“May I help?” Sir Breckton asked. Reaching over, he removed Murderess’s hood and unwound her tether.
With a motion of his own arm, the servant indicated that she should thrust her hand up. Amilia did so, and Murderess spread her great wings, pushed down, and took to the sky. The raptor climbed higher and higher yet remained circling directly overhead. As she watched the goshawk, Amilia noticed Breckton looking at her.
“Don’t you have a bird?” she asked.
“No. I did not expect to be hawking. Truth be told, I haven’t hunted in years. I’d forgotten the joy of it—until now.”
“So you know how?”
“Oh yes. Of course. I used to hunt the fields of Chadwick as a lad. My father, my brother Wesley, and I would spend whole weeks chasing fowl from their nests and rodents from their burrows.”
“Would you think ill of me if I told you this was my first time?”
Breckton’s face turned serious, which frightened her until he said, “My lady, be assured that should I live so long as to see the day that the sun does not rise, the rivers do not flow, and the winds do not blow, I would never think ill of you.”
She tried to hide another smile. Once more, she failed, and once more, Sir Breckton noticed.
“Perhaps you can help me, as I am befuddled by all of this,” Amilia said, gesturing at their surroundings.
“It is a simple thing. The birds are waiting on—that is to say, hovering overhead and waiting for the attack. Much the way soldiers stand in line preparing for battle. The enemies are a crafty bunch. They lay hiding before us in the field between the river and ourselves. With the line made by the horses, the huntsman has ensured that the prey will not come this way, which, of course, they would try to do—to reach the safety of the trees—were we not here.”
“But how will we find these hidden enemies?”
“They need to be drawn out, or in this case flushed out. See there? The huntsman has gathered the dogs.”
Amilia looked ahead as a crowd of eager dogs moved forward, led by a dozen boys from the palace. After they were turned loose, the hounds disappeared into the undergrowth. Only their raised tails appeared, here and there, above the bent rushes as they dashed into the snowy field without a bark or a yelp.
With a blue flag, the huntsman signaled to the falconer, who in turn waved to the riders. He indicated they should move slowly toward the river. With her bird gone, Amilia found it easier to control her horse and advanced along with the rest. Everyone was silent as they crept forward. Amilia felt excited, although she had no idea what was about to happen.
The falconer raised a hand and the riders stopped their horses. Looking up, Amilia saw the birds had matched their movement across the field. The falconer waved a red flag and the huntsman blew a whistle, which sent the dogs bursting forth. Immediately, the field exploded with birds. Loud thumping sounds erupted as quail broke from cover, racing skyward. In their efforts to evade the monstrous dogs, they never saw the death awaiting them in the sky. Hawks swooped down out of the sun, slamming into their targets and bearing them to the ground. One bore its prey all the way to the river, where both hawk and quail hit the water.
“That was Murderess!” Amilia shouted, horrified. Her mind filled with the realization that she had killed Lady Genevieve’s prized bird. Without thinking, she kicked her horse, which leapt forward. She galloped across the field and, as she neared the river, spotted a dog swimming out into the icy water. Another quickly followed in its wake. Two birds flapped desperately on the surface, kicking up a white spray.
Just before Amilia charged headlong into the river, Breckton caught her horse by the bit and pulled them both to a halt.
“Wait!”
“But the bird!” was all Amilia could say. Her eyes locked on the splashing.
“It’s all right,” he assured her. “Watch.”
The first dog reached Murderess and, without hesitation, took the hawk in its jaws. Holding the raptor up, the hound circled and swam back. At the same time, the second dog raced out to collect the downed prey. The quail struggled, but Amilia was amazed that the hawk did not fight when the dog set its teeth.
“You see,” Breckton said, “dogs and birds are trained to trust and protect one another. Just like soldiers.”
The hound climbed out of the water still holding the hawk. Both Amilia and Breckton dismounted as the dog brought the bird to them. Gently, the animal opened its jaws and Murderess hopped onto Amilia’s fist once more. She stretched out her wings and snapped them, spraying water.
“She’s all right!” Amilia said, amazed.
A boy ran up to her, holding out a dead bird by a string tied around its feet. “Your quail, milady.”