Talon of the Silver Hawk

He was finished quickly, and as he turned around to find a rag upon which to clean his belt knife, someone threw him one. He caught it in mid-air. A grinning Gibbs was standing before a large block upon which rested a heap of vegetables, which he was cutting with a large knife.

Behind Gibbs, Talon could see other servants cooking meats at one hearth, while others saw to the baking of fresh bread in the ovens. Suddenly Talon was at once overwhelmed by the aroma of the kitchen and by a fierce hunger which stabbed through his chest. For a moment the warm smells shocked him back into memories of his mother and the other women preparing meals.

As his eyes threatened to well up with tears, Talon saw a large door swing aside, through which strode a man. He was of middle years, heavy set with a large belly protruding over his belt – which looked more a horse’s girth than a belt to Talon – breeches tucked into mid-calf boots, and a voluminous white shirt, covered with spatters of food and wine. His face was almost perfectly round, his hair black but shot through with grey and was tied back in a horse’s tail. His long sideburns almost met at the point of his chin. He glanced around with a critical eye and found nothing lacking until his gaze fell upon Talon.

‘You, there, boy,’ he said pointing an accusatory finger at Talon, though his eyes were merry and he had a slight smile on his lips. ‘What is it that you’re doing?’

‘I’ve skinned this deer, sir,’ Talon said, haltingly, for the man was speaking Roldemish. The question snapped him out of his sadness.

The man walked purposely towards the boy. ‘That is something which you have done,’ he said in an overly loud voice. ‘What is it you are currently doing?’

Talon paused, then said, ‘Waiting for someone to tell me what to do next.’

The man’s face split into a grin. ‘Well said, lad. You’re the boy from the barn – Talon – is that correct?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I am Leo, and this is my kingdom,’ said the man, spreading his arms in an expansive gesture. ‘I’ve served as cook to nobility and commoners alike, from Roldem to Krondor, and no man living has a complaint of my cooking.’

Someone in the busy kitchen muttered, ‘Because they died before they had the chance.’ This brought a moments laughter before the workers stifled the outburst. Leo turned with unexpected swiftness, a black look crossing his visage. ‘You, there, Gibbs! I recognize that smart mouth. See to the slops.’

Gibbs stood very stiff and said, ‘But the new boy should do that, Leo. I’m for the serving table.’

‘Not tonight, my glib Gibbs. The boy will stand at the table, and you can see to the pigs!’

As a dejected-looking Gibbs departed the kitchen, Leo winked at Talon. ‘That’ll sort him out.’ He glanced over the boy’s rough appearance. ‘Come with me.’

Without waiting to see if he was being followed, Leo turned and pushed aside the large door through which he had entered. Talon was a step behind.

The room was obviously some sort of servant’s area, with another door in the opposite wall. Large side tables ran along the left and right walls. Upon one table sat a variety of dishes, bowls, goblets, and other table service. ‘This is where we keep our dishes,’ said Leo, pointing out the obvious. ‘If we have a reason, we’ll show you how to set the table for guests.’ He pointed to the other table, which now sat empty. ‘That is where the hot dishes will be at supper time. Lela and Meggie will serve.’

He pushed through the second door and Talon followed him into the centre of a long hallway. The wall facing them was ranged with shelves upon which a variety of items rested: lamps, candles, mugs, goblets, an entire inventory of supplies for a busy inn. ‘Here’s where Kendrick keeps the knick-knacks we need,’ said Leo. Pointing to the door at the lefthand end of the hall. ‘That’s the common room. If we have a caravan stopping by, or a patrol from one of the local castles, it’ll be full of loud, drunken fools.’ He pointed to the door at the right end of the hall and said, ‘That is the dining room, where the nobles and guests of stature eat. Tonight you’ll serve in there.’ He paused and rummaged through the shelves until he came away with a long, white tunic. ‘Put this on,’ he said to Talon.

Talon did so and found the tunic came to the midpoint between his hip and knee. There were drawstrings at the cuff of the puffy sleeves and he tied them.

‘Let me see your hands, boy,’ Leo demanded.

Talon held out his hands.

‘I’m not the fanatic for washing up some are, but you can’t be serving nobility with blood from a skinning under your nails,’ Leo said. He pointed back into the kitchen. ‘Go back and wash. Use the brush to get the blood out.’

Talon moved back through the serving room into the kitchen and found a large bucket of soapy water used to clean the pots and dishes. He saw Lela standing before the wooden table Gibbs had vacated, finishing up the vegetables. He started to wash his hands and she glanced over and smiled. ‘Serving tonight?’

‘I suppose so,’ Talon answered. ‘I haven’t been told.’

‘You’re wearing a server’s tunic,’ she informed him. ‘So you’re serving.’

‘What do I do?’ asked Talon, trying to suppress a sudden nervousness in his stomach.

‘Leo will tell you,’ Lela said with a bright smile. ‘It’s easy.’

Talon inspected his hands and saw the blood was gone from his nails. He returned to the hall where Leo waited.

‘Took you long enough,’ said the cook, raising an eyebrow. Talon was beginning to think that this cook was a lot like his grandfather had been, playful with his scolding, never truly meaning a word of it.

‘Come along,’ Leo said.

Talon followed him into the dining room. It was a long room with a huge table, the biggest the Orosini boy had ever seen. At each end was placed a pair of high-backed chairs, and eight ran along each side. The wood was oak and ancient, polished by years of wear and oil and rags, and it shone with a dark gold, and the stain of a thousand spilled wine goblets and ale mugs mottled the hue from one end to the other. Noting the boy’s expression, Leo said, ‘Kendrick’s table. It’s legendary. Cut from the bole of an ancient oak in a single piece. Took a score of men and two mules to haul it here.’ He glanced up and waved his hand. ‘Kendrick built this room around it.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t know what he’d ever do if he had to replace it. We could cut this one up with axes for firewood, but how’d we ever get another in?’

Talon ran his hand over the surface and found it extraordinarily smooth.

‘A thousand rags in the hands of hundreds of boys like yourself have given it this finish. You’ll have your turn at it.’ Leo turned and surveyed the room. ‘Now, here’s what you’ll be doing.’ He pointed to a long side-table. ‘In a few minutes some pitchers of ale will be fetched in here as well as some decanters of wine, and then you’ll have your work to do. See those goblets?’ He pointed to those already upon the table.

Talon nodded.

‘Some of them will be filled with ale. Others will be filled with wine. Do you know the difference?’

Talon suddenly found himself wanting to smile. He kept his face straight as he said, ‘I’ve tasted both.’

Leo feigned a frown. ‘In front of the guests you will call me “Master Cook”, is that clear?’

‘Yes, Master Cook.’

‘Well, then, where was I?’ He looked puzzled for a moment. ‘Oh, yes, your task is to stand upon this side of the table. This side only, is that clear?’

Talon nodded.

‘Observe the guests before you. There will be six on this side, seven upon the other, and two guests will be seated over there.’ He pointed to the pair of chairs at the end of the table on Talon’s right. ‘No one will sit at the other end.’

‘Six on this side, Master Cook,’ Talon repeated.

‘You will be responsible for keeping goblets filled. Should a guest have to ask for more ale or wine, Kendrick’s honour will be besmirched and I will view that as a personal affront. I will most likely ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you.’

‘Yes, Master Cook.’

‘Make certain you pour ale into those goblets containing ale, and wine only into those containing wine. I have heard that some barbarous people down in Kesh actually mix them, but I find that difficult to believe. In any event, mix them and I will ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you.’

‘Yes, Master Cook.’

He gave the back of Talon’s head a slight slap. ‘I may ask Robert de Lyis to have Pasko beat you just because you are a boy, and boys are annoying. Stay here.’

With that, the Master Cook departed, leaving Talon alone in the room.

Talon let his eyes wander. There were tapestries above the sideboard behind him, and in the right corner of the room as he faced the table was one small hearth. Another lay at the far lefthand corner opposite him. Between the two they would provide ample heat for the long dining hall on any but the coldest nights.

Against the far wall another sidetable waited, and a moment later, Lars entered carrying a huge platter with dressed mutton heaped upon it. In what appeared to be controlled frenzy Meggie and Lela, along with several others he had seen in the kitchen whose names were unknown to him, came hurrying into the room bearing platters of steaming vegetables, hot breads, pots of condiments and honey, tubs of freshly churned butter and trays bearing roasted duck, rabbit and chicken. They ran back and forth bringing new platters until the sideboard was filled with food, including many items unlike anything Talon had seen before. Fruits of strange colours and textures were placed alongside familiar apples, pears, and plums.

Then the ale and wine was fetched in, and Lars remained standing opposite Talon on the other side of the table as Meggie went to the left end of the far table, and Lela went to the right end of the sideboard behind Talon.