by Helen Gosney
24. “… ‘tis almost a lost art.”
“That’s a fine little filly,” Ross said with a smile as the little creature swayed uncertainly on her long legs and took her first tentative steps.
“Aye, she’s beautiful as they all are,” Rowan said as he watched the little bay wobble her way to her dam. It was a sight that he never tired of. “Come on, pretty little lass, your Ma’s just here… other end, daft creature…” he chuckled as the filly looked for the mare’s udder under her forelegs.
Both men smiled as the filly finally found what she was searching for and started to nurse enthusiastically.
“I’ve been looking at the horses Fess told me about, Rowan,” Ross said quietly.
“Oh, aye? And what do you think? I won’t be offended if you say they’re spavined, sway-backed, useless bags of bones… well, not too offended,” Rowan smiled at him, knowing full well that none of his horses fitted that description.
Ross laughed.
“Well, no, they’re hardly that. They look ideal, and truly I’d like them all. We could certainly use them at the garrison. Can I ride some of them later?”
“Aye, of course you can. I don’t expect you to take a horse without trying it. They all know their manners and the basics of battle training. And Griff and Honi and a couple of lads from the town have been riding them while I’ve been away, so they shouldn’t be too skittish.”
“You’ve started their battle training?” Ross asked, surprised.
“Aye. Nothing fancy though. More or less like those ones I took to Den Siddon,” Rowan said, still watching the little filly greedily suckling.
“They knew as much as any horse in the stables, Rowan,” Ross said, “And they were a damned sight better at it too.”
Rowan shrugged.
“They were the best of them, Ross. These are good, but not as good as that lot. But they shouldn’t need too much work,” he said, “I think it’s good for any saddle horse to have the training, whether or not it’s going to be a troop horse. It keeps them supple and responsive, and of course they don’t go around shying at nothing.”
“Aye, you’re probably right. I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Ross said thoughtfully, “Rowan… would you be able to show me and the lads what Mica and Soot can do sometime? Fess and Cade say they’re amazing. Fess says they practically dance…”
“That’s what my sister always says,” Rowan smiled, “Aye, of course I can show you, but they might be a bit rusty. Griff sometimes rides Soot, but Mica’s not been ridden for months.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure they’ll remember what they’re doing.”
“Aye, they’ll remember all right. I keep up the practice with them, even after all this time away from the Guard. It keeps them supple and fit as I said, and truly, I think they enjoy it.”
“Fess said you’ll teach Ashen the above the ground things?”
“Aye, I will. I offered to train Storm and Ebony as well, but…” Rowan shrugged again, “Fess says he’s happy with Storm just as he is and Cade’s still thinking about it. Between you and me, I think they’re afraid they’ll fall off in mid-leap. But I’ll train Ashen. He should do well. He’s strong, athletic, clever and brave. And easy to train. With luck he’ll be damned nearly as good as his sire.” He turned away from the little bay filly and glanced in at the mares in the other foaling boxes. “We’ve got a while before these mares deliver. Shall I show you now?”
“That’d be wonderful, Rowan. I’ll just get Dorrel and Kurt.”
“They’re good lads, Ross. You and they are a big help here. Thank you,” Rowan said with a smile.
“Rowan, we’re all getting more out of it than we’re putting in,” Ross replied, “It’s wonderful for all of us.”
**********
“Rowan, I… I’ve never seen anything like that in my life,” Ross said as Mica stopped beside him. Dorrel and Kurt were both still speechless with wonder. Griff and Honi stood behind them, fascinated by the performance as they always were.
“No, I don’t suppose you have… ‘tis almost a lost art,” Rowan smiled down at him, “When I first went to Den Siddon, I was rattling around in the Museum and I came across a book on battle training of troop horses. So I asked them if I could borrow it…” Rowan slid down from Mica’s bare back and patted the stallion’s nose, “… And there after the things that every troop horse is trained to do, I came across this… ‘above ground stuff’, as Fess calls it.”
“What did they call it?” Dorrel said at the same time as Ross asked, “Is the book still at Den Siddon?”
Rowan smiled at them.
“They just called it ‘advanced training’ or ‘airs above the ground’. Bloody daft name, that, I’ve always thought. But it is certainly advanced, and not every horse can physically do it, even with a good grounding in the basics. They have to be very athletic and agile, and very strong but not too heavy. Just like Mica and Soot, really.”
He looked at Ross and smiled again. “And as for the book, the curator of the Museum got fed up with me asking to borrow it so often. He said nobody else had even realised it was there for years, him included, so he gave it to me. ‘Tis inside there. You’re welcome to borrow it.”
Ross’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.
“And you’ve trained Soot as well…?”
“Aye. He’s damned good at it too, there’s not much between them, but truly I think Mica’s just a bit better.”
“Can we see Soot too? Er… if you don’t mind showing us?” Kurt said, still amazed at just what Mica and Rowan could do. It really had seemed as if the stallion was dancing, and he was a damned sight better dancer than most folk Kurt had seen. Certainly much better than Kurt himself. And it had seemed so effortless.
“Of course, if you’re not bored with watching. They love to show themselves off, they know how clever they are.” Rowan thought about it for a moment. No, they don’t realise, but perhaps they should. “This time, though, look at it differently. ‘Tis called battle training for a reason, and Mica saved my life with it at Messton. Just think how you’d try and face an opponent whose horse can do what Mica and Soot can… especially if you were on foot and they really meant business. The movements are beautiful, but that’s not why horses were trained this way originally. Truly, Mica was just… just devastating against Rollo’s men. They were as frightened of him as they were of me…” And who could blame them, he thought sadly. The pair of us killed far more than our fair share.
Mica snuffled in Rowan’s ear.
“Daft horse!” he protested, pushing Mica away, “And don’t think you can chew on my braid either!”
Rowan wondered if the recruits, or Ross for that matter, could really imagine the ferocity that Mica had shown on the battlefield. Mind you, he himself had been even more lethal than his horse. He stifled a sigh and whistled for Soot. Though Mica hadn’t practiced his routines for months, his performance had been near flawless and he thought Soot would be the same.
**********
25. “To free the slaves.”
“Sounds like we’ve got visitors, Rowan,” Griff said one morning as he and the Wirrans watched him flow through his sabre drills. Rowan never ceased to be amazed at the fascination the drills had for them, but as he had with the g’Hakken dwarves so long ago, he thought if they wanted to get out of bed early and watch, good luck to them.
“Aye, tis either young Isan and the lads or a herd of drunken cows,” he laughed.
Dorrel and Kurt looked from one to the other, looked at the pair of black and tan dogs and the two cats staring into the forest and finally looked at each other. Dorrel raised an eyebrow at his friend. No, he hadn’t heard anything either, but he’d quickly learnt that the foresters’ hearing was excellent.
A few minutes later several young foresters emerged from the trees. They were all big lads, well over six feet tall and heavily muscled. They looked to be about eighteen or nineteen, handsome young fellows with laughing dark
eyes and long dark braids that to the Wirrans’ untutored eyes looked the same as Rowan’s and Griff’s.
“Morning, all!” one of them called cheerily, “I hope you’ve finished waving that bloody sword around, Rowan. ‘Tis dangerous around here now you’re back.”
“And a good morning to you too, Isan. And Fonse and Eilin and Conor,” Rowan said with a grin, “Tis only if you catch me unawares that you need to worry, and you lot make so much bloody noise that we could hear you coming a mile away.” He laughed at Isan’s crestfallen face. “Sorry, laddie, but I’m sorry to say ‘tis the truth. Now, ‘tis a pleasure to see you all so bright and early, but…?”
“Ah, yes. We heard you were keeping some poor bloody slaves here, so we came to free them,” Isan said, his good humour restored.
“Did you indeed? That’d be these poor bloody slaves here, sitting on their backsides watching me because they’re too exhausted and overworked to do anything else, I suppose? Ross, Kurt and Dorrel, these are some more of my esteemed kinsmen: Fonse d’Lyle and his brother Eilin, Conor d’Fergus, and the heroic one is Isan d’Ronal. Lazy loafers, the lot of them,” Rowan said with a smile.
The young foresters grinned cheerfully at the recruits.
“Ah, that’ll be them, the poor buggers. We thought we might take them down to the river for a spot of canoeing, if they’re up to it,” Fonse said.
“Well… what do you think, Ross? Do you think our slaves deserve a bit of time off? They’ve certainly worked their backsides off here,” Rowan said, straightfaced.
“Aye, they have too. But I’m not sure they’d be safe with this lot. They look like ruffians to me,” Ross laughed.
“We could always take our sabres for, er, protection…” Kurt said hopefully, “And we can run fast.”
“And we’re harmless, truly,” Conor piped up, his face the picture of innocence. He was the biggest of them all and he was the only one of the lads to have hazel eyes like Rowan and Griff. He had a similar sense of mischief about him too.
“Aye, harmless! Aren’t we all? You’ll probably drown them,” Rowan said, “You can swim well, I hope, Kurt? Dorrel? The river’s swift at this time of year, much swifter than that little thing at Den Siddon.”
That river fell down the mountainside in a series of spectacular waterfalls, but at Den Siddon it was deep and wide and no, it certainly didn’t flow as fast as this one. It didn’t have rapids like this one either.
Dorrel and Kurt nodded quickly.
Rowan glanced at Ross, who grinned and nodded.
“Thanks, lads, ‘tis good of you to come over,” Rowan said to his young kinsmen, “These two truly do deserve a break. Now, I suppose none of you silly buggers has had breakfast yet? Or if you have, you’re ready for a bit more?”
“Well…” Conor grinned at him, “Since you ask…”
“Bloody Hells. What have I done? Have we got enough to feed all these poor starving waifs, Griff?”
“Probably not, Rowan,” Griff tried to look serious, “We might have to eat the dogs…”
The young foresters looked affronted.
“Rowan! We wouldn’t just arrive on the doorstep emptyhanded!” Fonse protested, “Our Mas would bloody kill us. And so would Honi.” He produced a damp hessian sack. “Here you go…”
“Thanks lads, you’re a credit to your upbringing,” Rowan said as he carefully opened the top of the sack. He wouldn’t put it past these lads to have a couple of live and very lively possums in there, but of course that joke would backfire with him, rather than Griff, opening the bag. Several fine trout stared up at him, glassy-eyed. “Thank you. I think these’ll be a lot better than poor Umber and Boof.”
The dogs wagged their tails happily at mention of their names, and leapt up to follow Rowan and the big ginger cat Ollie, with Scrap prancing along cheekily between them. The dogs and cats got on very well, but of course the dogs knew their place.
A little later, well fed, the lads headed off into the trees, bound for the river, all talking and laughing together.
“See that you don’t bloody drown them,” Rowan called after them, “Or yourselves.”
“We’ll try not to,” came the cheery reply.
**********
“They’re good lads, Ross. They’ve worked hard, they deserve a bit of fun,” Rowan said as he watched them disappear
“Aye, they are good lads, and they’re learning a lot here. So am I…” Ross said.
Rowan smiled at him.
“Surely you’ve birthed foals before…?”
“Aye, but not so many. And I’ve never been involved with the breeding side of things.”
“Well, Mica and Soot do all the work there. Griff and I just make sure they breed the mares we want them to,” Rowan laughed.
“And there’s all the rest of it… getting the foals used to being handled, and learning to lead… riding the older colts, teaching them some manners, getting the horses shod… Dorrel and Kurt have never really seen all of that,” Ross said.
“No, I suppose they haven’t. They were fascinated when we trimmed up the horses’ feet and went to the blacksmiths.”
“I thought we’d be in fearful trouble with so many horses that’d never been shod, Rowan,” Ross said with a smile, “I should have known better.”
Rowan shrugged.
“As you said at the Scream, ‘tis a handy talent to have. And the horses are all used to having their hooves trimmed, I just don’t bother to shoe them. Mica and Soot aren’t shod now.”
He said nothing more for a few minutes, and then said, “I’ve got an idea to put to you, Ross.”
“Oh, aye? And what might that be?” Ross asked lazily.
“Well, when things have calmed down around here… I thought we might go into the forest for a few days, to the logging camp. What do you think?” Rowan grinned at him, “’Tis a chance to see how the other half lives.”
“Are you sure they wouldn’t mind us being there?”
Rowan laughed at his concern.
“No, they won’t mind. They’ll be happy to have some new faces to tell their tired old stories to… and we can make ourselves useful while we’re there.”
Ross stared at him. How the hell could the lads, or he himself for that matter, possibly help the foresters? He’d never known such a self-sufficient lot.
“Um… Rowan…” he said doubtfully, “Wouldn’t we just be in the way?”
“No. They’ll soon move you on if you are. It’ll soon be time to change over the horses, so we can take the new teams with us and bring the old ones back. It’d be something new for the lads to see, instead of just looking at all of us here.”
“It’d be something new for me too, Rowan. Aye, it sounds good to me… so, when would we go?”
Rowan shrugged.
“A couple of weeks’ time, I suppose. We’d just have to get ourselves organised. We can soon spread the word around that we’ll take the horses and supplies instead of the locals and the last of the new team of cutters doing it. We’ll be heroes,” Rowan grinned at Ross and then became more serious. “There’s only one thing though, Ross…”
“And what’s that?”
“When we do get to the camp, the foreman is King. No matter what he says to do, we must do it without hesitation and without asking why. Sometimes your life might depend on it. If he tells us or the lads to run, then we run, and very damned fast too. And if he tells us to do handsprings for twenty minutes, we do that too.”
“Bloody hells, I hope he doesn’t do that, lad! I’m hopeless at them,” Ross laughed, “But of course there’d have to somebody in charge… Who is it? Anyone I’ve met?”
“’Twill be Pa, as it happens. I know he’s going back into the trees in the next day or so, but not all of his team will be going back yet. There’s always a bit of overlap when the teams swap over, else they rattle about for a few days trying to work out what the hell’s going on and what they should be doing. Usually the last lot returning to the tre
es take the new teams and supplies in with them, with some of the townsfolk to help a bit. And then the last lot coming home bring the old teams too, but I thought we could save them the bother. I’m sure Pa won’t mind. To be truthful, I know he won’t mind. I ran it past him t’other day and he thought it’d be a good idea,” Rowan smiled at Ross, “But I only mentioned about the foreman in case Dorrel and Kurt think they should be listening to you, or me for that matter, while we’re there. Er… no offence intended to you, Ross.”
“None taken, Rowan. The lads can listen to us until we get there and then they can listen to us again when we leave.”
“Aye, that’s about how it works… a bit like the Guard in some ways. The foreman, Pa, he’s the Captain of the garrison, Josh and Jared are his lieutenants and we’re the very junior recruits.”
“Even you, Rowan?” Ross looked at him in surprise.
Rowan laughed.
“Well, maybe not quite as junior as you and the lads, I do know what I’m doing out there… some of my damned kin would disown me if I couldn’t use an axe properly, but unless they ask me to fill in as one of the team I’d just be a visitor. Mind you, most visitors don’t get to sit about doing nothing,” he smiled again, “They’ll probably put me in charge of the horses, ‘tis what usually happens.”
“Well, the lads and I can help you with that,” Ross said.
“Aye, that’s why I’m taking you.” Rowan laughed as Ross nodded his agreement. “It must be almost time to go back to Wirran, Ross. I’m not shocking you any more.”
“Neither you are,” Ross said, a bit surprised himself, “But I think I’ll be able to shock folk myself when we get back.”
“Aye, you will, you’ve been well corrupted while you’ve been here in Sian. Mind you, ‘tisn’t hard to shock folk in Wirran, ‘tis full of miserable old buggers,” Rowan laughed again, “You’ll find you’ll enjoy it.”
**********
26. “a swordsman like any other…”
When Rowan first asked Ross to spar with him in the circle they’d marked out, the Horsemaster had nearly fainted. He was a good swordsman, but still…