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. . . .
"But didn't my message reach you?" I asked, though I did not think she had grieved for me.
It was Lavinia who sniffed again. "Gill the carter brought it but it didn't arrive until weeks after you gave it to him. But we were so relieved, weren't we, Mother? Did you get ours about Flora's marriage?"
"I got that one only eight days ago."
Mother sniffed. "I paid good coin to be sure it reached you in time."
"I'm sorry, Mother, but it didn't. I came as soon as I could. We had to deliver some horses to Prince Cador."
"Prince Cador, is it?" She sniffed again. "And Lord Artos. No wonder my sister's husband wasn't good enough for the likes of you."
"Oh, Mother, you just won't admit that Uncle Gralior is a mean, nasty man," Vinny said, shooting me a glance of encouragement. "Even when your own sister tells you the truth."
Mother made a sound that was so close to Spadix's snort of disgust that I had to cough suddenly.
"Oh, you must be thirsty," Vinny said anxiously.
"Come, we've small beer and a fine soup that Lavinia has made us," Odran said, gesturing for me to settle myself on the bench. "You can stop long enough for that, can't you?"
"I've only a few hours to spare," I said, which was not the truth; but Mother was scarcely welcoming.
"A few hours!" my mother said scoffingly. "And it's years since we've seen you."
"That's because Uncle Gralior would never give him enough time to visit us, Mother," Lavinia said with pointed sweetness. "I'll just slip around and tell Flora that you're here. She worried about you, too, Galwyn."
I loosened the girth of the pony I was riding, wishing that it could have been one of the Libyans, to prove to my mother that I was in far better service now than with that wretched uncle of mine.
Flora, well married and with a child under her apron, wept with joy at seeing me and dragged forward her husband, the local butcher, who had supplied the meat for the stew we then ate. When I realized how eager my sisters were to know all about my recent adventures, I was quite willing to talk. And when I noticed that both Odran and Melwas, Flora's husband, were listening as avidly, I relaxed and began to enjoy myself.
For all her disclaimers, my mother indulged in few of her disparaging sniffs until I mentioned my work with Canyd and Alun.
"It is as well that your father is not here to listen to you prating about smithing." And she made her disdain obvious by looking down her nose at me.
"It is an honest trade," Odran said quickly. "You know how well Ide's smith lives."
That silenced her, but I had had enough. The meal was ended and I could take my leave without giving of-fense to anyone. I said all that was polite to Melwas and Flora, slipping to her the last of my gold rings as a wedding gift. Then I had to promise Lavinia faithfully that I would return whenever I could.
"I don't care what Mother says," Vinny murmured as I tightened my pony's girth. "I think your work sounds fascinating, and you were always fond of horses. And that's proper enough for a Varianus. Do come back anytime you can, Galwyn," she added so plaintively that I hugged her tightly and repeated my promise.
"I can't say when, of course, Vinny-" "I know …" she said, her voice trailing off unhappily, but she was all smiles again when I turned back to give her a final wave.
Yayin was all smiles, too, when he and Firkin arrived at our meeting place. His father was recovering, if slowly. I think he had had the better visit. But we all traveled back with lighter hearts.
NOT A WEEK LATER, I found that I was to start my new profession far sooner than was planned; for just as spring was brightening the grassy meadows and I was coming to grips with the intricacies of my special training with both Canyd and Alun, a message came from Comes Artos. He wanted all four stallions to be brought to him as quickly as possible at Camelot, which was what he had named his new headquarters. He wanted to show the quality of the stallions to those who doubted then1 use in his strategy.
"It says here he's sending a troop to escort the stallions and whatever of the larger mounts Rhodri may have trained and ready. And see here, you're to come." Teldys's thick forefinger tapped at the paragraph. '"The pony and his rider must come, too, if Cornix will not travel without their company.'"
Being sent from Deva also took care of my recurring nightmare: that Iswy would return to harass the Libyans once again, now that the weather was more clement. Then, of course, since I was such a worrier, I wondered if he would learn that the stallions had gone to Camelot and seek them out there.
"Bericus will be leading the troop?" I asked.
"Not likely," Teldys replied. "Don't you remember his last message? That he'll be away this month on service with Prince Cador? The Irish are raiding again."
I had forgotten and, for one moment, was downcast. I had hoped to have the support of Bericus both on the way and hi Camelot.
"But… but…"
"But, but, but," Alun mocked me, smiling to show how pleased he was for my sake, "you'll do well enough."
"But if a horse should lose a sandal…" I protested.
"Who better than you to nail it back on?" Alun clapped me so stoutly that I staggered off balance, while Canyd smoothly caught my arm to restore my footing. "In truth, who else can we send? And you'll know what to do."
"But… but…" I was aghast at such responsibility. It would be my task to see that the priceless stallions arrived sound as well as safe. What if something happened to one of them, despite every precaution I could take?
Teldys held up his hand. "If Alun and Canyd say you're the one to go, you are."
I stopped protesting then. Because even I had to admit that I'd had more training than any of the others, no matter how inadequate I felt myself to be. Still, I was in a state of considerable apprehension, my mind continuing to dredge up, in increasingly horrific variety, all the disasters and accidents to which horses are prone.
Mind you, while they were readying the stallions and the pack animals for the journey, Canyd and Alun added to my apprehensions, battering me with tfs and whens and circumstances and how to repair hooves and which remedies to use for what travel problem.
Then, to my total consternation, Rhodri told me this time I would ride Cornix and lead the pony.
"You're far too heavy now to ride that pony such a distance. And with his short legs, he'd be holding the cavalry to his pace. Not wise," Rhodri said. "Since he's still the stallion's stablemate, he must go, or unsettle Lord Artos's pride and joy. No, you lead him this time."
I was aghast. My ability to stay on a horse had unproved, my reflexes sharpened by the desire to avoid more broken bones. And it was true that I had ridden Cornix from time to time and he seemed to be less fractious with me astride him than others.
"But… but…" Why was I putting up so many objections to having my most private dreams come true: to ride Cornix to Camelot; to see Lord Artos again; to be able to prove how useful I could be to him?
My thoughts were interrupted by a dig in the ribs from the mischievous Yayin, one of the unlucky riders who'd been thrown when trying to school the stallion. "And haven't you always been whispering in that pony's ear to tell Cornix to treat you nice?"
"I never-!" I turned on Yayin in self-defense. He jumped backward, grinning, and I realized he was only joking so I managed to laugh.
"Naw," said Firkin, "he just smears his saddlecloth with that smelly glue."
"That stalh'on knows just how much he can get away with, with Galwyn up," another suggested slyly.
"Not when I'm teaching him, he doesn't," Rhodri said sternly, and the lads pretended to cower before the trainer's displeasure. Then Rhodri put a companionable arm about my shoulders. "The horse trusts you, as you've had the care of him. I'd rather have someone he knows on his back for the journey than any stranger."