Black Horses for the King
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Black Horses for the King». Краткое содержание книги:
After his father's death, young Galwyn Varianus is apprenticed to his uncle, who puts the boy to work on the high seas. But horses, not ships, are Galwyn's passion. Luckily, a passenger aboard, Lord Artos (later to rule as the legendary King Arthur), is bound for the great horse fair at Septimania. Risking his life, Galwyn abandons his uncle to serve the gallant leader. Galywn's calming way with horses quickly impresses Lord Artos and his men. But what no one expects is how crucial Galwyn will be to their upcoming battles--as he masters the secrets of the iron shoes that will protect the exotic horses' delicate hooves. . . .
"I understand, Lord Bericus."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Iswy's smug expression, and I drew in a deep breath to steady myself against the hatred I felt for him.
And so I had to watch as the camp was cleared, packs secured to the ponies, the mares and stallions bridled or haltered. I stood holding Spadix's lead rope. I tried not to look in Iswy's direction, not to see the triumph on his face when he was given the stallion to ride.
But it was Bericus himself who stood at the stallion's side for a leg up.
I held my breath, for although I knew that the Companion was a very good horseman, he was not the master that Comes Artos was. The stallion jibed under him, bucking in place at the unaccustomed weight on his back, snorting and arching his neck, trying to pull against the reins. Finally he moved out, still snorting and sidling. I really shouldn't have taken note of the apprehension on Bericus's face. Nor noticed the way Bericus tucked his long legs as tightly to the stallion's sides as he could. I think that was part of the trouble; the rider was saying "go" when he meant "no."
They had no sooner got to the head of the column than Cornix squealed, got his head down, and bucked. Three mighty heaves of his big frame, and Bericus was sprawled on the ground.
Someone tittered. Both Canyd and I looked in Iswy's direction but he had his head turned away.
Cornix did not run off, as everyone seemed to have expected; for immediately they had spread out to catch him. He trotted back the way he had just come, ears pricked, and then stopped to stretch his neck toward Spa-dix, beside me. He whuffled as if asking why Spadix was not moving out. I quietly caught the trailing reins.
Bericus was shaken by his fall; dusty but not hurt. There was a rueful expression on his face as he brushed himself off and came back for the stallion.
"Iswy!" he called, taking the stallion's reins from my hand, and I shivered with the unfairness by which Iswy had got the ride. "Let's see if you can stay astride. Unless anyone else wants to try?" And he grinned as he glanced about the circle of men.
"He won't stay up either," Canyd said in a low voice meant only for my hearing.
"He won't?"
Canyd chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. "Watch."
Boldly, and with a very smug smile on his face, Iswy ignored the helpful hand Bericus held out and, gathering the reins in one hand, vaulted neatly to the stallion's back. The stallion flicked his fine ears and shifted his feet, but he stood there. I groaned softly, disappointed in Cornix's loyalties. Decius brought up Bericus's customary mount and gave the Companion a leg up. I heard what could only have been a sigh of relief from the man, and then he gave the order to move out.
Iswy guided Cornix in behind Bericus's horse. As he did so, he shot a self-satisfied glance over his shoulder at me, standing by my poor lame pony.
He got no more than a few lengths from us when Cornix abruptly twisted, dropped his shoulder, and sent Iswy plowing his length in the dust. Canyd contented himself with a snort but I had to turn away so Iswy couldn't see the breadth of my smile.
The look on the Cornovian's face as he sprang up from the roadway was vicious. As he followed the stallion back to Spadix, I saw his hand go briefly to the slingshot looped over his belt.
"Easy now, lad," Canyd said to him in an urgent low tone, for Iswy had tried to grab the stallion's reins in a vindictive manner.
But Cornix could take care of himself, and he moved sideways-just as Iswy lunged for his reins a second time. Swift as a serpent, Iswy put his hand on a faggot of wood left for me by the fire, and he brandished it at the stallion, who merely flung up his head and backed.
Bericus caught the upheld wood from Iswy's hand and then flung it far away.
"If I ever see you …" Bericus's face tightened with anger. "Take the sack by Galwyn's feet and get on your way. You are dismissed from service."
"But-but-" Iswy protested, screwing his face up and dropping to one knee.
Canyd reached down for the sack and tossed it deftly to Iswy's bent figure.
Bericus swung his right leg over his stallion's back, dropping to the ground in a fluid movement. Grabbing Iswy up from the dust, he pushed the sack into his hands and spun him about, shoving him off in the direction we had come.
We all watched silently as Iswy, head bowed in dejection, walked slowly down the road. Once he turned, hand raised toward Bericus, hoping for a last-minute reprieve; but even Decius and Egdyl regarded him with hostility.
When the small figure had reached the roadway and disappeared from view, Bericus turned to the others.
"Set up the camp again," he said, heaving a gusty sigh.
I felt worse than ever and hung my head, but Canyd gave me a shake.
" 'Tis not you, lad, but that black devil who's called the turn of the die. I've seen it afore with highstrung animals." And he walked away, shaking his head at such whimsical behavior.
WE CHANGED THE POULTICE twice that day in the hopes of extracting the poisonous humors from
Spadix's leg. I brought him the best grass I could find, and some clover for Cornix, which he liked especially. When no one was looking or in hearing distance, I stroked the stallion's neck and told him what a very clever, loyal friend he was.
Midafternoon, Bwlch burst back into camp, just ahead of a farmer and a heavy two-wheeled cart drawn by two stout ponies.
"We've only to get the pony into the cart-he'll fit, I know!" Bwlch exclaimed, his face flushed with delight in his solution. "And the farmer has agreed to take us down the road until Spadix can walk out himself."
The farmer seemed overwhelmed by all the excitement, open mouthed, digging the toes of his worn sandals into the dust. But when it came time to bargain for his services and the use of his cart and the ponies to draw it, he miraculously recovered his wits.
"For all I've to do at m'farm, an' none but me to do it, good lord…"
Bericus attempted not to look so pleased at this encouraging answer, and the bargaining lasted a long time, with me holding my breath for fear that the farmer would be too greedy, and for fear that any price would cost Comes Artos more than my pony was worth, even if Cornix would not move out of his company. Then hand smacked hand and the deal was concluded.
Fortunately the back of the cart could be removed and now formed a ramp, which Spadix gamely hobbled up in response to my ardent encouragement. He then looked around from his vantage point, hi mild surprise to find himself on a level with the bigger horses. I had to perch on an uncomfortable corner of the cart, but Cornix led like a lamb, just as long as Spadix was nearby. We proceeded in this fashion for three days, until the swelling had subsided and Spadix was able to put his foot to the ground.
I don't know who was happier to see the last of the farmer and his heavy cart: myself, Bericus, or Spadix.
THE BEST PART OF those three days was Canyd's company, for the old hostler decided to ride with me. I believed I'd asked a simple question, like why Spadix's leg had swollen only to the knee, and I was suddenly being taught the construction of the leg and the hoof.
"Without a hoof, you've no horse, lad."
There was no longer any doubt in my mind that Lord Artos had been quoting old Canyd that night on the way to Burtigala.
"Care for then- feet," he went on, "an' ease the tiredness of their legs, an' you've a horse to carry you. 'Tis the foot that carries the pony an' you."
I got interested, as much because it was a way of passing the slow hours of our marching as because I found that I wanted to know more. Old SolvLn had said that horses would teach you something new every day of your life and you'd never get to know all there was to learn of them. If any came close to such total knowledge, it was surely Canyd.