A Lily on the Heath 4 by Colleen Gleason Page B

beneath the heavy hood. The disguise was purposeful because in order for her to be relieved of duty to Eleanor long enough to see to her task—and not have to make an explanation to the queen—Judith directed Tabby to respond that she was ill and resting if someone sent for her.
    The last men she saw as she and Piall trotted toward the main portcullis gate were Malcolm and Rike, feinting and parrying in the near corner of the yard. Mal, she noticed with rapt interest, was the only one not wearing a sherte while training this morrow. He was also nearer to her pathway than the last time she’d seen him, giving Judith an excellent view of his tanned, golden skin and slabs of rippling muscle. Dark hair covered the upper part of his formidable chest, and as she rode past, she realized her mouth had fallen partly open and that she was staring.  
    Thankful for the enveloping hood so neither Malcolm nor Piall could see her gawking, Judith closed her mouth and turned her attention so it was focused where it should be: precisely between the upright ears of her mare and the task at hand. But despite her redirection, the image remained in her mind far longer than she preferred.
    Malcolm of Warwick would make a fine husband indeed.
    Once beyond the main gate, Judith kicked her mare into a canter, then a full gallop just for the fun of the moment. The trees streamed by, the air was fresh and scented with something floral, and it brushed over her face, pushing the hood from her head. Her braid worked out from the cloak, bouncing along behind her. But because they had a long distance to go, she reined Crusty into a brisk trot before they’d galloped very far.
    She and Piall briefly discussed the best route to take, with him making the suggestions and her agreeing with his opinion. They should reach the edge of the forest well before midday. Part of their journey would take them on well-traveled roads between Clarendon and the compact fief of Marchmonte, but they would also cross several meadows and skirt the edge of a small forest. As they rode, she divided her attention between the road ahead of them and the sky above, watching for the sight of the graceful birds she sought, swooping and diving after their prey.
    There were two ways to find a new hunter, and each had its challenges and benefits. She could find a young raptor that wasn’t yet flying—an eyas—in its nest, and hope the mother or father wouldn’t be around to attack her. Or she could trap an older bird that was already flying, but that could be difficult to do without injuring it or breaking a feather. Aside from that, trapping could be a losing prospect, for she had no way of choosing which hawk took the bait. If he was too old or not strong or large enough, she could release him. But every time a hawk was trapped, there was the chance of injury to a wing, which would leave the bird vulnerable in the wild.
    True to Piall’s estimate, the sun was high overhead when the tallest trees loomed just ahead of them. Pines, oaks and walnuts stood sentinel at the base of the low, rocky hills. They’d passed several wagons and a small group of men-at-arms escorting a wealthy youngest son to the court at Clarendon; but other than that, their journey thus far had been uneventful.
    But now, as Judith spotted the first nest, high in a cluster of branches, she knew it was about to become more interesting. A thrill of excitement rushed through her as she saw the shadow of a hawk ripple over the meadow next to her.  
    “There,” she said, pointing to a group of trees. “I see a nest there, and another over there. It’s a good place to begin.”
    “Aye,” Piall said, scrubbing his wiry brown and gray beard thoughtfully. “You do not intend to entrap a bird?”
    “First I’ll see what’s to be found in those nests.” Judith was full aware the main reason she wanted to do so was for the joy of climbing the trees. “It’s early in the summer and mayhap they’ll be empty of