BLACK Horses for the KING ANNE MCCAFFREY. Part one

There were displays of the horses, showing then-paces, their skills, even jumping rough barriers to prove their agility. I marveled at the riders, usually slim wiry lads who stayed on the backs of fractious horses that reared and bucked and cast figures above ground as if the riders had been impaled astride. It was glorious and I was all but glutted by so many beautiful horses.

However, I did remember my duty to Lord Artos, and I discovered which one of the many traders could be trusted to sell us horses that were sound, free of vice, and unimpaired by those covert tricks by which clever traders hide defects. The man was an Egyptian, Paphnutius by name, and he was both gratified and pleased that he was the one Lord Artos decided to approach.

Paphnutius was of middle years, with piercing dark eyes and the most astounding hawk’s nose on his thin swarthy face. He exuded a courtesy that others lacked.

“Come, effendi,” he said, for his Latin was fluent if oddly accented. “Come into my humble tent and we will refresh ourselves. A man must have time to see and to reflect before any business.” And he shrugged one shoulder to indicate that business was not as important as courtesy.

The Egyptian’s tent was far more sumptuous inside than its exterior suggested.

“Sit, sit, do. Be comfortable,” he said, with bows and sweeping gestures of his hand as he pointed to the thick cushions piled upon marvelous carpets. They glowed red and blue in a chamber lit by hanging lamps, which

burned a scented oil. Then he clapped his hands. A woman-swathed all in black, so that only her eyes were visible-appeared at that summons; he gave her a curt order in his own language. It was too quick for me to be sure what he said, but I think it dealt with something to drink.

“You are from afar?” Paphnutius asked courteously, when we were all seated. I felt uncomfortable until I imitated his cross-legged posture.

“We are,” Lord Artos said, looking amazingly dignified upon his cushion. “From Britain.”

“Ah!” and Paphnutius’s eyes went round with pleasure at such a revelation. “You have journeyed far indeed to see our poor horses.”

Bericus gave a snort, because it was obvious to us all that the horses were far from poor.

Just then the woman returned with a beautiful brass tray and served us a thick, sweet beverage in tiny cups. One almost had to spoon it into the mouth, but this was evidently part of a bargaining ritual, similar to some I had seen my father perform with alien traders. I could almost think myself a child-and carefree-again in such an atmosphere.

“May I ask what this is we are drinking?” Lord Artos said, his tone one of surprised pleasure.

“It is called qahwa, and comes from a bean that is ground and then diffused in boiling water. The taste pleases the effendi?” Paphnutius was all concern that the drink might not please us.

I found it odd but certainly tasty: better than small beer or watered wine.

“It pleases me greatly,” Lord Artos said, and paused to take another sip, smiling broadly. I caught him glancing about us to be sure we were also displaying pleasure. Which we all were. Odd the drink was, but I liked it.

Just then the woman reappeared, and this time her tray contained dates, pieces of ewe’s cheese, and other sweet-tasting small cubes that were unknown to me.

“Was your journey arduous?” asked Paphnutius; and so we discussed that topic, and then the weather, and the situation of the camp, and only finally the vast number of horses that were on display.

At that point, Lord Artos rightly judged that business could be discussed, and with the sort of gracious reluctance that dealing with the Egyptian required, he explained his requirements. The mares should be proven fertile, preferably already in foal to Libyan stallions, and the stallions should be no more than four years of age and of proven virility. All the horses should be broken to saddle and bridle.

Paphnutius never asked why such breeding horses would be required by this foreign lord. Perhaps he could understand without explanation. After all, Lord Artos and all his companions were tall men; clearly they would need large mounts.

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