Read The Iron Castle (Outlaw Chronicles) for Free Online

light from a pair of trees holding good beeswax candles. Lord de Burgh stood by the fireplace on the far side of the hall, feeding scraps to an enormous gyrkin, a black-and-white spotted falcon two feet in height, that perched on his arm. The bird looked at me with flat, black eyes over a viciously curved beak, and then returned to gobbling flesh from its master’s hand. Lord de Burgh looked across the hall, appraising me from my boots to my brows in a manner similar to that of the bird, and in a similar silence. He wore a long black woollen robe with sable at the collar, gathered at the waist by a leather belt decorated with seed pearls, and observed me with dark-brown eyes, closely set above a long nose. His hair had once been black, but was now flecked with grey and white, and his broad moustache and beard were similarly speckled. With all this, his beak-like nose, the cruel stare and the jut of his body, he looked extraordinarily like the bird on his gauntleted fist.
    After three leisurely days on the roads of Normandy, sleeping under the stars, laughing and joking with Little John and the Wolves, and getting to know them a little, I felt suddenly unnerved to be in an elegant castle hall in front of a fine Norman lord. I knew I did not look my best: my hair was disordered and dirty, and I wished I had taken the time to get out of my stained travelling clothes. My hose were marked with spatters of dried mud from riding and my only warm cloak was tattered at the hem. I had not even thought to wash my face and hands.
    Beside me Kit was openly gawping at his surroundings, and in a most unfair flash of anger, I wished that my old squire Thomas, a wondrously efficient young man, was still with me.
    ‘You might have reminded me to change my clothes,’ I whispered to Kit.
    ‘I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t think. It’s all so new and confusing.’ The boy looked set to weep. ‘I’ve let you down, sir; we’ve not been here a sennight and I’ve already shamed you.’
    ‘Shh! Hold your tongue.’
    Lord de Burgh was beckoning us over to the fireplace.
    I crossed the room and bowed low before the Constable of Falaise and said, ‘My lord, I am Sir Alan Dale, a knight in the service of the Earl of Locksley, and I present myself to you, at his orders, and those of the King, bringing an augmentation to your garrison.’
    I tried surreptitiously to smooth my hair and found a long straw stuck in it from the barn we had slept in this last night. I plucked it out and examined it briefly, and as I looked at it saw that my fingernails were black with grime. I swiftly hid both hands and the bumpkinish straw behind my back.
    ‘One of Locksley’s men – ah, that would explain your extraordinary … that is to say your …
Sir
Alan Dale, you said? Hmm. And you serve the King for pay? You are what they call a
stipendarius
? Interesting. Well, I must bid you welcome to Falaise Castle. Tell me, Sir Alan, how many paid fellows did you bring with you?’
    He summoned his falconer, who had been standing in a corner, and handed him the gyrfalcon. The man took the bird gingerly, as though afraid of it.
    ‘Thirty-five men, sir, and Master John Nailor, my lord of Locksley’s master-at-arms.’
    ‘Thirty-five – good, good. I can always use more men. Tell me, Sir Alan, do you like my gyrfalcon? She is called Guinevere.’
    ‘She is indeed a noble bird, my lord,’ I said.
    ‘Isn’t she. First-class hunter. I’ve had her since she was a chick. She will feed from no one but me. A proud but loyal creature, you might even say honourable. Do you suppose that birds can have honour, Sir Alan?’
    I shrugged, and immediately regretted it.
    ‘You don’t? Men claim to have honour – I dare say I would claim a little for myself. And women, too. So why not a bird? Guinevere is a creature of violence, but controlled violence – she kills at my command and at my command only. You might say she chooses to serve me, like a knight. And she does so