Jeanette retired to bed early and curled up in a ball, feeling miserable and trapped – and more determined than ever that she was not going to Gascony. There had to be a way out.
7
Monastery of St Bavo, Ghent, January 1340
In the morning, Jeanette’s misery was compounded when, after mass, a falconer from the mews requested to see her. She recognised Thomas Holland’s man, John de la Salle. He was in his mid-twenties with nut-brown hair and a close-cropped beard that glinted with red.
‘My lady, forgive me for bringing you sad news, but your merlin . . . I found her on the floor this morning.’ He held out a linen cloth folded in four, and drew aside one of the quarters to show her Athena’s cold little body, perfect but lifeless. The chequered brown wings neatly folded, the legs furled, the fine skin closed over her once bright eyes. ‘I am sorry,’ he said gently. ‘I know she was old, but I have also seen your love for her. She was a fierce, true huntress and she lived a good life. I have brought her to you, for it seemed wrong to just sweep her into the midden as though she was nothing.’
Jeanette’s eyes filled with tears. She stroked Athena’s soft breast feathers, and the top of her sleek head. ‘Thank you for your kindness,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘I shall bury her in the garden.’
‘My lady,’ he answered, bowing. ‘Again, I am sorry.’
Hawise saw him to the door and murmured something to him, and he answered softly in return, touched her arm, and was gone.
Jeanette fetched her cloak, and without begging leave of Lady Katerine, or the Queen, who was resting, went with Hawise to bury Athena in the small garden attached to the Queen’s lodgings. She borrowed a trowel from a lay worker, took the linen bundle to a secluded soil bed where the earth was not iron hard, and dug a deep hole. She opened the cloth for a last look and watched the brown feathers stir in the breeze, never to fly again. She kissed Athena and covered her and placed her in the ground, feeling as though she was burying her own younger self; her hopes, her dreams. It seemed like a portent, coming as it did on the heels of the marriage arrangement. Tears rolled down her face as she filled in the hole and the soil covered her little merlin, who had once flown so clean and true, and was now weighted down and grounded.
When she returned to the ladies, the Queen had learned of Athena’s death and extended genuine words of sympathy. ‘We all understand what it is like to lose a beloved companion creature, perhaps one we have trained ourselves, and that we have given our heart. I shall arrange for you to have a new bird from the mews. I know your merlin was especially dear to you and it will never replace what you have lost but you will need to hunt and it is time you move on, as in all things.’
‘Thank you, madam,’ Jeanette said numbly. The Queen was trying to encourage her to think positively about the proposed marriage, but her heart was so raw she did not think she would ever be happy again. Indeed, she felt as if she had buried that emotion with her beloved merlin.
* * *
A week later, on the Queen’s insistence, Jeanette visited the mews for the first time since losing Athena. She was under instructions to choose another bird from those available, and although she was still heavy and sore from the loss, at least it was time away from the bower and all the sewing, gossiping and talk of marriage.
The slatted bars in the door and the window of the mews sent rays of diffused light into the hawk housing and the familiar scent of bird dung hit her, although it was not too pungent, for the mews was kept clean and the sand on the floor changed frequently. In the subdued light, birds sat on perches and blocks, the bells on their jesses tinkling. Some wore hoods and some did not, and perched keen-eyed, or preened their feathers. The falconer John de la Salle was present with a youth, clearly an apprentice. Thomas Holland stood with them, his goshawk Empress perched on his gauntlet, tearing into a gobbet of red meat held in his fist.
Looking up at her entrance, he smiled. ‘The Queen mentioned you were coming to choose a new bird,’ he said. ‘I am sorry about your merlin – it is never easy to lose something you love.’ Quietly, smoothly, he returned Empress to her perch and left her with her meal.
‘I can never replace her,’ Jeanette said with a pang, for this moment was another stage in being forced to let go.
‘Nor should you, but if you wish to ride out to sport, then you must train a new one. I have some skill with birds, as does John here, and I think we may have one for you, but he is still young and he will take a little work. I suspect you are keen for a challenge though.’ Their eyes met briefly before he turned to de la Salle and took a young male peregrine from him. ‘Do you have your gauntlet?’
Jeanette nodded, and pulled out the thick suede glove folded over her belt. ‘He is big for a male,’ she said.
‘Indeed, and well grown. He is coming up to a year old, so he will last you well, but he is still raw at the edges.’
Thomas placed the falcon on her wrist and the young bird danced and bated, wings flapping. Before she could take proper hold of his jesses, he broke free and flew across the mews, straps and bells jingling. Jeanette knew perfectly well how to handle birds of prey. Thomas was looking at her and she was hot with chagrin at her mistake.
‘Bring him back,’ she said. ‘I will be ready next time.’
Thomas took a small, bloody piece of meat from his belt pouch and held it up in his fist. The young falcon launched himself, sailed to his glove, and attacked the meat, gulping it down, eyes fierce. Thomas transferred him to Jeanette, and she gripped the jesses firmly. Thomas gave her another morsel to offer the bird, and when the young peregrine had finished she gently covered his head with the hood Thomas handed to her. The falcon bated his wings, but not vigorously, and she held him and let him settle. As he calmed, something changed within her and settled too.
‘You can have him back now,’ she said to Thomas. ‘I shall return to work with him every day for a little while so we may come to know each other.’
He raised one eyebrow, and she realised, mortified, that he might misconstrue her words as referring to more than just the falcon.
Smiling, he inclined his head. ‘I have my duties – the more so when the King takes his leave – but Master de la Salle will be here if I am not and will assist you at need.’
He gently took the peregrine from her wrist, and although there was no physical contact between them because of the gauntlets, the hair still rose on her nape. They were standing in each other’s space, and she inhaled the scent of his skin. He bowed to her and she gathered her cloak, nodded regally to him,and went outside, where she took a deep breath of cold air to clear her head before returning to the Queen.
Over the next few weeks Jeanette visited the mews every day to spend time with her new peregrine. She pored over books and treatises on training falcons and sought advice from all quarters, soaking up knowledge like moss soaking up rain water. The Queen, a keen handler of hunting birds herself, delighted in instructing her, even visiting the mews to see the new bird and commend her handling. She presented Jeanette with a gift of a supple white suede glove, decorated with a red silk tassel.
Sometimes Thomas was present and sometimes not. Jeanette lived for the moments when he was there. However, the flame of her infatuation, although still intense, was steadier and more grounded now, because they were both focusing on the birds and it was an area of mutual, serious interest and discussion.
‘You are doing a fine job with him,’ Thomas praised as the peregrine flew to her smoothly and settled without bating his wings.
She smiled, and fed the bird a morsel of meat. ‘He is very fine. I am grateful to you and Master de la Salle for all your help and advice.’
