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. . . .
The big mare that I now bestrode was nowhere near as comfortable to sit on as my short-coupled pony, and she had a foal at foot besides. It was a well-grown colt of some seven months, and he would reach up to nip my legs or heels if he felt I was interfering with his feeding. His dam was so broad in the withers I could barely get my legs around her and felt split apart when she trotted. Whereas the mate and his crew would have laughed their sides sore to see me, the Companions' smiles were good natured and not at my expense.
The stallions took much handling and I was glad that I was relegated to riding the more placid tempered mares. The stallions needed the firm hand and strong legs of the Companions to keep them under control. Bwlch and Bericus were considerable horsemen, the other Companions hardly less so. But Lord Artos was their superior, sitting lightly balanced on Cornix's black back, swaying slightly from the hips while the stallion cavorted or reared or bucked as it shied at the slightest unusual object on the track. He was well named, for like the raven, he was often without a foot to the ground, half in flight from some imagined terror.
Sometimes I think we traveled farther sideways and backward than forward, and yet we made good time on the return trip. Perhaps because we knew the way now, and its various hazards, and so could avoid them.
Once again, it was the conversations of the evening and the singing that entranced me. Bericus had a good tenor voice. Often Lord Artos would ask him for a special melody or song. On board the Corellia, I had forgotten about the music we used to have; my father and mother had kept a sweet-voiced slave who played the lyre while we dined with guests. The work chanteys that Gralior's men had sung as they hauled up sail or worked the capstan bar were coarse and repetitive, not truly music to my ear.
One of the mares bruised her foot on the rough gravel of the next-to-last pass we had to traverse. We had to wait a day, standing her in the cold running water of a stream to ease the soreness.
We spent a lot of time hanging about watching her when all the other tasks an open-air camp requires were done.
"No hoof, no horse," Lord Artos said at one point, grinning broadly at Bericus, who raised his eyes heavenward.
"Eh?" was Bwlch's only response to this cryptic remark.
"And what'll old Canyd say about these hooves, Artos?" Bericus asked.
"Oh, him?" And Bwlch dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. "He's not been on at you about those iron sandals of his, has he, Artos?"
"The subject comes up periodically," Lord Artos said.
"We'll have to travel fast over all kinds of ground. I meant to ask Paphnutius if he knew anything about such devices."
"Too late now," Bwlch said philosophically. "Though I saw no horses at Septimania with rims."
"Rims?" I asked, curious. I had never heard of the term in connection with horses.
"Iron costs money," Lord Artos said with an indifferent shrug.
Then the companions who had been hunting for the evening meat returned, and I heard no more about such sandals.
BY THE NEXT DAY, the mare could walk out well enough for us to continue.
On a fine bright warm afternoon, we came down out of the hills on the track past the farm where I had bought Spadix, and we saw Burtigala Port in the distance. I could just make out the masts of ships at anchor, and suddenly dread returned to me: What would I do if I encountered my uncle?
My anxiety deepened as we came closer to the town. Mounted as I was on the tall mare named Splendora, I could see over the heads of pedestrians, and I scanned the ships for the familiar lines of the Corellia. To my intense relief she was not in port.
Then there was the business of settling the horses for the night and taking up residence in the same inn that Lord Artos had patronized just weeks before. Again my talents as interpreter were needed to assure us of proper accommodations and a good evening meal. Landlord Ercus, undoubtedly remembering how well Lord Artos had treated him before, was all-obliging. I wanted to know but could not bring myself to ask the man if the Corellia had docked recently.
THE NEXT MORNING I was up at the crack of dawn, peering down through the mists that swirled up from the sea; but there were no new ships tied up at the dock. Somewhat heartened, I went to the field with grain to feed the horses before anyone else usurped the task. I had them all watered and fed before a sleepy Bericus arrived.
"Ho, Galwyn, you deserved to lie and get your growth sleep," he said, ruffling my hair. "You've no need to do more than your share of the work. Have you a mind to join us for mass?" he asked.
"Of course," I said with enthusiasm. In a town as large as Burtigala there would be a place for Christians to worship, but as long as I had been on board the Corellia I had never dared ask my uncle's permission to attend mass.
The church was small and dark, and the priest mumbled the Latin. I think he was somewhat nervous about having such fine lords in the congregation that morning. I had to keep reminding myself of my good fortune as I made the proper responses.
During the rest of the day I was too busy to worry about my uncle. Prince Cador had requisitioned two fat sloops in which the Comes could ship his all-important mares and stallions across the Narrow Sea. The ships awaited our arrival. Both were half again the size of the Corellia, far newer and better maintained. The sails were not patched, the lines looked fresh and showed no splicings, the paint on the hulls had recently been scrubbed, and there probably wasn't a barnacle anywhere underwater. Their masters had also, according to instructions from Prince Cador, made certain preparations for this special cargo. The deck planks had been removed above the cargo area, which was just deep enough to accommodate Cornix, the tallest of the Libyans, and wide enough for four or five horses. They would be loaded head to tail, side by side, so that each would be cushioned by its mates against the roll and yaw of a rough sea. The inside of the hull had been padded with straw-filled mattresses as another safeguard against injury. The horses at least would be spared the wind and weather on deck and, with any luck, arrive unscathed at their destination.
We had some time, I can tell you, getting the horses into this area. As the most placid of the five who were to be loaded in the first ship, Spadix was hoisted in first. During that operation, he whickered nervously, despite my shouts of encouragement from where I stood in the well of the ship.
"Easy, Spadix, that's fine, I'm here. You're not in danger!" I shouted, though I felt that/was in some danger. If the belly sling slipped, then Spadix would come crashing down on me. Still I didn't let that concern color my voice as I kept reassuring him. As soon as I could reach, I got hold of one hind hoof, then quickly I transferred my grasp to his front legs, stroking them as he settled to the deck, wild eyed, ears pricked, and nostrils flaring in his panic.
"There, lad, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I said, stroking his sweaty neck and gentling him out of his fright.
"Let's not delay, shall we, Galwyn?" Lord Artos called down to me. "We've four more to get in there, and then five in the other ship before dark, you know."
Stepping lively then, I unfastened the sling from Spadix and gestured for it to be hoisted out and away, as I walked the shaky-legged pony to his place against the starboard side of the ship.
The foal came next, and it was paralyzed with fear, so stiff-legged I could barely coax it to walk off the sling. His dam followed, in haste to answer the frightened neighs of her foal. I tied her next to Spadix. The foal pushed in against her, urgently needing to suckle, and she became calmer, although she kept her head up and stared about, wide eyed.