A Blood Red Horse (5 page)

The knights, led by Gavin, were nervous and excited on this, the morning of their departure. Their squires and grooms had packed up huge quantities of armor and equipment, and the great baggage train had already left Hartslove on its way to the coast. Squinting in the sun, Gavin could see it wending its way down the road. The shouts of the baggage masters rose above the baaing of the sheep as they bellowed for the packhorses to pick their feet up and keep moving. His own groom, a willing enough boy named Mark, had gone with the baggage
train. Humphrey, who knew all about teasing since his last name was Smallbone, was holding Montlouis. Some of the knights, the adrenalin pumping through their veins, began to conduct a mock tournament with an invisible lance. There was laughter, strong and loud. William rode in among them, almost unnoticed. He was willing Hosanna to be good but sat easily in the saddle, knowing that the horse would explode at any hint of tension.

Hosanna looked the color of sunset, the silver trappings that Hal had put on him sparkling against the deep red of his coat. William cantered the length of the field and came to a halt in front of his father.

“He's called Hosanna, sir,” he said as the horse fretted and refused to stand still.

“Hosanna, eh?” said his father. “Well, Hosanna, show us what you can do.”

The horse stamped a front foot and sneezed. Sir Thomas laughed.

William closed his legs lightly, and Hosanna turned to his command.

“Gavin,” called Sir Thomas, suddenly anxious. “I don't want either of you two boys injured this morning. Don't carry a lance. Just gallop toward each other and show us some maneuvers.”

“Happy to, sir,” shouted Gavin. “Right, then, Will. I'll go to the left.”

William reached his appointed slot and the two horses faced each other, about a hundred yards apart.

“When I drop this handkerchief,” bellowed Sir Thomas. “Ready. Now.”

Montlouis began to canter toward Hosanna. Hosanna stood stock-still. After a few moments men began to murmur. Ellie gripped Sir Thomas's arm. A ripple of amusement
ran through the crowd. They sensed that a spectacle was about to unfold.

“Please,” breathed Will, “Hosanna, please.” But Hosanna remained resolutely motionless.
I should have worn spurs
, thought Will desperately.
Oh, I should have worn spurs.

Then, quite suddenly, Hosanna began to move. He moved from walk to gallop in less than the blink of an eye, and then he was floating, straight as a die, toward Montlouis. William, his mouth half open, sat back as if carrying a lance at full speed. Hosanna reached the pole at the same time as Montlouis, who lumbered heavily along. With ears flat back, Hosanna gathered himself together until he seemed to reach full height, his head snaking. He performed a tiny, tight quarter-circle, which completely wrong-footed Montlouis, then floated off again to the end of the list. Gavin was left stranded, and the crowd cheered as Hosanna slowed and William cantered back to his father.

“Well, sir?” he asked, his face flushed with excitement and pride as Ellie clapped and shouted her approval.

Sir Thomas nodded. “I'm impressed,” he said. “But you are a funny boy, you know, even though I do think you have a bit of an eye for horseflesh.” He touched the star on Hosanna's forehead. The horse rubbed his head appreciatively against Sir Thomas's hand. Sir Thomas laughed. “This horse has brains as well as beauty,” he said. “Sir Walter tells me he has given you some fair tumbles. Well, let's see. The horse seems a bit rum, but he has certainly shown some mettle today and I rather like him. I have to say that in all my life I don't think I have seen such a turn of speed, although it seemed to me that it was the horse rather than you deciding when and how to move, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” William said. “You are certainly right there. I think we have both got a lot to learn.”

Sir Thomas smiled. “That's about the size of it,” he said. “Now I'm going to take this naughty Ellie back to the castle. Maybe I will have to confine her to the women's quarters.” His eyes twinkled as he settled Ellie once again on the front of his saddle. “The abbot has been complaining about you, my girl. And,” he went on, despite Ellie's squeaking protests, “I still want to know who will marry you, with your wild ways? I really don't know.” He winked at William and, calling for Sir Walter and Sir Percy, galloped off.

Gavin, on a puffing Montlouis, was waiting for William. “Well,” he said. “The Little Horse can certainly gallop and turn.”

“He can jump, too,” said William.

Gavin pulled a face half-derisive, half-appreciative. “I daresay he can,” he said. “Anyway, let's hope the Little Horse doesn't collapse when you get your first suit of armour.”

William grinned. “And let's hope Montlouis doesn't get any slower, or he'll only be good for dog meat,” he replied.

Gavin snorted. “Right.” The boys rode on together as the other knights also made their way back to the castle courtyard. “Will,” said Gavin, looking straight ahead, “look after things while I am away. You know, Father and …”—there was a short pause as Gavin flushed slightly—“well, and Ellie. And if I don't make it back, look after Ellie yourself. Oh yes, and don't forget to have the abbot say Mass every day for my soul.”

Will also kept his eyes looking firmly ahead. “I promise,” he said.

“Thanks.”

To hide his embarrassment, Gavin turned and shouted to his friends, meeting his brother's eyes momentarily as he did so. Much was said in the glance. Then he punched William on the shoulder. “Last one at the drawbridge is going to marry Old Nurse,” he yelled, and Montlouis and Hosanna sprang forward together and thundered back to the stables.

For the next two years William and Hosanna were inseparable. The boy was not sent to his uncle's to train as a squire. There was trouble in the county where the bishop had his power base, and Sir Thomas had to leave to organize the protection of his more distant castles against the still angry relations of his first wife.

With Gavin also away, Hartslove was empty of men except for Constable de Scabious and a few garrison knights, who formed a protective guard. Sir Thomas left William at Hartslove for a purpose. Even though the boy was young, he was a de Granville, and his presence might act as a deterrent to the family's enemies. Anybody attacking one of Sir Thomas's children would feel the full weight of Sir Thomas's anger. William felt very important as he went round talking to the workmen, who were still busy with the renovations. His father had explained how the men were to be paid, and when Constable de Scabious handed over the coins, William stood beside him. However by the second Christmas after Gavin's departure, the builders and masons at last finished their work, and the castle fell silent.

For William and Ellie this was a time of untroubled bliss. The great upheavals in King Henry's huge empire,
while involving Gavin, did not trouble them. And they were used to being by themselves. Ellie, to whom William had lent Sacramenta, became almost as proficient on a horse as William. Sir Walter tried to keep some semblance of discipline, teaching William and, by default, Ellie, all he knew. William took many tumbles from Hosanna but every day grew in confidence and skill. The horse was intelligent, willing, and a quick learner, with a spark of internal fire that made him stand out from the crowd. After his initial suspicions Sir Walter came to have a healthy respect for the red horse, often marveling that an animal so slight seemed so tireless.

“There is something about Hosanna,” Sir Walter was wont to say to Hal, “something that William saw before I did.”

As for Hal, he grew more besotted with the horse each day and spent so much time making him look beautiful that Piers de Scabious laughingly took to using Hosanna's rump as a mirror.

Hosanna himself often seemed to listen as William and Ellie chattered beside him, and developed a particular habit of tucking his head over William's shoulder. He also stood patiently for hours while Ellie braided his mane and whickered gently when William, Ellie, or Hal approached, reaching his soft nose into their hands in search of tidbits. When William and Ellie stuffed food into their pockets and, accompanied by Hal and the ever patient Sir Walter, went out for the day with hawk and hound, Hosanna and Sacramenta made a striking pair. But while Hosanna was gentle in the stable and increasingly obedient to his rider, when performing his role as Great Horse, he carried himself with strength and pride. Nobody made jokes any more about whether he would manage to carry the weight of a
fully armored knight. Hosanna looked as though he could carry anything.

Old Nurse, who occasionally went and told Hosanna that it was his fault the children were grown so unruly, gave up even the pretense of teaching William and Ellie their letters. Indeed, she despaired of teaching the two children, particularly Ellie, anything at all. She spent much of her time sighing and popping into the cellar for a bit of liquid comfort, and then she would sit in front of Hosanna, drinking and telling the horse stories about her childhood. Hosanna listened most politely and made Old Nurse smile by licking the salty sweat from the palms of her hands.

By the beginning of the winter of 1187, Sir Thomas returned to find that William was nearly as tall as he, and Hosanna had filled out, his muscles now taut and hard. Both horse and boy looked in the very peak of health, and when Sir Thomas saw the small performance they staged for him, he was delighted.

He also brought good news: Gavin was on his way back and was expected within the week. With the arrival of Sir Thomas, Hartslove slowly came to life again as men-at-arms, hearing of his return, rode into the castle courtyard demanding hospitality.

When Gavin returned, however, although he spent a few happy nights feasting and rejoicing, he was subdued. He had left full of warring zeal, but since he had spent most of his time away in the service of the queen, he felt as if he had been treated more as an errand boy and nursemaid. It had been very frustrating. When people asked him to tell them stories of battles, he had to admit that he had barely seen a sword drawn in anger and had done little apart from ferry the royal ladies hither and thither. He was tetchy with William, curt with Ellie, and downright
unpleasant to Humphrey and Mark, who had much to put up with. He spent the days hunting with his friends, careless of his horses and even of himself. On the days that he took Montlouis out, he galloped at speed, and the horse, always willing, came back exhausted. Mark spent many nights shivering in the stables, walking Gavin's horses round, trying to keep them calm.

It was when the first December frosts were biting into the ground that Montlouis fell heavily on an icy path and cut his knees. Gavin ordered Mark to take him home and return with another horse. A good day's sport was in prospect, and he needed something swift. Mark was uncertain. Gavin had already used six different horses in as many days. He was not sure what was left in the stable.

“Is Will out on that little horse today?” Gavin asked suddenly.

“No, sir,” replied Mark nervously. “Master William has gone to the stud. But he has left Hosanna, since he had him out for a long time yesterday.”

“Bring Hosanna here.”

Mark looked horrified. It was not done to use somebody else's Great Horse. Humphrey, who was growing sick of Gavin's moods, intervened.

“Master Gavin,” he said, “that horse is so very particularly Master William's horse I …”

“Since when does a squire give advice?” Gavin barked. “Mark, bring Hosanna here. I would lend him Montlouis, so he can lend me that little horse of his. Bring Hosanna here now. I order it.”

“Sir.” Mark bowed, looked helplessly at Humphrey, and, taking Montlouis's bridle, disappeared back up the road to do as he was bidden.

An hour later he returned, leading Hosanna. He felt bad because he had told Hal, of whom he was rather in awe, a lie.

“About time” was all Gavin said as he mounted. “Now then, horse, let's see what you're made of.” Calling to the huntsman, Gavin told him to gather up the hounds, ready to move off again.

For the next four hours Gavin rode Hosanna like a man possessed. The hounds found quickly, and a fox bolted from the forest into the open. The sound of the horn rang out as the running hounds warmed to the scent, singing as they raced forward. The fox fled, avoiding the open country and making for thickets and ditches. Here stealing out of the brush, there raking over fields, he kept the hounds pouring after him. Through sprawling hedges and coppice woods he fled, the frost sharp on his pads and the freezing air burning his lungs. The clamor was immense, rising to a climax whenever the hounds scented death.

Gavin's friends followed as best they could, their horses eventually tiring after a run of some ten miles. Adam Landless, who had only one horse to his name, hollered that he could go on no longer and, joined by several others, turned for home. Eventually, even Humphrey could no longer keep up with his master and fell behind.

But Gavin spurred Hosanna on, urging the horse to jump whatever came in their way. There was no letup. And just when the hunted fox seemed caught and a rest possible, the wily animal slipped into an unstopped hole, disturbing another fox on whose track the hounds immediately fixed with refreshed enthusiasm. Hosanna barely hesitated. Gavin would not allow it. They were so close to the hounds that the horse had to twist and turn so as not to tread on them. Gavin swore. “Forward, forward!”
he yelled, and Hosanna, his nostrils flared red with exertion, redoubled his efforts. On and on they went after the new quarry. Gavin felt as if he were flying.

The huntsman's halloo filled the air, and the hounds were baying. The second fox began to tire. No earth for him, and at last, as he searched for a place to cross the river he was bowled over. Hosanna was blowing hard when Gavin's spurs stopped digging into his sides. The huntsman's horse, dripping with sweat, had his nose on the ground.