The Girl Who Rode the Wind

by Stacy Gregg

  “Just try to stay on the inside track and don’t let the other fantinos push you around,” Leonardo said. He vaulted up onto on his grey gelding, Nuvola, who was fretting and side-stepping anxiously in anticipation. “It is better at night,” he added. “At least in the dark you do not see the wall before it strikes you in the face.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Antonia glared at Leonardo. “He’s been trying to scare me ever since we got here and now he’s trying to mess with you too! The horses can see well enough in the dark. Besides, the walls are not that solid. They pad them you know, with feather mattresses.”

  I looked around anxiously at the padded walls. Was a feather mattress enough to protect a horse if it crashed at full gallop?

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be a problem. Frannie hadn’t turned up yet with Nico. I didn’t even have a horse. I was standing on the track with Leonardo, Umberto and Antonia waiting for him to arrive with just minutes left before the horses were due to run.

  It had taken me and Nonna for ever to walk into town. She took such small steps that a walk with her was half-speed and it was a long way. At one point when we sat down on a stone wall so she could take a breather I worried that she wouldn’t be able to stand up again.

  “I am slowing you down, Piccolina,” she said, patting my hand. “You go on ahead without me. I will catch you up.”

  “Nonna!” I said. “Don’t be silly, we have loads of time.”

  We had made it to the square with only minutes to spare. I’d helped Nonna climb up the stairs to the seating, which had been erected on the top step of the town hall, and then raced into the darkness to find Frannie.

  As I ran, I felt the soil, so strange underfoot where the bricks used to be just a day before. It felt just like the Aqueduct racetrack. All around me horses were snorting and stamping anxiously, and there was the smell of sweat and turf in the air. My senses were overwhelmed by the conviction that I was home. I half-expected Johnny and Vincent to emerge from the shadowy ranks of the riders in front of me, messing with each other and cracking jokes like they always did before they rode track.

  “Lola? There you are!” Frannie came forward from the darkness. He was mounted up on his horse and leading Nico.

  “Better get onboard,” he said, passing me Nico’s reins. “They’re about to get underway.”

  “Is Signor Fratelli here with you?” Umberto asked him.

  “He’s here somewhere,” Frannie said. “I saw him talking with the Capitano of the Lupa contrada.”

  “The Lupa contrada are here?”

  “All the contradas are here,” Frannie replied. “They all want to see which horses are the fastest.”

  “How will they see if we’re racing in pitch-black darkness?” I asked.

  “Ah,” Umberto said, finding us along with Leonardo and Antonia. “That is the challenge. We race at night so that secrets can be kept.”

  “Quickly, Lola!” Frannie said as he held Nico steady while I mounted. “We need to get down there!”

  Nico was tense when I got on his back. I could feel his muscles taut and twitching, and he held his head up higher than usual, giving little snorts with each jerky step he took. I stroked his neck as we walked, trying to settle his nerves even though I felt sick with anticipation myself.

  Two lamps on either side of the town hall illuminated the start line so that you could make out the silhouettes of the horses and riders as they lined up behind the rope. The rest of the square was in complete darkness. All I could see was the inky outline of the buildings, their solid blackness contrasting against the fuzzy gloom of the night sky above. But at speed on a racetrack? I would never see them in time. I would have to rely on Nico to be my eyes. I hoped Antonia was right about horses being able to see in the dark.

  I looked up at the town hall. I could just make out Nonna tucked away in the back row of the seating where the spectators were gathered. Frannie’s grandfather was right upfront in the first row and beside him a man whose jet-black hair, sculpted sideburns and beard gave him the rather disturbingly devilish appearance in the golden lamplight.

  “Who’s that?” I asked Frannie.

  “The Capitano of the Lupa,” he replied.

  The Capitano was younger than I expected. I had thought he would be an old man, like the Prior. He seemed very intent on looking at all the horses and riders and making notes in a little diary. He cast a long gaze over Nico and for a brief moment I caught his eye. He did not acknowledge me.

  “So the Capitano chooses the horse and fantino who will race for Lupa?”

  Frannie nodded. “For the Lupa, all decisions are his alone.”

  “What about the Prior?”

  “The Prior is the head of the contrada, but the Capitano is the horseman, in charge of strategy and decisions.”

  The Capitano had turned to Signor Fratelli. He was pointing out Nico and saying something and now both men had their eyes trained on us.

  “They are watching you,” Antonia whispered to me.

  “They are watching Nico,” I corrected her.

  A trumpet sounded to signal that it was time to line up. In front of the town hall the two men holding the thick rope that was used to start the race pulled it to bring it taut at waist height.

  Nico snorted, nostrils widening at the sight of the rope raising up. He began to step backwards.

  “Nico! Don’t be silly, it’s only a rope,” I said. “Stand up!”

  Nico began to spin around, turning his rump to the rope and I was suddenly aware of just how powerful he was and how small I was on his back compared to the other fantinos. Did I have the strength to handle him in a race situation now that his blood was up?

  “Are you OK?” It was Leonardo, right beside me.

  I still had Nico turned in the opposite direction, trying to regain control of him. “They won’t start the race until we’re all lined up, will they?” I asked.

  “Do not count on it!” Leonardo shouted back at me. “Turn him forward! Now!”

  As he said this I heard a cry go up and suddenly the rope dropped to the ground.

  We were racing. Except I was facing in the wrong direction!

  Suddenly aware that he’d been left behind, Nico spun around and launched himself after the others. His hindquarters worked like rocket thrusters, and we were in a gallop straight away from a standstill and closing in on the pack ahead.

  In just a few strides we reached the back of the field, but there was no way to move any further. We were jammed there, Nico’s nose up against the rump of the horse in front. I could see the rider in front of me rising and falling with his horse’s strides, his silhouette in the darkness trailblazing my path. It felt safe to be tucked in behind him; at least I wouldn’t be crashing into buildings. But Nico hated it. He loathed being stuck behind the others, the way it made him cramp up his strides. He had his ears pinned flat back, giving little snorts of indignation. To stay here like this was breaking his spirit and I knew I had to make a move now or my horse would sour on me.

  “C’mon, Nico,” I said, and I wrapped my legs tight around him. The track was blocked in all directions, so I rode for the inside rail, the shortest route, and created a space for myself by barging the haunches of the horse in front. The rider of the horse, a heavyset man with arms like Christmas hams, looked surprised to find me creeping up alongside him. As we approached the dangerous hairpin turn he raised his whip and I realised he was planning to bring it down on me. I braced myself for the blow, but it never came because the next thing I knew he wasn’t there any more!

  The horse and the rider both plunged away from me. I figured the horse had tripped, but I couldn’t be sure in the dark and I didn’t risk looking back. The way they had disappeared it was as if the night had swallowed them whole.

  I could hear the shouts and cries of people running out onto the track and I figured people were rushing out to help him. I thought about stopping myself, but there was nothing I could do for them. Keep going, a voic
e in my head said. Nico didn’t seem fazed, he was still galloping strongly. Beneath me, his hooves pounded like drumbeats as he settled into his stride and swept across the ground. We were crushing the distance between us and more of the pack ahead.

  At the next corner, we’d got so close to the laggers at the rear that the dirt was being kicked up into our faces from their heels. I knew Nico’d be hating being stuck behind them again and this was the time to make our move.

  “Open up, boy,” I urged him as we came out of the bend. “You can do it!”

  I felt Nico power forward with his hindquarters so that his shoulders stayed straight and he accelerated and flattened out and we pressed down on them, his strides chewing up the space, picking off the pack one by one, working my way to the front.

  Nico was galloping hard, but he had even more speed in him than he was showing now and I was waiting, biding my time for the moment when I would ask him to shift up a gear.

  We had almost reached the town hall again and I knew the time had come. All I needed to do was give a squeeze and a cluck of my tongue.

  “Are you ready, Nico?”

  He never got the chance to answer me because at that moment there were men running out into the middle of the track in front of us with flags waving over their heads.

  I thought it was some sort of contrada celebration at first until I saw them cross the flags to signal us.

  “Stop! Stop!”

  They were stopping the race! But why? There were still another two laps to go!

  There was shouting and people running all over the track and I realised that this had been going on since that fall in the first lap. It hadn’t just been the rider alongside me who had gone down. He’d caused a pile-up and taken four other riders down with him!

  Now the fantinos were up on their feet and fighting over who had caused the crash. I saw one jockey swing a punch at another rider and instead of holding him back I saw spectators leaping into the fray to help him fight!

  “Cheating Panther! Your horse got in the way on purpose!”

  “You’re the cheats! People of the Unicorn!”

  Whistles were being blown and all around me the riders who had been pulled up because of the chaos on the track were abandoning their horses and running to join in! The crowd kept swelling with more and more people until it was no longer a fight – it was a full-blown riot!

  I was so busy watching the fighting, I didn’t notice that a man had left the crowds and come to stand beside me. Before I could stop him he had his hands on Nico.

  “What are you doing?”

  The man stared hard at me. “You ride very bravely for a girl. Taking on men twice your size on a horse like this, it takes great courage. The way you rode for that last corner, it was as if you had been a fantino for many years, and how old are you?”

  “Twelve,” I said. I was shaking. He had both hands on Nico’s bridle. I couldn’t pull away. “Could you please let my horse go. Now.”

  The man smiled. “Lola … You and I, we need to talk.”

  He knew my name.

  “You are afraid of me?” the man asked.

  “I’m not,” I shot back, my heart hammering.

  “‌Come, then. We have much to discuss.”

  And with that, the Capitano of the Lupa took the reins and led us both away into the darkness.

  By the time I arrived home at the villa it was three in the morning. I looked for the iron key under the flowerpot and couldn’t find it, but then when I tried the front door it was open. I walked inside, tiptoeing past Donatello. I noticed that Nonna had raised his visor. I grasped the metal in my hands and pushed it down again.

  “Don’t close it.”

  Nonna was standing on the landing, at the top of the stairs.

  “Sorry?”

  “The visor. Leave it open. He tells me that he wants to see what is going to happen. These are interesting times for a suit of armour and he doesn’t want to miss out on anything.”

  I pushed the visor back up again and continued up the stairs to her.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late, Nonna, I got held up …”

  “By the Capitano,” Nonna said. “Yes, I saw him talking to you.”

  “How did you know who he was?”

  Nonna laughed as if this was a silly question. “So what did he think of Nico, then? Let me guess. He wants him to race for the Lupa, yes?”

  “He does,” I confirmed. “We went back to the stables together and he asked Signor Fratelli all about Nico’s training regime. Like, everything. He wanted to know about his workouts and feeding, the training schedule …”

  “Of course he did,” Nonna said. “The Capitano is in charge now. He will make judgement on every detail. It is his job to ensure Nico will win the race and bring glory to the Contrada of the Wolf.”

  “Do you think he can do it?”

  As I asked the question, I felt my stomach clench with anticipation. I knew already that the Capitano believed Nico could win. But I didn’t care about his opinion. It was my nonna who mattered. In eighty-five years I don’t think she had ever been wrong about a horse.

  Nonna was silent for a moment, thoughtful. And then she said, “This Nico of yours. I got a good look at him tonight. He is big and burly. The Palio demands lightness and agility.”

  I felt utterly crushed. All this time I had been convinced Nico was a champion, had I been kidding myself?

  “Then I saw the way he ran down that last stretch, the way he opened up when you asked him to make a move. He had such power in his strides, and such a big heart too. It is the heart that will take him the distance. That is what you look for in a horse, Piccolina. Your Nico, he is very special indeed.”

  “So you think he can win?” I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. “Really? You mean it?”

  “He will do it,” she grunted. The way she said it, her words so intentionally careless, I knew at that moment that she loved him too.

  We went to bed after that. Nonna said I looked tired and we would talk more in the morning. It was true, I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep.

  It bothered me that I had only told my Nonna part of the story. I said that the Capitano wanted Nico to run. I hadn’t told her the rest of what happened that night.

  I must have dozed off for a couple of hours I guess because when I woke up it was still dark outside. I got dressed, feeling a little vacant and light-headed. Nonna was still asleep when I left the villa. I left her a note on the dining table that said “Gone to buy bread, home soon”.

  I entered the town through the Porta Ovile and negotiated the maze of streets until I found my way to the piazza. I had expected the stall holders to be there, but the square was empty. I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess there was no market today as they were preparing for the Palio.

  I walked across the square, staring down at the sand where the hooves of the horses had left their mark the night before. I climbed the stairs of the town hall and then sat on the top step and stared out across the piazza, at the newly erected grandstands and the mattresses strapped to the walls. Everything was ready. Tomorrow night the real race would be run here. I had a choice to make and my time was running out.

  When I knocked on the door of the Contrada of the Wolf that morning, I had a taste in my mouth like metal and my palms were damp with sweat. I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn’t believe I was really going to do this.

  The door swung open and the Capitano was standing there. “Lola,” he said softly. “I knew it would be you. You have come to a decision?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I have.”

  I had left home early that morning, but by the time I returned to the villa it was late afternoon. Nonna came to open the door when she heard my footsteps on the gravel.

  “Where is the bread then?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “You left this house to get bread for breakfast and now you are home and it is almost dinner time and you have empty hands,” sh
e said.

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. The stalls were closed.”

  “And where have you been all this time?” Nonna asked.

  I hesitated. “I spent the day with the Capitano in the piazza. He was teaching me about the Palio, the rules and rituals on the day of the race.”

  I saw the look on Nonna’s face.

  “You told me the Capitano chose Nico,” she said, “but it is not just the horse, is it Lola?”

  “No,” I admitted. “He wants me. He has asked me to ride for the Wolf, to be Nico’s fantino.” My nonna’s expression became grave. “And what did you say?”

  “I told him yes. But I said I have to check with you. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

  “But you want this, Piccolina? You want to ride your Nico in the Palio?”

  “Of course I do!”

  Nonna shook her head. “I am not certain that you understand the seriousness of this. It is one thing to get around the piazza in a practice run, but the real thing is so much more dangerous. It is no ordinary horse race. The risks are so great …”

  “But you rode in it, Nonna! I thought you would be proud of me being chosen!”

  “Piccolina,” Nonna said, “there is so much you do not know about what lies beneath this race. The true brutality of the contradas who will stop at nothing to win it.”

  She took my hand in hers. “It is late I know, but we need to talk about this. I told you about what happened to my brother. But there is more you should know, about me and Marco and what happened after Carlo’s murder. Now, I think at last the time has come for you to hear the end of my story …”

  I slept in Stella’s stall after Carlo died. I could not bear to be in the house without him. Mama cried all the time, and her tears made me feel even worse. If she had known the truth, that Carlo’s death had been my fault, it would have truly broken her heart.

  Marco tried to convince me that I was wrong. He said that I did not know for sure that the Blackshirts had followed me that night. But how else would they have found their way to the camp?