by Helen Gosney
“I like them well enough, Sir, it’s just that I’m bloody terrified of them…”
“Well, we can’t have that, Kendall. Do you want to stay in the Guard?”
“Aye, I… I do, Sir, I like the Guard, though I didn’t think I would. But… but the bloody horses…”
“Aye, there’s no getting away from them, is there? But unless you’re planning on doing a hell of a lot of walking, there’s no escaping them away from the Guard either,” Rowan thought about it a bit more. “If you agree to let me help you, there’s no reason why you can’t ride as well as anyone else…”
Kendall looked at him very sceptically.
“You’ve seen the way that mare reacted to me, Sir. They all do that… every damned horse acts up with me, and…”
“And you use a more severe bit and whip them and make it worse…”
Kendall hung his head, his face burning with shame.
“Aye, Sir…”
“Kendall, I truly don’t like the way you’ve treated that mare, but we’ve dealt with all that. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in being frightened of horses… people are frightened of all sorts of things,” Rowan considered the miserable looking man in front of him, so different from the blustering bully he’d first seen. “Tell me, Kendall, are you familiar with the Siannen term Horse Whisperer? What you Wirrans would call a Horse Master?” he asked slowly.
Kendall stared at him in amazement and disbelief. He seemed perfectly serious. Of course he’d heard the old stories about the Captain of Den Siddon, but he didn’t believe them any more than his uncle did. It simply wasn’t possible. Mind you, even his uncle admitted the man was a hell of a good horseman.
“Only insofar as it’s a complete myth, Sir,” he said, trying to come to grips with the sudden change of topic.
“Truly? A myth, you think? How disappointing.”
“Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to offend you…” Kendall added hastily, “But… I…well, surely it’s a tale for children. It’s just the riding teachers trying to make themselves something they’re not…”
“Don’t worry, you’ve not offended me. I’m difficult to offend, generally speaking. I told you I prefer plain speaking, and ‘tis the truth. Don’t ever be afraid to say what you think around me,” Rowan said with a wry smile. “I was just interested to hear your opinion on it, that’s all. But… myths, you think…?”
Kendall was sure of his ground here. He took Rowan at his word. “Oh, aye, Sir. I’m sure of it. Nobody’s ever actually seen one, have they?” Apart from the man in front of him perhaps, Kendall realised belatedly. He hurried on, hoping he didn’t get into more trouble than he already was. Captain Rowan seemed unworried… “ How could anyone possibly have, er, mystical powers over horses anyway, Sir? Over any horse at all, they say. No, ‘tis daft, er, no offence intended, Sir,” Kendall shook his head, “I don’t believe in it at all, but still I wish we had one here for that bloody mare. Well, to be truthful I think even a Horse Whisperer would struggle with that one.”
Rowan nodded sagely. He didn’t know how it was possible, either, and Kendall was free to believe whatever he liked. Good luck to him.
“Aye, I dare say you’re right,” he shrugged, then looked straight at Kendall again, “Would you go and get her and bring her out please. She’s tied in that last stall there.”
Kendall gaped at him.
“Sir…I…” he managed.
Rowan smiled at him.
“Just be careful with her, and take your time, there’s no hurry. And don’t worry about a saddle or bridle,” he said, “I just want to have another look at her.”
Kendall swallowed nervously.
“Aye, Sir,” he said unhappily, then turned and went into the stables. A scream of rage from the mare and a few interesting curses from Kendall told Rowan that he was at least trying to get the job done. Good man, he thought to himself. A couple of troopers appeared in the yard to see what the problem was in the normally quiet stables.
“It’s all right, lads, don’t worry. I’m just trying something. Just, er, disappear, will you?” Rowan called to them, relieved to see them gone before Kendall made an appearance at the end of the brown mare’s lead rope.
Neither horse nor man was happy at all, with the mare snorting and rearing and dragging Kendall along. He was white-faced, hanging onto the lead rope for dear life as he dodged the mare’s hooves and teeth.
“Gods, Sir! She’s… she’s bloody impossible! No wonder they were glad to see the back of her at Den Triss, ” he managed as Rowan stepped forward and took the rope from his vice-like grip. “I don’t think even a Horse Master or Whisperer or a bloody Mumbler for that matter could do much with this one!”
Rowan smiled at him as he calmed the mare and stroked her nose.
“We’ll see…” he said.
Kendall gaped at him in horror as he vaulted easily onto the brown mare’s bare back. The mare stood for a moment as Rowan stroked her neck and spoke to her, then squeezed her carefully with his knees. She leapt sideways; rearing and tossing her head as she felt for the cruel bit in her mouth, ready to fight it as she always did. Failing to find a bit at all, she tossed her head a couple of times and pawed at the ground; then she turned her head and looked at her rider with a comical expression of surprise on her face.
“It’s all right, lady, you’re all right. I won’t hurt you…” Rowan said very softly as he patted her glossy neck, “Come now Priya, my pretty one, let’s show this poor silly man how impossible you really are and maybe we might teach him something about bloody myths and Mumblers while we’re at it…” He squeezed her again with his knees and the mare stepped forward, warily at first and then with increasing confidence.
Kendall watched in disbelief as the intractable mare walked quietly around the cobbled yard, her ears pricked and her tail swishing lazily as she had a good look around her. Rowan sat easily on her back, guiding her with his legs, the halter rope held loosely in one hand. Why isn’t she rearing and bucking and fighting like she always does with me, the Commandant’s nephew wondered. The cursed mare seemed to be almost dancing as she first trotted, then cantered happily in big circles and figures-of- eight. Gods! Her damned paces are good, he thought in amazement as he suddenly realised what he was really seeing. He shook his head slowly. No, it wasn’t possible… it simply wasn’t… possible…
The mare stopped near the gawping Corporal and Rowan slipped from her back and tickled her ears. Priya closed her eyes blissfully and leaned against him. At least he could retrain her to accept a bit again when her mouth was healed, he thought. He wouldn’t let any horse be ruined by a poor frightened fool like this.
“Well, not so unrideable after all, it seems. Not even impossible, really. I think Den Triss’s loss is our gain,” Rowan said.
“But… but, Sir! How…?” Kendall gabbled.
Rowan smiled at him and took pity on him.
“I truly don’t know ‘how’, Kendall,” he said slowly, “It’s just something I’ve always been able to do, as long as I can remember. I don’t understand it any more than anyone else does. But I wanted you to see that I truly can help you, if you’ll allow me to. Now, come over here and pat her. Gently.”
“But…but…you saw what she was like with me, she’ll…”
“If she does, then she does. You’ll just have to get out of her way. But I don’t think she will. You must do it calmly and gently though. She won’t hurt you while I’m here. Do you believe me?”
Kendall looked at the mare standing so quietly beside Rowan. She was absently lipping at his hair. How could she possibly be so calm now? And how the hell had Rowan ridden her like that? He took a deep breath and nodded slowly.
“Aye…I think so…”
“Good. Then come and pat her. Let her sniff your hand first, like this… Did that bloody fool of an uncle of yours never…? Your pardon, I forgot myself. Did our esteemed Commandant never show you how to do this?”
“No, Sir.”
Rowan shook his head in wonderment. Truly, some people had no idea, he thought. He supposed that all the riding masters since had simply assumed that Kendall had more or less known what he was doing. He shook his head again
“Just a moment,” he scrabbled about in a pocket and produced something that made the mare prick her ears and snuffle at his hand insistently. “Just wait, greedy Priya. Kendall will give it to you…” he said with a laugh.
“What is it?”
“’Tis only a peppermint. Horses seem to love them, and if you give it to her she’ll like you better too.”
Rowan smiled to himself as he watched Kendall very carefully give the mare the peppermint on his outstretched palm. The man’s worried face suddenly lit up like a child’s as Priya sniffed and snuffled at his hand, crunched the sweet happily and then pushed at him with her nose as she looked for more.
“You see? Now, it’s not a magic cure, but it’s a start. She didn’t bite you, did she?”
“No… no, she didn’t. But… but what if you weren’t here?”
“Then I’d be very careful if I were you. Horses have good memories, so I doubt she’d be too happy to see you. But a bit of bribery and corruption will always help. And truly, I think she’s probably a fairly feisty mare anyway. I think you’ll do better with old Egbert over here, at least for a while…”
“Old Egbert…?”
“Aye, every garrison should have an Egbert.” Rowan grinned. “He’s trained more recruits than you’ve had hot meals. He’s a patient, gentle old thing; mind you, he’ll still dump you if he thinks you deserve it… won’t you, old lad?” this last to a sleepy looking bay gelding that was going grey around the muzzle.
Egbert nodded his head, a serious look on his long face. Rowan laughed and tickled the horse’s ears and gave Kendall another peppermint. Kendall passed it on and stroked the old horse’s nose as it happily crunched it up.
“There you are… a good supply of peppermints and the old boy’s happy. Now, first thing tomorrow, you and Egbert will be joining me for a session. No spurs and no whip, please. And I warn you, we’ll be starting with the very basics and we’ll be working hard.”
“Aye, Sir.” Kendall couldn’t believe that he was actually stroking a horse’s face and that the horse seemed perfectly happy about it. And he was actually looking forward to riding for the first time since he was six.
**********
A noisy group of recruits came across the cobbled stable yard. They quietened down as they neared the stable and then again as they saw that Rowan was already there. A sheepish looking Kendall was just behind them. They came to attention and saluted their Captain as one.
Rowan smiled at them as he returned their salute.
“A good morning to you, lads,” he said amiably, “Just behind you is Corporal Lorrissen, who’s joined us from Den Tripp. A very severe garrison it is too, so he’ll take no nonsense from you lot.” He almost laughed at the wide-eyed, wary faces staring at Kendall.
“And this bunch of layabouts are some of our first-year recruits, Gods help us,” he said to Kendall with a grin.
“Are you going to join us again today, Captain?” a couple of the lads asked eagerly.
Rowan shook his head.
“No, Gren, Farran. Not today, I’m sorry to say. But possibly in a few days, I think,” he said.
“Oh.”
Kendall thought the lads sounded disappointed.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Horsemaster Stell can still manage the lot of you well enough without me there to terrorise you,” Rowan said, trying to sound stern.
All of the lads looked at each other and grinned.
“Oh, no, Sir!” several of them said.
“Cheeky buggers. Well, get on with it, lads… maybe you can beat Sergeant Stell out to the parade ground for once. Not you, please, Corporal.”
“Aye, Sir!” the lads chorused and headed quickly to their horses.
Rowan shook his head as the recruits clattered off out of the stables surprisingly quickly, headed for the parade ground.
“Not a chance!” he laughed to Kendall, “Stell came in here when I did. They’re a good lot of lads, but it wouldn’t do for them to know it.”
“Sir, do you always go to the recruits’ riding classes?” Kendall asked curiously. He’d been surprised at the easy, but obviously respectful, relationship between the recruits and their Captain. Rowan had even known the lads’ names. Kendall had been terrified of his first Captain, a cold and arrogant man who’d barely acknowledged his recruits’ existence and who’d treated them like dirt when he did.
Rowan shook his head.
“No. I go when I can, but it’s not a regular thing. Of course I’ll go if Stell asks me, or if he’s having problems with one of the lads for whatever reason. It’s a big recruit intake here, that was only half of them, and sometimes Stell just needs some extra hands. Like everywhere else we’re always short of instructors. I was Horsemaster at a couple of my postings and there always seemed to be too many awful riders and not enough teachers. And sometimes it just happens that I’m out training my own horses when Stell takes the lads out to the paddocks.” Rowan shrugged. “I like it, to be truthful. But then anything beats doing bloody paperwork.”
“Aren’t we going out with the lads, Sir?” Kendall asked cautiously, thinking it impossible that Rowan could have forgotten.
“Not yet, but we will in a few days’ time, never fear. Would you rather we went with them now?”
“No, Sir,” Kendall said fervently, “I mean, er, no thank you, Sir. But thank you for the opportunity, Sir.”
Rowan laughed.
“ Aye, I think it’ll be better to join them in a couple of days. Now… Egbert is over here…”
**********
16. “You play a dangerous game, Captain. A very dangerous game indeed.”
Sergeant Desson Sorensen was sitting behind the desk outside the Commandant’s office; a bit glumly, it had to be said. This was nobody’s favourite duty but at least young Red did share it around fairly, Desson thought. Really, the garrison had never been better run, not even by poor Johan. The lad had done a fine job as Johan’s 2i/c, and now he was doing a fine job as Captain too, no matter that the Commandant went out of his way to make it difficult for him. For a moment Desson wondered vaguely what the Commandant’s obvious problem with Red was. Of course, the old boy had always been a right old pest, but Johan hadn’t had to put up with so much nonsense… Desson let his mind wander onto the more pleasant subject of an early lunch.
“A good morning to you, Sergeant Desson, is the Commandant available for a few minutes?” a soft lilting voice enquired pleasantly.
The Sergeant jumped, then scrambled to his feet and saluted his Captain. Gods, he thought, how in the Nether Hells does he do that? He makes less noise than the stable cat, and the damned cat doesn’t wear boots or carry a sabre.
“Er… good morning, Sir,” Desson said quickly, “Aye, Sir, the Commandant’s not doing anything this morning…” his voice trailed away as his ears caught up with his mouth.
He looked across and thought he saw a quick grin flash across the Captain’s face, but he wasn’t sure.
“Good, I wouldn’t like to think he was being overworked,” Rowan said, keeping a straight face with difficulty, “Would you ask him if I might see him now, please?”
“Aye, Sir.”
Desson disappeared into the Commandant’s office and returned quite quickly.
“Aye, Sir. He said he could spare you a few minutes now, Sir.”
“Can he indeed? Good. Thank you, Sergeant.” Rowan acknowledged the man’s salute and entered the Commandant’s office, telling himself as he went that he mustn’t lose his temper no matter what.
“Well? What is it, Captain? I trust it is urgent?” the Commandant demanded in his nasal voice.
Rowan saluted, his face unreadable as he sighed inwardly. So he was going to be like that was he, the old goat. Didn’t
his mother or anyone else ever teach him some bloody manners? Apparently not.
“A good morning to you, Commandant. Thank you for seeing me now,” he said amiably, “Sir, we have a problem that needs to be sorted out.”
“A problem, Captain? You interrupt me with a ‘problem’?” The Commandant frowned at him. “But surely it’s your job to resolve any problems in this garrison?”
Rowan sighed to himself again. What had he done to deserve this, he wondered, and not for the first time.
“Aye, Sir, it is. And I hope to resolve this one too. Today, I hope. May I speak frankly, Sir?”
“You always do, Captain. But, aye, you have my permission to speak frankly now,” the Commandant replied sourly.
“Thank you, Sir.” Rowan hesitated for a moment. He was here now, he thought, so he might as well say his piece. Frankly. Put his foot down with a firm hand, as Telli had said. He looked the Commandant in the eye. “Sir, do you have a problem with the way this garrison is run? Do the troops not meet with your approval, or do you feel that they are somehow not up to standard? … Or perhaps that discipline is lacking? Or performance? Training?”
The Commandant looked surprised. The garrison of Den Siddon was the best-run garrison in Wirran, and its troopers were the best men available. Always had been, always would be.
“No, Captain,” he said slowly, “I have no problems with any of that. But as we’re being frank, I must say that I’m surprised you would ask.”
“Aye Sir, so am I, but I’m asking because you seem to find it necessary to question every decision I make. I have the respect and trust of the men, but not yours.” And I hope that shocked you, you old bastard, Rowan thought. You couldn’t speak frankly if your life depended on it.
“I would remind you, Captain, that I am the Commandant of the Guard of Wirran, and as such I am your Commanding Officer,” the Commandant said coldly.
