Black Horses for the King

Part Two

THE THIRD AND FINAL VOYAGE WAS THE best and the worst.

The best because Lord Artos put me in charge of the horses on one ship-Bwlch was on the other. I was both proud of the honor and fearful of failure.

The worst because we caught the brunt of a fierce autumnal gale for the first two days. Somehow we, and the horses, survived, though all of us were bruised and exhausted. The horses were barely able to drink water when it was offered them. With tattered sails, our two ships limped up the mist-covered Exe to the wharf.

These crossings to collect the precious stallions and mares had taken us well into the tenth month, and into the misty and often chill weather of the season. So we weren't surprised by the fog.

Some keen-eyed watcher must have spotted us despite the weather and sent word, because we had barely secured the ships to the bollards when Bericus came charging off of the mist-shrouded dock on my Spadix. His long legs stuck straight out in front of the pony so they would not trail on the ground. Spadix snorted and came to a stop just as the last deck plank was removed.

"Thought you might like to see your old friend, Gal-wyn," Bericus called cheerfully, planting his legs on the ground and all but walking straight off the pony. "Besides"-and his grin was full of mischief-"old Canyd won't let any of the Libyans be ridden yet."

"Who's Canyd?" I asked.

Bericus grinned. "He knows all the ails and aches a horse can have and how to cure them."

This latest shipment of Libyan horses, heads hanging down with exhaustion, were not as troublesome coming out of the ship as they had been going in. Of course, Bwlch, Bericus, and I were by now experienced in such transfers, so this one was accomplished speedily. And the men Prince Cador had promised arrived. Each hostler took charge of a weary animal, some of whom were barely able to put one shaky foot in front of the other now they were back on solid ground.

Reins hitched to a nearby bollard, Spadix gave little encouraging nickers. Whatever he said to the poor creatures, they seemed to prick their ears a bit and whuffle softly, as if reassured by both his presence and his comments.

Finally, all the horses were safely ashore and Bericus checked each of them.

"Their legs have stocked up with fluid," he said, not in the least perturbed. "But some rest and liniments of old Canyd Bawn's making will soon set them right." He clasped my shoulder. "You did well, lad. Very well indeed."

His words were salve to the effects of sleepless nights and long watches.

"And I did not?" Bwlch asked in mock outrage.

"I expect it of you, Bwlch," Bericus said, with a grin to take the sting out of his words. "Now let's get these poor creatures to the pasture before they fall down on the hard wharf stones."

I moved to take up the lead rope of one of the mares, but Bericus's big hand on my arm stopped me. He turned me and gave me a little push toward Spadix. "You ride, lad. You're as liable to fall as one of the horses. You'll get your land legs back soon, never fear."

I must admit that I was relieved to be able to ride. The road, ascending steeply from the harbor and disappearing into the swirling mist, looked more than my wobbly legs could handle. I scrambled astride Spadix with considerable relief and took the lead rope of one of the tottery mares.

By the time we reached the top of the steep hill, where we crossed the eastbound military road, the mist had dispersed and the day was bright and clear. The harbor seemed completely resident in another land.

Sighting his field companions, Spadix whickered loudly, announcing the new arrivals. They answered by charging up to the fence to see who was approaching. Horses are curious herd animals and like to do things together. Once again, I was taken with a surge of pride to be part of Comes Artos's great dream.

No dream creatures these, pawing at the ground and pressing their broad chests against the restraining rails. These were solid reality. The foals born to them next spring would be just as fine.

The newcomers, who had wobbled courageously up the hill, now cocked their ears forward, appreciating the audience and glad to be back in the herd that they had formed since leaving Septimania. They even stepped out more surely across the road, sensing the end of their long and momentous journey.

Prom the small shelter built inside the pasture, several men emerged to greet and inspect the new arrivals. I noticed one man in particular, his one shoulder badly crooked, perhaps from an old injury. His angular face wore a slight smile and his eyes a measuring gaze as he looked from one weary horse to another. Or, to be precise, he looked at their legs. Shaking his head, he returned to the shelter and came out again with a bucket.

"They be worse than t'others," he said gloomily to Bericus, who was bringing in his charge, the fourth of the stallions, Victor.

"They are, but I've every faith in your ability to set them right, Canyd."

"Whyn't you bring 'em to me in good shape, and then we'd be on our way out of here?" grumbled Canyd.

I watched as he ran a gentle, knowing hand down the sweaty stallion's shoulder. Then he hunkered to examine the swollen legs. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he rose, his eyes on Victor's deep chest and wide barrel. Lightly he ran his hands everywhere, as if making sure the stallion would recognize him ever after from his touch and his soft "Sa-sa-sa."

Victor brought his head up, twisting it around to follow Canyd's progress. When the old man came forward again, his hand held flat under the stallion's nose, he placed both hands on the horse's muzzle and blew into his nostrils, a trick I had seen my father's head groom do with new animals. Victor had the scent of the man now.

Canyd went from one horse to the next, checking them over carefully, his tongue continually clicking or making soothing sa-sa noises. I was fascinated by his manner and method; so were the horses, who seemed to recognize him instantly as someone who would do them no hurt.

"All right," he said finally, coming back to his bucket, which I saw held cloths soaking in a liquid. It had an astringent smell to it. "Gather 'round, ye louts. Y*ought by now to know how to tend these poor legs. I want every one of 'em stooped, properly, now. And I'll do this fine lad."

He looked up at brown Victor, smiling to himself in approval.

"What're you standin' about for, lad? Get busy," he said, nodding at me and then at the nearest mare. "Nestor, Yayin, Donan, have at it, an' let's make these poor storm-tossed beasties comfortable."

So I fell to with the others, my own weariness sloughed off with the need to tend my charges.

While I bathed the swollen legs of Dorcas, the mare I had led, Spadix wandered off, grazing here and there until he found a patch of ground that met with his approval. He dropped to his knees with a huge groan, threw his head down, and began to roll backward and forward, rubbing his backbone against the ground to ease his muscles.

I heard Canyd's soft chuckle. "Worth a gold ring for every full turn he makes. Worth a lot, that 'un."

Spadix got to his feet again and shook himself from nose to tail. His exercise completed, he fell to grazing as if that had been his prime object in the first place.

Myself, I wondered if a good roll on the hard ground would help the unsettled feeling I still had: that a ship's deck was rocking beneath my feet. Once or twice I had to grab at the mare to steady myself. At least she had four legs to prop herself on: "One in each corner," as Solvin, my father's old hostler, used to say-generally about a horse that he felt lacked any other redeeming quality. Dorcas was so enjoying having her legs bathed that she didn't even notice my grasping.

"Now, lad, that'll do for her," Canyd said, startling me because I had been concentrating on my task and also preventing myself from rolling onto the ground. "There's a fine cold stream at the end of the pasture, an' later you can stand her in that. The steeping will take down the filling in short order."

I saw that the others had finished and were assembled by the brazier in front of the shelter. Bericus joined us there.

"I've lodgings for you and Bwlch in the village," he said, clapping me on the shoulder again in a most friendly fashion. "And a hot meal, which you certainly deserve. Soon enough you'll take your turn as sentry here, but now get your pony. I doubt you'd make the trip on your own legs. Bwlch's swaying like he's in a high wind, and you're not much better."

I flushed, deploring my weakness, but his hand tightened briefly on my shoulder and I could see the concern in his eyes.

That was when I noticed the narrowed gaze of a slightly built lad not much taller or older than myself. He was staring across the brazier fire. A Cornovian: His glance was surly, his narrow head cocked to one side as he appraised me, and his thin mouth turned down in a supercilious sneer. I was to learn shortly that his name was Iswy. My first impression of him was of a sly and devious fellow, envious of any attentions that he did not get to share. I never had occasion to change my opinion when our tasks put us in closer association. Then Beri-cus gestured for me to follow him, Bwlch only too grateful to come with us.

Perhaps it was Iswy's hostile attitude, or maybe the return into the concealing fog that had not yet been burned off by the morning sun, but I felt apprehensive as we walked down the shrouded way. The fog closed in behind us and I shivered.

As we neared the wharf again, the mist on the water was thinning, but my apprehension increased-as if Iswy's glance still followed me. Several times I looked around furtively at the people passing us on their daily tasks: a baker with his tray of bread, some fishermen with heavy creels, a tanner trotting along, the hides of his burden strapped to his back.

"What do you expect to see over your shoulder, Gal-wyn?" Bericus asked good-humoredly. "That uncle of yours?" When he saw my startled reaction he added immediately, "Ah, lad, I'm to see that he doesn't trouble you for any reason. You're one of us now, you know."

"I'm at your side as well," Bwlch said so staunchly that I relaxed.

"Fog makes me nervous, too," Bericus added, and then guided us into the next thatched building.

From the smell of old beer and wine, I knew the ground floor acted as taberna though it was empty at this time of the day, save for a slave sweeping the floor. Bericus led us to the stairs on one long end, and we could hear a confusion of voices and much clanging of pots coming from the kitchen annex. The loft was divided into rough sleeping quarters, and it was into one of the two front ones that Bericus led us. Eight pallets of straw laid on rough bedsteads limited our walking space, but Bericus made an expansive gesture.

"Take your pick and I shall keep anyone from disturbing you until you've slept yourselves out." With that he disappeared.

Bwlch dropped to the nearest bed, stuffing the bag of his belongings under it before he lay flat on the mattress. He gave a huge sigh and, I think, was asleep in the next instant. I was equally glad to lay myself down, although I could not compose myself quite as readily for sleep as Bwlch had. The bed, too, rocked under me, and probably rocked me to sleep as well-for I heard nothing until Bericus roused us to eat our evening meal.

"But I should have stooped the mare's legs!" I cried, sitting bolt upright on the straw.

Bericus and Bwlch both laughed, and I saw two others beyond them smiling at my confusion.

"All done, and to Canyd's close satisfaction," Bericus said. "Tomorrow is soon enough for you to take up your duties. We've a feast tonight-the coin I gave the landlord should ensure one-to celebrate the safe arrival-"

"Safe? When we lost the foal…" I began, conscience-stricken.

"Galwyn"-and Bericus put his hand on my shoulder to stem my denial-"he has no idea, has he, Bwlch"- and he grinned at the other Companion-"how well he did to bring so many safely ashore? No, lad, to lose only one is well indeed. Even Prince Cador was amazed at our good fortune. And envious of our fine herd!"

"As well he should be," Bwlch said, and then we all bustled down to the inn, where rough trestle tables had been set up with a fine meal upon them, roast suckling pig and three capons, as well as mounds of vegetables and loaves of bread.

"Eat hearty, Galwyn," Bericus urged. "Travel food is not such as this, and we've a long journey to Deva."

I followed his advice and gorged myself until I thought I would burst. I did not, however, eat until my stomach overflowed, as did Decius Gallicanus and the sour-faced Cornovian Egdyl the White; I knew this was the custom at feasts, a remnant of Roman habits.

The two beakers of well-watered wine that Bericus fixed for me probably accounted for the reason I was able to sleep not three hours after rising from a daylong rest. Cheerfully he advised me to sleep as deeply as I could, for I'd be camping out from tomorrow on.

CAMPING OUT WOULD HAVE BEEN no problem to me, had it not been for the attitude of Iswy, Decius, and Egdyl. Very quickly they made it obvious to me that I was merely a horse boy now, and the lowest of that lowly rank.

"Here, you boy," Iswy said as if he were my superior. "Shovel up these droppings."

"He can help me carry water to the footsore," Decius spoke up, probably thinking that as the older man, he had a better right to dispose of my time.

I shrugged. I was quite willing to do either task, and I looked for guidance from Canyd.

"Give him one job or t'other," Canyd said. "Tho' it's your horse who made the pile, Iswy," he added, and dismissed me to assist Decius.

Their attitude became even harsher on those days when Bericus took me to help him with errands, as if I weren't working just as hard with the Companion as I would have under Canyd's orders. At that, I would have much rather stayed on in the camp to watch Ganyd's way with horses-for he was uncanny. Every single horse, Cornix included, would come when he called. He would stand by his bucket of lotion and they would approach, waiting patiently while he examined them daily, from poll to tail. And all that after each groom had already checked his charge at morning feed.

The droppings of the newest ones were very loose after they began to graze. Of course, at this time of year grass had not the nutritive value of, say, the first vernal growth, but it was juicier than the dry hay that we supplied them at night. Canyd inspected each pile in the field, checking for worms, the remedy for which was a clove of garlic mashed into their crushed oats.

"It's the new grass, the new water, as upsets their innards," Canyd told me. "So far they've all come around, even the mares in foal. I'd some worry for them, making such a wild trip an' all. But they be sturdy. Their feet are good, too."

"Feet?" I exclaimed, since the conformation of the animals was most notable in their deep chests and barrels, the bones of their legs.

"No foot, no horse," Canyd said.

I confess that I stared for a moment at the man, suddenly recalling Lord Artos using the same words. So here was the man who wanted to put an iron rim on horses' feet. I knew, of course, that it was necessary to be sure no stones or thorns were stuck in the frog of the foot, and I'd carved myself a little prod for just that purpose. But a sandal of iron for a horse?

"'Tis not just stones y'kin worry about wi' fine horses." He beckoned me to the nearest mare and pointed at her long hoof. "See?"

I tried to see what he was pointing out to me but did not until he tapped on and traced with a gnarled fingertip a slight ridge on her horny hoof. "That's a growth ring. She had a bad year then but it's growing out. We'll see that none other grows in."

I stored that bit of knowledge away, as I was storing practically every word Canyd said. If I was to be of use to Conies Artos, I had to learn all I could about the care of his Libyan horses.

WHILE THE LATEST ARRIVALS were getting their land legs and accustoming their stomachs to the good British grass, there was much to do in preparation for the journey.

Bericus patronized merchants in both the village and the larger town near the old Roman fort, established at the first ford of the River Exe, well beyond its navigable reaches. Bericus had the use of one of Prince Cador's horses, and I rode Spadix on the outward journeys, though the pony was often laden with supplies on the way back, with me walking at his head.

Bericus knew a great deal more about provisioning a long land journey than I did, though I had helped my uncle bargain for ship's food in many Gallic ports. Bericus was also a soldier, so it was legion fare for which he haggled with his chain of gold rings. We would be eating wheat spelt, which was cheap and in good quantity at this time of the autumn.

I noticed that Bericus was most particular about the oats he bought for the horses, running his hands through the sacks to check the dustiness of the grain. Too much dust, and a horse could develop a bad cough. He demanded the best of the tanners' wares, too, for we had to be sure the halters were sturdy enough to control our charges. Each of us would ride one and lead one, with pack ponies for our provisions.

Then, knowing that I stood up in all my possessions, Bericus found an oiled cape and a thick woolen tunic for me. Gone were the days when I worried about the fall of my tunic or what color to dye my sandal straps. The leggings and sandals that I had bought for myself in Burti-gala showed few signs of wear yet, so I thought myself well provided for. I did use a quarter of the second ring Tegidus had given me to pay a carter who was traveling to where my mother and my two sisters were living, near the fort at Ide, to carry a letter to reassure them. I had no illusions about my uncle's kindness. Out of spite, he was as likely to tell them that I had drowned at sea as he was to admit that I had bettered myself in the entourage of Lord Artos.

While these forays gave me a respite from Iswy's snide remarks and Decius's notion that I should help him with his share of the chores, I had also to deal on my return with the envy such excursions caused. Egdyl then began to order me about, too.

"The fire needs tending, boy," Egdyl said when I had just settled myself at the hearth for an evening meal the others were already eating. "Lively, now."

The man had exactly my uncle's manner and I could feel myself resisting.

"You can reach a log from where you sit, Egdyl," Canyd said, and motioned for me to stay seated. He handed me my bowl of soup and a bannock of blaanda bread.

Ignoring me completely, Egdyl, Decius, and Iswy talked about friends at Prince Cador's farms, frequently lapsing into Celtic. I may have been taught to speak a purer Latin than they, but I could follow the Celtic as easily, though I acted as if I could not. Once or twice, Iswy would mockingly slip in a phrase I customarily used. He had also taken to mimicking me, echoing the words I'd used in questions to Canyd.

My father had always taught me to bide my time instead of making abrupt judgments of either men or horses. The months with my uncle had taught me other lessons: how to survive as the lowliest of the crew, and how to recognize bullies. The long happy weeks with Lord Artos had sufficiently restored my self-esteem so that I would not, could not, return to the wretched, bullied existence I had endured on the Corellia and be the butt of jokes and the recipient of spite. I had no idea how I might reverse Iswy's opinion of me-if, indeed, I could-but it was obvious that I would suffer his unfriendly attentions the entire way to Deva. That did not suit me. But I had to be careful how I called him to task, or I would suffer the loss of Bericus's kind interest.

The others who made up the twenty-man escort of the black Libyan horses were the sort who would get on with any job of work that was set them: Five were soldiers of Conies Artos's legion and chosen for their skill in horsemanship. Six had been lent by Prince Cador for the same reason. Canyd Bawn was the Comes's man and had come down from Deva especially to help the fine new steeds travel. He had brought with him three men. They were not unfriendly but they sat somewhat apart from the other two groups, who were more apt to mingle than the Devans. I was neither fish nor fowl: not high enough in rank to intrude on the Companions, nor naturally included with any of the others.

However, I came to the conclusion that it was Canyd whose goodwill I needed most. Gaming his respect would mean strict attention to his orders about the care of the horses. He was not the sort who bantered with others around the campfire, where he, like I did for another reason, listened intently without comment.

By the end of the first week, Bericus was eager to start the journey, but he had to wait until Canyd would allow the horses to proceed.

"They're fine animals, sir," Canyd said, cocking his head. "But that mare, now, she's a touch colicky with the strange grass scratching her belly. I wouldn't want to start the journey with her liable to come down. Wouldn't do for her to tie up her guts …"

"But when they're colicky, you walk them. Why not walk them out on the journey?" Bericus asked.

"It's not only the lass I worry about, sir, but yon stallion-Victor, you call him. He hasn't settled to his food and nothing pleases him. No condition back on his bones yet, and that's not good for a long journey either, not when we'll be changing grass and water holes every night. It's a long way to Deva from here."

"We can take hay from here and feed him that on the road," Bericus suggested.

Canyd raised one gnarled finger in warning. "As well to wait a day or two more and see him settled than go through all that rigamarole."

"It'll be a long-enough journey, and the weather none too clement this time of the year…"

"True, true," Canyd said, nodding affably. "A day or two more is all."

Bericus sighed but was obviously bound by Canyd's advice. Then he cast me a significant look, nodding toward Spadix, and when it occurred to me that this was Sunday, I understood. We mounted, and some distance farther on the road were joined by Bwlch, also on his way to the little church in Isca. There, I am sure, all our prayers were to have a safe journey-soon!

If, on my return, I caught snide looks and remarks, I had retained sufficient joy from the mass to ignore them. I would have thought that some of Cador's men were Christian, for there were many monasteries in Cordovici, though I remembered some talk around the campfires about how many had divorced themselves from Roman ways when the legions had not come to our assistance.

WE PREPARED TO DEPART two days later, at dawn, gathering for the last time around the fire, our gear all tied and ready. Bericus unfolded a parchment map, tilted it toward the light, and glanced at me, for he knew that I had been taught to read. By such an action, sadly, he left me open to more jibes by those who could not.

"There are forts and villas along this road where we will be welcome," he said, one finger pointing the direction we would take. "We will not always have to sleep out, but always"-and he paused, looking around at everyone-"always the safety of the horses is the first priority. We have over three hundred millepassus to go, and Lord Artos has allowed three weeks to accomplish the journey, barring accidents." Again he gave a keen glance of his pale eyes around the circle. "We will have no accidents." The response was hearty from most of his listeners, though I caught Iswy's sly look and the skeptical one that Gallicanus gave Egdyl. The three men from Deva-Nestor, Yayin, and Donan-looked far more optimistic, but they knew the road, having just traveled it to Isca.

The journey to Deva would certainly be less dangerous than our way from Burtigala to Septimania down the wide Garuma Valley, for we would be among our own people, people who had good reason to wish Lord Artos's project to succeed. That, I was sure, did not quite keep Bericus from worrying about those who would like to acquire such fine animals for their own.

"Now, I will assign you your mount and your lead for the first day. We may shuffle these assignments about"- and here he grinned-"as we discover each other's capabilities. The mares with foals afoot are to be led, and so is that black demon of a stallion Lord Artos is so fond of." Bericus's grin broadened. He shot an amused glance at those who had been favored by the stallion's fractious manners. Only Canyd had been able to do much with him. Now Bericus turned to me. "Galwyn, you'll lead Cornix from your pony, for I've seen him trot as placid as a mare in Spadix's company."

Once again, and without meaning to, Bericus had made me the butt of envy-though, at that moment, I could feel my chest swell with pride to be given such a position of trust. I glanced at Iswy, whose black look made me shudder. There were murmurs of surprise. Difficult as the stallion was, it was still considered an honor to attend the beast.

"Galwyn led him often enough on our journey from Septimania when the Comes did not ride him," Bericus went on by way of explanation.

"And what if the beast smells a mare in season on the road?" Decius Gallicanus asked. "Is the boy strong enough to hold him?"

Bericus grinned back. "No man is strong enough to hold that fellow when he wants to do otherwise. Even Comes Artos had his hands full."

"I've a bit he will respect," said Canyd Bawn, in his reedy voice. "Not that any man would object to having his mare served by such like," he added with an amused snort. He winked at me. "Lad, I'll show you how a yank or two will change the mind of that diabolus about pulling away from you."

I was more than grateful for such consideration, and heaved a sigh. Leading the black stallion would be hazardous, but with Spadix's calming influence, I was reasonably confident I could manage him.

I only half listened to the other assignments. "We pull out at dawn," Bericus said in conclusion, and dismissed us to our duties.

AT DAWN, A CHILLY AUTUMNAL rain began, which augured ill for the journey and made me doubly grateful for the oiled cloth cloak. I could also have used one of the broad hats that Prince Cador's men had, to prevent the ram from trickling down the collar and my neck. The rain had a dampening effect on Cornix, who plodded along beside Spadix as meek as a sheep. I had no need to use the heavy metal bit that Canyd had managed to set between his jaws. It was a wicked-looking thing to my eyes, with a jaw-breaking gag and a port that would bear up against the roof of his mouth-if I jerked hard enough on the lead rope-to give him something painful to think about. I got so I hated to force that atrocity into his mouth.

We proceeded at a pace that even Victor could manage. Our passage churned the eastern road out of Isca into a thick mud that forced us to go at a slow walk. We'd not cover many stadia in such treacherous going at that pace. I was thoroughly miserable, and my thighs were rubbed raw by the wet pad on Spadix's back.

"Perhaps the going will get better," Nestor remarked when we paused for Bericus to pry clay and stones out of the off-front foot of the stallion he was riding. '"Specially when we reach the old paved road." He paused. "I doubt we'll get there tomorrow. It's some eighteen mille passus beyond Isca. After that, it's north toward Lindinis, and we'll have good road all the way from Lindinis to Aqua Sulis."

I'd heard of Aqua Sulis, a big fortified town, from the traders who stopped at my father's villa. It had been a Legion fortress and was supposed still to have hot baths, which the Romans had deemed essential to a proper lifestyle. There had been many fine villas nearby. I wondered if we'd be lucky enough to pass a night at one. And if, considering how I would be taunted by Iswy, I'd have the courage to take a hot bath, were one offered.

We plodded onward until the winter's early dusk caught us, far from the first stopping point on Bericus's map. So we camped in a dense copse of trees, near a small stream. There each of us had to wash the legs of our mounts and, under the scrutiny of Canyd, check for tendons strained by the muddy going and be certain the hooves were clear of any pebbles that might cause lameness. One or two of the mares seemed to have a little heat in their legs, so Canyd brought out his arnica lotion, which could reduce swelling and heat.

One of the three men from Deva-Nestor, a thin little man with bowed legs-was also the cook. He carried enough dry wood in one of his many bundles to heat the thin vinegary wine that legionnaires drank, but we ate our pease porridge cold. I found that dish quite tasty, though the others grumbled. Then we rolled up in our blankets and got such sleep as the conditions allowed. I think I did better than most, having got accustomed to sleeping on the stormy decks of cold ships. I had also reacquired land legs and the ground under me no longer had even the slightest rocking motion.

More pease porridge in the morning, but there'd be rabbit for dinner. Nestor had laid snares the night before, having seen signs of rabbit, and his traps had caught four. Not to be outdone, Iswy brought down five plump pigeons with his sling during the morning. He was incredibly accurate, and he took every opportunity to show off his prowess, even shooting down small birds that had no value for the pot at all.

Though we had other rainy days, we never ate cold food in the evening again. The rivalry between the different groups over supplying the kettle became a matter of honor. As the youngest member, I didn't get the choicer bits, but I wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of hearing me complain. Occasionally, I was also able to contribute. One evening, I gathered apples from a deserted orchard we passed. And another day, I found cress by a fast-moving stream and nuts windlost from walnut trees.

Whenever we passed a stretch of water that was banked by willows, Canyd insisted that we pause long enough to strip bark from the saplings.

" 'Tis hard enough to come by when it's needed," he said. "The trees be soon asleep, so this is the last chance this year." Carefully he rolled the bark into a wallet he kept for that purpose. "Grand for fevers, it is. Sovereign remedy for aches and pains."

I should comment here that, although we met few travelers on the road, those we did meet were amazed by the size of our horses. And envious. But the sight of Prince Cador's armed men, as well as Bericus's casual mention that Comes Artos owned the horses, dissuaded anyone from trying to part us from our mounts.

In fact, several small parties of traders asked to join our band for safety's sake. Raiders from Ireland were not uncommon in this area, and one elderly trader remarked bleakly that he had moved westward since the Saxons had raided too often and too close to Eburacum for his peace of mind, much less any profit. Morning and evening, he also continually increased the number of gold rings he offered Bericus to purchase one of the Libyans. He ended up offering a staggering price for one of the foals if none of the mares would be sold him- though he also complained he would have to wait three long years for his purchase to be worth what he was giving.

We had to pass three days at Corinium when the youngest of the stallions, the one we called Paphin, was kicked by a mare he tried to mount. Once again, it was Canyd's potions that set him right. I was fascinated by Canyd's fund of knowledge. Old Solvin would have listened as closely as I.

Paying attention to the old man's "sermons"-which is how Iswy sneeringly referred to Canyd's descriptions of the treatments-did nothing to ingratiate me with the others.

ISWY WAS AN EXCELLENT RIDER, as tight to the back of his mare as a limpet to a ship's hull. He had good hands as well, and certainly a feel for a horse, but riding was his obsession: preferably having a chance to back every horse in our cavalcade. He especially wanted a chance to ride Cornix, because no one else had.

I didn't quite realize how desperately he wanted that chance until I overheard him pleading with Bericus. I was returning from a call of nature when his voice, raised in supplication, drifted toward me.

"The horse needs to be ridden, Lord Bericus," Iswy was saying in a wheedling tone. I ducked aside from the path so as not to be seen listening. "Lord Artos would want him to be ridden."

"Lord Artos will do whatever riding that horse needs, Iswy."

"But I can stay on anything." The nasal whine of Iswy's scratchy voice must have annoyed Bericus as much as it did me.

"That may be true enough, Iswy, but I have specific instructions from Lord Artos, and Galwyn will continue to lead him."

"I could do that as well, Lord Bericus."

"Your offer is appreciated, Iswy." Bericus was obviously moving away from him, because his voice became less distinct.

There was a silence while I stood motionless, lest Iswy know that I had overheard his humiliation. Then he began a flow of soft cursing such as I had never heard before-vicious, promising vengeance from pagan gods on the high and mighty Lord Bericus for denying Iswy his simple request.

I crept back into the camp shaken with apprehension by the malice in his words. I had no doubts at all that he would try to do something irrational and perhaps dangerous, but I did not know what to do about warning Bericus.

I doubled my vigilance, sleeping that night near Cor-nix's end of the picket line.

I observed nothing unusual. The next morning, however, Spadix's near foreleg was swollen to the knee and he would not even put his hoof tip to the ground. I couldn't imagine what he could have done, for he had been sound the night before. He was such a sturdy pony that he was the one least likely to have leg trouble. As I raced for Canyd, seated by the fire with his porridge, I caught just a glimpse of Iswy's face-and the malicious smile on it.

I faltered in my headlong dash for Canyd, suddenly realizing that even that clever man would be unable to cure my pony before we had to be on the road again that morning. Exactly what Iswy wanted. I would not be able to lead Cornix from a seat on Spadix, so the animal would have to be ridden. And Iswy was acknowledged to be the best rider of us all.

"What is it, lad?" Canyd cried, looking up from his porridge bowl.

"Spadix." And I tugged at Canyd's arm. Maybe he had something heroic to cure my pony. "It's his leg. Swole up like a wasps' nest."

"It is?" Canyd rose in one swift movement, putting his bowl aside as he did so, surprise and confusion on his face.

"Oh, come quickly. He won't even put his toe to the ground." I pulled on Canyd's thin wiry arm.

"Easy, lad, easy," Canyd said, patting my hands to ease their grip on his arm. "I'm comin', I'm comin'."

Spadix was beyond Cornix on the picket, and his swollen leg was visible as we approached.

"Sa-sa, lad," Canyd said, touching Spadix's rump with a gentle hand as he moved in beside him and crouched by the filled leg. "Sa-sa, now what have ye don' to yurseP?"

"He didn't do anything, Canyd. It was done to him!"

Canyd paused hi his examination and squinted up at me. "It was, was it? This pony's that tired he swole his leg up so as not to lead out Cornix today?" And Canyd winked at me.

Astonished, I was speechless as I watched the wise hands gently press against the leg. Spadix nickered low in pain and tossed his head nervously. I went to his head and began stroking his muzzle, murmuring my own "Sash's to reassure him. I was proud of being part of those tending Lord Artos's marvelous horses; but Spadix was mine, and his injury, as spiteful as it was, distressed me more than I thought possible. Before my father's heart had failed him, I had had the best ponies money could buy, but I had never felt the kinship with them that I felt for this shaggy plebeian fellow.

Canyd kept up his "Sa-sa" while he felt more deeply hi the leg, felt the hoof itself; and then, with his head practically on the ground because the swelling hi the fetlock prevented the pony from tipping his hoof, he looked at the underside of it.

"Hmmmm"-and Canyd pressed both thumbs hard on the frog. Spadix did not react to the pressure. "Not hot. Not sore. That's good."

Spadix nodded his head vigorously, as if agreeing. Canyd continued his careful examination: the outside of the hoof again, up to the coronary band; and there, his knowing fingers stopped.

"We didna' go through thorny bushes, did we, lad?" he asked, of the pony more than of me.

I shook my head vigorously. "We were on roadway all day and I checked his legs last night as I always do. His and Cornix's. He was sound last night, Master Canyd, he was sound." I tried not to let my voice break but it did, and then a gentle finger prodded me.

"Did I say 'twas your fault, lad? Nay. But…" And he set his thumb and forefingers carefully to pulling a triangular thorn from the flesh beside the sesamoid bone. With narrowed eyes, he peered at it a long moment and then pushed it at me.

"How could-I mean, it just doesn't-!" I exclaimed, examining the wicked triangle.

"Indeed, lad, an' how a clever-footed pony like this 'un could possibly get such a thorn in his leg is beyond Canyd's understanding. We won't talk about that now. Sa?" He cocked his head at me in a cautionary pose. Winked again. "Now get me hot water, my bag, an' some bran from the sack. We must poultice it to draw the infection." His voice followed me as I ran to do his bidding.

Had I encountered Iswy on my way I'm not sure what I would have done to the fiend. And he was supposed to be such a great horseman! No real horseman would deliberately injure a horse. Or a pony.

We had the poultice wrapped around the swollen foreleg when Bericus came over to inquire what was wrong. I started to rise, to blurt out my suspicions, when Canyd pinched my leg so hard I had to grab Spadix's good leg to keep from tipping over.

"Bad?" Bericus asked Canyd, who nodded solemnly. "What?"

"Thorn." And Canyd gave a diffident shrug.

"Wouldn't you know!" Bericus sighed, glancing at me-but not in an accusing sort of way: more as if this delay were one more trial to be overcome. Then he strode back to the fire, murmuring to Bwlch.

"Why couldn't I speak?" I demanded of Canyd. "He'll think it was my fault."

"Bericus won't. He knows ponies. He can also figger things out hisself, you know." And Canyd chuckled.

"How would he know it was Iswy did this?"

"How do you?" Canyd asked, his eyebrows reaching up his forehead into his thick white hair.

"I heard him. In the woods, asking Bericus to ride Cornix. But Bericus refused him. I heard Iswy cursing and promising that he'd get to ride the stallion one way or another. So he has lamed Spadix on purpose, so I can't lead Cornix. And no one can lead him from a mare. Nor the other stallions. Not Cornix."

"Aye, lad, you've the answer."

"And what about Spadix?" A sudden fear coursed through me. I almost wailed as I said, "We can't leave him behind."

"True."

"It'll be days before Spadix can walk! And Bericus won't wait on a pony!" I had never been so afraid for another living creature, not even during the roughest days crossing the Narrow Sea, when I had worried so about the foals.

"Now, lad"-and Canyd took my hand in a firm grip of gnarled fingers, waving the index finger of his other hand in my face-"how do you know what a great lord like Bericus will or will not do?" He straightened up. "There, an' I've never knowed the bran to fail me."

By the time Canyd and I had returned to the fire, Bericus had come to a decision.

"How long before the pony'll be sound, Canyd?" he asked.

"Two, three days. Ponies is tough."

Bericus sighed again. "Much as I hate to leave you, lad, we've got to move on today," he said, and I nodded, feeling a numbness; but I really did understand. "We'll leave you provisions and you can follow at your own pace. It's a good road all the way to Glevum from here. And you're sure to catch up with us before Bravonium, or by Virconium at the very latest." He put one hand on my shoulder and gave me an encouraging shake. "We must make good time while we have the weather."

"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.

Occasionally another rider would pass close enough to the cart to hear these lessons, and he'd roll his eyes sympathetically. But I did not for a moment consider Canyd Bawn's words boring.

That first evening, Canyd drew sketches in the dirt near the firelight, delineating the bones and tendons of a horse's leg.

"That's all they is, bone and tendon. For all it's the most important part of a horse, there's little flesh. Lose the foot and you've lost the horse."

I grinned at his repetition. He had a variety of phrases expressing the same truism. But I was also impressed by the masterful way his knifepoint depicted each separate part of the whole.

"When we get to the farm, I can show you. I've saved a leg and a hoof to illustrate what I mean." And now he laid a finger alongside his nose. "Like I thought, big horses like them 'uns are going to need special care. For their hooves. No hoof, no horse."

I grinned again but said I looked forward to seeing a leg and a hoof-though I didn't then realize what he meant.

We would all be glad to reach the end of this journey, for the weather had turned raw, with sleet showers more frequent, as well as frost liming the grass in the mornings.

Then, coming out of a fold of the hills, we could see the road running straight to the walled city of Deva.

"About a thousand souls or so," Bericus replied when I asked him how many lived there. I caught my breath at the thought of so many people living in one place, fortified against raiders as it was. "But we go east, to the farm"-and he pointed with his riding stick. "No need to go into the city at all."

I was disappointed not to have a chance to wander through a place of that size. I knew it had been a legionary fortress and its stout walls had been repaired many times.

"Don't worry, lad, you'll have a chance to see the city later," Bericus said to console my obvious chagrin. "If only to hear mass."

The Devan group among us now stretched their mounts' stride in an effort to reach home by darkness. Spadix could trot with the best of them, and all the Libyans seemed infected by the excitement of their riders.

WE ARRIVED AS DUSK was settling, but we had been seen on our approach through the lush pastures where cattle, ponies, and horses grazed. The geese who were penned during the day by the main gate honked and flapped their wings, telling all who hadn't heard that there were visitors. Mylather had also used those birds as nightly watchguards: I had scars on the calves of my legs to prove their diligence. Here there were also three big mastiffs, chained to the wall by day. These were let loose at night but knew who should and should not be about the enclosure at odd hours.

I was surprised by the extent of the farm, for the main buildings, like the city, were stoutly walled against intruders. But then an establishment of its prestige would have to be secure from all but the most insistent attacks. Inside the thick walls there were many buildings, including a long low range of stables and barns, as well as cots for the farmworkers. The villa that would house Comes Artos on his visits was extensive, and it was several weeks before there was any occasion for me to enter it. On those rare occasions when I did enter, it reminded me too much of the home I had lost. My uncle had taught me well the humility required by my reduced state, and I would never forget those lessons.

THERE WERE HAPPY REUNIONS for the Devan riders, much time spent examining the fine Libyans by torchlight and lantern. I thought I was seeing double, for a man as like Canyd Bawn as two leaves of the same tree-save for having two sound shoulders-was weaving in and out, stroking each of the Libyans in turn, as if introducing himself to them. Having done so, he gave orders that the horses must be immediately settled. Then there would be time enough to exchange news and have the evening meal, which our coming had interrupted.

"Is he kin to you?" I had the chance to ask Canyd as I led Cornix and Spadix into the great barn.

"Own brother," Canyd said, his tone hovering between pride and irritation. "Rliodri. He trains the horses, while I keep them sound for him to do so."

I remembered then that Lord Artos had spoken of this Rhodri.

Cornix and the other three stallions were housed in their own barn, with the three pony stallions already standing at the stud.

"The stalls are big enough, lad," Canyd said, waving me to lead both stallion and pony inside. "Take whichever one on the left is free."

I had no sooner swatted Spadix on the rump to enter the stable-for where the pony led, the stallion would easily follow-then I heard a shout.

"What are you doing, idiot?" A dour-faced man rushed down the aisle toward me, brandishing his pronged wooden hay fork. "Such a spavined, ring-boned, misbegotten-"

"Not so fast, Teldys," Canyd said from the entrance. "Unless of course you want this fine new stall in splinters."

Teldys grounded his hay fork with a thump, looking from me to Cornix, who was now trying to pull free to join the pony in the stable.

"Ah! Like that, is it? And this is that so-special stallion Lord Artos bade me take extra care of?" His eyes wandered appraisingly over the black Libyan. "Well, I suppose we can see our way clear. Good job we made it larger'n usual. In you go with him, lad … What'dyou say your name was?"

"He's Galwyn, pledged to be Artos's man," Canyd replied before I could open my mouth.

"Is he good enough for this black demon," Teldys asked, "since he and his pony know the beast so well?"

"Aye. You don't have to watch him to be sure he does what you tell him," Canyd said, nodding his head approvingly. "But see for yourself. Don't take my word for it."

"As if I'd ever argue with you, you old coper." And a smile lit the man's solemn features.

I came to learn that Teldys, who was Lord Artos's stallion man, actually had a merry temperament; it was just that the bones of his face were long and the flesh on them seemed to be pulled down to his jawline, giving him such a dour look. He had a quick infectious laugh that you couldn't help grinning at. And he listened. An admirable quality in anyone, as I discovered. I was quick to notice that no one argued with him and every one of the men moved hastily to perform the duties he assigned them.

"So, Galwyn, bed your charges down for the night, now we've finally got us all home where we belong." Canyd winked at me before he turned away to settle Paphin.

When all the horses had been properly bedded, we were taken into the farm kitchen and fed an excellent hot stew with fresh bread, which, I must say, I had missed on the road. And there were pears as well as apples to eat. Not much fresh fruit had come my way since my father had died.

I didn't mind that I was assigned a cot with the other unmarried men of the farm, and a peg for my scant clothing. The bedstead had a pallet of fresh straw and a good woolen blanket, and I could have slept anywhere that night and not heard the snores around me.

Thus began my service on Lord Artos's farm near Deva.