The Silver Falcon by Katia Fox Read Free Book Online Page B

circles. They knew no Sunday and did not understand that the fishermen’s boats would remain in the harbor today.
    A strong breeze brought with it the sharp scent of the salt water that flowed in the River Ore. With all of his strength, William ran along the western edge of the meadow toward the woods. Thebright sunshine coaxed out of the rain-heavy land brightly colored blooms that lined the river. The first buttercups beckoned with their radiant yellow. Lady’s-smock and campion flowers, soft pink and bluish violet, stretched up toward the sun. Bumblebees and butterflies flitted to and fro among the flowers.
    William ran in a straight line across the colorful meadow. A few of the flowers and grasses reached almost to his hips, so he had to take some care that no bees strayed under his smock. Don’t turn around now, he thought as he crossed the meadow, but still he glanced back. A rider was arriving at the church at a full gallop. A riderless horse followed behind.
    William hesitated. Who could that be? He turned away abruptly. It didn’t matter anymore. Determined to grasp his destiny, he removed his bundle and cloak from their hiding place. He fastened his knife and water skin to his belt.
    Had his mother also traveled through Tunstall Wood when she had fled all those years ago? She had never told him exactly why she had fled, or where she had gone. Still, she had achieved her dream, and he would, too. In an optimistic frame of mind, he followed the narrow path into the wood.
    The trunks of the tall trees were completely bare until far above his head; only high up did their vigorous branches form a diffusely lit canopy of tender green leaves. Younger saplings, with slender stems and thin branches, sprang up all around. A squirrel ran adroitly from one branch to another. A second one ran headfirst down a tree trunk, crossed the path William was on, stood up on its hind legs, and peeked around before disappearing into the undergrowth. It must have been looking for food. Not far from the place where it disappeared, William spotted the first mushrooms among the half-decayed leaves of the previous winter. The pale-green fern that grew like a weed around Orford made the ground seem brightly lit. In the distance, he could hear the call of a cuckoo and the tock-tock-tock of a woodpecker.
    William was in good spirits. His stamina had improved, and his foot hurt less. His return to running circuits in the past few months was finally paying off. That morning, as usual, he had rubbed ointment into his foot, and, as he bound it, he had taken particular care to avoid any creases in the bandage, so that he would not get blisters so quickly. He had some clean strips of cloth and a small clay pot with ointment in his bundle. William knew the path would lead him to the road that connected Orford with Ipswich to the south and Norwich to the north. When he got to the fork, he would have to decide which way to go. He had time enough to think about that between now and then.
    The sun’s rays, filtering down through the thin ceiling of fresh green leaves, bathed the wood in a marvelously gentle and benevolent light. What a fool I was to be afraid of being alone, thought William optimistically.
    He did not rest until it was getting dark, and then he spread out his cloak beneath a beech tree and sat down. Because of his work in the smithy, he was accustomed to regular mealtimes, and now he felt a powerful hunger. He got a fish pasty out of his bundle. Biting into it reminded him of Rose. Her pasties were better than Elfreda’s by a good margin. They tasted of dill and cloves. William sighed. Was everyone in Saint Edmundsbury well? Something clutched at his heart, and he knew he was homesick. He wondered whether his mother and the others thought of him from time to time.
    William was still quite sunk in thought when he heard a rustling in the bushes. He looked in the direction of the sound. Two curious young boars were running toward him. One