Chapter 4

Amid their cups that freely flow'd,
Their revelry and mirth,
A youthful lord tax'd Valentine
With base and doubtful birth.
VALENTINE AND ORSON.

When Roland Graeme was a youth about seventeen years of age, he
chanced one summer morning to descend to the mew in which Sir Halbert
Glendinning kept his hawks, in order to superintend the training of an
eyas, or young hawk, which he himself, at the imminent risk of neck
and limbs, had taken from the celebrated eyry in the neighborhood,
called Gledscraig. As he was by no means satisfied with the attention
which had been bestowed on his favourite bird, he was not slack in
testifying his displeasure to the falconer's lad, whose duty it was to
have attended upon it.

"What, ho! sir knave," exclaimed Roland, "is it thus you feed the eyas
with unwashed meat, as if you were gorging the foul brancher of a
worthless hoodie-crow? by the mass, and thou hast neglected its
castings also for these two days! Think'st thou I ventured my neck to
bring the bird down from the crag, that thou shouldst spoil him by thy
neglect?" And to add force to his remonstrances, he conferred a cuff
or two on the negligent attendant of the hawks, who, shouting rather
louder than was necessary under all the circumstances, brought the
master falconer to his assistance.

Adam Woodcock, the falconer of Avenel, was an Englishman by birth, but
so long in the service of Glendinning, that he had lost much of his
notional attachment in that which he had formed to his master. He was
a favourite in his department, jealous and conceited of his skill, as
masters of the game usually are; for the rest of his character he was
a jester and a parcel poet, (qualities which by no means abated his
natural conceit,) a jolly fellow, who, though a sound Protestant,
loved a flagon of ale better than a long sermon, a stout man of his
hands when need required, true to his master, and a little presuming
on his interest with him.

Adam Woodcock, such as we have described him, by no means relished the
freedom used by young Graeme, in chastising his assistant. "Hey, hey,
my Lady's page," said he, stepping between his own boy and Roland,
"fair and softly, an it like your gilt jacket--hands off is fair
play--if my boy has done amiss, I can beat him myself, and then you
may keep your hands soft."

"I will beat him and thee too," answered Roland, without hesitation,
"an you look not better after your business. See how the bird is cast
away between you. I found the careless lurdane feeding him with
unwashed flesh, and she an eyas." [Footnote: There is a difference
amongst authorities how long the nestling hawk should be fed