Secret of the Stallion

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Look!” said Stevie, standing on her toes. “There are the horses!”

  The crowd strained against the barriers as the horse guards approached Buckingham Palace.

  There were perhaps forty mounted guards, dressed in bright red uniforms and smart caps with feathers fluttering in the warm summer breeze. The guards rode four abreast down the Mall toward the palace, heads forward, eyes straight ahead. The horses clopped along the paved street in near unison, in much the same way they must have done for hundreds of years.

  All around cameras clicked. The tourists crowded for a better look.

  “Don’t miss the picture! Bert! Get a picture!” one lady shouted at her husband as he tried to load film into his camera.

  “Did you see the one flinch? Did you get that with the videocam?” a father said excitedly to his son.

  “Look at all those horses! They must be identical twins!” uttered a little girl.

  Stevie, Lisa, Carole, and Veronica watched, too. They were more interested in the horses than in the guards. The girls admired the way the riders handled the turns. When four horses marching abreast came to a turn, the ones on the outside had to turn farther and faster than the ones on the inside to keep the formation from becoming straggly. Not surprisingly, these riders executed the turns with military perfection.

  “Nice!” said Stevie. She was always particularly aware of good technique in intricate riding.

  “They take wonderful care of the horses,” said Carole. “Every one of them is perfectly groomed.”

  “And did you see how the tack gleamed in the sun?” asked Mrs. Reg.

  The girls all giggled when she said that. Mrs. Reg was famous for finding people to polish tack. “Nothing like supple leather,” she’d say.

  “It’s very supple,” said Lisa. That made her friends giggle. Even Max smiled.

  “Nobody respects me,” Mrs. Reg said. But she was teasing and the girls knew it. They respected her a lot and there was a good deal of gleaming leather at Pine Hollow to attest to that fact.

  The guards entered the palace grounds and proceeded through an old ritual, replacing old guards with new as the shift changed.

  The performance was executed perfectly and the crowd appreciated it. Within weeks, thousands of photographs of the event would be placed lovingly in albums all around the world. Lisa tucked her camera back into its case, hoping her pictures would come out.

  When the last guard was in place and the last photograph had been taken, Mrs. Reg invited everybody to take a walk.

  “Are we going near Harrods?” Veronica asked. Harrods was London’s very famous, and very expensive, department store. Veronica could hardly wait to get there.

  “Not really, dear. I was planning a stroll through the parks. This one here, to our right, is Green Park.”

  “Isn’t that a silly name for a park?” Veronica said grumpily. “Isn’t that the point of parks—to be green?”

  “Then it seems like an utterly sensible name for a park,” said Mrs. Reg matter-of-factly.

  She led the group into the park. The paths were pleasant and wide. On the lawn, many people were enjoying the day, sitting quietly, talking, or playing games. A group of children played something that looked a bit like football.

  “Rugby,” Max said. “Some people would disagree with this definition, but it’s something like a cross between what we call soccer and the English call football, and our football, which the English call American football.” Stevie didn’t care what it was called. She thought it looked like fun.

  They came to an enormous traffic circle, which Mrs. Reg explained the English called a roundabout.

  “Everything’s the same, but everything’s different,” Stevie said, thinking out loud. “A traffic circle’s a roundabout; a car trunk is a boot; an elevator is a lift; and soccer is football, but football is American football. It’s all very strange.”

  Max laughed. “England and America have been described as ‘two nations divided by a common language,’ ” he told them. It seemed to be true.

  They made it across the roundabout by going underground through a series of tunnels and emerged at a place Mrs. Reg told them was called Hyde Park Corner.

  “This way,” said Max.

  They left the corner and followed him into Hyde Park. To their right was a large open area where some boys were flying kites. To their left was Rotten Row.

  “What’s rotten about it?” Veronica asked.

  “Nothing at all,” said Carole, a grin crossing her face. “Because look, this is where people ride horses.”

  The approach of hoofbeats told everybody she was right. The whole group turned to see the approaching horses. It was more than a little bit comforting to see such a familiar sight in such an unfamiliar place. What they weren’t prepared for was exactly how familiar the sight was going to be.

  “It’s the Italians!” said Stevie.

  “Marco! Gian! Enrico! Andre!” Carole cried.

  Lisa waved at them; so did Max and Mrs. Reg. Veronica took a moment to smooth her skirt.

  The four boys drew to a halt in front of the astonished Americans.

  “But what are you doing here?” Marco asked.

  “Waiting for you,” Stevie teased.

  “How wonderful!” said Andre.

  “Lisa! How have you been?” asked Enrico.

  “I’ve been fine,” Lisa said. She was pleased to see Enrico and remembered what a wonderful time she and her parents had had visiting his home when they were in Italy. “We all have. We’re just excited to be here and we can’t wait to go to Cummington tomorrow. What are you doing now, practicing for the mounted games?”

  “Hardly,” Enrico said. “We can’t really do that here and it wouldn’t do much good unless these were the horses we’ll be riding in the games. However, our coach thought it would be good for us to stay in shape, so he hired these fellows for us. Mine has been giving me trouble all day.”

  Lisa took the horse’s reins near his mouth and patted his neck while she talked with Enrico.

  “Sometimes horses just get moody, don’t they?” she asked. It had happened to her enough that she knew it was true.

  “Yes indeed. I just wish this one wouldn’t be moody when I’m in the saddle.”

  The horse flinched. Lisa gripped the reins a little more tightly. It wasn’t that Enrico wasn’t also holding the reins; he was. It was more that she was closer to the horse’s mouth, where a little tug might have a more immediate effect.

  “My mother keeps talking about you,” Enrico said. “I was told about twenty times to ‘say hello to that nice American girl, Lisa, and her parents.’ ”

  “That’s funny,” said Lisa. “My mother told me to be sure to tell you again how much we all enjoyed staying with you in Italy.”

  “And you?” Enrico asked. The tone of his voice had changed. It was quieter, more personal and somehow urgent. “Did you enjoy it, too?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, almost breathless, realizing for the first time that Enrico really liked her.

  She looked up at him sitting in the saddle, his head silhouetted against the bright sky. And then she saw something that Enrico didn’t see. A kite suddenly soared across the sky, skittering down to the earth not two feet from where she and Enrico stood. It was more than Enrico’s fidgety horse could stand. He couldn’t run because Enrico had the reins. He couldn’t rear because Lisa held his bit. But he could buck. And buck he did. Enrico had no warning at all. He flew right over the horse’s head, did a somersault, and landed on his rear!

  Lisa was so astonished she barely knew what to do first. Max came to the rescue. Max took the horse’s reins from her hand and separated him from the group until he was back under control.

  Lisa ran to Enrico and knelt next to him. He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “Enrico? Can you see me? Is anything broken? Are you hurt? Can you stand up?”

  He fluttered his eyes. Then
he whispered weakly to her. She had to lean forward to hear him.

  “I’m sure I can stand up, Lisa, but as long as you’re willing to take care of me, I think I’ll stay right where I am.” There was a totally irresistible twinkle in his eyes.

  Lisa burst into laughter and stood up. She offered Enrico a hand, and he stood up as well.

  Mrs. Reg asked him if he was okay, and he gave her a much more serious answer than he’d given Lisa, assuring her that he was fine. By then, Max had calmed the horse down. The bay gelding was no longer fussing and fidgeting.

  “I think he’s okay to ride, but I’m not certain,” said Max. “I’d be uncomfortable having you get back on him again. Are the stables far away?”

  “Not really,” Marco told Max. “We were on our way back there when we spotted you.”

  “Then why don’t I ride with you boys and we’ll return the horses and meet the rest of you someplace for lunch. Any suggestions?”

  “I have an idea,” said Enrico. “We saw a lot of restaurants over by Piccadilly Circus, including a pizza place. Andre, Marco, Gian, and I were remembering the wonderful American pizza you girls gave us in Virginia. Perhaps you’d let us buy you some English pizza today, and then in the future we’ll have real Italian pizza—”

  “Wonderful,” said Max. “The last pizza I had was that revolting stuff on the plane. Mother, why don’t you take Enrico and the girls there. The boys and I will meet you there in about as much time as it will take them to make two large pizzas!”

  How could the girls say no to such a gracious invitation? Mrs. Reg pulled out her map and guide book and pointed to the right.

  “Piccadilly’s straight ahead!” She led. They followed.

  Dear Mom & Daddy,

  Saw the Chumleys yesterday. Did the tea thing. They live in a dusty old house stuffed to the gills with antiques. Not surprising they’re important clients, but, Daddy, I missed riding at Dickens House with Lady Theresa to see those fogeys. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT’S BEEN THREE YEARS SINCE I GOT A NEW SADDLE????

  Just back from Buckingham Palace—the changing of the guard. How quaint! How touristy! Tomorrow I think I’ll get to Harrods—finally! And then to the castle in the afternoon. Sounds like an interesting place, though I doubt there’s much good shopping in the town of Cummington.

  Love,

  Veronica

  July 18

  Dear Diary,

  This trip is finally beginning to show some hope. For the longest time, I thought it would simply be eight days of tolerating The Saddle Club in order to have some fun in London and have the opportunity of meeting some people more my class in Cummington, but there have been a few developments that make the whole trip more promising than I could have imagined.

  First, there’s the castle. I put up with weak tea, stale cakes, and a couple of tedious old fogeys yesterday afternoon and my reward was a most interesting story. It seems the man who built the castle had a treasure. Something about the Civil War, though I can’t imagine why an English duke cared about freeing slaves in America. Still, the man apparently knew jewels and precious metals. He also had a thing about horses. I could love someone like that. Anyway, it seems that nobody’s ever found his treasure—until now, that is. I don’t have time for all the details of what Mrs. Whatsername told me, but I know enough to know where to look. Won’t that be a surprise to those goody-goodies, Lisa, Carole, and Stevie. I can’t wait to see their faces when I find the treasure!

  I also can’t wait to see the face of one of them in particular when she discovers that a certain boy who thinks he’s interested in her finds out that I have a lot more to offer than she does. He’ll drop her in a minute when he learns how common she is. And the beauty of it is that I’ll be right there when he starts to look around again. I won’t have to lift a finger—all I have to do is to be there.

  Tomorrow I’ll see the inside of some of London’s better stores—or I’ll scream. I just have this urge to shop!

  Veronica

  “WHAT’S THIS?” VERONICA asked the next morning at breakfast. She was looking at a bowl of viscous hot cereal that the waitress had put in front of her.

  “Porridge,” Lisa told her. “It’s part of breakfast every morning here at the hotel. Didn’t you notice?”

  “Hardly,” said Veronica. She handed the bowl to a passing waitress and concentrated on the bread and tea.

  “Speaking of tea, Veronica,” Stevie said. “How was your visit with that friend of your family the other day?”

  Veronica pasted a smile on her face. She’d promised herself that these girls would never know the truth about that visit—any of it.

  “Delightful,” Veronica said. “Such a cute old couple! Daddy was absolutely right. I found them totally charming. Too bad you three had to be dragged way out into the country. I’m sure you would have loved the Chubbles.”

  “Wasn’t their name Chumley?” Stevie asked. She considered Veronica’s enthusiasm highly suspicious.

  “Chumley—whatever. Anyway I’m sorry you couldn’t be there with me.” With that, she tossed a half-eaten roll onto her breakfast plate and stood up.

  “I’m going to change to go shopping this morning. Anyone else interested in going to Knightsbridge?”

  The girls had learned enough about London to know that Knightsbridge was a major shopping area. That’s where Harrods was, as well as a number of London’s other fine stores and exclusive shops—the kind of place that Veronica liked best.

  “We’re going to the Science Museum,” said Stevie. “At least that’s what Carole and I were talking about with a couple of the Italian boys. Are you coming, too?” she asked Lisa.

  Lisa finished the last bite of her porridge. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Enrico said he thought it would be fun just to walk around. I think that’s what we’re going to do. Max said we could do whatever we wanted as long as we had maps and promised to be back here for the bus at one, right?”

  “Right,” Carole said.

  “Well, I’ll see you a little later,” said Veronica, finally leaving the girls alone in the breakfast room.

  “She hated the Chumleys!” Stevie hissed victoriously to her friends.

  “She is so transparent!” said Lisa.

  “Like glass,” Carole agreed. “But the best part about that is that she has to keep on pretending we really missed something, when we know that she knows that she’s the one who missed something great by not riding at Dickens with Tessa.”

  “When I learned that Veronica was coming on this trip with us, I thought it was all bad news,” Stevie said. “Now it turns out that it’s almost the most fun of all. Here she is in England, a place that people think is sort of snobbish, but as far as I’m concerned isn’t at all that way, and we’ve got the biggest American snob of all with us and she’s having a miserable time. Isn’t life grand?”

  “Totally,” Lisa agreed.

  “Naturally you’d say that,” said Carole. “Because you’ve got this incredibly rich Italian boy positively drooling over you. Personally, I think it’s, it’s …” She searched for a word. “Wonderful!”

  “Me too,” Lisa agreed.

  Stevie clapped Lisa on the back enthusiastically. “Have fun,” she said.

  “I will—that is if I can keep Veronica out of our hair. She seems to want to follow me wherever I go,” Lisa said.

  “You mean wherever Enrico goes?” Stevie asked.

  “Oh, of course! How could I have missed that?” Lisa said, realizing that Veronica found something very attractive about Enrico—his father’s bank account. “She’s really pathetic, isn’t she?”

  “Don’t worry about this morning,” Stevie said. “We’ll see that she stays far away from you and Enrico. It’s a promise.”

  Lisa knew that a promise from Stevie was like money in the bank, but she was curious to see what her friend had in mind.

  Half an hour later, the girls had put on their walking shoes and packed everything else. They checked t
heir bags at the hotel desk and waited for the Italian boys to pick them up for their morning jaunt. Mrs. Reg and Max were there, handing out street maps and checking watches.

  “I don’t know about this, Max. London is a big city,” said Mrs. Reg. “Do you really think it’s safe to let these youngsters out on their own?”

  “Mother, let me remind you that we regularly allow them free rein with some of the most valuable things we own: our horses. If we can trust them with the likes of Topside and Prancer, don’t you think we should trust them to go to a museum in broad daylight, just a couple of blocks from our hotel?”

  Mrs. Reg frowned a little bit.

  Max continued. “And if we don’t let them go by themselves, we’ll have to go with them …”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Mrs. Reg.

  The Italian boys arrived then, along with their coach, who seemed to be looking forward to some peaceful time with Max and Mrs. Reg. They were ready to go.

  “Is everyone going to the museum?” Veronica asked. Although it was a general question, Veronica’s eyes were on Enrico. That irritated Lisa. And it irritated her all the more because she knew Veronica knew the answer. She was about to say as much when Stevie came to her rescue.

  “Oh, look, Lisa. Here, on the map. It’s the place you wanted to get to—the London Dungeon. It’s just cram-filled with really disgusting and gory stuff. They show people who are being tortured and even somebody who’s been beheaded. There’s a whole special room just about the London fire. And then there’s an exhibit on the plague—all those bodies … Anyway, it’s right here. You two should get going right away. We’ll see you at one.”

  Lisa took Enrico by the hand and they headed out the door before he could protest. As soon as they had rounded the corner, Lisa felt free to laugh. Enrico looked at her suspiciously.

  “Torture? Plague? The London fire? Do we have to?” he asked. “I mean, if that’s what you want …”

  “Not at all, Enrico. I want to walk around, just as we planned. Stevie just saved us from having Veronica along.”