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. . . .
When I got back to the prince's house, there was a huge commotion in the stableyard; Prince Geneir himself was shouting orders. As soon as he saw me, he waved me urgently to him.
"Someone tried to steal that gray of yours, Galwyn." A spurt of fear was quickly masked by the outrage I felt.
"Was the thief caught?"
Geneir gave an exasperated growl, his fingers rattling the hilt of the sword at his waist. "Slippery as an eel, he was, the moment my hostler remembered that Lord Artos's messengers travel alone. That's what the stable lad was told, that you were ready to leave. But the rascal didn't even know which bridle to use, and that made the boy suspicious, so he asked Gren. When Gren arrived to question him"-and now Geneir was as outraged as I- "he vaults to the gray's back and tries to ride him out of my yard, bareback and bridleless. But my guards were alert and the gate was shut before he could leave. Gren said he was off the horse, up and over that wall there." And he pointed to the end of the stable yard where stood a high, vine-covered wall. "I've sent guards after him. He'll not get far."
If the would-be horse thief was Iswy, I doubted that-for the Cornovian was as clever as he was sly. We'd not been able to catch him at Deva for all the watching we'd done.
"What did the man look like? Did anyone see his face?"
Geneir beckoned his hostler, who was still red faced and puffing with indignation over the affair. "Did you get a good look at his face?"
"Aye, and a nasty look he had; raging, he was, at being thwarted."
"Was he bearded?" I asked.
The hostler nodded. "Raggedy-like. Tall as yourself, but skinny. Used to horses, though, the way he vaulted up, bareback and all."
"D'you know him, Galwyn?" asked Geneir.
Grimly I nodded, unable to speak for the fury that almost consumed me. First Spadix and Cornix, then Splendora, and now Ravus. So Iswy had been at Camelot, and he had doubtless been the rider I had seen behind me on the road. Quite likely, he was also the intruder who had kept the dogs barking in his attempt to get at Ravus in the stable.
"It's appalling that a messenger of the Comes should be hindered or attacked for any reason." Then a thought occurred to Geneir. "A Saxon spy?"
"I doubt it," I said, and then hesitated. A man who would deliberately cause harm to the horses he was supposed to value might grasp at other opportunities to do harm to those he hated. I couldn't at all be sure that he did not include Lord Artos in the category, but in my estimation Iswy was evil enough to turn treacherous, too. "No, I doubt he would have the opportunity, but he believes himself ill used in the service of Lord Artos," I said.
Geneir was clearly waiting for more of an explanation.
"He tried to injure one of new Libyan stallions on our way to Deva and was sent off without a character. I believe he was guilty of other attempts to harm the Libyans."
"Ah, a vindictive type, is he?" Geneir touched his temple, nodding with complete understanding. "Never fear, Galwyn. We'll find him, and he won't bother you anymore."
"While your guards are after him, I should be on my way," I said with true regret and some honesty. "I am in Lord Artos's service, and there is another stop I should make to see if there are messages to be carried to Deva." Not true, but Prince Geneir accepted it.
I would have a good start on Iswy even if the Glevum guards did not catch him. And I'd travel by less well used roads so that no one would see me passing.
That is how I made it safely-and speedily-back to the farm at Deva.
I told Teldys of the incidents, and any time the dogs barked at night or the geese honked, someone went out to investigate.
More than a week later, Prince Geneir sent a regretful message that, despite the most diligent of searches, the culprit had not been caught. However, he had been traveling west and south when last sighted. When next Bericus came, unscathed from his latest skirmish with the Irish raiders, I reported Iswy's activities to him as well.
"I don't see Iswy as a spy either," Bericus said, "but I shall certainly warn Prince Cador and Artos to keep an eye out for him."
Part Five
A FEW MONTHS OF CONSTANCLY BEING on guard with no incidents or unexplained alarms, we gradually began to relax. While it was certainly an unchristian attitude, I did hope Iswy's sins had caught up with him somehow, somewhere else. At any rate, I became more engrossed in my training with Canyd and Alun, and in the nurture of the Libyan mares and foals.
I don't know where the time went to over the next few years, but months sped past, season sliding into season-from winter to spring, summer to autumn-and then the cycle of tasks to be accomplished began again.
I studied continually under Canyd, milking him of every scrap of information, determined to transfer his knowledge to my head. Who could know what obscure detail might be of a certain use to Lord Artos? I acquired three new apprentices and found that teaching was the most admirable way to remember, and refine, my own understandings. I fancied myself a good teacher, for my scholars seemed to understand my explanations and my cautions. Particularly about the position of the nails so as not to inadvertently puncture the thin wall of the protective horn and wound the foot with nail bind.
Smiths from distant provinces came themselves or sent other capable smiths for instruction. The farm was so busy that Teldys once complained-though in a teasing manner-that the sandals caused more company than the Libyans. But all were made welcome in Lord Artos's name.
"I dunna know why you keep badgering me, lad," Canyd Bawn said once when I kept after him over a foal's malformed hoof, which we were trying to reshape with the use of a special sandal. "For I tell ye, ye know as much as I do now."
"I'll never know enough," I replied fiercely, keenly aware that what I did know would not save the foal or allow him to gambol with the others in the field.
"Ay, then you've learned the most important lesson in your life," Canyd replied, nodding his head. He patted me on the shoulder. "A good man is what you are, Galwyn."
I only half listened to praise from such an unlikely quarter, because I grieved so at this failure.
"Sa-sa, lad, look at what you have done," Canyd said, waving at the horses being schooled by Rhodri that day, all of them striding out sound and sure in their sandals.
Though I was busy enough at the forge, making sandals and teaching others how to, from time to time I was also called on to deliver messages. That these excursions also gave me a chance to demonstrate the horse sandals elsewhere made the trips doubly beneficial. Certainly the state of Ravus's hooves proved the merit of using the sandals.
Ravus and I made many journeys from Deva to Cam-elot. If I saw Lord Artos at all on those occasions-and I would try to-he would solemnly ask me if I felt I had learned enough yet to come to Camelot.
"I am at your service at all times, Lord Artos," I would reply.
"So you are, good Galwyn, so you are!" he would say, one hand gripping my shoulder with what I liked to think was appreciation.
Once I rode all the way to Londinium with an urgent message for Artos from the princes of the Atrebates and Cantiacii. They needed his reassurance that he and his Companions would help keep the Saxons from moving south into their lands. I was told to verbally repeat the written message. It was an honor for me to do so.
Many of these journeys were not made at the headlong pace that pushed both Ravus and me to our limits. Those more leisurely trips were when we traveled to acquaint someone new with horse sandals. Most frequently, however, I went to Prince Cador's principal residence, for his horses required constant attention and his smith would not take time out from weapons manufacture to forge sandals. He didn't consider them important.