Kestrel's Eye Read online

Kestrel’s Eye

  By Anne Spackman

  Copyright 2014

  By Anne Spackman

  Some days are so peaceful, and the reflection of sun on the fields of grass swaying in the wind looks like glints of gold. He was walking in the flowered meadow, in spring. He bent down, picked a flower, and smelled it. He called to his two short-haired dogs, who came up behind him. It was time to go home.

  He was walking along the road, flanked by hedgerows of tall beech trees and low, squat hawthorn. The sky over England was essentially cloudless, but for a few drifting clouds here and there. He squinted, looking up, and walked on down the rural country road. A common kestrel circled above him and cried out over the area. He stopped and looked at it, shielding his eyes from the sun. He wondered if the kestrel had seen him and the dogs. He felt sure that its keen eye had passed over him, and that the kestrel flew away to escape from the human interloper.

  James Ainsley was a professor of literature at a university in England. He had been living in the same rural town for sixteen years, and was content walking in the countryside every evening before dinner. He loved these walks, and his dogs, who were well-behaved, always came when he called to them.

  As he was walking along on the way home, he ran into a woman on a walk of her own.

  “My, such lovely dogs,” said the woman, noticing his dogs. “May I pet them?”

  “Yes, they’ll let you,” he said, and he had to restrain one of the dogs a bit, as she was trying to jump up on the stranger. “Down, Hera, down!”

  “She won’t bite, will she?” asked the strange woman.

  “I should think not,” replied James. “Though she will lick your face if you get too near.”

  “That’s all right. I only asked as I have been bitten by a dog, and not too long ago.”

  “That’s a shame. These are good dogs, the pair of them—Hera and Zeus. I take them walking every night. They’re good company for me.”

  “I am new to this area. I decided to have a walk as I do like walking myself. It is the best exercise. My name is Samantha, Samantha Taylor.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Taylor,” said James. She looked young, no later than her early thirties, but he couldn’t be sure of her age.

  “And you,” returned Samantha. She had a lovely, mild English accent.

  “I hope we run into each other again,” said James.

  “And the dogs,” said Samantha, continuing on down the lane.

  * * * * *

  James returned to his house and made his tea, sitting in front of the television with Hera and Zeus sleeping at his heels. His sitting room was comfortable, old-fashioned, with woolen rugs and no carpets on the wooden floor. The bookshelves were full of tomes of literature, and the walls were adorned with a few paintings of landscapes and also a sketch of a hawk in flight over the meadow, chasing a small bird.

  James stretched for a bit and retired early. He had work to do in the morning grading essays for the students. And then off to work at the university. It was early June.

  * * * * *

  Later that fall, Professor James Ainsley was amazed to discover that a Ms. Samantha Taylor had signed up for one of his classes on the Romantic Period, though it was clear she was a bit older than the other students at the university. Ms. Taylor sat in the front of the classroom and attended regularly, and was quite opinionated. The poet John Keats seemed to be a favorite of hers, as she could quote from his “Ode to a Nightingale” without looking at the poem itself, and Professor Ainsley noticed that she was a spirited woman, with a great regard for most of the Romantic poets. “Tintern Abbey” seemed to be another of her favorite poems.

  One evening, as Professor Ainsley was walking in the evening, he came across Samantha Taylor at the fence, beyond which were a few older lambs and sheep in the field.

  “How delightful,” said James. “Ms. Taylor, I meet you again.”

  “Pleased to see you, Professor Ainsley,” said Samantha.

  “You seem to have an affection for the sheep.”

  “I do,” said Samantha. “I quite like the wooly little fellows. It puts me in mind of Blake’s “The Lamb”, walking round this way, with all the sheep. I enjoy many animals, but the lambs are so precious, especially in spring. They’ve grown up since then, though. Eat, eat, they enjoy their grass, don’t they?”

  “They do,” agreed Professor Ainsley. “There are far more cattle around here. This field is the only one I know of that has sheep in it in this area. Well, I had best be off. I do have my evening stroll to finish before dinner.”

  “It was nice to meet you again, Professor Ainsley,” said Ms. Taylor. “And tell Mrs. Ainsley hello for me.”

  “Well, I would do so, but I’m afraid there isn’t a Mrs. Ainsley.”

  “Oh,” said Samantha with a surprised smile. “I had rather thought you would be married, and spoiled with hot dinners and homemade jams and such. I’m sorry I presumed—”

  “No harm intended or done,” said Mr. Ainsley. “I just never met any woman who would put up with Byron and Shelley and so on. I am a bachelor, and enjoy my own company. And the dogs’.”

  “Well, it was nice running into you again,” said Samantha.

  The next day at university, Ms. Taylor took a seat, not her usual one, near the door. She listened to the lecture but said little. As he was leaving, Dr. Ainsley stopped by her desk and asked what was the matter.

  “Nothing,” Samantha replied. But she shook her head, tears forming in her eyes a bit, and hurried away from the class.

  Dr. Ainsley was completely baffled by Ms. Taylor’s behavior. He was fifty-two, serious, and not inclined to guess as to what was the matter with her.

  Later that evening, as he was heading home, he ran across Ms. Taylor on the rural country road, and though she initially attempted to turn away from him, she must have realized that this would be rude, and so she turned back around and waited a moment for the inevitable greeting.

  “Ms. Taylor, I was a bit concerned this morning. Tell me, are you feeling all right today?”

  “I’m completely well,” returned Samantha. “I just—can’t say what it is that is the matter. I didn’t think you’d notice me if I sat further back in the classroom.”

  “Well, you are confounding me. Shall I expect you in class again Wednesday?”

  “Yes, of course. I shall be there. I only had difficulty because I feel…” she trailed off. “I must go. Good evening.”

  And with that, she left. Ainsley was completely baffled once more.