Chapter 2: Marc’s Barn
Llawen nosed the pocket of her tunic, and Neste scolded her. “No molasses treats until after practice, you greedy thing.” Llawen snorted, clearly in disapproval. The mare well knew Neste and her groom always carried treats in their pockets. She swung up into the saddle just as Hoel rode up next to her, and stopping so close that his leg brushed hers. The stallion shook his head, jangling the bridle, and Llawen snorted again.
Hoel sat tall in the saddle. The premature gray streaks in his short brown hair gave him a distinguished air, and his deep dark eyes attracted her like a flower did to a bee.
“Bore da, milady,” he said with a smile.
The Welsh greeting was hardly theirs alone, but he had greeted her this was every morning for the last two years. She returned it automatically. “Bore da, milord.”
“Let’s take our dinner up the hill today for a break.”
“Oh yes, Hoel, let’s do that.” She nodded eagerly. They rarely had a moment alone.
Llawen rustled her wings and stepped backwards just as Adam stopped directly in front of them. He hunched over the horse’s neck, holding the reins as if they were snakes. The mare held her wings out from her body, a sure sign of her tension. Hoel frowned.
“Let’s get in the air and get started,” Neste said, kicking Llawen into motion. The mare took off with powerful wingstrokes pulling them to the proper altitude. Neste turned to watch Adam.
He followed, but hesitated just before the drop off. Mallt picked up on his hesitation and paused for an instant. That threw off her timing and she dipped severely before straining to regain altitude. Neste shook her head. They’d both been riders for two years. Did her previous life around the barns give her an advantage somehow? Critically, she examined Adam’s posture, how he held the reins, and how he signaled the mare. With such a short time before their performance, what would help him most?
The Aerial Games opened in three days. Before then, the patrons would begin to arrive for the annual event. Their normal world revolved around England’s politics more than the ancient Welsh traditions of remote mountain towns like Tremeirchson. Neste couldn’t tell you the name of England’s current king, but she knew every one of Tremeirchson’s nine patrons by sight. For the most part, the lords who supported the barns lived in Merioneth. And in Merioneth lived her brother Niall, older than Neste but younger than her sister, Glynis.
Her parents had alternated naming their children. Her father named them in Welsh; Glynis, Neste, and Cadoc. Mum chose names that reflected her Irish ancestry; Niall and Aidan. Niall held a position with one of the petty lords. He never came to Tremeirchson with his lord, and Neste wasn’t even sure what service he provided for the lord.
Her job, though, was to provide the best Aerial Games she could. Today that meant helping Adam as much as possible.
After a couple hours of practice that almost exactly mirrored the experience of the previous day, the session came to an end and they landed. Neste dismounted and removed her helmet. “You worked hard today, Adam. You should see some improvement soon.” She smiled, but suspected her true evaluation of his efforts showed in her eyes.
Adam nodded, but his eyes were on the ground. “I hope so.”
Hoel looked their way, his expression grim. Neste felt his eyes bore into her as she followed Adam into the barn. The grooms for both horses hurried over to take the reins. Isabella fed Llawen one of the molasses treats that were Neste’s own recipe. To Neste’s surprise, she offered one to Mallt, too, with a shy smile directed at Adam.
At Mallt’s stall, Neste hesitated as the groom unsaddled the mare. Adam made no attempt to assist as Neste did with Llawen. Neste entered the stall and smiled at the groom, who looked at her shyly from under a mop of shaggy brown hair. “Have another brush, Robyn?” He nodded and handed her one. Neste brushed Mallt, talking to her as if it were Llawen. The mare’s ears twitched and swiveled at the new voice. In the same soothing tone, still talking to the horse, Neste sent the words to Adam. “She would benefit from your extra attention. They are like babies and soak up whatever affection you can give them. Come on over here and give it a try.”
“I have no idea what to do.” Adam entered the stall. His reluctance surprised Neste, but she didn’t comment. Robyn’s silence seemed odd, too. Neste chatted with Isabella as they both worked around her horse. Clearly Adam hadn’t built that kind of a relationship with Robyn. She brushed the mare a bit herself, then handed the brush to Adam. She showed him how to hold it, how hard to push, what direction to brush. She tried to ignore the warmth of his hand under hers, and gradually had him grooming the horse, careful not to ruffle wing feathers the wrong way. With a proud smile, she started to compliment him but stopped at his expression. Adam’s face scrunched up in concentration, and he frowned as he worked. Neste turned away and stroked the mare’s neck as she tried to hide her confusion. The rhythm of brushing always calmed her, creating a moment almost spiritual, a time to bond with horse and rider. Adam, however, looked miserable.
Neste wondered if Adam would allow her to help him. She swallowed hard and set her lips in determination as she turned back to face him. “Can I give you some tips on riding the dance sequence?”
Adam stiffened his back and gripped the brush tightly even though he’d stopped using it on the mare. “You’re the expert? We became riders at the same time, remember?”
“I know.” Neste kept her tone light. She’d grown up around the winged horses, knew them like he knew the tanner’s trade. When he didn’t respond, she spoke her thoughts. “Why didn’t you become a tanner?”
“My father has true passion for leather. He cures it and works with it—it’s an art form in his hands. When I try, it’s like a three legged dog among the chickens. I’m awkward and fumbling.” He shook his head. “Not unlike my riding.”
“You’ll ride better with more practice,” Neste assured him.
“I suppose so.” His shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I’d better ride with you. I can’t listen to Hoel’s tirades any more. Riding with you is bound to be more effective than his yelling.” He forced a grim smile.
Neste smiled back, but his lack of enthusiasm disappointed her. “Follow me this afternoon in practice, and we’ll meet again in the morning.” Her voice sounded fake cheery in comparison with his tone.
She left Mallt’s stall and walked down the barn to Llawen. Her steps quickened and she smiled in anticipation as she always did when on her way to the winged mare. She wondered if Adam felt the same about Mallt. He seemed out of place in Mallt’s stall and reluctant to interact with her. After a quick pat on the mare’s nose, Neste continued down the barn.
Hoel’s stallion munched hay in his stall, already unsaddled. Neste headed down the barn to Marc’s office, anticipating her dinner with Hoel. The door was open, but she hesitated. Marc sat behind a scarred table, the ledger of the barn’s expenses open before him. He ran his hands through his short gray hair, a habit that left it perpetually tousled. A lantern on the wall flickered.
Hoel stood in front of his father. Tension screamed from stiffened limbs. “He’s worthless. The mare’s worthless,” he said, sweeping his arm in dismissal.
“No one, man or horse, does well with ridicule. Some need to be brought along with encouragement.”
Neste waited outside the office, father and son’s voices clearly overheard.
Hoel grimaced. “Tad, I have two days to perfect the group dance. I need to spend my time developing talent, not searching for it where it doesn’t exist!”
A cloud moved over Marc’s face with the speed of a winter storm. His eyes narrowed. “Your job is to create a team that will work together and help each other achieve great things for our barn.”
Hoel shook his head. “Our barn? Don’t you mean your barn? You’ve not given me overall leadership.”
“You’ve not shown you are ready.”
Neste shifted from foot to foot as her insides twisted. Marc was her barn
leader, but Hoel her intended husband. Her instinct prodded her to fix this, but she didn’t know what to do.
“I can’t dominate the Aerial Games unless I am given the raw materials to build a team!” Hoel’s voice rose to near screaming. Neste winced.
“A leader works with what he is given.”
The two men glared at each other until she could practically see steam rising from them. When she couldn’t stand it any more, Neste entered the office and tugged lightly on Hoel’s tunic. “I’ll go grab our dinner.”
Hoel turned to Neste, and the angry fire faded from his eyes. “Helo, cariad, I’m done here.”
Marc waved them out of his office and went back to the ledger on his desk.
Neste hurried into the kitchen and gathered the dinner the cook had prepared. With a full basket in hand, she rejoined Hoel in the main aisle of the barn. They walked up the hill in silence. From here the view spilled out over the valley below. Neste sat on the grassy hilltop and unwrapped packages of food. Preoccupied with planning what to say, what not to say, what to ask, she was startled when Hoel spoke.
“This was a good idea. Just what I needed.”
She looked at him and relaxed. He smiled, his eyes warm and affectionate. All traces of anger and hard edges had disappeared.
“It’s a beautiful day.” When you have something potentially upsetting to discuss, the weather is a wonderful stall tactic.
“Not as beautiful as the company.” He reached out to twist a strand of her chestnut hair that had escaped its braid. “You’re good for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Neste smiled but squirmed a bit. She didn’t always feel this awkward when she talked to Hoel, but words and images from the recent argument filled her head. How could he push it away so fast and so completely?
Conversation remained scarce as they commented on the flaky pastry and sliced ham, on tomorrow’s weather, on anything but Adam and Mallt and the Aerial Games.
When the sun had inched a bit across the sky, Neste took a deep breath and leaned forward. “I know you don’t want to talk about Adam, but maybe I can help him. I know I’m not perfect…”
“You’re a far sight better than he is.”
Encouraged by Hoel’s calm tone, Neste continued. “I’m going to work in some additional practices with him. It can’t hurt.”
“I appreciate your devotion to the team, cariad, but I don’t like the way that tanner’s son looks at you. Maybe Phelip can help him.”
“Adam looks at everyone like that.”
“Do you really think you can help him?”
She nodded. “I’ll know more after practice today.”
Hoel narrowed his eyes and looked out across the valley. The breeze lifted a lock of his hair. “All right, then. Do what you can.” He stood up and swept into an exaggerated bow as he kissed her hand. “A pleasure dining with you, milady.”
Neste actually disliked this mockery of nobility. Tremeirchson had no place for such frippery. It was better left to the patrons in Merioneth. Such behavior went with ornate carriages and elaborate gowns, not with tunics covered in silver horsehair. Nonetheless, she stood up and curtsied, responding in kind. “And with you, milord.”
“Time to practice our dance.” He infused his words with an implication that the dance existed for the two of them alone.
“I have to check on a couple of horses first, then I’ll join you.” She kept her voice neutral so her nerves wouldn’t show. Hoel’s group dance was difficult. Not for the first time she doubted her own riding skills. At the very least, she was better than Adam. The thought stabbed her with guilt.
Hoel hurried off to make sure the team was prepared to practice. Neste swept the remains of their dinner into a bundle and stuffed it back in the basket. Overhead, wisps of cloud drifted across the blue sky, and a few horses were aloft. From the hilltop she could see where the red cliffs plunged into the valley. In a few moments, they’d be flying above that valley. She turned away from the view and hurried down the hill.
The small stone-walled kitchen jutted out from the side of the barn like an afterthought. Entering the barn through the narrow kitchen door, Neste plunged into the bustle. If you entered the barn through the great doors at the end of the building, the effect was gradual. First you felt the majesty of the soaring beams, then the warmth of horsey smells and snorts. Only then did your heart race with the frenetic pace of barn life. Neste loved the pulse of horses and humans working together. Many nights she didn’t want to leave the barn to go home.
Neste stayed close to the stalls as she headed toward her charges. She seemed to have a knack for healing simple injuries and checked on a swollen foreleg, a bruised shoulder, and a torn wing. As she passed Mallt’s stall, the door opened and Adam emerged, Mallt’s rein in his hand, his brow furrowed. His face cleared into a smile when he saw Neste. “Helo! Off to try it yet again.”
His smile was infectious. It lightened her heart and brought an answering smile to her own face. “Yes, practice until it’s perfect.”
Neste eyed Mallt critically. “What are you feeding her? Has her coat always been this texture?”
“I use the same feed everyone else does.”
Neste stroked the horse’s coat and walked around her. “Adding some sunflower seed oil might help. And brush her more often.” She studied Adam out of the corner of her eye. With his blond hair and green eyes, he was certainly handsome. And his shoulders were broader than Hoel’s.
“Diolch, Neste.” His green eyes sparkled as he thanked her. She blushed and riveted her eyes to the floor. Had he caught her looking?
She walked to Llawen’s stall and hummed softly as she wound her braid onto her head and covered it with the leather helmet.
That afternoon Hoel ran enough drills to drive pleasant thoughts from her mind and heart. They repeated sections of the dance and the whole routine in a grueling workout. Day had begun to fade by the time they landed, exhausted. Neste couldn’t stand the thought of another tirade from Hoel directed at Adam, so when he started sniping she returned home for supper and some peace and quiet.
Wings Over Tremeirchson Page 3