by Helen Gosney
After his experiences at Den Siddon and the Trophy, he was unsurprised to find himself being saluted by all of the troopers; but he was quite surprised to see that the troop of eight was led by the Commandant of the Siannen Guard himself.
The man was Siannen, but not a forester. He was probably about fifty or so, tall and broadshouldered and fit-looking; a handsome fellow with black hair streaked with grey, and bright blue eyes that were startling in his suntanned face. It was obvious that he spent as little time as possible behind his desk. Of course, his dark green uniform was immaculate and so were those of his troopers.
No Guardsman – no matter where he was from - would turn up to meet the holder of the Star of Yaarl, the triple Champion, looking like a scruffbag, even if the man himself was presently a bit dusty and sweaty from working with his horses. Certainly the Siannen Guard wouldn’t, when the great man in question was as Siannen as they were.
“A good day to you all, and thank you for the honour you do me,” Rowan said, “I’m Rowan d’Rhys del’Quist, as you’ve already guessed.”
“Commandant Niall d’Fionn del’Siovan,” the Commandant said, “And a good day to you, Sir. Commandant Telli Carlson of the Wirran Guard has been in touch with me, and I thought I should pay you a visit,” he looked around for a moment and smiled, “In fact, I’m thinking I should have paid you a visit before this. Are all your horses as good as that mare of yours, and those other youngsters?”
“Aye, most of them are. You’re welcome to have a look at them, but I’m sure you didn’t come up here to the Giants just for that?”
Niall glanced up at the great trees for a long moment, then looked back at Rowan with a smile.
“No, of course not. That’ll be a bonus. And I’m hoping I might somehow see your stallions in action as well, if that’s possible,” he said, “But no, I’ve come to make sure that you’ve not got five thousand bloody Wirrans lurking here somewhere, plotting to take over Sian.”
Rowan heard a muffled snort of laughter from Griff but managed to keep his own face straight. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes bright with mischief.
“And if I have?”
“Then I’ll wish you a good day and we’ll be off now, and come back with a few more men.”
Now Rowan laughed. This Commandant was certainly an improvement on his predecessor, a crusty old fellow who’d come to see Rowan after Messton. That man had been proud that a Siannen had done such deeds, but a bit put out that Rowan had joined the Wirran Guard rather than the Guard of his native province. If Rowan had been feeling better at the time, he’d have told him that the training was simply better in Wirran and the Siannen Guard could learn quite a bit from them, but… well, he’d been barely recovered from his injuries and the lung fever that’d so nearly proved fatal, and he really hadn’t been up to doing or saying much at all. Perhaps he might discreetly mention something about training to this man though, he thought. It was no more and no less than the truth.
“No, Sir, not five thousand,” he said, “Only five Engineers, and I’m sure you could handle them all right. I’ve just sent someone to get their leader… ah, here he is…”
Introductions were quickly made, and Cris was despatched again to warn Honi and her assistants that there’d be a few more for lunch. Quite a few more. Niall had protested that he and his men had their own rations, as of course they did, but the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread had quickly changed his mind.
**********
“So, let me get this straight, please, Rowan…” Niall said a bit later, surprising himself with his own informality towards the Champion.
Then again, Rowan was informality itself and besides that, it was very hard to be formal when one was sitting under a tree on a rug that’d been thoughtfully provided to protect one’s uniform, eating the very good sandwiches that Rill, Gavin and Honi had carried out from the house on big platters. The ham was tender and delicious, the cheese sharp but not too much so, and the tomatoes, onions and greens were freshly picked from the garden. And the bread… the bread was soft and grainy and crusty all at the same time, and well slathered with creamy butter. Alben and a Siannen corporal sighed happily at the same time, looked at each other in surprise, then grinned and reached for another sandwich. It’d been a long time since either had had sandwiches as good as these.
Niall was thinking much the same thing, but he forced his mind back to the important topic at hand.
“… you’re going to be teaching the Wirran Horsemasters how to train their horses to a more advanced level?” he said, “And Lieutenant Marcus here, and his men of course, are here to help you build the… um… infrastructure for that?”
“Aye, ‘tis about the strength of it,” Rowan said between bites of his sandwich. Despite the very short notice of extra mouths to feed, Honi’d excelled herself with the lunch, he thought. Clever girl. It’d be fresh fruit for afters, but there was nothing wrong with that; they’d have been having it anyway. There was a very good crop of cherries and strawberries that the birds somehow hadn’t found yet, but too much more rain would spoil them and they really needed to be eaten. He thought there’d be no problems with that.
“And how many do you think there’ll be?”
Rowan shrugged.
“Overall? I truly don’t know, but I shouldn’t think there’d be more than half a dozen to start with, most likely less. Mind you, I think there’ll be more as word gets about. Perhaps twenty-five at the most, maybe even up to thirty at a pinch, I suppose, but that wouldn’t be for a good while. And they wouldn’t all necessarily be Wirrans.”
There’d be accommodation for forty in all, but of course Tadeus, Cris and Rill would be taking three of the rooms in their own little wing. And the spare rooms wouldn’t go to waste if Ross’ idea really took off.
Niall nodded slowly as he thought about it.
“Mmm…” he said, “I’m wondering if perhaps we should be sending some men to you too. You say your horse saved your life with the, um, advanced training?”
“Aye, he did.”
“Could you show us what you mean, please? After we’ve finished eating, of course,” Niall said. He turned to Honi and smiled. “And thank you again, my lady. This is wonderful. Ha! Even better when I think of our damned trail rations. Sometimes I think we’d be better off eating grass with the horses than eating the bloody stuff; it certainly wouldn’t be so fraggin dry.” His eyes widened as he realised what he’d said and he hastened to make amends. “Er, your pardon for my language, my lady.”
She laughed.
“Thank you, but I hear that around here all the time and I even know and use several similar and very useful words myself. I’m no ‘lady’, as you can see,” she said from where she sat on the ground beside Griff, happily eating her sandwich with the men. She was clad in leather trousers and a linen shirt as the male foresters were, and her long hair was braided similarly, but nobody could possibly mistake her for a man.
“Depends on your definition of a lady,” Niall said gallantly, “I wasn’t talking about those useless women who sit about all day and do nothing in case they break a fingernail or get their hands dirty.”
That description certainly wouldn’t apply to most Guardsmen’s wives, and equally it didn’t apply to forester women.
Honi glanced at her own hands. They were clean, because she’d washed them before and after making lunch, but she undeniably had calluses and her nails were cut sensibly short.
“Then thank you,” she said, “I was thinking of that sort, truly, or the ones that Rowan used to tell me about who wore silly hats and made long boring speeches to open garden parties.”
She’d never met a fully-fledged ‘lady’ in her life, and she’d certainly never been to a garden party. Neither had anyone else she knew, except Rowan. He’d attended a few – unwillingly, but politely as he’d been brought up – in his capacity as Guard Captain, and even when he’d been a lieutenant and 2 i/c at Den Siddon he’d found himself roped in to
attend a couple. He’d told her, Rose and Dana a lot about the delicate ladies who attended them and the sheer tedium of the whole business. They’d nearly laughed themselves silly at Rowan’s outrageous portrayals of the ladies and some of the languid men who’d accompanied them.
Niall laughed now.
“I think our Wirran colleagues would know more about that than any of us Siannens,” he said, and by the resigned look on Marcus’ face he knew he was right.
**********
A little later, after they’d finished their lunch, Rowan whistled for Mica and Soot. The stallions trotted up to him and then danced, one after the other, for their visitors.
All of the Guardsmen, both Siannen and Wirran, gaped at the performance.
“Bugger me, Rowan,” Marcus said softly, “Now I truly can see why Captain Fess and Commandant Telli are so keen to train more of our horses like that.”
“Yes, so can I. I’m bloody glad I’m not having to fight you and them together,” Niall said thoughtfully. Of course the thought of taking on Rowan was daunting enough in itself, and Niall certainly wasn’t planning on doing it any time soon, but he could also see the astonishing advantage that Mica or Soot would give him. “In fact, I truly believe that we should be sending some of our men and horses here to learn this too, and as soon as possible. Maybe you might be able to help us with the selection of the horses if you’ve got the time. Can’t have the Wirrans having such an advantage all to themselves, can we?”
“Certainly not!” Rowan said, resolving to take Niall aside very soon and speak to him about training in general. He seemed far more approachable and, yes, more progressive than the last Siannen Commandant. If Niall told him, Rowan, to mind his own damned business, so be it, but it truly was his business as a Siannen to see that his countrymen were protected as well as possible. And he’d make time to talk to him about the most suitable type of horses for the advanced training too. “We’ll be starting in the winter. I’m sure that we can work something out between now and then.”
**********
Work was well advanced by the time Rowan and Griff were ready to take their horses to Frissender. The foresters and the Engineers were working well together, finding more points of similarity than difference between their techniques. Really, none of the problems that both sides had anticipated had arisen yet, and Rowan thought they were probably unlikely to now.
Of course the foresters weren’t used to working with stone, but they were strong and adaptable, so that wasn’t a problem. The Engineers hadn’t been keen on using timber at first, but after seeing the fine timber buildings in the town and surrounding districts, they realised that they’d be daft not to use what was so readily available. And, as Rowan laughingly reminded them, it was a hell of a lot less expensive than stone, and Commandant Telli did have a bottom line to consider.
**********
Some trolls and foresters were finishing the levelling of the training ground under the supervision of Gavin, and the builders were busily erecting walls on the barracks when Rowan and Griff finally set off for Frissender early one morning, and they all waved cheerfully to them to speed them on their way.
The two men would be able to manage the horses perfectly well with just themselves, and so they’d left Tadeus, Cris and Rill to help Honi with the remaining animals and everything else, with a promise that they could go to the Horse Fair next year if they were interested. Tadeus was keen on the idea, but Rowan thought it unlikely that the others would be.
**********
26. “The Champion’s here!”
They had an uneventful trip through the Sleeping Dogs and down to Frissender. It was a good-sized town – well, a little city, really – that was fairly quiet for most of the year. Then, in late spring, it seemed to almost double its population overnight… this was the time of Frissender’s sole claim to fame: its annual Horse Fair. Not just anyone could front up with horses or ponies to sell though, oh no. Breeders from up to several hundred miles away were invited to bring their finest stock, and it was considered an honour to be so invited. Griff and Rowan had been selling the best of their horses there for a few years now, except last year, when Horsemaster Ross of Den Siddon had bought the lot while Rowan was training for the Trophy.
This year they had forty-nine horses: all beautifully trained, beautifully mannered and as a bonus, beautiful to look at as well. They’d have had fifty, but Commandant Niall had bought a handsome young darkly dappled grey stallion for himself. He’d be sending his Master of Horse to inspect the upcoming youngsters with a view to next year and the more advanced training, too.
Rowan and Griff didn’t believe in selling their horses too young, as many breeders did. The sight of bewildered, frightened yearlings being led around a sale ring always upset them both, and the thought of young horses being ridden before their bodies were strong enough upset them even more. They’d made their feelings known to the organisers of the Fair, and now there was a firm ruling that forbade the selling of any beast less than three years old. As Rowan said, sometimes his damned reputation could be of some use, and he wasn’t above using it to further the wellbeing of any horse if he could.
Their own horses were mainly four years old, though a couple of older ones that hadn’t been quite ready before were there as well.
They halted at the gates to the Horse Grounds to fill in the necessary paperwork, then headed off to find their appointed yards.
**********
“Gods! Look at that, Kane!” a Thallassian fellow pointed at a most astonishing sight.
The man beside him turned his head to see what had his friend so excited. He nodded sagely. He’d been just as amazed as Berne when he’d first seen it too, but he wasn’t about to admit that just now.
“Haven’t you ever heard of Siannen Horse Whisperers, you daft bugger? Horse Masters, as the Wirrans say. They say those two both are,” he said, “Amazing, isn’t it? Just watch them.” And it was no less amazing for having seen it before.
Griff and Rowan had finished with the formalities and were bringing their horses into the Fair Grounds.
Rowan rode Soot at the head of the herd, with Mica walking unfettered beside him. The rest of the horses were following him happily, and Griff was riding Raven at the rear. The dogs Umber and Boof trotted at either side of the herd, but they weren’t really there for that: no, their job was to guard the horses in the yards while Griff and Rowan were elsewhere. None of the horses seemed worried by their unfamiliar surroundings, but naturally the youngsters were looking around a bit.
Suddenly there was a shout of “The Champion! The Champion’s here! Red Rowan!” and a loud burst of cheering and applause broke out.
“Bloody Hells!” Berne said worriedly, “Horse Masters or not, those horses’ll bolt with a damned racket like that. What are those bloody idiot Wirrans thinking of?”
Kane looked worried too, as Rowan hastily dismounted. The young horses crowded around him, but stood quietly, their ears flickering as he spoke to them softly and patted as many as he could reach. Griff was doing the same with those at the rear, though he knew that they’d take more notice of Rowan than of him. Luckily, most of these horses were destined to be troop horses; Rowan’d made sure they were used to the noise of bugles and drums and they were well trained to a higher standard than was usual. No, the noise wouldn’t really worry them too much, but the sheer numbers of people suddenly crowding around, pushing and shoving so as to get a better glimpse of Rowan, would be of more concern to them. Griff thought privately that a good swift kick would serve some of these useless noisy buggers right and for a moment was tempted to do it himself, rather than leave it to the horses. The dogs were growling and doing their bit to keep people back a bit too.
Rowan raised a hand and the cheering stopped. He looked a bit stunned at such a reception, but he quickly pulled himself together.
“Thank you,” he said, “Thank you for the honour you do me. I wasn’t expecting anything like that, but thank y
ou.” He looked around for a moment, “Now, can somebody please show us where to take our horses?”
“It’s over this way,” an official-looking gentleman said as he forced his way through the crush of people. Really, did none of these silly bastards have a lick of sense? Lucky there hadn’t been any other horses around when they’d started shouting and carrying on like that. “Do you need any help with them?”
“A good day to you, Grayle,” Rowan said as he recognised the man who organised this very prestigious sale of horses and ponies, “Thanks for the offer, but Griff and I’ll be fine, so long as some of these…” he said something in Trollish that made Griff laugh and everyone else look puzzled, “… er, these good folk move aside a bit.”
Grayle smiled at him.
“Then follow me, Rowan. Er… sorry, no disrespect intended. Umm, what should I call you now?”
Rowan shook his head and pretended not to hear what Griff was muttering about daft buggers.
“The same as you’ve been calling me for the last… what? Four or five years… just call me by my name,” he said, “If you dare call me ‘Sir’, I might have to deal with you severely.”
“Bloody Hells! I surely don’t want that, Rowan. This way then, lad. And Griff too, of course.”
**********
The young horses were settling happily into their well-fenced yards as Rowan walked among them, patting them and talking to them as he went. Naturally, the dogs were quietly following him.
Grayle and Griff leaned on top of the fence watching.
“It never ceases to amaze me, Griff,” Grayle said, “But you can do it too, can’t you?”
“Yes, but not like Rowan can. Quite a lot of our clan have a way with horses, and I suppose we’d be considered Horse Masters here in Wirran, but…” Griff shrugged, “Well, let’s just say if the horses had a choice between going to me or to Rowan, they’d always choose Rowan.”
Grayle nodded wisely, though he didn’t really understand it any more than Griff or Rowan did themselves. He’d often thought it’d be a damned handy talent to have, though. He looked at the young horses more carefully, noting their excellent conformation, and their bright eyes and glossy coats.