The Blue Hawk by Peter Dickinson Read Free Book Online

Hawk’s soul, the soul of my loved one, the hawk that consents to sit on no wrist, that cannot be tamed.’ And then this boy flies the hawk and it returns docile to his wrist. Can you read the sign, priest?”
    â€œThe hymn cannot be wrong,” said Tron slowly. “That must mean that the hawk that I fly is not truly a Blue Hawk, though it has all the plumage of one. And this was the hawk sent by the Lord Gdu to renew your father’s soul. So He sent it as a sign that your father was not truly King!”
    â€œAnd therefore that I am not either, eh?”
    â€œI suppose so. But why …”
    â€œI am at war with these priests, Tron. So was my father and my grandfather. It’s a war without soldiers and without battles, but no less deadly for that. In the old days the Kings ruled in partnership with the priests, working together to honor the Gods and guard the people. But the priests grew jealous of the Kings, and slowly, slowly they have taken our power from us, working always (they say) for the honor of the Gods, but in reality judging all matters according to whether they will increase or decrease the power of the priests. For three generations my family has fought against them. If they kill one, then there is another to take up the fight. But suppose they could discredit the whole branch of us … I have several cousins who would make good Kings in a priest-ruled land.”
    By the end of this speech the pride and scorn in the King’s voice had darkened toward despair. Tron sat still, brooding in the stifling heat. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed. What had the Mouth of Silence whispered? “You serve in a great business.” A great wickedness, more likely. Somehow until this moment Tron had accepted that the Major Priests had to do everything they did, even taking the King’s life so that the ritual of Renewal should be shown to have power. But now …
    â€œThe Lord Gdu did speak in my heart,” he muttered. “The hawk is truly a Blue Hawk. Those are not lies, Majesty.”
    â€œYes … yes. We must hold to that. So perhaps I am the true King. What do you think?”
    The King’s tone was taunting, but Tron looked earnestly at his face. How would you tell a true King? By the Eye of Gdu? No. By the look of pride and fierceness and command? No. These were no more than the hawk’s plumage. How could you see the soul untamable? You couldn’t, but at instants you could know it was there. Just as in the House of O and Aa Tron had felt all the vague confusions of the world narrow down to the sharp certainty that he must lift the hawk from its perch, so now was suddenly sure that the brown-faced young man smiling at his side was somebody to serve and to love.
    â€œYou are the true King,” he said.
    â€œGood,” said the King, relaxing. “I think so too. In fact in my soul I know it, but … Anyway, and we’ll hold to that. And the hawk is a true hawk, and the God spoke in your heart. So if the priests intend to read the signs the way you read them just now, they’ll be mistaken. That’s not so bad, after all. Do they let you eat grapes?”
    Tron took the bunch unnoticing.
    â€œIf the hawk doesn’t fly …” he began.
    â€œOh, I can hold on for a while. But we are coming to a crisis—they just weren’t ready for it when you took the hawk … but you aren’t reading the signs, Tron. Gdu did speak in your heart. I am the true King. So the Gods are preparing for something else, which we know nothing about yet. If you don’t want those grapes I’ll finish them.”
    Gingerly Tron slid one of the little gold globes into his mouth and was almost overwhelmed by the shock of unknown sweetness. He handed the bunch back, smiling for the first time.
    â€œI had better not spoil my taste for priest-bread,” he said.
    The two of them spent the afternoon hawking. The King