by Helen Gosney
“Whisperer, they say at home,” he said.
“Then you should take this colt. I give him to you…”
Rowan stared at him, shocked. The nomads were fine folk who truly loved their horses, but they certainly didn’t go around giving them away like this. He shook his head, hoping he wouldn’t upset them.
“I thank you for the honour you do me and I truly don’t want to offend you and your clan, but… I can’t accept him. I’m so sorry. I truly thank you, but it just wouldn’t be right. He’s a valuable colt, he will bring your tribe much gold,” he said.
“We cannot risk breeding him, gaited or not. And I do not think we can risk selling him, in all honesty. He is only truly valuable in the right hands. And it seems they are your hands.”
“But I have a fine horse. I have no need of another. Soot is as good as this one, fine as he is,” Rowan said as the grey pushed at him again with its nose.
The headman nodded. Rowan’s black colt was indeed as good as the grey and he didn’t think that Rowan would part with him.
“You know if the colt were to be sold, he would be sold again and again and go through many hands, each harsher than the last, because he is unrideable? He would be gelded, he would be beaten… he would be kept hungry to break him and he would be made to pull carts and carry loads that are too heavy for him… eventually he would be killed because they would make him savage with their cruelty… I wish it were otherwise, but you know the truth of it.” Ahleran sighed and looked very sad. “He is a most magnificent colt and yet we dare not breed him and we dare not sell him. Often I think of this and wonder if we should just kill him kindly ourselves. But then, it would be wrong to kill a horse like this, with the Mark of the One on him, and it would break my heart to have to do it …”
“No! Please don’t kill him! But you could geld him… he might accept a rider more easily then…”
The headman raised an eyebrow.
“Would you geld him?”
Rowan stroked the colt’s nose as it snuffled happily at him. He shook his head.
“No.”
I’d train him and ride him and when I finally go home for good, I’d take him and Soot and breed them both with the best mares we can afford, just as Griff and I’ve always dreamed, he thought wistfully. He looked at the nomad again for a moment and sighed.
“Hold out your hands, then.”
The headman nodded at Kron, who held out his hands obediently. Rowan emptied his pouch into the nomad’s outstretched hands, searched every pocket he had and handed a couple of odd silver and copper coins to him as well. He shook his head, “’Tis all I have to give to you, and ‘tisn’t enough. I’m truly sorry.”
“He has a sword, Grandfather,” a lad of perhaps ten spoke up.
Bishan cuffed him around the ears.
“Fool boy! Would you leave him defenceless?” he hissed.
Rowan smiled at him. He’d be far from defenceless even if he handed over his sabre. He stroked the grey colt’s nose again and turned to the headman.
“This sword could buy all of your horses, two or three of your wives, and maybe one of your sons as well…” he said softly.
The nomads stared at him and stared at the plain hilt of the sabre he wore in an unremarkable scabbard at his hip. It certainly wasn’t the same as the usual run of Guard sabres, but it was very plain. The boy laughed and got another clip around the ears for his rudeness, but all of the nomads were smiling at the forester’s absurdity. All the same, the headman thought, foresters aren’t known for bragging and they are the most hopeless liars in all the world.
“Show me this sword,” he said.
“My sister has always said that I’m hopeless at bargaining,” Rowan said, “But it is yours if you will accept it…”
The g’Hakken sabre whispered into his hands. He bowed his head and handed it to the headman hilt first.
“By the sacred blood of the Great One,” the man whispered reverently, his eyes wide. “Your sister is right… this sword would buy all of my horses, all of my wives, all three of my sons and my oldest grandson… and you would give it away for a single horse…?”
Rowan shrugged.
“What would I do with all the rest? I couldn’t keep them in the garrison, my Captain wouldn’t like it,” he said, “Besides, I have nothing else to give to you and ‘tis only a sabre when all’s said and done. No life is worth a piece of steel, no matter how beautiful it is or who made it. But maybe you’ll think that it might equal the value of the colt… you’re right when you speak of his future otherwise and he deserves better.”
The nomads were still staring at him in disbelief. The headman looked down at the magnificent sabre in his hands, felt the wondrous balance of it, and desired it more than he’d ever thought it possible to desire anything. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then he handed the sabre back to Rowan.
“I cannot take this…” he said slowly, “As you could not take the colt, I cannot take this, though I am sure my wives and sons will nag me endlessly about it.”
“Then I’m truly sorry,” Rowan said, “You have every coin that I possess and it isn’t enough.”
The headman smiled at him. Such honourable men, these foresters, he thought. This one could as well be a kinsman.
“But it is. It is exactly what I’d hoped to get for him. This price pleases me,” he said, without looking at the coins in Kron’s hands.
“But… you’re cheating yourself. ‘Tisn’t right,” Rowan protested.
The nomad shook his head. Truly, this man was hopeless at bargaining. But he had the feeling that the young forester wouldn’t allow anyone to take advantage of him, even if he was willing to cheat himself over the horse.
“No, it is right. This colt deserves to be with someone who can ride him as he should be ridden… someone who will be kind to him and not break his spirit. Someone who will treat him with honour,” Ahleran said, his dark eyes twinkling, “Now, this price pleases me. I hope it pleases you also.” He held out his hand to seal the deal.
Rowan stared at him for a moment, then nodded and shook the headman’s hand.
“Thank you. This price pleases me too,” he said softly.
“Good. And now we shall share a meal together to celebrate the sale of this fine colt,” the headman beamed, “I am sure you will not regret buying him.”
Rowan smiled at him.
“I’m sure I will not regret it. He is magnificent. Thank you,” he said.
**********
23. “Tabs”
“…And I’ve never regretted buying either Mica or Soot,” Rowan said quietly to Ross and the lads who’d been listening to the story with such fascination, “They saved my life.”
“And you would have given the nomads your sabre…?” Kurt said, wide-eyed. He knew the value of it was unimaginable. And apart from that, he’d watched Rowan doing his sabre drills every morning, and simply couldn’t believe that anyone would part with the superb blade that they’d worked so hard to win.
“Aye. ’Tis beautiful, a wonderful blade, but a life is more valuable. Even a colt’s life,” Rowan said.
A mile or so further on they came out of the forest onto a track that quickly led into another great clearing. This one contained two timber houses, a couple of barns, and several big paddocks with horses in them. Mica and Soot steered their mares into an empty paddock, shut the gate on them and then trotted back to Rowan.
Ross smiled at the recruits’ awed faces.
“I told you he’s a Horse Master, lads, and you saw something of it back at the Dogleg Pass, and you’ve just heard a bit more. ‘Tis a wonderful thing. Just watch and learn lads, watch and learn.”
A huge man hurried from the barn. The Wirrans had always believed that Rowan was tall, and of course at six feet three he was, but this man was a good half a foot taller, built like the proverbial brick privy. His thick dark braid swung to his waist.
He was Rowan’s cousin, Griff, s
ome four years older than him, and he’d come to live with Rhys’s family when he’d been orphaned at ten years old. The two were more like brothers than cousins and they’d gone into the horse breeding enterprise as partners.
Griff enveloped Rowan in a hug any bear would be proud of and said, “I knew you were coming today, laddie. Mica and Soot brought the mares out of the trees yesterday, and I put them into the paddock there. And bugger me, this morning those damned stallions opened the gate, and headed off down the track with their mares. When they went into the trees I knew they were going to meet you. And the dogs and the cat have been hanging around all day like a bloody bad smell.”
Rowan looked at the black and tan dogs frisking at his feet and the huge ginger cat that was sitting on a fence post, judging the distance before leaping into his arms. He braced himself for the impact. Little Scrap got the fright of his life: he arched his back and fluffed himself up as he balanced on Rowan’s shoulder.
“You ratbag, Scrap! Ollie won’t hurt you, but you’re going to have to get a bit more used to sharing, laddie,” Rowan laughed as he put both cats on the ground.
They looked at each other carefully, then Ollie rubbed his face against Scrap’s little face and nonchalantly swatted a dog that he felt was showing too much interest in his new little friend.
Rowan laughed.
“’Tis so good to see you again, Griff, and all the little beasties,” he said happily. “The horses are looking wonderful. No early foals yet, though?”
Griff smiled at him and shook his head.
“No, Rowan, I think they were waiting for you. Some of them are pretty close to their time though.”
“Aye, so I see. Well, it looks like we won’t be getting much rest for a bit then, Griff. But Ross and Dorrel and Kurt are here to help us too, as well as look at the older horses.”
“Good. You’re all very welcome here, lads, and there’ll be plenty of work for us all, believe me.”
**********
They sat companionably on the verandah after a very good supper that Griff’s wife Honi had cooked, talking about this and that. Honi was a woman of the Marblebark clan of central Sian, pretty, dark-haired and an excellent cook. Rowan had heard most of the doings of his kinfolk and he’d go and see Rhys and Dana and Moss tomorrow if the mares didn’t all decide to foal at the same time. Certainly some would foal tonight.
The dogs lay draped over Rowan’s feet and Scrap was prancing around chasing furry brown moths, jumping high without a lot of success. Ollie was sitting on Rowan’s lap and watching proceedings benignly: the Wirrans were sure he was the biggest cat they’d ever seen, but he was a peaceful creature so long as his dignity wasn’t compromised.
Scrap had found himself knocked tail over whiskers by a very fast and very large ginger paw when he’d been too frivolous with his new friend’s tempting striped tail, but he’d been unhurt and he’d learnt to pay proper respect to his elders. And now the two cats were inseparable. Ollie had demonstrated the art of catching moths to give to Rowan, but Scrap hadn’t quite mastered the technique. He would though; he was an enthusiastic hunter. Rowan for his part praised his brave hunting cats and quietly released the moths. It was getting dark and Rowan was about to go and check on the mares in the foaling boxes.
“Rowan, what’s that…?” Dorrel asked curiously.
Ross had decided that they could call Rowan and him by their first names while they were in Sian working together, but of course it’d be ‘Sir’ again when they got back to Den Siddon.
“Hmm…? Where…?”
“Over there… dammit. It’s gone. I saw its eyes shining, but… they’re… they’re red…” he said, puzzled. What sort of creature had red eyes?
“Red? Must be Tabs,” Griff said with a laugh, “I thought he’d have been here before now.”
Rowan nodded.
“He can be wary of new folk… come on Tabs, laddie. Come and meet some new friends…” Rowan called quietly.
Nothing happened for a little while and then Tabs came silently out of the shadows and strolled past the dogs to rub his face against Rowan’s knee. Ollie looked at him calmly but Scrap fluffed himself up again, hissed, and backed away behind Rowan.
“Great Gods Almighty! What the hell is that?” Ross said, as he found himself staring at a truly enormous cat, more than twice the size of Ollie, with thick silvery fur with black tabby markings and bright blue eyes that gleamed red in the light.
“This is Tabs. He’s a forest cat,” Rowan smiled as he ruffled the creature’s beautiful fur and tickled its long whiskers, “He comes and goes as he pleases, but he’s often here about now. Used to upset the dogs no end, but Boof and Umber have got used to him now.”
“He’s not been around since you left, Rowan,” Griff said, “He came every night for about a week, but I haven’t seen him again until now.”
Rowan nodded, unsurprised.
“I found Tabs in the forest one day,” he said, “He was only a tiny kit and a wolf had found the nest. The poor brave mother cat did her best, and in fact she blinded the wolf in one eye, but it killed her and most of the kits. Tabs was the only one that survived. He was so tiny and so young… only a couple of weeks old. I know I should have let nature take its course, but…” he shrugged, “But I couldn’t just leave the poor little creature there crying for his Ma. I thought he wouldn’t survive, but he did… and look at him now. He’s magnificent. He makes Scrap look like the long, leggy, half-grown kit that he is, doesn’t he?”
Scrap crept up to the forest cat with some gentle persuasion from Rowan and made a tentative friendship with Tabs. When Rowan went to the foaling boxes he was followed by a line of cats in descending order of size: Tabs first, then Ollie, and then Scrap prancing and leaping at shadows behind them. The dogs trotted at the end of the line: they knew their place.
“It always makes me laugh, you know,” Honi said with a grin, “Rowan off about his business with a few different sizes of cats at his heels, and then the dogs. They all just fall into place like they’ve been drilled, daft creatures.”
“He’s good with animals,” Kurt said thoughtfully, “Not just horses… with anything…”
Honi and Griff nodded.
“Oh, aye, lad. He certainly is,” Griff said. You don’t know the half of it, he thought.
**********
“It seems strange without Rowan here, doesn’t it?” Fess said one day a couple of weeks after Rowan had left Den Siddon to return to Sian for the foaling and breeding season.
Telli nodded. Rowan made less noise around the garrison than the little black cat that shadowed him everywhere, but he had an undeniable presence about him. It did seem… quiet.
“Aye, it does,” he said, “I keep expecting to see him running around the battlements, or helping some poor benighted bloody recruit to learn how to stay on a horse at anything faster than a slow amble.” He grinned. “It’s been good to have him here, Fess. He’s a good man, always has been.”
“Aye, he is, and he’s always been generous about passing on his skills too. Telli, I’ve asked him to… to think about staying on after the Trophy…”
Telli looked surprised for a moment.
“And what did he say? Surely he won’t…? He’ll be off back to the forests, won’t he?” he said, “Mind you, we could certainly do with his help around here. There never seems to be enough instructors, and he’s so damned good at everything… he’s worked miracles with some of these lads.”
Fess smiled.
“Aye, he has. Especially those first-year recruits. I’ve never seen a fitter bunch than they are now. Poor Benni can hardly keep up with them now that he’s back with them again… and the scrambleball was a stroke of sheer bloody genius. Anyway, Rowan said he’d think about it…”
“So he didn’t say no, then?” Telli brightened.
“No. He didn’t say no. He didn’t say yes either.”
“But he’ll think about it?”
“Aye. Of course
he’ll have to talk to Griff about it, they’re partners in the horse breeding. Rowan said he definitely wouldn’t come back here forever, but he’d think about coming back for a few months a year. Maybe help out with the new recruits if that’s what we’d like him to do.”
“Do you think he’ll do that, Fess?”
Fess shrugged.
“Maybe. It’s not always easy to know what Rowan’ll do… even after all the years we’ve been friends he can still surprise me,” he said slowly, “I didn’t think he’d ever come back to Den Siddon at all. And if he did, I thought he’d only stay a week or so at the most…”
Telli thought about it.
“Well, you know what they say about foresters… what you see is what you get, but that doesn’t mean that’s all there is… Rhys told me that years ago, and he was bloody right too,” he shook his head, “But no… I didn’t think Rowan’d ever come back after Messton, and I didn’t think any the less of him for it either… he gave everything he had for those men and their families, and he paid a hell of a price for it. It’s not right the poor lad’s still bloody paying it. And I certainly never thought he’d try for the Trophy again… but bugger me, he’s going to win it again if he’s not careful. He can wipe the floor with Stefan and Corran, and there’s not too many swordsmen better than those two around.”
Telli suddenly had a horrible thought.
“Fess… he IS going to come back for the Trophy, isn’t he?”
Fess stared at him in amazement.
“Of course he is. Why would you think he wouldn’t?”
Telli shrugged.
“It was just something he said one day when we were talking … something about he might get tired of running about in the circles in the cold and take his sabre and go home… I just… no, it’s daft…”
“It is daft, Telli, truly. He said he’ll give it a damned good try and that’s what he’ll do,” Fess smiled at him, “He’s always said he’d have to go back to Sian for the foaling. Don’t fret. He’ll be back.”
**********
