CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
A HAWKING PARTY.
"Hooha-ha-ha-ha!"
The cry of the falconer, followed by a whistle, as the hawks wereunleashed and cast-off.
Away went they, jesses trailing, and bells tinkling, in buoyant upwardflight. For the heron that had risen out of the sedge, intendingretreat to its heronry, at sight of the enemy after it, suddenly changeddirection, and was now making for upper air with all its might of wing.
The hawks were a _cast_ of "peregrines" of the best strain. In perfecttraining, it needed no repetition of the _hooha-ha-ha-ha_ to encouragethem; for, as soon as their hoods were off, they had sighted the enemy,and shot like arrows after it.
At first their flight was direct--a _raking off_--but in drawing nearerthe doomed bird it changed to gyrations as they essayed to mount aboveit. The heron, in a phrenzy of fright, uttered its harsh "craigh,"disgorged the contents of its crop, with a view of lightening itself,and made a fresh effort to escape skyward. In vain! The falcons, withquicker stroke of wing, notwithstanding their spiral course, were soonseen soaring over it. Then the foremost--for one was ahead--havinggained the proper height, with spread "train," and quivering "sails,"poised herself for the "_stoop_." Only a second; then down swooped sheat the quarry, "arm" outstretched and "pounces" set for _raking_ it.
The attempt was unsuccessful. Rarely is heron touched at the firststoop. Unwieldy, and sluggish of flight as the creature may appear, ithas a wonderful capacity for quickly turning, and can long elude hawk orfalcon, if there be but one. When doubly assailed, however, by a_cast_, of trained peregrines, it is at a disadvantage, not having timeto recover itself from the stoop of the one till the other is upon it.
So was it with this. In an instant after, the second shot down upon itwith a squeal, the heron again giving out its "craigh," and then thetwo, hawk and heron, were seen clinging together. For this time thebird of prey had not attempted to _rake_ but _bind_; and bound werethey, the pounces of the falcon stuck fast in the flesh of its victim.Then followed a convulsive flapping of wings, the two pairs beatingagainst one another, soon to be joined by a third; for, meanwhile, thefirst falcon having soared up again, once more poised herself andstooped, she also binding to the common quarry.
The aerial chase was now at an end, but not the combat. Unequal as thiswas, the heron still lived; and, when the three should come to earth,might impale either or both its adversaries on that long lance-like beakit but unskilfully wields in the air. To prevent this, the falconerhurried off for the spot towards which they were descending. Slowlythey came down, upheld by the united fluttering of their wings, butreached the ground at length, luckily not far off. And when thefalconer got up he gave out a loud "whoop," signal of the quarry killed.For he saw that the heron was dead, and the peregrines had alreadycommenced depluming it.
Other voices joined in the _paean_ of triumph; one of sweet, silvertones, accompanied by the clapping of a pair of pretty hands. They werethe same voice and hands that on the top of Ruardean Hill had hounded onthe dog Hector in his half-playful demonstration against the donkey.
"I knew my pair of `Pers' would do it in good style!" cried Vaga inexultation, for she was the owner of the peregrines. "Did any of youever see a kill quicker than that?"
The interrogatory was put to a trio of individuals beside her, onhorseback as herself--one of them her sister, the other two Sir RichardWalwyn and Eustace Trevor. There was an _entourage_ of attendants, thefalconer with his helps, mounted grooms, and dogs quartering the sedge--in short, a complete hawking party from Hollymead House. For,notwithstanding his gentle inclinings, Ambrose Powell was no foe tofield sports--rather favoured them when not unnecessarily cruel; and,though rarely indulging in them himself, put no restraint on hisdaughters' doing so. The younger was passionately fond of hawking, andthe elder also relished it in a more sober way--it being then regardedas a proper pastime for ladies.
The hawking party, whose incidents we are chronicling, came off some tendays after the arrival of Sir Richard Walwyn and Eustace at Hollymead;the scene being a strip of marsh with a stream filtering through it,here and there a pool where the moor-hen coquettishly flirted her tail--a favourite haunt of the heron, as of teals, widgeons, and wild ducks.That the knight was still sojourning at Hollymead House need be nomatter of surprise; but why the son of Sir William Trevor had not longere this reported himself under the parental roof, by Abergavenny, mayseem a very puzzle. Its explanation must await the record of afterevents; though; an incident occurring there and then, with speech thataccompanied, may throw some light upon it.
Vaga's question was rather in the way of an exclamation, to which shedid not expect reply. Neither waited for it; but giving the whip to herpalfrey trotted off to where the falconer was engaged in releasing thedead heron from the pounces of the hawks. She went not alone, however;Eustace Trevor having pricked his animal with the spur, and startedafter, soon overtaking her. The other pair stayed behind as they were.
A hundred yards or so round the edge of the marsh, and the two who hadridden off came to a halt. For, by this, the falconer having rehoodedthe hawks, and retrieved the quarry, met them, heron in hand, holding itout to his mistress; as would one, first up at the death of a fox,present Reynard's brush to some dashing Diana of the field.
A splendid bird it was; the white heron or great egret, a rare species,even then, though not so rate as now.
"Give it to the pers, Van Dorn!" she directed, after a short survey ofit; despite its rarity, showing less interest in it than under othercircumstances she might have done. "Unhood again, and let them have it.We forgot to bring the doves for them, and they deserve reward for theway they both _bound_ it--so cleverly."
Van Dorn, a Hollander from Falconswaerd--whence in those days allfalconers came--bowing, proceeded to execute the command, by removingtheir hoods from the hawks.
"Before he surrenders it to their tender mercies, may I ask a favour?"
It was Eustace Trevor who interrogated, addressing himself to the younglady.
"Of course you may. What is it, sir?"
"Leave to appropriate a few of the heron's feathers."
"Why, certainly! The falconer will pluck them for you. Van Dorn, pullout some of its feathers, and hand them to this gentleman. I supposeyou mean those over the train, Mr Trevor?"
"Yes, they."
"You hear, Van Dorn."
Without that the man knew what was wanted; the loose tail coverts somuch prized for plumes; and, drawing them out one by one, he bound theminto a bunch with a piece of cord whipped round their shanks; thenhanded them up to the cavalier. After which he went off to attend uponhis hawks.
There was a short interregnum of silence as the falconer turned his backon them, and till he was out of earshot. Then the young lady asked,with apparent artlessness,--
"But, Mr Trevor, what do you intend doing with the heron's feathers?"
"Pluming my hat with them."
"Why, it's plumed already! and by far showier ones!"
"Showier they may be; but not prettier, nor so becoming. And certainlynot to be esteemed as these; which I shall wear as souvenir of apleasant time--the pleasantest of my life."
There was a pleased expression in her eyes as she listened to what hesaid; still more when she saw what he did. This, to whip the hat fromhis head, pluck the _panache_ of ostrich feathers from its _aigrette_and insert those of the heron in their place. Something he did furtherseemed also to give her gratification, though she artfully concealed it.Reproach on her lips, but delight in her heart, as she saw him tear thedisplaced plume into shreds, and toss them to the ground at his horse'sfeet.
"How wasteful you are, Mr Trevor?" she exclaimed, reprovingly. "Thoseforeign feathers must have cost a great deal of money. What's worse,you've spoiled the look of your hat! Besides, you forget that those nowon it came from a conquered bird?"
"All the more appropriate for a plume to be worn by me."
"Wh
y so, sir?"
"Because of my being vanquished, too."
"_You_ vanquished, Mr Trevor! When? where? By whom?" she asked, atthe same time mentally interrogating herself. Could he be alluding tothat combat in which he received the wound brought with him toHollymead, the story of which had leaked out, though not told by eithercombatant. Or, was he hinting at conquest of another kind?
There was an indescribable expression on her countenance as she satawaiting his answer--keen anxiety, ill-concealed under an air ofpretended artlessness.
"Vaga!"
It was not he who pronounced her name; though "Vaga," with "Powell"adjoined, were the words nearest to his lips. She would have given theworld to hear him speak them. But it could not be then. Her sister hadcalled to her, at that moment approaching with Sir Richard. Mostill-timed approach, for it interrupted a dialogue which, allowed tocontinue, might, and likely would, have ended in declarations of love--confessions full and mutual.