A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden 4)

Judith couldn’t help but giggle as she looked him over. For some reason, she was ridiculously happy to see him. “Tall, then, my lord. You are very tall. And your shoulders are very wide, and if one doesn’t call that hulking—”

“You’re here alone?” he interrupted, looking around the space. His attention skimmed the sawdust floor and the five falcons sitting calmly on the long perch.

“At the moment. Tessing went to check the traps for pigeons. ” Judith opened the mews’s three large windows, allowing more mellow light to illuminate the area. It was large enough for any of the falcons to bate—spread and flap its wings—without hitting the walls. The raptors preferred an open, well-lit space once they were full grown. “’Tis time to feed them. The raptors, not the pigeons,” she added quickly, then felt foolish for babbling…but she couldn’t seem to stop. “We feed the raptors the caught pigeons or sparrows, for they prefer fresh meat, still warm. ” What on earth was wrong with her?

“No hunting today?”

“Is that why you’ve come?” she replied, glad for the distraction—yet a little confused. Why was he here? Then she looked Hecate, who hadn’t flown in two days because of Judith’s trip. “Her weight is down,” she said thoughtfully. “She hasn’t started molting yet. Do you wish to hunt?” She tried to keep the eagerness from her voice, but likely didn’t succeed. Yesterday had been an unhappy day, attending to the death of her man Piall as well as the loss of Crusty. A hunt would be an excellent diversion.

“Na—” Malcolm began, then seemed to change his mind. “Aye. ’Twas not the reason I came, but I could hunt. ” He shrugged easily, but his eyes lingered on Judith long enough that her insides gave another little flutter.

Pleased at this turn of events—but uncertain as to precisely why—she immediately began to make preparations, leaving the raptors in the mews while she did so. The supplies and tools she and Tessing used were in an adjoining room so as not to distract the falcons.

“The eyases I took from the nest are doing well,” she told Malcolm, pulling on the heavy glove she wore over the fist where Hecate was trained to sit. “But ’twill be some time before we determine whether they’ll suit for hunting. They still have their baby down, and to be taken from the nest so young, they may learn to screech. But if I had left them there, they surely would have died. ”

“Screech?” he asked, watching her as she tied the jesses to her glove.

“When a human comes near. ’Tis a bad habit, and makes for difficulty in training them if they screech and cry whenever a man—or woman—is about. So we leave them alone as much as possible, only visiting to quickly feed them two or three times per day. When they get their adult feathers, they can learn to fly freely, going out of the hack house and coming back for food. For we know they’ll return to their nest. ”

“Until they become older and stronger. And then one must take the time to man them. ”

“Aye,” she said, her cheeks warming. Babble on, my lady. “Mayhap you’ve trained falcons afore?”

“Nay. ” His lips curved in something like a smile. “’Twas a guess gleaned from other conversation. I hunt with raptors, but I have ne’er trained one. I’ll call for Gambert. He’ll accompany us. ” He went to leave, then paused. “Shall I arrange a mount for you, my lady?”

Judith’s heart gave a pang over the reminder of Crusty but she nodded. “Aye. I shall have Hecate ready to go in a moment. Shall I bring a falcon for you, my lord?”

“Nay. ’Tis enough to watch your bird. ”

Though the day wasn’t brilliantly sunny, there was no sign of rain as they rode out several minutes later. Wispy clouds streaked a light blue sky, and a gentle breeze ruffled the rich green meadow grass. A hooded Hecate was settled on Judith’s leather-covered fist. She rode along next to Malcolm and Sir Nevril, along with Sir Holbert, who also had a falcon on his hand, and they discussed the imminent hunt. Gambert followed close behind.

Not far from the walls of Clarendon, they rode down a gentle slope into the field bordered by a stand of trees. After they halted the horses, Malcolm dismounted and offered Judith his assistance. She slid to the ground so smoothly Hecate hardly ruffled a feather.

When Judith removed the leather hood to reveal the new surroundings, Hecate bated. But her mistress was prepared, holding her fist far from her body, and the falcon’s wings flapped harmlessly while she remained on her perch.

“The hood is a new fashion,” Judith told Malcolm. “We’ve been using them only for two summers now, but ’tis a wonderful invention. Tessing learned about it when he met a falconer who’d been in the Holy Land. Apparently, they have been using hoods for many centuries in the Far East. It keeps the bird calm, as you have surely noted, even whilst riding to the hunt. ”

“She seems eager,” Mal said. “And strong. What will she take, do you think?”

Judith couldn’t hold back a smile of pride. “She’s taken a partridge in the past, but as she is still recovering from an injury to her leg, I would be pleased with a fat hare. ”

“Do you not allow your maid to hear you say that,” spoke up Nevril. “My lady,” he added hastily, looking utterly abashed. With a glance at Malcolm, he pulled at his forelock and gave a brief bow. “My apologies. ”

But Judith wasn’t insulted. “You know my maid, Sir Nevril? I was not aware of it. How know you Tabby?”

“Aye, my lady,” the man replied, taking obvious care with his speech this time. She noticed the red line of an old scar along his jaw, from beard into the edge of his hair. “I came to know her on the day you went missing. She was protecting a rabbit in the meadow and I came upon her—”

“Ah! So ’twas you who ruined my maid’s day,” Judith interrupted, laughing merrily. “I trow you rue the day you crossed paths with Tabatha, then, Sir Nevril. ”

“Nay,” he replied. “She is a pretty wench, despite her sharp and loose tongue. ”

“I cannot imagine where she might have learned such,” Malcolm muttered.

Judith swore she heard Sir Holbert choke back a chuckle, but when she turned to look at him, he was innocently adjusting his mount’s bridle, his face studiously blank of emotion. “Indeed,” was all she said, still watching her master-at-arms. “Well, Sir Nevril, her loose tongue had plenty to say on you. ”

“I am not surprised. What is her arrangement with the marshal Bruin?” he asked, to her surprise. “Are they wed or betrothed?”

“Nay,” Judith replied, now becoming more thoughtful. “But do you not look in her direction, Sir Nevril. For you must return to Warwick, and I, like the queen, shall never allow my serving woman to leave me. Although…if you were set on the maid, mayhap your lord would be less rigid. ” She cast Malcolm a teasing glance.