Chapter 48 – Fancy Horses
Wherein Bosra trains a beast, and reads a bunch of names.
The season progressed, as all seasons do. The frost and snow left Splendor as suddenly as it had come. Wind and sleet returned, washing streets and houses, spreading misery.
Bosra worked. It seemed she hardly did anything else.
The Beast took up a lot of her spare time. Mutual understanding was slowly building. He was hot-tempered, in need of an outlet she could not provide at the stable, but he was smart, too. He learned to respect her and in exchange, she took him out of the city to chase vermin.
She learned when he could be asked to work together, and when she had to let him run himself out.
Rose tried to help her understand him better by bringing home books from the UoUA library. Bosra did not read them. There were too many letters on the yellowed pages. Rose – busy with the increased workload from Bardic College – read a few passages to her, telling her nothing she hadn’t already figured out.
Pure Sovereign Breed horses were bred for their smarts, their tenacity, their stamina and their absolute lust for violence. They were not gentle animals desensitised to blood and gore. They lived for battle. The only reason a cavalry unit of PSBs didn’t turn on itself was the availability of easier targets.
Spring was conquering Winter, increment by increment. A new wave of recruits left Splendor to join the war effort on the other side of the dwarven bogs. Two of the three new stable boys left with the army, and Reginald, aching joints worse in cold weather, cursed them as he joined Bosra in manual labour.
A recruiter came by the stables, looking for the legendary marksman that supposedly worked there. He was crippled in an unfortunate accident. Beast slipped his rein as Bosra led him from the round pen. The recruiter, pencil-pusher of the nth degree, yelled and waved his clipboard hoping to spook the horse.
It did not spook.
Beast charged, bit down on the man’s shoulder and shook him until he stopped screaming. Before Beast could trample him until death parted soul from weakling body, Bosra regained control of the lead rope. With gentle pressure, she had Beast backing off.
The final stable boy rushed in, yanking the whimpering mass out of sight.
Bosra returned Beast to the round pen to work off his excess energy, hoping the recruiter had the good grace to depart.
The annoying little shit was gone by the time Bosra was free to talk. The stable boy told Bosra the wounds had been so deep he had been able to see bone and tendon. The pencil pusher would probably never write again.
Bosra wished this was the last recruiter she would ever see.
Ilyas visited the first true day of Spring. Fresh green leaves livened up the parks. Blossom was budding on the dormant limbs of trees. The knight struck a stark contrast to the hopefulness that came with spring. He wore his practical armour, dented in places, but polished. What showed of his gambeson and tunic was stained with sweat or faded from washing.
"Good morning, Bosra of the Golden Bow," he greeted her as she was mucking out a stall. "How fare thee?"
She turned, tossed a steaming pile of dung into the nearby wheelbarrow, and leaned on her shovel. "G’morn. You come for your horse."
"I do. I bring the riches you desired."
Bosra replied with a throaty snort. "Let me see you with him." She set the shovel aside to take him to Beast, who was locked up in a stall while the mares were out in the paddock.
Beast lunged at his owner as soon as the stall door opened. Bosra urged him back.
"You and him need time."
A deep sigh made his words superfluous. "I was out North, trying to levy more troops from the borderlands, and I have to report for duty in five days."
Bosra frowned, urging Beast back yet again, before closing the stall door on him.
Ilyas reciprocated the frown. "Take the riches you are owed, and keep him."
"Will train him until you return," Bosra stated.
He stayed quiet. That quiet told Bosra all she needed to know. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. He huffed and looked up. His greyish eyes filled with the same kind of horror she had faced, once upon a time. The kind one only overcame with boisterous self-assurance.
"Will keep him until you return," she repeated, letting go of his shoulder.
She followed him to the same grey-roan palfrey she had seen him on before. He fished a heavy lockbox from one of his saddlebags and handed it to her.
"For his upkeep."
She accepted. With the box under her arm, she watched him ride off. When he was gone from sight, she returned to work.
A day later, an invitation to visit the royal stables awaited Bosra when she got home. It surprised her, as she had not even thought about the possibility of going there. There was a small accompanying note that she did not need Rose to read for her. The script was blocky, the signed name ended on a flourish that did not impede legibility.
This is the least I could do to repay your efforts in training my destrier. May the Peace of Heaven be upon your brow. Ilyas.
Bosra grinned over the melodramatic words.
Bosra loved her visit to the royal stables. She spoke to plenty of people, and observed their training methods for a few spans of time – these didn’t differ too much from her own. The individual stalls were better equipped to deal with the raw tonnage and muscle power the beasts could muster. Steel-reinforced panelling made up the sides. The stable doors were hinged and locked with a crossbeam, instead of sliding on a guide-rail.
The mares were only a little less impressive than the stallions, but a lot calmer, though she saw one mare protect her foal from a hawk by trampling the creature as it sat in her field and tore into a hare.
All the horses were well cared for. Their coats shining, their hooves trimmed, their stalls clean. This place was as far from Reggie’s Livery as Effyne Palace was from the smalls house; in a league of its own. Plenty of knights strutted about the place, paying her no mind. A couple of them greeted her respectfully, recognising her.
"Art thou joining our ranks?" one asked, locking a stall with a crossbeam. The sign on the door read: Magistrum.
"Nah." Bosra looked at the bay coloured monstrosity on the other side of the bars. He had filled out more than Beast had, if that was possible. "How old’s he?"
"Nearly twelve years of age," the knight answered, wiping his hands on a rag. "Art thou certain thou wouldst not serve the Sovereign – peace of heaven be upon his brow?"
"Very." Bosra stepped over to the next stall to read the name of the palomino; Helios. "What d’you need ‘m to do, when not in battle?"
The knight laughed. "One would need to not be killed."
"Hmm." Bosra thought she’d gotten that far with Beast.
"Does rumour hold truth, art thou training a pure sovereign breed for a brother?"
"Yep. A black one."
The knight excused himself as he was being called by another brother. Bosra watched him go. She continued her walkthrough, muttering the names of horses under her breath; Zoya, Leviathos, Mythandris, Bonebreaker, Tovaltus, Gaiera. She snickered over Bonebreaker; not hard to figure out how he had gained that name.
At the end of the day, she didn't join the stable hands as they went for ale in a drinking hall nearby. Loneliness struck as she made her way home. The world was passing her by. She was an observer at somebody else's play.
It had been a long time since she had this particular feeling. Most days, she went about her business and that was that.
There was a sense of loss, of longing, involved in this observing. A want of community. Of companionship.
There was Reginald, of course. She drank a pint with him every now and then. They would laugh, share stories. But that was it. At the end of the day, she went home by herself.
She thought of Rose and Tina. Rose had grown a lot. So much so that she could hardly call her Pupper anymore, though she would, just for the hell of it. Tina was Tina, up in her head, dreaming through the day. Preoccupied with her future, and rightly so.
Still... it left her feeling... not left out per se, just... left behind.
She wasn't. She knew that. But feelings weren’t logical. Better to accept that and move on.
She felt the same as she had when her clanswomen had worked with joy, while she herself was filled with terrible sadness. She had known then that their life was not for her.
Echoes of that same feeling haunted her now. And in truth, Rose and Tina’s paths were not for her.
She was no longer a travelling woman. She was too old to be married by clan standard. And too young to be a grand-dam.
She longed for companionship. She wanted for the steady presence of a mate.
Though her son had not been immaculately conceived, neither had she bonded so deeply to his father that she could not do without him. They had not set off together to form a family group. No, she had stayed with the women. He had stayed with the bachelor males. As was the way of the clan in such cases.
She switched tubes. Leaning against the side railing, she let the hail sting her face.
Oddly enough... she thought of men in shining armour; tin-can-men they had been called by her adventuring crew.
First there was the Sovereign Knight that had entrusted her with all of his riding animals at the end of last summer. She felt nothing particular for him. He had been all business. She appreciated that.
It was the younger one she found herself admiring. He had taken her beating with grace. He had brought her his horse. He faced the reality of probable death and went anyway.
During this journey homewards, she allowed herself to entertain the notion of favourable companionship with someone of equal standing to herself. That dreaming up something like that was improbable was the kindest of descriptions. There were no Highlander males in Splendor. And if there were, why would they be interested, when even greenskinned toughs had a hard time with her?
As she walked into the street she lived in, she reminded herself of what she had lost. What she had purposely left behind.
Best not to wallow and move on.
She walked up the short flagstone path to the kitchen door, already scenting bacon in the air and probably potatoes to go with them. Home. This was home now.
Three women and a friendship that made them family. Until Pupper and Tina left, it would be enough.
~
Hello Sunshine,
Thanks for sticking with me through this story so far.
If you like my writing style and can't wait to read more, the ebook and paperback are up on Amazon.
My newest novella - Bear With Me - is up for grabs on Kindle /KU.
Meanwhile I'm working on a next big project, that may or may not end up here on Arkhaven.
Love you, bye
Zanna Bear
