Swords and Horses

Three weeks later at Goldsborough Hall....

 A girl, tall and thin in stature, who looked to be around fifteen, stood at an open window, staring out into the horizon. Her oval face was speckled with rain drops which had bounced off the window sill. She had prominent cheekbones and a somewhat solemn face with deep blue eyes. Her hair, which was a rich, coffee brown was twisted together to form a bun, though from the looks of it, it had been made in great haste. Yet what was most peculiar about this girl was the way she was dressed. She wore a grey doublet over brown breeches and knee length boots. Generally girls were found to be dressed in cumbersome petticoats at all times.

However, had the slow, mournful drizzle not stopped Elaine she would have gone horse riding. But now she had no choice but to wait until it reduced.

Reaching out, Elaine pulled the window shutters shut. There was no use to rankle about the rain when she could do other things. Pushing a lock out of her face, she strode down the corridor, her boots clicking on the stone. She turned down another passageway, a damp and derelict one. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, their silver strands seeming to glow in the dim light.

She came to a halt by a heavy, oak doorway. Lifting the crossbar she pushed it open to reveal a long, rectangular room at the opposite end of which stood two ancient, wooden cabinets. Light streamed in from a nearby window. Along the otherwise bare stone walls hung leather scabbards from hooks, while on her right, as if acting sentinel stood an old suit of armour with a great plumed helmet.

This room had long ago been a dining hall, but since her father, Colonel Robert Byerley had thought that the one main banqueting hall in their house was sufficient he had converted it into an armoury. Coming from a family of military men he had always had a passion for collecting swords and other weapons and now this room stood relic to it.

Elaine lifted the smallest scabbard from its hook and drew out a long, tapering sabre. The light from the window played on its shiny, metallic surface like the sun on waves. This had been her father’s sword when he had been really young, but now it fitted her perfectly.

Ever since she had been small, Elaine had been interested in two things: horses and learning to fight. All her mother’s and Governess Rosamund’s attempts had failed to make her a proper lady, or at least partially. She had learned most of the manners and things which girls ought to know like embroidery, stitching and knitting, but they had never been able to drive that urge to ride out of her, nor had been able to stop her jumping fences into horse stables or practicing sword fighting with her cousin, James, who was famous for being, like her, wayward and an accomplished rule breaker.

In the end her father had accepted her behaviour and even taught her how to ride astride, but on the condition that she practised it only early in the morning when there were seldom few to watch her. Of course, that was only for when they were London. When they were here in Goldsborough Hall, in the vast countryside surrounding Knaresborough, she was free to ride whenever she wanted.

As for martial arts, seeing that she wasn’t going to budge in her decision that she wanted to use a sword, he had initially trained her himself, but then, having often been busy, had appointed a retired soldier, Ancelin to teach her. For that, Elaine greatly loved her father.

Her mother, Mary, initially hadn’t been pleased to know that her daughter had been riding astride, like a boy, or that she was learning sword fighting, but after her daughter’s improved behaviour she had consented.

Elaine gave the blade in her hand a flick. It was perfectly suited to her, the right size and weight. Ancelin had told her to practice certain moves while she was away in Knaresborough, since he stayed in London and couldn’t come with them. As she couldn’t go out riding on Storm, her father’s retired charger, she could as well start practicing. Her mother was busy questioning the house staff about the finances and running of their country estate while they had been away in London, so she need not worry about being instructed to go and practice her needlework or perhaps to study some old and boring manuscripts of Latin or the history of religion.

As she was about to begin practicing a voice from behind her said. ‘Elaine, what is that?’

Elaine spun round to see her father standing in the doorway. Like her, he was thin and tall and had brown hair, though the resemblances ended there. He had a more angular face with heavy eyebrows and a long nose, and had recently taken to sporting a moustache.

‘You do remember that a sabre is no child’s toy but a weapon which can be used to kill?’ He asked in a calm voice. He didn’t seem angry, just cautioning.

‘Uhm, yes,’ Elaine said, feeling her cheeks growing hot.

‘Hmm, but since no one was around, I would say it is quite alright to use it as long as you were not fool enough to cut yourself.’ He said with a slight smile. ‘And coming to that, I wonder what you planned to do with the sword?’

‘Practice some moves which Ancelin taught me a few days back.’

‘Ah, yes, Ancelin saith he was very pleased with your progress. But considering that you are all alone, it might be as well that we practice together.’

‘Yes, that would be wonderful,’ Elaine said grinning broadly.

‘And then of course, I will get to know whether Ancelin was telling the truth about your progress or simply trying to flatter me.’ A small smile played across Colonel Byerley’s lips. ‘But, uh, we shall just make the small change of using wooden training swords. I do not wish to have to call a surgeon by the end of the day’

‘Oh, right.’ Elaine re-sheathed her sabre and hung the scabbard in its empty hook feeling slightly disappointed, then hurried over to the first wooden cabinet. Opening it, she brought out two training swords. They were quite heavy, and she thought that she preferred her metal counterpart though she was hardly ever allowed to use it. She had been hoping to train with a real sword for a while now. She handed one to her father.

‘Ready?’ Colonel Byerley asked.

When Elaine nodded he initiated the attack with a swift sidestroke. She managed to block it just in time and then lunged forward, jabbing with her wooden sword. Her father parried it easily and began a series of overhand attacks which she caught on her sabre with some difficulty. In the last, she managed to jump aside and slash at her father’s legs, catching him completely off guard.

‘That was quite good,’ he said laughing.

This time Elaine initiated the attack with a few swift sidestrokes that were easily blocked by her father without him having to even take a step back. Then she attempted a powerful stroke meant to disarm her opponent, though to her disappointment her father anticipated it and dodged. He lunged for her unprotected waist, but she managed jerk back in time and slashed a long arc with her blade. Instead of hitting her father, who stepped aside in time, it simply whizzed through the air with a low thrum.

By the end of the hour two things had happened; both of them were drenched in sweat and the rain had stopped. ‘Well, not a bad practice session,’ her father said. Elaine grinned and wiped the sweat off her forehead.

‘Although,’ Colonel Byerley continued. ‘You lift your sword too high at times, leaving the rest of your body unprotected. Your sword should always be in front of you, ready to block or deflect any unwanted attacks.’

Elaine nodded, remembering that her father had twice been able to get under her guard simply because she had lifted her sword too high.

‘And now I think the weather calls for a nice long ride on Storm. Though I do suggest that you try not to pass your mother on the way out, she will not be too pleased to hear what you have been up to, I daresay.’

‘I think I need no telling for that,’ Elaine said, taking the training sword from her father and stuffing them in the cabinet. As her father left the armoury she could have sworn that he winked at her.

Five minutes later, Elaine was striding across the damp, gravel pathway to the yard, which was made up of two rows of squat, red brick buildings. There was a lot of activity in the yard. The stable master, Edward, was busy lunging a mare who was expected to foal in some six months time. Although no one was supposed to ride the mare, it was always good to give her some exercise, but not too much.

‘Are you planning to ride Storm?’ Edward called from the nearby paddock as flung the extra bit of lunge line at the mare’s quarters to keep her moving.

‘Yes,’ Elaine replied.

‘Good. But make him do only light work. I haven’t given him a thorough workout for nigh to two months and the ground is wet, so it will pull at his feet.’

‘I promise I won’t make him go fast. And anyway, father says that making a horse sprint for no reason is nothing but a display of witless exuberance at the risk of the mount.’

‘Right you are, young mistress,’ Edward said with a chuckle. ‘Meself heard thy father say it a dozen times.’

Elaine moved down the row of weather beaten buildings. Over the short wooden doors, horses looked out curiously. She spotted Darion, whom Edward was training to race in Newmarket and Silver Tulip, a priced broodmare.

Stable boys hurried about the yard with wheelbarrows piled with muck or pails of water in their hands. Just then Jeremy, a sixteen year old boy who worked in their stables and hoped to one day become a jockey came over and said with a ridiculously low bow. ‘Want anything done, miss?’

Elaine smiled. He had always had a great sense of humour. ‘Could you just get Storm’s saddle?’

‘Can’t say no, miss,’ he said and hurried off while Elaine called her thanks to his back.

It was at the fifth stable that Elaine came to a halt. She had visited Storm in the morning, as soon as they had arrived at Goldsborough, but no matter how many times she saw him, her father’s charger always took the breath right out of her.

His deep, coffee brown coat was pulled tight over sinewy muscles and seemed to have a coppery sheen to it. He didn’t have any marking apart from a single, white sock on his right foreleg. He had a compact but lean body, with a short back and powerful quarters. His high crested neck bulged with muscles, over strong, sloping shoulders. But what Elaine liked most about him was his delicately dished face, with those eyes full of life. They never seemed to lack spirit, nor did they seem to have that sort of crazy light in them, which could most commonly be seen in Darion, when he was on a bucking spree. They seemed powerful and intent, with the wisdom of years in them.

Storm had been both her father’s charger and pride. He had carried Colonel Byerley safely through the Battle of Boyne in Ireland five years ago, but not before streaking past the finish line at Downroyals and taking the King’s Plate.

After that he had been retired, both from racing and fighting wars, though his fame did not die away. Word had spread of his outstanding victory at Downroyal against some of the toughest competition. All those who were interested in horse racing knew of the Byerley Turk, and the fact that he was a stallion of immense value. Now, however, he was Elaine’s to ride and enjoy, although he occasionally served as a stud stallion. The most recent mare he had covered was Black Hearty of Sir George Fletcher. She was due to have his foal in a few months time, and Elaine had begged her father repeatedly to take her to see the foal after it was born.

Just then Storm moved over the stable door and gently puffed on her outstretched hand, a sure sign of friendship. Smiling she ran her hand down his dished face. While his features and conformation suggested he was of an Arabian horse, he was too tall to be one. Her father had always said he was of Turkoman origin. That had made sense as he had obtained him during the Battle of Buda almost nine years ago. However, that was all Elaine knew. Her father had never told her anymore.

Just then Jeremy arrived with the saddle and bridle. Elaine held Storm still as he did up the girth strap �" Storm had the habit of biting and kicking people while they were doing up his girth. Although he was quite okay if Elaine, her father or Edward did it up, he had never taken very well to the others. In fact, he was famous in the stables for biting the grooms. His only competitor was the four year old Darion, whose bad temper was only equalled by his ability to eat.

‘Thanks,’ Elaine said to Jeremy as he walked out of the stable. She led Storm out before lightly mounting him.

He snorted and tossed his head, excited at being ridden again. ‘Relax, boy,’ Elaine whispered, stroking his neck.

She walked him up a path which gently meandered its way between paddocks before opening out into a large meadow which smelled of wet grass. Storm was tugging excitedly at the reins but Elaine held him back. The rain always made horses excited. She remembered his first few days in England and the fact that he had had a very difficult time adjusting to the climate. He had become very skittish, and would barely trot a few strides before breaking into a canter or dancing about, half-rearing and tossing his head. But then he had got used to it.

Now Elaine let him burst into a sprightly trot. After one turn round the meadow she allowed him to canter. She could feel the sodden ground tugging at his hooves and hear the soft splash as they came down each time, but this did not seem to exhaust him.

She got the distinct impression that he was immensely enjoying himself and had to resist the urge to let him go flying across the turf. What Edward had said was right, going too fast on wet and uneven ground could risk injury. Besides, cantering around on him and feeling the immense power under her was in itself very enjoyable.

 

Reviews

[Zaliodir]

I really like this chapter a lot. You introduce Elaine very well, and allow us to see her father Colonel Byerley from a different perspective. We also get to see the famous war and race horse mentioned in the first chapter, and I love the character you give him. It is a bit toned down from the last chapter, and I thought that was perfectly okay. You have to have up and down in a story. Overall the chapter was pleasantly familial and upbeat. Nicely done.

[Sanhorsey]

Thanks a lot for the review! I am pleased you enjoyed it!