Flight of the Falcon (Noble Heart Book 1) Read online

  FLIGHT OF THE FALCON

  CYNTHIA S. GRIFFITH

  COVER ART BY SARAH LOWE

  Copyright © 2008 by Cynthia S. Griffith

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without prior written permission of the author.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One: Noble and Fly

  Chapter Two: The Falcon Flies

  Chapter Three: In His Footsteps

  Chapter Four: The Knight, the Stable Boy, and the Master of the Mews

  Chapter Five: In the Castle of the King

  Chapter Six: The Royal Mews

  Chapter Seven: The Training Fields

  Chapter Eight: Home Again

  Chapter Nine: The Empty Pen

  Chapter Ten: A Friend in Need

  Chapter Eleven: The Fair at King’s Crossing

  Chapter Twelve: The Gypsy Camp

  Chapter Thirteen: Fly to the Rescue!

  Chapter Fourteen: Sir Noble Heart

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  CHAPTER ONE

  _________

  Noble and Fly

  Noble had no idea that morning as he walked down to the stream with a bucket in each hand how his life would change that day. The sun was still low in the sky, but he was anxious to be done with his chores, for as he did on most days, he would go hunting when he was finished. There was still firewood to chop, though, and Granny would probably want him to work in the garden this morning, as well. Fly would not be happy. She would be restless and hungry by the time he was finished with the chores, and as eager to go hunting as he was. Maybe if he hurried they could still get out to the fields before it got too warm and their small prey went into hiding from the heat of the day.

  It was quiet in the woods. Noble was glad Granny’s cottage was outside the village. He loved the forest and fields, and the sense of freedom he had wandering alone with just his falcon for company. It had been nearly seven years since Noble had come to live with his grandparents. He missed his mother and father still after all this time, but he did not miss the city where they had lived back then. When he lost his parents, his grandfather had come to the city to get him and taken him home to live with Granny and himself in the little cottage on the edge of the forest. It was a peaceful life.

  Noble thought about his grandfather as he filled the wooden buckets in the stream. He had been a quiet man, rarely talking unless it was necessary, but kindhearted and strong. Grandfather was the king’s favorite falconer, and it had been his joy to pass the skill on to his grandson. The two of them had tramped the king’s lands every day, hunting pigeons, squirrels and rabbits, as well as other small game and birds for the tables of the king and his court.

  When his grandfather had passed away the year before, Noble had felt lonelier than ever. They had not spoken much as they hunted in order not to scare their prey away, but they had enjoyed one another’s company and felt comfortable in their quiet times together. Now it was just Noble and Fly, the peregrine falcon his grandfather had left to him, alone in the silent forest and fields.

  Noble finished filling the buckets and headed back to Granny’s cottage. It had been a hard year since his grandfather had gone to be with the Lord. The worst, of course, was just missing Grandfather, but besides that, they had lost their livelihood, as well, for two other men had been appointed the king’s falconers. He and Granny lived now on what they could grow themselves and on what Noble and Fly caught.

  Granny was in the garden already when Noble returned with the water. Wildflowers brightened the front of the cottage and a small patch of ground in back overflowed with vegetables. Granny had a way with gardening and with Noble’s help she was able to raise enough to feed themselves and sell a bit at the market in the village, as well.

  She looked up as Noble came through the gate and smiled. “I thank you, Noble, for fetching the water,” she said. “Look here—we have a good crop of potatoes this year, praise the good Lord. Would you mind helping me with the weeding for a bit before you chop the wood? Then you can hunt to your heart’s content with your Fly, if you like. ‘Twould be nice to have some rabbit for our supper tonight!”

  Noble set the water buckets down inside the cottage and came back out to the garden. “I’ll do this, Granny,” he said. “Go rest yourself for a while.”

  She laughed. “Ah no, Noble! You know working in the garden is not really work to me, at least not most days. The sun feels good on my back and I love digging around in the dirt. And nothing pleases me more than to see the bounty with which the Lord has blessed us!”

  Noble smiled, and knelt in the dirt, pulling weeds at the other end of the garden. That was what he loved about his granny—no matter what, she always praised the Lord. He was thankful that his parents and grandparents had raised him to know and love the Lord as his Savior. He was only twelve years old, but already he had been through difficult times in his life. Through the hard times he had trusted God, and that had helped him keep going.

  It didn’t take long to weed the small patch of vegetables with both of them working together. Unlike his quiet grandfather, Granny chattered on about this and that as they worked. Where he had always appreciated his grandfather’s quiet ways, he also enjoyed the sound of his granny’s cheerful voice in the background as they worked.

  Noble made short work of chopping the wood for Granny. He took some into the small cottage for her, and stacked the rest outside near Fly’s mews, or pen. The falcon was restless and eager to be free of her cage. She was probably hungry, too. “Soon,” Noble promised her. “I’ll be back, and then we will go hunting.”

  He went back into the little house. It was only one room, with a sleeping loft for himself above the back half of the living space. A fireplace filled most of one wall. Granny’s bed was in one corner and a rough table with two chairs sat in the other corner. A bench with the wash basin and pitcher stood under a window, and hooks and shelves on the walls held their few possessions. It was small and poorly furnished, but cozy, for Granny had put her own special touch upon everything in the room. A colorful blanket which Granny wove herself brightened the space, as did the pillow on her chair by the fireplace and a small bouquet of wildflowers on the table.

  Granny followed him into the room. “I’ve made you a bit of lunch, Noble,” she said. She handed him a small packet wrapped in a piece of cloth. Noble could smell the fragrance of meat and vegetables and warm bread rising from the packet. Umm—a pasty! The little meat-filled turnover was his favorite! He tucked it into his pocket and filled his water bottle from the bucket in the corner.

  “Thank you, Granny,” he said as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  She hugged him, surprised all over again at how tall he was getting. “Be careful, Noble!” she called after him as he walked out the door.

  Fly was waiting. She seemed to know it was time to go. She spread her wings and let out a shrill cry as if to say, “Hurry! I’m hungry, and the sun is high in the sky!”

  Noble found a mouse trap behind the stacked firewood. He took a live mouse from the trap, and with his gauntlet, or leather glove, he reached into the pen and allowed Fly to take the mouse from his hand. He did not want her to be too hungry when they went hunting, for she was trained to bring the small birds and animals she caught back to him.

  At last he reached back into the mews and held out his gloved hand. Fly hopped onto the glove without hesitation. Noble grabbed hold of the jesses, or leather straps, that were attached to the a
nklets around her legs and brought her out of the cage. She spread her wings in appreciation of her freedom from the pen.

  Granny watched from her doorway as they walked through the gate and toward the fields beyond the cottage. The sun shone down on the boy and his bird. The old woman smiled at the sight of her fine young grandson. How like his grandfather he was! How he made her proud!

  She might not have smiled had she known that in just a few hours her Noble would be leaving home.

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  CHAPTER TWO

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  The Falcon Flies

  The fields beyond Granny’s cottage were surrounded by forest. The king owned all the land around the village, but Noble’s grandfather, as one of the royal falconers, had been given special permission to hunt on the king’s land for his own personal use, as well. Noble had continued the tradition simply because no one had ever told him he could not, or seemed to care. Now as he strode quickly through the tall grass his heart was filled with contentment. He felt close to Grandfather out here.

  Fly was anxious to go. She bobbed her head, her keen eyes scanning the skies for a stray dove or pigeon, or even a duck. Noble laughed quietly. “Alright, my pretty Fly. You may go! Take wing! Just bring me back something for our supper tonight!” He released the bird and cast her off into the air. There was nothing more beautiful, he thought, than seeing a falcon gliding high above the grassy fields. Her size and shape, and especially her speed identified her as a peregrine falcon, the fastest of all the birds of prey.

  As he watched, shading his eyes from the sun, she rapidly became merely a speck in the sky, so high was she. She soared up there in the heights, circling over the field and waiting on, or hanging on the wind as she searched for her quarry. Suddenly she tucked her wings and cut across the sky like a shooting star, diving, diving until she sunk her razor-sharp talons into her target, a careless pigeon. The two birds tumbled to the ground together. Noble ran across the field to the spot where he had seen them fall.

  Fly was huddled on top of the dead pigeon with her wings and tail spread wide. Noble knew she was doing what came naturally to her—mantling, or protecting her kill from other predators. He spoke softly to her and she relaxed, recognizing the voice of her master, the one who cared for her and gave her food every day.

  Noble grabbed her jesses and slipped a hood over her head. Only then was he able to remove the pigeon from Fly’s talons. He placed the dead bird in the pouch that he wore at his side. Granny would be pleased, he thought. Pigeon stew would be a tasty supper tonight.

  Noble removed the hood from Fly’s head and released her once more into the air. Another pigeon would make the stew that much tastier! Or a rabbit cooked on the spit over the fire would be nice, too.

  Fly had just snared another bird—this time a dove—when Noble became aware that there were men on horseback at the edge of the forest watching him. He looked again and realized that this was a party of the king’s men. The royal banners were flying above the group, and here and there he saw the sun glint off of steel armor.

  Noble retrieved his falcon and her prey as quickly as he could, and walked across the field toward the royal party. His heart was beating a bit faster in his chest, for since his grandfather’s death he had not seen the king, or been anywhere near the castle or its court. Why were they here? What did they want?

  As he drew closer, he recognized the king, surrounded by a dozen or more of his knights. For a moment, Noble forgot his fear and his eyes shone with pleasure. The king’s knights! As much as he loved following in his grandfather’s footsteps as a falconer, if he could have any dream, it would be to become a knight! A foolish dream, of course, for a boy in his position could never hope to become a knight. It didn’t hurt to dream, though, did it?

  Noble realized the king’s eyes were upon him and he quickly bowed. He dare not speak until the king spoke to him first. He nervously gripped Fly’s jesses tighter.

  “Do you realize, boy, that you are hunting on the king’s land?” King Stephen asked. His voice was stern, but not harsh. Noble glanced up at the king, and then lowered his eyes again. He remembered the times before when as a little boy he had been in the presence of the king with his grandfather, but he doubted the king would remember him. King Stephen had always treated his grandfather with great respect, and Noble himself with kindness. But Grandfather was no longer with him, and now he was almost grown. Would the king still look favorably on him, or would he consider him a trespasser?

  Two men pushed themselves through the band of knights before he could answer. Noble recognized them as the men who had been appointed royal falconers in his grandfather’s place after his death. “Sire!” one of them cried out. “Not only does this boy hunt on your land, but he has a peregrine falcon—and by the looks of it, a female, at that! You know, Your Highness, only a prince or one of higher rank than that even, may possess a female peregrine falcon! It is a crime! One of such low class as he may own no more than a kestrel! He must be punished, Sire!”

  The king looked at the boy standing before him and something about him looked familiar. “Silence!” he said sharply to the angry falconers. “Let me hear what the lad has to say for himself! Well, boy? What say ye?” he asked turning back to Noble.

  Noble looked up into the king’s face. “My grandfather was Henry Talbot, Your Majesty,” he said simply. “Your falconer until he passed away a year ago. I used to hunt with him every day—with him and with Fly, the falcon you yourself gave to him as a gift, Sire. Grandfather left her to me upon his death. You gave Grandfather permission to hunt your lands for his own table, and I have continued to do so to provide for his widow, my grandmother. I pray that I may continue to have your blessing to do so, Your Majesty.” Noble bowed his head and waited to hear what the king would say.

  He was shaking on the inside. To hunt without permission on the king’s land could mean imprisonment, and to do so with a female peregrine falcon could lead to an even worse punishment. He did not know what he would do if they put him in the dungeon, or took Fly away from him. And what would Granny do without him there to take care of her?

  King Stephen stared at the boy standing before him for a long moment. He remembered Henry Talbot well. The lad’s dark hair and clear gray eyes were very much like his grandfather’s. At last he spoke kindly, “Ah, yes! Henry. I miss him a great deal, lad, as I’m sure you do. He was a good man, a very good man, and an excellent falconer! There was no one greater than he at the craft, nor will there ever be one as skilled.” The two falconers at his side scowled. The king continued, “I enjoyed talking with him. Many a great tale of the hunt was told at my table by your grandfather, lad. And he was a man of great faith, as well, and for a man in his position, of great wisdom and understanding.” The king shook his head and said sadly, “Aye, I do miss Henry Talbot.”

  He looked at Noble. “Yes, and I remember you, also, boy. It is—ah, Noble, am I not correct? I remember your name for it is a lofty one, lad. I hope you are growing into it worthily. I remember you were an admirable little boy, very obedient and well-behaved, trailing your grandfather everywhere he went. Yes, I see some of your grandfather in you, Noble, and that is a true compliment.”

  “Thank you, Sire,” Noble said humbly. “That indeed is a compliment, as are all the kind things you have said about my grandfather, for I agree with you, Sire. He truly was a very great man indeed, and I am honored to follow in his footsteps.”

  The king looked at Noble thoughtfully. “Have you the skill with the falcon that your grandfather had, young Noble? My men and I were returning from our battle exercises on the practice fields, and we sat here at the edge of the wood watching you and your falcon for a while. It seems that she is well-trained, and that you are skilled, as well.”

  “As skilled as my grandfather, though? Nay, Sire, I have many years to go before I may claim to be anywhere near as good at my craft as he was.” Noble said honestly.

  “Show me again, what you and
your bird can do,” the king commanded.

  Noble walked with Fly out to the middle of the field. His knees felt like they were knocking together. “Make us proud,” he whispered to Fly as he threw her up into the air.

  The falcon circled the field, far above them, barely visible in the glare of the sun. Suddenly she hurtled to earth like a comet. Just as it seemed she would crash at breakneck speed into the ground, she somehow drew back and seized a rabbit in her sharp talons. Noble ran out to the field to claim the animal from Fly, and brought her and her prize back to the king.

  The king laughed in delight. “Well done, lad!” he cried. Noble held the dead rabbit out to the king, but King Stephen shook his head. “Nay, take it back to your grandmother, Noble. I’m sure she will enjoy it more than I would. And now, Noble,” the king said, “lead us to your grandmother’s house. I wish to speak to her about you. It is nearby, is it not?”

  Noble nodded. His heart sank. Why did the king want to speak to his granny? Was he going to tell her that her grandson had broken the law and must go to prison? Would the king forbid him to hunt on his land anymore? Would he take Fly away from him?

  They started across the fields. With every step the sun seemed to shine a little less brightly, and the beloved fields and forest lost a bit of their beauty. And with every step Noble prayed as he led the way toward Granny’s cottage, “Lord, I will trust in Thee.”

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  CHAPTER THREE

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  In His Footsteps

  Granny was sitting in front of the little house with her sewing when Noble appeared, followed by King Stephen himself and a number of his knights. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. She merely rose to her feet and smoothed her skirt and hair. She walked to the front gate and held it open. “Welcome, Your Majesty,” she said as she curtsied.