Hawk Quest by Robert Lyndon Read Free Book Online Page B

everyone’s attention. Faces turned as the hawk took a tentative bite. The taste of flesh dissolved its fear. It began a ravenous assault on the pigeon, tearing off large chunks, gasping and wheezing to force them down.
    Wayland had lived close to nature and judged everything by the degree of danger it posed. The Frank’s gaze, at once piercing and indifferent, showed him to be very dangerous indeed. The Sicilian was no threat at all. His bulging eyes made Wayland think of a startled hare.
    ‘The falconer,’ Olbec announced.
    ‘I expected an older man,’ Vallon said.
    Olbec had perked up. ‘Well built, though, and he has a cunning way with animals. That goshawk, for example. Trapped only a few days ago and already feeding as freely as a pet dove. I swear the boy can bewitch animals.’ The Count slurped his ale. ‘If anyone can bring the gyrfalcons safe to their destination, it’s him.’
    ‘Does he know what a gyrfalcon is?’ Hero asked.
    Drogo uttered a contemptuous laugh. ‘Even if he did, he can’t answer. He’s as mute as a stone.’
    ‘It’s true that he can’t speak,’ Olbec said. ‘Elves or divers stole his tongue when he lived wild in the forest. Walter caught him when he was hunting upriver. The hounds ran him to earth outside a cave. He was clad in skins and feathers, looked more like an animal than a Christian man.’
    Hero’s eyes widened. ‘How long had he been living in the wilderness?’
    ‘God knows. Probably since birth.’
    ‘Suckled by wolves,’ Hero breathed. ‘Do you call him Romulus?’
    ‘Romulus? We call him Wayland because that was the name carved on a cross he wore around his neck. A Danish name, but the writing was in English. He had a dog with him. Ferocious brute, big as a bull-calf. Still got it. First-rate hunting hound. That beast’s dumb, too.’
    Drogo turned on Hero. ‘Because he’d cut its voice strings so that it wouldn’t betray him when he was poaching our deer. If it had been me who’d caught him, he’d have lost more than his tongue.’
    ‘Why did Walter show charity?’ Hero asked, addressing Olbec.
    ‘Ah,’ Olbec said, relishing the tale. ‘Walter said it was like a scene from a fable. When he rode up, he expected to find a wolf at bay. But no, the hounds were seated in a circle around the boy. He’d charmed them.’
    ‘And that dog of his had torn out the throat of the lead hound. He should have been thrown to the pack.’ Drogo’s head whipped round. ‘You see? No matter how much you feed a wolf, it keeps staring back at the forest. By God, show me that face again and I’ll have you flogged.’
    Wayland lowered his eyes. His heart pounded.
    ‘Look at me,’ Hero said. ‘Wayland, look at me.’
    ‘Do as you’re told,’ Olbec ordered.
    Wayland slowly raised his head.
    Hero frowned. ‘He can understand speech.’
    Olbec belched. ‘There’d be no point wasting house space on him if he was deaf as well as dumb.’
    ‘Yes, but if he once had the gift of words, they would have been English or Danish. Yet he understands French, which he must have learned in your household.’
    ‘Where else?’
    ‘What I’m saying is that even though he can’t speak, he possesses the faculty for language.’
    ‘Who cares,’ Margaret snapped. ‘Tell him what he has to do.’
    Olbec held out his cup for a refill. ‘Listen closely, young Wayland. Sir Walter, your master, is held prisoner by barbarians in a foreign land. You must repay his kindness by helping to secure his release. Hisjailer demands four falcons in return for his freedom. These falcons are larger, paler and more beautiful than any that you have seen. They dwell far to the north in a country of ice and fire, and their nature has been forged accordingly. Each year, a few of these paragons find their way to Norway. This summer you will join an expedition to that land, select the finest specimens, and care for them on their journey south.’
    ‘You’ll be responsible for their survival.’