“Easy now, lad,” Canyd said to him in an urgent low tone, for Iswy had tried to grab the stallion’s reins in a vindictive manner.
But Cornix could take care of himself, and he moved sideways-just as Iswy lunged for his reins a second time. Swift as a serpent, Iswy put his hand on a faggot of wood left for me by the fire, and he brandished it at the stallion, who merely flung up his head and backed.
Bericus caught the upheld wood from Iswy’s hand and then flung it far away.
“If I ever see you …” Bericus’s face tightened with anger. “Take the sack by Galwyn’s feet and get on your way. You are dismissed from service.”
“But-but-” Iswy protested, screwing his face up and dropping to one knee.
Canyd reached down for the sack and tossed it deftly to Iswy’s bent figure.
Bericus swung his right leg over his stallion’s back, dropping to the ground in a fluid movement. Grabbing Iswy up from the dust, he pushed the sack into his hands and spun him about, shoving him off in the direction we had come.
We all watched silently as Iswy, head bowed in dejection, walked slowly down the road. Once he turned, hand raised toward Bericus, hoping for a last-minute reprieve; but even Decius and Egdyl regarded him with hostility.
When the small figure had reached the roadway and disappeared from view, Bericus turned to the others.
“Set up the camp again,” he said, heaving a gusty sigh.
I felt worse than ever and hung my head, but Canyd gave me a shake.
” ‘Tis not you, lad, but that black devil who’s called the turn of the die. I’ve seen it afore with highstrung animals.” And he walked away, shaking his head at such whimsical behavior.
WE CHANGED THE POULTICE twice that day in the hopes of extracting the poisonous humors from
Spadix’s leg. I brought him the best grass I could find, and some clover for Cornix, which he liked especially. When no one was looking or in hearing distance, I stroked the stallion’s neck and told him what a very clever, loyal friend he was.
Midafternoon, Bwlch burst back into camp, just ahead of a farmer and a heavy two-wheeled cart drawn by two stout ponies.
“We’ve only to get the pony into the cart-he’ll fit, I know!” Bwlch exclaimed, his face flushed with delight in his solution. “And the farmer has agreed to take us down the road until Spadix can walk out himself.”
The farmer seemed overwhelmed by all the excitement, open mouthed, digging the toes of his worn sandals into the dust. But when it came time to bargain for his services and the use of his cart and the ponies to draw it, he miraculously recovered his wits.
“For all I’ve to do at m’farm, an’ none but me to do it, good lord…”
Bericus attempted not to look so pleased at this encouraging answer, and the bargaining lasted a long time, with me holding my breath for fear that the farmer would be too greedy, and for fear that any price would cost Comes Artos more than my pony was worth, even if Cornix would not move out of his company. Then hand smacked hand and the deal was concluded.
Fortunately the back of the cart could be removed and now formed a ramp, which Spadix gamely hobbled up in response to my ardent encouragement. He then looked around from his vantage point, hi mild surprise to find himself on a level with the bigger horses. I had to perch on an uncomfortable corner of the cart, but Cornix led like a lamb, just as long as Spadix was nearby. We proceeded in this fashion for three days, until the swelling had subsided and Spadix was able to put his foot to the ground.
I don’t know who was happier to see the last of the farmer and his heavy cart: myself, Bericus, or Spadix.
THE BEST PART OF those three days was Canyd’s company, for the old hostler decided to ride with me. I believed I’d asked a simple question, like why Spadix’s leg had swollen only to the knee, and I was suddenly being taught the construction of the leg and the hoof.