Book Cover  •  Table of Contents  •  < PREV Chapter  •  NEXT Chapter >

CHAPTER 1

      IT WAS a few days past Wintermark on a short, dim afternoon. The air smelled of snow, and a young man from the village, the baker's nephew, was fetching wood to feed the bakery ovens.

      A little off the path he saw a fallen tree, dry and ready for cutting. Here was good luck. Long-legged, he strode toward it, tugging loose the small axe he carried on his belt. Then he stopped. Had he heard something?

      Yes. The sound was faint but clear in the silent forest: bells.

      He had to look around before he found it. A peregrine falcon was trapped in a hollyberry bush. Poor thing, the trailing ribbons on its feet had tangled in the branches when it lighted from flight.

      He went closer to get a better look at the fierce little fugitive. It must be a rich man's toy, he thought, because its jesses were made of embroidered silk, studded with the silver bells he had heard ringing. "But how did it get here," he wondered aloud. "How could it have flown?" A gilded leather hood covered its whole head, blinding its eyes and binding shut its sharp, curved beak. Tangled as it was in the brush, it was helpless and sure to die.

      The young man had a tender heart, and he pitied the doves that falcons killed for food. But seeing the bands of gold that striped the grey feathers, soft as cloud, and watching the poor thing's sides heaving with exhaustion, he knew he could not leave it there to starve.

      "Here then," he murmured. He took out his knife and cut loose the ribbons and gingerly pulled them away.

      Although the falcon was not much larger than a pigeon, it was dangerous; its grip could have pierced his wrist to the bone. Avoiding the long, curved talons on its feet, he tucked it under his arm, pinioning the wings against its body. At his touch, the bird became as still as death.

      The hood was fastened with neat leather ties at the back of the bird's head. With the tip of his knife, he cut them, one by one. He could feel its heart beating through the soft feathers.

      As he slipped off the hood, the falcon turned its head and looked at him with its brilliant yellow eyes. Then it began to struggle, and he tossed it upward into the air. It fluttered, and he thought for a moment it might be too weak to fly. Then as its wings opened, the bird turned in the sky as if to look at him before it vanished into the trees.

      Pleased with himself, he picked up the axe from where he had dropped it and began cutting up the fallen tree.

Cover  •  Contents  •  < PREV Chapter  •  NEXT Chapter >  •  Page Top