Chapter 1 The Master's Return

The dog, it’s big face covered in mud, eyes yellow and wild, stood half-way in the hedge. The rain had soaked it’s black coat, heavy now, harder to drag along. It barked once, before dissapearing completely into the hedge.

 

“Never understood how that mutt came inside these walls” Redrix complained from the patio, shaking his head. His wife, a tall woman with sharp green eyes sighed loudly, crossing her thin arms.

“Everytime we come here, you always talk about that dog” she said, raising her eyebrows in irritation.

“So? Doesn’t a man have the right to wonder about these things?” he replied questioningly.

His wife rolled her eyes.

“What if it bites one of the kids? It’s as wild as it can be, Corina”.

“Elansa trained it well, dear, it has never shown aggresivity to anyone. Why are you so worried?” Corina demanded.

 

Redrix cast his eyes over the well trimmed lawns again, his cold gray eyes narrowed.

“Trust me Corina, that dog spells trouble” her husband told her gravely.

“Believe what you want, but cheer up will you, the hunt will be arriving any minute and I don’t want Victor to hear about anything to do with this silly matter” Corina ordered.

Redrix nodded sullenly, taking her hand and they departed into the stone house, letting the screen door slam behind them.

 

Cheers and yells echoed off the muddy ground, as a dozen horses came trotting into Samuel B. Churchill Stables, a handful of barking hounds leading the way with excitement. The Master of the hunt sat upon a dappled grey gelding, his velvet helmet under one arm, leather boots recently polished, his face handsome but serious.

Dismounting swiftly, he handed the reins to a nearby stablehand, before shrugging off his cardinal jacket, revealing a white shirt and matching tie.

 

Redrix and Corina arrived precicely at that moment, both out of breath and rather sweaty.

“Victor, it’s a pleasure to see you again” Corina said, smiling for the first time. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the run, some of her hair escaping her tight bun.

“The pleasure is mine, as always” Victor responded in a deep voice, taking her slender hand in his white gloved one and kissing it smoothly.

Straightening up, he glanced at Redrix and nodded, neither exchanging hands.

“Good afternoon Redrix, glad we are meeting once more” Victor told him.

“Same here Victor” Redrix said, his eyes, if possibly, were colder then ever.

 

Victor glanced back at Corina, winked, making her blush and departed down the paved road, two Harriers bouncing after him, their tails wagging crazily.

 

“Damn traitor-” Redrix began loudly, making a few Whippers-in pause the unsaddeling of their bay hunters.

“Shh” his wife hissed, quieting him with a stern look.

“Please behave dear, we are simply visitors to Victor’s home. If you don’t respect him, he will surely never invite us over again”.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day” Redrix admitted, as they began walking down the same path Victor had used to return to the house.

“Please Redrix, don’t ruin this. I know you don’t like him, but if you give him a chance, I’m sure you two could be friends” Corina told him, wrapping her arm around his.

“I wouldn’t count on it, were as different as water and oil” her husband retorted and that was that.

 

*

 

Elansa sat on her four poster bed, the golden sheets pushed down to her waist, a candle glowing in her left hand. A thick book was open before her, the words flickering in the faint light.

“Fox hunting is a sport that originated in England in about the middle 1700’s” she read in a whispeared voice. “The purpose of the sport is finding a wild fox and hunting it by using a pack of hounds and riders on horseback. The horses follow the trained hounds over obstacles such as hills, fences, ditches and streams. The group of horses is led by the Master of foxhounds”.

 

Elansa looked up from the book and fixed her eyes onto the elegant woman on her wall. She was in her mid-30’s, her dark hair done into a shoulder-length braid, a smile on her face. By her side stood a chestnut mare surrounded by a pack of English foxhounds.

“The Master of foxhounds” she repeated. “One day, that’ll be me”.

 

The poster was a few years old, the edges used and torn at places. It was not the only equestrian item in her room.

Atop her oak bookcase stood statues of horses; a pure white pegasus with feathered wings; a black stallion rearing in the wind; a lean bay thoroughbred frozen in mid-gallop.

A black riding helmet fit for a child hung on her closet door, along with several colored ribbons of good merit.

A few more posters doned her walls with classy Arabians, sturdy Bretons and gentle Exmoors.

 

Suddently a small knock on her bedroom door brought Elansa away from the Foxhunt and back to her bed. She hurridly shoved the book under her pillow and hastily layed down, pulling the soft covers up to her chin.

The door creaked open and her father strolled in, acknowledging the candle still in her hand.

 

“Still awake” he noted, taking it from her grasp and seating himself at the foot of her bed.

“I couldn’t sleep, that’s all” his daugther replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Reading again?” he said, nodding at the edge of the novel that stuck out from under her pillow.

“Only a bit”.

“About what?” he wondered, his voice flat. He already knew the answer.

“The foxhunt” Elansa responded simply.

Her father sighed, suddently looking tired.

“Don’t you already know everything on the foxhunt? Everytime I turn my back to you, you’ve got another book hiding under your pillow”.

 

“But it’s so fascinating dad, there’s so much to learn about it’s history and famous riders. The horses they used were bred specifically for the hunt, which is why they were called hunters and-” his daugther rattled, a glint in her young eyes.

“Please be still child” her father ordered sharply, bringing a hand to his temple, making Elansa fall silent.

“There’s absolutely nothing that should amaze a young girl in this sport. You should focus on your sidesaddle and bringing up that mark in Algebra” he added, getting up, the candle still in his grip.

 

He headed towards her door, but paused before he left.

“I don’t know why you’re being so difficult, Elansa. After what happenned to your mother, I would think you smarter then this. Forget about the foxhunt and act like a lady for once, it wouldn’t hurt you”.

He closed the door with a snap and she was bathed in darkness, the tears in her eyes only visible in the pale moonlight.