the estate’s lands are also known as Whitley.”
Hal nodded thoughtfully. Elinor sensed him beginning to sway.
“You need to return to your pallet,” she told him. “You’ve been on your feet long enough.”
“I’d rather sit up if I could. I am tired of lying abed.”
“As you wish.”
He leaned on her heavily as she escorted him to the bench next to their table.
“Turn so you can rest your leg outright while I am gone.”
“You are leaving?” His blue eyes searched hers. Elinor found it hard to look away but she did, moving to stir the simmering porridge in the pot.
“I must go back for Jasper’s body.”
“Surely, someone will have discovered it by now.”
“Nay, I dragged it a ways into the forest. The baron’s patrol may have discovered the dead highwaymen on the road but they would have come here and told me if they’d also found Jasper.”
Elinor slipped on her extra tunic as protection against the cold. “I will bring him here, using the wheelbarrow, as I did for you.”
“Is Whitley Castle too far for you to take him?” Hal asked.
“The keep lies about three-quarters of an hour from this cottage. But I don’t plan on taking Jasper there. Not until I’ve begun training the eyases and the ground will allow his grave to be dug.”
“But shouldn
’t you at least inform the baron—”
Elinor cut him off. “’Tis not your concern, Hal. I will do what I feel is best.” She smoothed her tunic down, hating the hurt she’d seen in his eyes in reaction to her harsh tone. “You won’t be alone for long. I will return as soon as I can. I’ll even have Cleo bring us something to add to the pot for our meal.”
She opened the wire door and signaled for Horus to come out. He did as she opened the door and, moments later, Cleo had traded places with her mate and rested atop the eggs again. Elinor shut the door and left the cottage without another look at the man she now knew as Hal.
Chapter 9
Hal sat on the bench, his home for the last few weeks as his leg mended. He stared across the room at Cleo sitting contentedly on her eggs. Today would most likely be the day the chicks appeared. Two nights ago, he’d heard a small noise several times. It had kept him awake for hours, anticipation in finally seeing the tiny eyases building within him.
When morning came and he told Elinor about the sounds, she explained to him that the chick’s head, which had been tucked under its wing, had a muscle contract in its neck when the time to enter the world drew near. It caused the head to snap up, making the egg tooth, a hard-pointed knob on top of the beak, crack the eggshell from the inside. She called the cracks spreading across the eggshell pipping and promised him within a day, the chick would start to move about inside its shell. The movement would scrape the egg tooth against the shell and cut a ring through it, freeing the chick to break out of its confined space.
Hal reflected on the time he’d spent with Elinor, just the two of them in the cottage. Certainly, it was not the way of the knight he had been. This life was quiet. Simple. In fact, he had seen no one since his arrival. Yet, he hadn’t been lonely in the least bit. He thought of court and how far removed he was from its trappings deep in the countryside, with one woman and a pair of falcons for company. If anyone had told him he would have enjoyed living in such pure isolation, he would have laughed in his face. He, Hal de Montfort, a teller of tales and a man fond of women, wine, and training would be the last person to take to life in a one-room cottage.
And he had. Oh, he missed the daily training exercises with the other knights and mayhap the camaraderie that accompanied it, but he hadn’t needed the company of the many women at court.
Not when he had Elinor to speak with.
He laughed aloud. Elinor didn’t converse as other women of his acquaintance. She had never been exposed to the extravagant living at court or life of the noble class. Her world revolved around her falcons. She had never seen, much less longed for, pretty baubles and elaborate cotehardies of silk in every color of the rainbow. Frankly, Hal found it refreshing to be around her.
She didn’t start conversation often but was happy to engage in it with him. She made no demands on him. In fact, she knew next to nothing about him. Elinor did not know he was a disgraced knight, a former member of the king’s royal guard who had been forced to abandon his position in humiliation. She had no idea he came from the de Montforts, one of the oldest and most powerful families in England. He had mentioned his parents briefly and a few of his siblings in passing but he never brought up his past or anything about where he came from or what he did.
Amazingly enough, Elinor never asked. She was happy with what he shared with her. Content with an uncomplicated existence.
Other women in her position would have been after him without mercy to bare everything about himself. The Hal of old would have done exactly that, allowing them to wheedle information from him even as he charmed them through compliments and kisses. Instead, Elinor took him as he was, plain Hal, a man who had done his best to save her father—and failed. That was the only regret he had from the time he had known her, though new remorse would soon appear on the horizon. Hal dreaded his bones healing enough to allow him to continue his trek to Kinwick, for he would miss Elinor terribly.
He’d had no way to send word to Kinwick regarding his situation since he’d seen no other person during his stay. He should feel guilty keeping his whereabouts to himself but Hal took it in stride. He would return home when the time was right.
Would Elinor be willing to go with him?
The thought gave him pause. He doubted it. She seemed content in her work at Whitley and would become even busier once she began training the fledglings. As time passed, though, Hal had grown more than fond of her. With each new day, he longed for her. More than anything, he needed to taste her. Touch her. At night, he lay awake for hours, thinking of her only a few dozen feet away. So close—and yet an ocean apart. When he did finally sleep, dreams came of Elinor entwined in his arms. They seemed real, as if they were memories of a past life the two of them had shared and not some fantasy his imagination conjured up.
Elinor made him forget about everything he had ever known. Sir Hal de Montfort should be worried about his king, the man he had served and would have given his life for. More than likely, Richard now sat locked away in the Tower of London as the Lords Appellant ruled England in his stead. The knight Hal had been trained hard. Guarded his queen. Entertained her ladies. Avoided politics. All a life that seemed so foreign to him now, as if another person had lived it a long time ago.
He should want to go back to it. Find his way to London. Demand to be reinstated into the king’s service. Fight with the king if the monarch still wanted to engage his oppressors. If Hal returned to court—and if Richard could once more reign as God intended him to do—Hal should be there by the monarch’s side.
Even if that meant bringing Elinor with him.
Nay, that was the last thing he should do. Elinor would no more fit in at court than if he caged one of her falcons permanently. Living at the royal palace, she would die a slow death, being forced to live inside and put up with the nonsense of other women’s petty gossip when all she longed to do was roam the woods freely with her birds. Besides, his feelings for her wouldn’t be returned. Though he wanted nothing more than to explore her body with his tongue and hands every moment of the day, she had indicated no interest in him in that regard. Elinor never spoke of her mother, who might not have lived long enough to tell her daughter of the ways between a man and a woman. She had no father. It seemed she had no friends either, other than Cleo and Horus. The possibility of her regarding him in a romantic light was not only unthinkable but far outside the realm of her experience.
Despite how much he enjoyed the company of women, Hal would never take advantage of a naive Elinor in any way. He would always obey his code of honor to respect women, Elinor above all others. She had a special way about her. He would not sully her. He would keep his thoughts—and his hands—to himself and enjoy what time he had left with her.
And be miserable the remainder of his days once he departed Whitley.
Cleo squawked and sat up. Hal stood and hobbled over to the mews, using the crutch Elinor had fashioned for him. The falcon glared at her eggs and then directly at him, sending a chill through him with her large, dark eyes.
“Am I to let you out?” he asked the bird, not knowing if the mother should be left with the emerging eyases. He remembered Elinor telling him if an egg cracked too early, how the parent would eat the young inside. He didn’t want to be responsible for Cleo gobbling up her chicks. Elinor had eagerly looked forward to their births. He would not have her disappointed in any way.
Cleo’s pointed stare prompted him to act. Hal swung open the door and the falcon flew from the mews. He thought to open the cage door next to the eggs. Sure enough, Cleo flew into it and settled in, her eyes focused on the two eggs. Hal shut the door and began to watch as the eyases struggled to come into the world.
Both chicks acted almost in tandem, poking at the cracks they had made in their eggshells. As pieces began to fall away, a head appeared. Then another. With quick, decisive moves, both chicks broke away from their bonds. The newly hatched eyases appeared to be wet and were covered with white down. Elinor had told him wit
hin three weeks, brown feathers would poke through this white fuzz and after another couple of weeks, the fuzz would be completely gone, replaced by brown feathers. That’s when the tiny falcons would begin jumping about, testing their wings to get ready for flight.
He marveled at how tiny the two appeared, especially seeing Cleo so large in the cage next to them. Hal longed to open the door and scoop them into his palm but exercised control and left them alone. As small as the eyases were now, Elinor said in less than a week they would double in weight. By three weeks, thanks to the huge amounts of food they would consume, they would be ten times the size they were when they hatched.
As the two strutted around finding their way, Cleo ruffled her feathers. Elinor had said the mother would want to feed her young soon after their births. Hal supposed that the peregrine was eager to hunt. He opened the wire door and walked to the door of the cottage as the falcon studied him warily.
“Do you want to hunt?” he asked the bird as he opened the door and gestured the way he’d seen Elinor do.
Immediately, Cleo whizzed by him. Before he could shut the door to keep out the cold, Elinor appeared, wood for the fire gathered in her arms.
“They’ve been born?” she asked breathlessly, resting the logs on the floor.
“Aye. Both of them. Come and see.”
Hal led her to the mews. Elinor took clean linen and rubbed it over each eyas, drying and fluffing them. She lifted first one and then the other from the cage briefly, turning them at various angles. A satisfied smile danced on her lips as she slipped the chick into the cage.
“Two females,” she proclaimed, her smile wide.
Hal knew that females were preferred over males. They grew larger in size and proved to be fiercer hunters.
“What will you call them?” he asked.
“I’ve been giving it some thought.” She studied each bird a moment. “The one on the left will be Bess. Her sister is Tris.”
He nodded. “I like it. But will you know which is which if they move?” he teased since both tiny eyases looked identical to him.
