William found the courage to protest. He did not deign to look at Odon, but he could almost feel the squire’s grin. “Both merlins are good birds. When they hunt, you will be able to see for yourself that it makes no difference which one you choose.”
Odon grinned even more. He seemed all too sure of his approaching triumph.
“Look, Father, here comes Logan,” said a young girl who was sitting on a pony not far from Odon. William had not noticed her before.
“Welcome, my lord! Sir Reginald.” Logan managed to bow without looking subservient.
“Have you got any more puppies, Logan? May I see them? Please?” the girl pleaded softly, adroitly slipping down from her pony.
Logan glanced at Sir Ralph to seek his approval. “Of course, mistress. William, go with her. Go on, make haste.”
Happy not to have to put up with Odon’s grinning any longer, William ran after the girl, who had already hurried ahead, caught up with her, and threw open the door of the stables. Then he followed her in. The wooden shutters were wide-open to let in the air, and it was hardly any darker inside than outside.
“You can call me Sibylle when my father’s not there,” the girl said in a soft voice, smiling charmingly. “Oh, isn’t he sweet,” she cried, trying to pick up one of the puppies.
“Wait, I’ll show you how to hold them without hurting them.” William put his hand on her soft arm, and Sibylle let go of the puppy. “Put one hand under its tummy, just behind its front paws, and the other under its behind.” He scooped up the little dog and handed it to Sibylle.
“How old are you?” she asked, folding the fidgeting dog in her arm. “What a fine little dog you are,” she cooed to the little bundle of brown fur.
“I was twelve at Eastertide.” William felt as though he had grown a little there and then, so proud was he. He towered over Sibylle, whom he reckoned to be nine or perhaps ten years old, whereas Robert—though almost two years younger—already stood eye to eye with him, much to William’s chagrin.
“Are you friends, you and Robert?”
William felt as though he had been caught thinking about Robert. Two tiny dimples appeared on the child’s cheeks when she smiled. William blushed, then nodded. “Of course we are.” He leaned down to a puppy that was snuffling around his leg, whimpering quietly for attention, and stroked it. “You’re to have the other merlin, aren’t you?”
Sibylle nodded. “But I’d much rather have a dog. You can play better games with them.”
“You can’t play games with a falcon at all,” William corrected her. What a waste, he thought, giving a young girl like Sibylle a falcon!
“I know,” she said slowly. “Perhaps I should get to know falcons properly. Maybe I would like them better. I should come here more often. Then I could play with the dogs, too.”
William nodded, still disconcerted by her clear, bell-like voice. “If your father doesn’t mind.”
“He lets me do more or less as I wish.” She waved her hand confidently. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “But as for my mother”—she shook her head indignantly—“only my beloved cousin Odon can wrap her around his little finger.”
When the stable door creaked open, William jumped.
“Will? We’re to show them the merlins. She’s to come, too.” Without so much as glancing at the girl, Robert went out again.
“I don’t think he likes me.” In place of the dimples, there were now two sad little creases.
“Stuff and nonsense,” William reassured her. “We had a little problem with Odon a while ago, so he’s in a bad temper.”
Sibylle smiled with relief. “I can well understand. I don’t like him, either, although he’s my cousin and I’m supposed to love him like a brother. He’s just too cruel and deceitful. My maid complains about him almost every day. Odon pinches her bottom,” she added in a whisper. “My mother says she shouldn’t make such afuss. An ugly
Odon grinned even more. He seemed all too sure of his approaching triumph.
“Look, Father, here comes Logan,” said a young girl who was sitting on a pony not far from Odon. William had not noticed her before.
“Welcome, my lord! Sir Reginald.” Logan managed to bow without looking subservient.
“Have you got any more puppies, Logan? May I see them? Please?” the girl pleaded softly, adroitly slipping down from her pony.
Logan glanced at Sir Ralph to seek his approval. “Of course, mistress. William, go with her. Go on, make haste.”
Happy not to have to put up with Odon’s grinning any longer, William ran after the girl, who had already hurried ahead, caught up with her, and threw open the door of the stables. Then he followed her in. The wooden shutters were wide-open to let in the air, and it was hardly any darker inside than outside.
“You can call me Sibylle when my father’s not there,” the girl said in a soft voice, smiling charmingly. “Oh, isn’t he sweet,” she cried, trying to pick up one of the puppies.
“Wait, I’ll show you how to hold them without hurting them.” William put his hand on her soft arm, and Sibylle let go of the puppy. “Put one hand under its tummy, just behind its front paws, and the other under its behind.” He scooped up the little dog and handed it to Sibylle.
“How old are you?” she asked, folding the fidgeting dog in her arm. “What a fine little dog you are,” she cooed to the little bundle of brown fur.
“I was twelve at Eastertide.” William felt as though he had grown a little there and then, so proud was he. He towered over Sibylle, whom he reckoned to be nine or perhaps ten years old, whereas Robert—though almost two years younger—already stood eye to eye with him, much to William’s chagrin.
“Are you friends, you and Robert?”
William felt as though he had been caught thinking about Robert. Two tiny dimples appeared on the child’s cheeks when she smiled. William blushed, then nodded. “Of course we are.” He leaned down to a puppy that was snuffling around his leg, whimpering quietly for attention, and stroked it. “You’re to have the other merlin, aren’t you?”
Sibylle nodded. “But I’d much rather have a dog. You can play better games with them.”
“You can’t play games with a falcon at all,” William corrected her. What a waste, he thought, giving a young girl like Sibylle a falcon!
“I know,” she said slowly. “Perhaps I should get to know falcons properly. Maybe I would like them better. I should come here more often. Then I could play with the dogs, too.”
William nodded, still disconcerted by her clear, bell-like voice. “If your father doesn’t mind.”
“He lets me do more or less as I wish.” She waved her hand confidently. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “But as for my mother”—she shook her head indignantly—“only my beloved cousin Odon can wrap her around his little finger.”
When the stable door creaked open, William jumped.
“Will? We’re to show them the merlins. She’s to come, too.” Without so much as glancing at the girl, Robert went out again.
“I don’t think he likes me.” In place of the dimples, there were now two sad little creases.
“Stuff and nonsense,” William reassured her. “We had a little problem with Odon a while ago, so he’s in a bad temper.”
Sibylle smiled with relief. “I can well understand. I don’t like him, either, although he’s my cousin and I’m supposed to love him like a brother. He’s just too cruel and deceitful. My maid complains about him almost every day. Odon pinches her bottom,” she added in a whisper. “My mother says she shouldn’t make such afuss. An ugly
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