Kestrel's Flight, Chapter 2

Now, Kestrel found himself, far from the triumphant hero, sitting in a corner of his own home, Parula on his lap and Pipit at his side with his grubby fingers wound through his older brother’s curly hair. The adults, including his father, seemed to have forgotten about his rather extensive involvement in the entire affair, and appeared to be entirely preoccupied with easing the stranger back into consciousness. Tea had been prepared for the patient, and the anxious talk of the councilmen had subsided to a fraught silence. Although he couldn’t see the man through the forest of legs before his eyes, Kestrel knew the moment he showed signs of waking because of the ripple of excitement and the revived murmurings of the councilmen. Kestrel’s mother knelt with the cup of tea, once again out of Kestrel’s sight. Nerves and curiosity warred for dominance in Kestrel’s stomach until there was a cough, and a voice like the rustle of oak leaves emerged, “Where am I?”

“In my home, in the village of Marilow, four days ride from the capital…your Grace.” Jaegar’s final words held the hint of a question in them, but nonetheless sent Kestrel’s mind reeling. Your Grace? You mean to tell me this crazed old man assaulting sheep in the Trylythian woodlands is a Duke? Impossible! Kestrel thought to himself.

There was a moment of silence, possibly as the stranger absorbed the information, and then, “I…I remember a boy, where is he?” As they remembered his presence suddenly, all turned towards the corner where Kestrel sat and shuffled back to clear a path to the old man. Depositing Parula on the ground with his brother, Kestrel rose, but stayed where he was, unsure of what to do. Jaegar motioned him forward. The old man looked smaller as he reclined on the floor cushions than he had in the sheep pastures, but he trained the same sharp eyes on Kestrel’s face, “Yes…” He then beckoned Jaeger to kneel down so as to tell him something quietly.

Jaeger nodded and, standing, cleared his throat. “His Grace requests that the room be cleared at once,” Jaeger relayed. Immediately, if reluctantly, the miscellaneous inhabitants of Marilow dispersed, shuffling out of the small house.

“Tell me what happened”, the old man said. Of all the things Kestrel had been expecting to hear, this was nowhere close. Recounting his conquest to the conquered? Was this a test? If so, Kestrel wondered why all the glorious tests of fighting dragons and bandits were part of bygone days. After a subtle nudge from his father, Kestrel awkwardly began to tell the story of the sheep, the man’s crazed entrance, the sheep’s salvation, and finally the journey home. The old man’s face remained placid throughout the tale, eyes brightening momentarily at Kestrel’s mention of the pampa. Color was rapidly returning to the man’s pale, wrinkled face. “That is a shame”, was his only response for a moment.