‘He was fascinated by Abby. I could tell. He asked me where I got her, and how many kills she had. That sort of thing. He said the Baron would be interested in her.’
Grame said nothing for a moment. Then, ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that, Sigarni.’
‘Why?’
‘You don’t come to the Citadel much, do you?-No, of course you don’t. You sell your skins to the tanner and the furrier, and you buy your supplies – what… three times a year?’
‘Four times. What does that matter?’
‘The Baron is a keen falconer. He will certainly be interested in Abby. He may want her for his own.’
‘Well, he can’t have her,’ she said.
Grame smiled, but there was no humour in the expression. ‘The Baron will have anything he desires. He is the Lord here. My advice is to forget the tourney and take Abby back into the mountains.’
‘I paid my silver penny!’
Grame reached into his pouch and produced a coin. ‘I’ll pay that-aye and gladly.’
‘I don’t want your money, Grame – though I thank you for the offer. You think he would steal her from me?’ Grame nodded. ‘But how could he do this. By what right?’
‘Conquest. You are a clan-woman. You have no rights, save those he allows.’
Sigarni’s face darkened. ‘By God, that is wrong!’
‘I don’t doubt that by God it is wrong. But it is not God who makes the laws here; it is the Baron. I have some business here, but I will be ready to leave by dusk. My wagon is by the north wall, behind the armourer’s shop. I’d be pleased to have the company, if you’d like a ride back to Cilfallen.’
‘Yes, I would,’ said Sigarni. ‘I’ll meet you there at dusk.’
Grame’s words both irritated and upset Sigarni. She had wanted to compete, to show Abby’s skills to a wider audience, to revel in their approbation. And she wanted to show that a woman could train a hawk as well as any man. Yet Grame was no fool. If he said she was in
danger of losing Abby then she had to listen, and act accordingly. It was unfair, but then life was unfair. If not, then she would have loved Bernt, and he would still be alive.
Sigarni strolled through the crowds and on to Falcon Field, passing the rows of hutches containing the hares to be used in the falcon displays, snared over the past few days, the little beasts would be freed individually to dart and run across the field, seeking escape from the silent killers sent to despatch them. Abby’s golden eyes focused on the cowering creatures. ‘Not for you, pretty one,’ said Sigarni. ‘Not this time. No applause for my beautiful Abby.’
The cleric was still sitting at his desk on the outer edge of the field, and several falconers were waiting to sign their names, or make their marks on the broad ledger. A cadger had been set close by, hooded falcons sitting on the many perches. All were goshawks. Abby bridled and baited as she saw them, her wings flaring out. ‘Hush, now,’ whispered Sigarni. ‘Best behaviour from you, sweet one.’ Behind the cleric she saw the two soldiers who had spoken to her earlier. The big one was no problem, but the shorter man had mean eyes. Beyond them stood the Captain of the Tourney. She could not remember his name, save that it began with Red, which matched his beard and his complexion.
Taking her place behind the men, she waited her turn. One of the falconers looked closely at Abby. ‘Fine creature,’ he said. ‘Never thought to see another. Kushir bird, ain’t she?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good killers. Not as fast as my own bird, but she’ll come to call a damn sight faster.’ Reaching out, he stroked Abby’s chest with a broad forefinger. To Sigarni’s annoyance Abby allowed this treatment, even seemed to enjoy it.
‘Next!’ called the cleric. He wa.s ginger-haired and Sigarni remembered him riding with an escort through Cilfallen, taking the census. What was his name? Andred? No … Andolph.
The falconer signed his name, paid his silver, and moved away to the cadger to collect his bird. Sigarni stepped forward and Andolph glanced up. ‘Oh, ’tis you. You’ve already signed.’