Blaze and the Dark Rider (9 page)

“How did it go?” Stella was bright-eyed with excitement as Issie came back over the paddock towards her.

“Great, Stella. Just great,” Issie replied. “Thanks to your brilliant plan I had to ask Natasha Tucker to come to El Caballo Danza with us!”

The news that Natasha was going to be joining them tomorrow didn’t go down too well with Kate either. “Couldn’t you think of any other excuse?” Kate sighed.

Issie shook her head. “I know; it was a bit dim of me. But anyway, it probably won’t be that bad.”

Kate and Stella looked at her as if to say that in fact
it would probably be even worse than bad, but no one said anything—it was clear that Issie felt bad enough about the whole thing.

Apart from the Natasha Tucker incident, the training session went well that day Issie and the gang were on the look out for anything suspicious, but nothing strange happened at all. The riders all swooped gracefully between the bending poles, practising their relays and their baton passes, and Avery kept checking his stopwatch and nodding with a look of quiet satisfaction on his face.

In the afternoon they did practice sessions for rider on the flat. Avery stood in the middle of the arena as judge, and all the riders walked, trotted and cantered around him in a twenty-metre circle, concentrating on keeping in the very best possible position to impress the judge.

“Heels down, hands still, eyes up!” Issie chanted to herself in her head as she trotted.

“Canter on!” Avery called to the riders, and he watched them now as they rode, calling out advice to each of them in turn. “Stella, you’re gripping up with your knees. Relax your knee and keep your heels
down…Ben, you’re dropping your shoulder in…Morgan, keep Jack on the bit, don’t let go of the contact…Good, Issie, very good. A bit more impulsion at the canter, yes, that’s it…lovely stuff”

Issie focused hard on keeping her position perfect and keeping Blaze at a balanced, steady canter. The mare was going so beautifully and Issie was thrilled that the rearing incident didn’t seem to have affected her. Blaze was her old self again.

“Excellent effort today!” Avery said as he walked down the row in front of them all at the end of the practice session. “I know that some of you have been to visit Annabel in hospital.” Avery smiled at Stella, Kate and Issie. “And the news is good—she will be fine. But there’s no way that leg of hers will heal in time for her to ride at the Interclub.”

He turned now to his two reserves. “Natasha, I’ve decided that with Annabel out for the competition, you will be our new team member. Morgan will remain as our reserve. Right? Excellent!”

And with that, Avery strode off towards the horse
floats. The team, including a rather smug Natasha, turned and began to head in the same direction to unsaddle and go home.

Issie was about to ride after the others when she noticed Morgan hadn’t moved. She was sitting quite still on Jack and she was trying desperately not to look upset, but failing utterly.

“Are you OK?” Issie asked her.

“Uh-huh,” Morgan nodded, although she was clearly trying not to cry. “I just thought…I thought that with Annabel gone Avery would put me in the team. I never thought that it would be Natasha.”

Morgan sighed, “Mum will kill me when she finds out.”

“Why?” Issie was puzzled.

A single tear trickled down Morgan’s left cheek. “Oh, you know, she really,
really
wants me to make the team,” Morgan said. “She wants me to ride for Chevalier Point in the Gold Shield like she did when she was my age.”

“I’m sure Avery just chose Natasha because she’s been at pony club for longer than you have,” Issie offered hopefully.

Morgan looked at her darkly. “I didn’t expect you to understand. The Gold Shield means everything to Mum. I need to get my name on it, just like she did,” she said. There was a chill in her voice now as she turned to Issie and wiped away the tear. “Anyway, you’d better catch up with the others. You don’t want to let your team down,” and she spun Jack around and kicked him on into a canter, leaving Issie standing alone and wondering what she had done wrong.

True to her word, Francoise had left the girls’ tickets at the door for the matinee session of El Caballo Danza Magnifico.

“Wow!” Stella was impressed. “These must be the best seats in the house. We’re so close to the arena we could almost touch the horses as they go past.”

“Maybe we will actually get to touch them,” Issie said. “Francoise is going to show us around backstage after the show and she said she would introduce us to the horses and riders.”

“I doubt it,” Natasha sniffed. “They don’t just let the public go backstage, you know. These are very valuable animals.” She turned to Issie. “When are we
going to see the dancing mares that look so much like your mongrel pony?”

“They don’t come on until later. It’s the stallions first,” Issie replied.

The matinee show was very much like the performance the girls had seen when they came for Issie’s birthday. But none of them minded watching it a second time. When the white stallions came out doing a Spanish Walk, with their legs lifting out into the air in an exaggerated flamenco prance, the girls clapped and cheered louder than anyone. They held their breath when Marius strutted into the arena, kicking his hindquarters elegantly back in a Capriole. They were sitting so close they could smell the horse sweat keenly in their nostrils and hear the grunts and snorts as Marius performed the most spectacular
haute école
movements.

As Marius left the ring, Issie looked at the programme that each of them had been given with their tickets. “The Arabian mares are next,” she said excitedly. “They’re going to do the Dance of the Seven Veils. Listen to this…” Issie began to read out loud from the programme.

“The Dance of the Seven Veils is performed by the school’s six prized Anglo-Arab mares, all of whom share the same ancient Arabian bloodlines. These horses have been trained in the movements of the
haute école
like prima ballerinas, schooled by the famous Francoise D’arth, senior rider at El Caballo Danza Magnifico, formerly the head trainer at the Cadre Noir de Saumur in France. The Dance of the Seven Veils is an ancient tale. It was famously performed for the wicked King Herod by the beautiful Salome.”

Suddenly there was a hush throughout the arena as the lights went out and the spotlights were trained once more on the sawdust floor of the ring. There was the faint tinkle of saddle bells and strains of exotic music, then the audience started clapping as the dancing Arabians cantered gracefully into the arena.

Blaze could be an Anglo-Arab just like these mares
, Issie thought. If that were true then, like Natasha said, she must be worth a fortune. The Arabians were all a deep, burnished liver chestnut with pale creamy flaxen manes and tails. Today their manes had been plaited up and the horses each wore scarves of silk chiffon
knotted into their braided manes to match the veils worn by their riders.

Issie spotted Francoise D’arth immediately. She was leading at the front of the ride, wearing a veil and harem pants in deep midnight blue covered with tiny clusters of diamond stars. As she rode past Issie she raised one hand to give her a wave, and Issie caught Natasha Tucker giving her a look of astonishment. Even snooty Natasha would have to believe that this famous rider was Issie’s friend now.

Was Francoise really her friend though? Issie had waved back as the rider went past, but she didn’t return her smile. Issie’s instincts told her to trust Francoise. And yet, the more that she thought about it, the more certain Issie was that she was the mystery woman in the tack room that night. Why would the French trainer be prowling about the pony club in the middle of the night? Had she meant to cut Issie’s stirrup leathers and got mixed up and injured poor Annabel instead?

At the end of the show, instead of following the crowds out into the main foyer, Issie and the others all walked across the sawdust of the main arena towards the doors that led out to the stables. When they reached the vast arched doorway that the horses came through to enter the ring, a big burly security guard emerged from behind the pillar to block their path. “Sorry, kids. Riders only. No entry for tourists here,” he said sternly.

“It’s OK, Rene, these are the young riders I was telling you about. They’re with me,” a voice behind the guard instructed. Francoise D’arth stepped forward out of the darkness and stood in front of them, smiling warmly. She had changed out of her costume and was wearing a pair of dark navy jodhpurs and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

“Bonjour
, Isadora!” she said, greeting Issie and looking along the row of faces beside her. “I know Kate and Stella, but you three I do not know.” She smiled at Dan, Ben and Natasha.

“Oh, sorry,” Issie said, “this is Dan and Ben, and this is Natasha. We all go to pony club together.”

“I hope you all enjoyed the show?” Francoise asked.

“Yes, thanks. Thanks for giving us the tickets,” Ben and Dan said together.

“Yes, it was a fabulous show,” said Natasha. “Your horses must be very expensive.”

Francoise laughed at this, “Well, yes, I suppose they are,” she replied. “All of our horses are bred from very select bloodlines that have been refined over centuries. The mares and stallions are chosen for their looks and temperament, and from the moment they are born, they are raised to be part of the riding school, to perform
haute école
movements and to dance for the crowds who come to see them—”

Natasha interrupted, “Yes, yes, but how much would my mum need to pay to buy me one of these horses?”

Francoise raised one eyebrow and smiled at her. “Oh, but I am afraid they are not for sale at any price. Besides, I am not sure that you could ride them. These horses are very finely trained in the ways of dressage and they all know a trick or two.” She turned and smiled at Isadora. “It takes a very special rider to handle an El Caballo horse. “Now,” Francoise said, “who would like to meet my horses?”

The stables for the El Caballo Danza Magnifico were divided into two separate wings. “One for the stallions,” Francoise explained, “and one for the mares. When we are touring like this we do not spend much more than a month in each place,” Francoise continued, “and during that time we must always find suitable accommodation for our stars.”

They were standing now in a long avenue of stables, with a broad concrete floor bordered by stalls on each side. Francoise walked up to the first stall and unbolted the top half of the Dutch door, swinging it open so that Issie and the others could look inside.

As the young riders moved closer to look Francoise gave a sharp whistle and there was a nicker in reply from the rear of the stall. There was the sound of hooves on straw and then an elegant chestnut mare popped her head out over the bottom half of the door. Issie was struck immediately by how much she looked like Blaze. She had the same delicate dished nose, but instead of a blaze, she had a perfect diamond-shaped star on her forehead.

Francoise murmured something to the mare in French and the horse lowered her head so that
Francoise could give her a scratch underneath her forelock. The mare grunted with pleasure at this. “This is Jetaime, one of my six dancing mares,” Francoise said. “She is just finishing her hard feed now and I was about to give her a hay net.”

“Are all the mares in the show sisters?” Stella asked. “They all look so alike.” Stella cast Issie a meaningful look.

“No,” Francoise said. “They are not all sisters, although they do look alike, don’t they? Many of them do have the same sire. Some do not. We choose them to match each other, and many of our troupe are handpicked before they are even a year old.”

“What about the stallions?” Kate asked.

“The white ones are Lipizzaners, all bred from the ancient bloodlines of six great sires. There is some Arab blood in there, Andalusian, too, from Spain, and also from the sturdy white Karsk horses of Eastern Europe. Today we keep our herd on a farm in Spain, where we train the horses at our own stables and choose the best stallions to perform in our shows,” Francoise said.