such beasts were much in demand, for the mechanicals baited there were always of a very poor quality. Jack was determined to make the finest that the gamblers of Suffolk had ever wagered upon. Originally it had begun as a way of earning enough money to set himself up in business elsewhere, but now he had succeeded Master Dritchly, his heart was no longer in that dream and he decided to let the others complete what he had started.
Adam and Henry were delighted. At that moment, however, they were both too busy with their own little schemes to take on Jack’s unfinished bear. They were adding the last touches to a pair of tin hawks which they believed were finally ready for a first trial flight. Standing at the edge of the manor’s wide lawn, they made last-minute adjustments and cast professional glances over each other’s creations.
Adam’s was a faithful representation of a goshawk, with neat talons forged from steel and a deadly-looking hooked bill. The tin feathers had been painstakingly coloured in grey and black, according to the drawings in Master Dritchly’s bestiary. But Henry’s was hopeless. He had painted it a garish blue on the top, while underneath it was a striking red with yellow stripes.
“I’m calling her Quicksilver,” Henry announced.
Adam resisted the temptation to point out that in all of the ludicrous colouring, there wasn’t a patch of silver anywhere. Instead he said, “The wings are too large – she’ll be too strong. If she were any bigger she’d be an eagle. You didn’t follow the plans properly, did you?”
Sporting a shapeless straw hat to shield his eyes from the sunlight which blazed through the painted panes of the firmament, Henry lifted the brim so that his friend could observe the rude face he was making. “Privy slop!” he scoffed. “You’re starting to sound like Hummy Hum hisself.”
“The diagrams are there to keep animals in proportion,” Adam insisted.
“Who cares any more? I don’t see why the birds or beasts I make can’t be stronger and brighter than the real things were. Neither you nor me ever saw the genuine articles so I don’t see why you get so priggy about it.”
“You might as well make giant mice then,” Adam retorted.
Henry hastily pulled the hat back down over his face and hid the knowing smirk which had suddenly appeared. “Least I got the eyes right this time,” was all he said.
Sitting at Adam’s feet, Suet the piglet looked up at him. Since that night when the boy had added Lantern’s gift of black ichor to its internals, the little creature had idolised him and, whenever possible, followed him about like an adoring puppy. Every time Adam went for a walk, Suet squealed in the piggery to be let out, then trotted happily at his heels.
Donning thick leather gauntlets, the boys laid the inert hawks on the backs of their hands and carefully pressed the small Wutton crests they had set on top of the birds’ heads. There was a rattle of tin feathers as the creatures clicked into life, the tiny ichor vessels bubbling inside each one. Strong claws gripped the leather-clad wrists as they scrabbled upright, spread their metal wings for balance and jerked their heads about.
Seeing the hawks shake into being, Suet sprang up and started running in circles about Adam, snorting with excitement. The boy raised his hand, then flung the hawk high into the air.
Furiously, the mechanical wings flapped and up the goshawk flew, soaring over the lawn. The piglet bolted along beneath until Adam called him back.
“Look at that!” the boy breathed, greatly pleased with himself. “She flies perfectly. The best set of wings I ever made.”
Screwing up his face to watch the bird’s progress against the scant-rendered clouds, Henry gave an impish snigger and let his own creation loose.
The garish Quicksilver shot away, flying swifter than even Henry had anticipated or hoped for, and he went rolling back in the grass, hooting with pleasure.
“How’s that, Coggy?” he crowed. “She’ll outstrip yours in no time.”
Up and up the gaudy bird ascended, cutting through the air like an arrow. Within moments it reached Adam’s goshawk and the boys heard a chime of metal as the tips of their wings brushed together. Briefly, the two mechanicals flew side by side, heading out over the woodland, skimming the tops of the trees. Then Quicksilver sped onwards, dashing faster and higher, rising in an arching curve to match the underside of the buttressed firmament above.
“If she’d a fork of lightning up her tail she couldn’t go better,” Henry called, clapping his hat over his heart. “Oh, Coggy, don’t it make you green? Yours flaps like a roast goose next to mine.”
Adam had to confess that he was impressed. Quicksilver’s speed and agility were incredible. Viewing his own goshawk wheel almost lazily above the trees, he wondered if adhering to the principles laid down in the diagrams was such a good idea after all. Henry’s brilliantly coloured bird was exhilarating to watch. It catapulted itself from one side of the estate to the other, then suddenly down it swooped – plunging with frightening velocity.
“Henry!” Adam shouted. “She’s falling like a stone.”
Ramming the hat back on his head, the other boy stared at the blur that was Quicksilver, rushing unerringly towards the outlying woods. “What’s the matter with her?” he groaned. “She’ll dash herself to bits.”
Through the tin feathers of his hawk’s wings the wind went rattling as down she plummeted. Then at the last instant, just before she disappeared below the topmost branches, Quicksilver gave a piercing cry and rocketed over the trees, straight and level – the momentum propelling her faster than ever.
“She’s headed right for my goshawk!” Adam murmured. “She’s going to attack!”
Her talons outstretched, ripping up the tips of leaves in her bolting progress, Quicksilver went racing after her chosen prey. She would share the confined space beneath the firmament with no other and for Adam’s bird there was no escape. There was a crunch of colliding metal as Quicksilver cannoned into her target, knocking it from the sky.
The goshawk spiralled down, but Henry’s aggressor snatched it up, and even as she flew over the wood her savage bill went rending and ripping. The cruel talons slashed at those wings which were so much smaller than her own, shredding the delicate creation into ragged strips.
Adam could not believe what was happening, but Henry was jubilant and jumped up and down, punching the air.
“Good girl!” he cheered. “Go on – slice that skinny sparrow to ribbons. Oh yes, Coggy, that is what I call a hawk. Snot and glory – I’m a genius!”
Torn tin scraps rained down upon the trees, the bright splinters glittering in the sunlight and Quicksilver shrieked her victory as vainly as her creator as she circled above the woodland.
Furious, Adam turned on the other boy and thumped him in the chest. Henry stumbled and Adam hit him again until he fell over.
“You did all that on purpose!” Adam yelled. “You put too much red ichor in that monster of a bird, didn’t you? Just so it would attack mine.”
Henry could not help giggling. It had been a marvellous stunt. “Toe cheese!” he snickered. “She’s a beauty and your piddly squawker wasn’t worth keeping.”
“My hawk was accurate – yours is a flying devil. We’ve already got one horror skulking in Malmes-Wutton – now you go make another.” Adam was so annoyed that Suet brushed up against him, then toddled forward and grunted threateningly at the other boy.
Henry laughed all the more.
“It’s not funny,” Adam told him. “You go too far – I can’t even go retrieve all the pieces because Old Scratch is in that wood.”
Propping himself up on one elbow, Henry threw his hat at Adam. “Cease your puling!” he said.
That was too much for Suet. Thinking that his master was