Hawkmistress! Read online

  "Don't!" And then she said, crossly, "I do not like the stink of too much wine on your breath, and you are drunk, Dom Garris. Let me go."

  "Well, you should have been drinking more," he said easily, and guided them in the dance into one of the long galleries that led away from the hall. "Here, give me a kiss, Romy-"

  "I am not Romy to you," she said, and pulled her head away from him, "and if you had not been spying about where you had no right to be, you would not have seen me in my brother's clothes, which I wear only in the sight of my little brothers. If you think I was showing myself to you, you are very much mistaken."

  "No, only to that haughty young sprig of the Hali’imyn who was squiring you to the hunt and hawking?" he asked, and laughed. She said, twisting her rumpled hair free, "I want to go back to the hall. I did not come out here with you of my own will, I just did not want to make a scene on the dance floor. Take me back to the hall, or I will shout to my brother now! And then my father will horsewhip you!"

  He laughed, holding her close. "Ah, on a night like this, what do you think your brother will be doing, then? He would not thank you for calling him away from what every young man will be about, on Midsummer-Night. Must I alone be refused? You are not such a child as all that. Come, give me a kiss then-"

  "No!" Romilly struggled away from his intruding hands, crying now, and he let her go.

  "I am sorry," he said gently, "I was testing you; I see now that you are a good girl, and all the Gods forbid I should interfere with you." He bent and dropped a suddenly respectful kiss on her wrist. She swallowed hard, blinked back her tears and fled from the gallery, back through the hall and upstairs, where she bundled off her festival gown and hid beneath her warm quilts, sobbing.

  How she hated him!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Every year The MacAran held his great Midsummer-feast as preliminary to a great market in hawks, trained dogs and horses. On the morning after the Festival, Romilly wakened to the great bustle in the courtyard, and men and women thronging, while on the field beyond the enclosed yard, horses were neighing as men put them through their paces, and men and women were coming and going. Romilly dressed quickly in an old gown - there were still guests, so there could be no thought of borrowing a pair of Darren's breeches - and ran down. Calinda, meeting her on the stairs, gave a rueful laugh.

  "I knew I should get no work out of Rael this day - he is beyond me, his father must send him soon to Nevarsin for teaching by men who can handle him," she said, "But must you, too, hang about the market, Romilly? Ah well-" she smiled kindly at her charge, "Go if you will, I shall have the whole day to work with Mallina on her penmanship - she takes guidance better when you and Rael are not there to hear. And I suppose you would not mind your book if your heart and thoughts were all out in the courtyard. But you must work all the harder tomorrow," she said firmly, and Romilly hugged the older woman with a vehemence that left her breathless.

  "Thank you, Calinda, thank you!"

  She picked her way carefully through the trampled mud of the courtyard and into the field. Davin was displaying the flight to a lure of one of the best-trained hawks, a great bird in whose training Romilly had played no small part; she stood watching in excitement till Davin spotted her.

  "And this hawk is fierce and strong, but so gentle that even a young maiden could fly her," Davin said, "Mistress Romilly, will you take the bird?"

  She slid the gauntlet over her arm and held out her wrist; he set the bird on it, and swirled the lure, and the bird took off, quickly climbing the sky, then, as the whirling leather thong with the meat and feathers came swooping down, striking so quickly that eyes could hardly follow the swift strike. Romilly picked up bird and lure and stood feeding the hawk from her free hand, to the accompaniment of little cries of amazement and delight

  "I shall have that hawk, then, for my lady," said Cathal Aldaran of Scathfell, "She has not had enough exercise since her children were born, and so fine a hawk will encourage her to be out and about, and to ride."

  "No," said the elderly Dom Gareth firmly, "No woman shall fly such a hawk as that under my roof; but your training methods are excellent, messire, and I will take one of the smaller hawks for Lady Darissa - have you a good lady's hawk? Mistress Romilly, can you advise me, perhaps, as to what hawk my daughter-in-law could best fly?"

  She said, lowering her eyes modestly, "I fly a verrin hawk, vai dom, but either of these-" she indicated three of the smaller birds, with wing-spans not much longer than her arm, "are well-trained and I think Darissa would have no trouble in handling them. But I give you my word, sir, that if you want to buy the larger bird for her, she is so well trained that Darissa could fly her, and the larger birds are better for hunting for the kitchens; the smaller hawks can bring down nothing bigger than a field-shrew."

  He snorted. "The women of my household have no need to hunt for meat for the pot; if they fly hawks, they do so only to have a reason to take air and exercise. And The MacAran still lets a great girl like you hunt with a verrin hawk? Disgraceful!"

  Romilly bit back the protest on her lip - Aldaran might not approve of women flying hawks, but perhaps other men were not so stuffy and narrow-minded as he was himself - realizing that a saucy answer would only alienate a valued neighbor and customer of her father's. While they produced most of what they needed on the estate at Falconsward, still coined money was always in short supply, and most of her father's ready money came from this sale every year. She curtseyed to Lord Scathfell and withdrew, handing back the hawk to Davin. While he haggled with the man, she cast a quick frightened glance around the field - her father might have decided to punish her by putting Preciosa up for sale - but Preciosa was not there, but still safe within the mews. At the far end, her father was putting one or two of his best horses through their paces, while the kennel-man was displaying working dogs trained to obedience to word or gesture. The high nobility who had danced last night at their feast nibbed elbows with small-holders and farmers who had come to pick up dogs for their herding, or perhaps to trade for a horse rejected by the nobles. Darren was stationed at the far end, writing down all the details of the transactions for the steward; Rael was running in and out of the crowd, playing catch-the-monkey with a group of small boys his own age, his face and hands already grubby and his jacket torn.

  "Can you take me to see your father's horses?" Alderic said at her elbow, "I would like to trade my nag for a somewhat better one; I have not much money, but perhaps I could work some time for him in return for the difference - do you think he would be interested in a deal like that? I have marked that your coridom is old and feeble - perhaps I could work for him for forty days or so while he finds himself a man better suited to the needs of his business, and the old man could be retired to an indoor steward."

  She blinked in surprise - she had begun to be sure that he was, in fact, the Hastur prince in disguise, and here he was offering to hire himself, a paid worker, to The MacAran in return for a horse-trade! But she said politely, "About the deal, you must ask him yourself; but we have some good horses which are not good-looking enough to attract the attention of the highly-born, and must be sold at a lower cost; perhaps one of them would suit you, if it was well-trained. That one, for instance-" she pointed out a great ungainly horse, an ugly color of brown, spotted unevenly with black, his mane and tail growing somewhat askew, "He is an ugly raw-boned brute, but if you look carefully at his gait, and the way he carries his tail, you will see that he is a fine strong horse, and spirited too. But he is no ride for a lady, nor for any soft-handed fellow who wants his horse to plod along at a gentle pace; he wants firm hands and good handling. His sire was our best stallion, but the dam was only a cull, so though his blood is not bad, he is an ugly brute and not good-colored."

  "His haunches look strong, indeed," said Alderic, "But I would like to look at his teeth for myself. I suppose he is broken to the saddle?"

  "Yes, though father was at first intending to make a draft-hors
e of him; he is too big for most riders," she said, "But you are tall, you would need a large horse. Ruyven broke him to the bridle, but I myself have ridden him - although," she said, with a mischievous smile, "Father does not know it, and you need not tell him."

  "And you can handle him, damisela?" Alderic looked incredulous.

  "I will not ride him before all these people to prove it," she said, "but I would not stoop to lie about it to you, and-" she met his eyes briefly, "I think perhaps you would know if I did."

  "That I would, Romilly," he said gravely.

  "I give you my word, the horse is good-tempered enough, but he wants firm handling," she said, "I think perhaps he has a sense of humor - if a horse can laugh, I would swear I have seen him laugh at people who think they need only clamber on a horse and let him do all the work, and he had Darren off in two minutes; but my father can ride him without even a bridle, only a saddle and halter; because The MacAran knows how to make him, or any horse, behave."

  "Aye, and I am told you have the same gift," he said. "Well, I will make your father an offer for him; would he take my horse in trade, do you think?"

  "Oh, yes, he has always need of cheaply-priced horseflesh, to sell to farmers and such," she said, "Men who will use their horses well, but cannot afford much in the way of stables. One of our old mares, no longer young enough to carry active young folk who would be in the saddle all day, he gave for almost nothing to an elderly man who lives nearby, who was too poor to buy a good horse, just so that the old horse might live out her life in a good home and have only light work. No doubt he would do the same for your horse - is she very old?"

  "No," Alderic said, "but I must be into the Hellers when summer comes, and even in summertime it takes a strong horse to ride such trails."

  "Into the far Hellers?" She wondered what would take him into the almost-impassable mountain ranges in the summer, but he turned the subject deftly before she could ask.

  "I had not expected to find a young woman such a judge of horseflesh - how came you to know so much?"

  "I am a MacAran, sir; I have worked at my father's side since I was old enough to follow him about the stables, and when Ruyven left-" she broke off, unable to say to anyone outside the family that her oldest brother's defection had left her father with no one but paid help to share his love of the animals he bred and trained. Yet she sensed that he understood her, for he smiled in sympathy.

  "I like your father," Alderic said, "He is harsh, yes, but he is just, and he speaks freely to his children."

  "Does not your father?"

  Alderic shook his head. "I have hardly had speech with my father half a dozen times since I was out of short dresses. My mother was wedded to him in a dynastic marriage, and there was little love to lose between them; I doubt they have said a civil word to one another since my sister was conceived, and now they dwell in separate houses and meet formally a few times a year, no more. My father is a kindly man, I suppose, but I think he cannot look on my face without seeing my mother's features, and so he has always been ill at ease with me. Even as a babe I called him sir, and have hardly spoken with him since I was grown to man's size."

  "That cannot have been so long ago," Romilly teased, but he said, with a poignancy that stopped her teasing cold, "Still, I envy you; I have seen Rael climb without fear into his father's lap - I cannot remember that I ever did so with my father, but you can go to your father, speak with him freely, he treats you almost as a friend and listens when you speak. Even though my father is high in-" Alderic stopped himself short, and there was a moment of awkward silence before he finished weakly, "High in station and honor, I wish I need not always address him as My Lord. I swear I would trade fathers with you at any moment."

  "He might think it a bargain," said Romilly bitterly, but she knew she was not quite truthful; her father loved her, harsh as he was, and she knew it. She said, "Look, there he stands and for the moment he has no customer, go now and ask for such a trade for Redwing."

  "I thank you," he said, and went; then Davin called to her to show the paces of one of the dogs she had trained, and she forgot Alderic again. She worked all day on the sale fields, displaying the obedience of the dogs, explaining bloodlines and stud-books, exhibiting the hawks; her noon-meal was a mouthful of bread and cheese and a few nuts, swallowed in the enclosure behind the stables among The MacAran's men, and by the time the trading was called to a halt by the evening rain and the guests began to depart, she was famished and filthy, ready for a bath and to be dressed in a comfortable worn tunic and skirt for the family's dinner. A good smell of roasting meat and fresh-baked bread came as she passed the hall, and she went in and took her seat. Rael was still chattering to anyone who would listen about his day spent among the animals, and Luciella finally silenced him with a weary "Hush, Rael, or you shall have supper in the nursery; there are others in this family who would like to speak a word or two without being drowned out! How did it go today, my dear?" she asked The MacAran as he took his seat and picked up his mug. He took a long drink before answering.

  "Well enough; I made a good trade for Redwing, who is a fine horse for anyone who has wit to see what lies beneath that ugly coat of his. Dom Alderic told me you recommended that sale, Romilly," he said, with a kind glance at his elder daughter.

  "Did I well, father? I did not want to interfere, but it seemed to me that he would be a good ride for Dom Alderic," she said shyly, "and-" she looked around to see if Alderic had come in, but Darren's place was still empty and his friend was not at table either, "He told me he was short of ready money, so I knew that one of the blacks would be beyond his purse."

  "I am grateful to you; I wanted Redwing in good hands," said her father, "and most people could not handle him; but with young Castamir, he was gentle as a child's cagebird. So I thank you, daughter,"

  "But still," Luciella complained, "this must be the last year she goes out into the fields with the men, showing off hawks and horses - she is a grown woman, Mikhail!"

  No fear of that," said The MacAran, smiling, "Other news I have too. Romilly, my dear, you know you are of an age to be married; I had not thought I would have such a good offer for you, but Dom Garris of Scathfell has asked me for your hand in marriage, and I have answered him; yes."

  Romilly felt as if an ice-cold hand was closing about her throat.

  Father!" she protested, while Luciella beamed and Mallina squeaked with excitement, "Not Dom Garris!"

  Come, come," her father said with a genial smile, "Surely you have not set your heart on someone else? Manfred Storn is not yet ready to marry, and I thought you loved Darissa well, and would welcome marrying into that family, so you might be near your best friend."

  I had thought-perhaps Cinhil-"

  If that young man has trifled with your affections," said The MacAran, "I'll turn him over my knee and dust his breeches for him - he's too much a child to be worth calling challenge! Why marry the younger son when you can marry the Heir, my dear?"

  Her heart sank as she remembered the moment in the galleries. I was only testing you. Now I see you are a good girl. So, she thought, if she had liked Dom Garris well enough to kiss him she would have been deprived of marriage, as if it were a prize for good conduct! But since she had showed her loathing, she was then worthy of his attentions? Her eyes burned, but she would not cry here before her father.

  "Father, I hate him," she said, pleading, "Please, don't make me marry him!"

  "Romilly," said Mallina, "You will be Lady Scathfell! Why, he's Heir to Scathfell, and perhaps even to Aldaran itself some day! Why, the folk of Aldaran were of the Hastur-kinfolk!"

  The MacAran gestured the younger girl to silence.

  "Romy," he said gravely, "Marriage is not a matter of whim. I have chosen a good young man for you."

  "So young he is not," she flared, "he has buried three wives, and all of them have died in childbirth!"

  "That is because he married into Aldaran kindred," her father said, "Any horse-b
reeder will tell you it is unwise to cross close kindred so often. You have no Aldaran blood and can probably give him healthy children."

  She thought of Darissa, not much older than herself, swollen and shapeless with bearing children. Would she be like that, and would those children have been fathered by Dom

  Garris, with his whining voice and damp flabby hands? The thought made her flesh crawl.

  "No more talk," said her father firmly, "All silly girls think they know what man they want, but older heads must make the decision as it is best for their lives. I would not have you married before harvest time - I will not have my daughter hustled to marriage - but at the harvest you will marry Dom Garris, and that is all I have to say."

  "So while I thought you were having a sale of horses and hawks," she said bitterly, "You were also making a sale of your daughters! Tell me, Father, did Dom Garris give a good price?"

  She knew by the unlovely flush that spread over her father's face that she had caught him on the raw. He said, "I'll hear none of your impertinence, my pert young mistress!"

  "I doubt it not," she flung back at him, "You would rather trade in hawks and horses because they cannot talk back - and you can give them what fate you will!"

  He opened his mouth to reply; then gave her a heavy glance.

  "My lady," he said to Luciella, "It is your task to bring my daughters under control; see to it, will you? I will dine with the steward; I'll not have this brangling at my family table." He rose and strode out of the room.

  "Oh, Mother," Romilly wailed, crumpling and throwing her head into Luciella's lap, "Do I have to marry that- that-" words almost failed her, but finally she came out with, "that great slug? He is like something with a dozen legs that crawled out from under a piece of rotten wood!"

  Luciella stroked her hair gently, puzzled. "There, there, child," she murmured, "It will not be so bad as you think; why, didn't you tell Dom Alderic that a horse should not be judged by his ugly coat? Dom Garris is a good and honorable man. Why, at your age, I had already my first child, and so had your own dear mother, Romy. There, there, don't cry," she added helplessly, and Romilly knew there was no help for it; Luciella would never defy her father. Nor could she. She was only a girl and there was no escape.