‘Take it out,’ Chareos told the hostler.
‘This is a trouble beast, sir. You may need that bit.’
‘I want a sound horse. That . . . monstrosity . . . will tear his mouth to pieces.’
‘Maybe so. But it will keep him in check.’
Chareos shook his head. ‘Look at his mouth – there are scars there already . . . old scars. And on his flanks. His masters have been hard men.’
He took an apple from the barrel by the door and cut it into quarters with his new hunting-knife. Then he offered a quarter to the grey, who turned his head away. Standing to one side of the horse, Chareos ate the first quarter himself; then he offered another. This time the grey accepted the gift, but his eyes were still wary.
‘I reckon he’ll be fast,’ said the hostler. ‘He’s built for it. And with that colour he’ll need to be. You using him for afternoon rides, sir?’
‘Perhaps. I may take him on a journey or two.’
The hostler chuckled. ‘Don’t try the Wildlands. They’ll see a horse of this colour from a mile away and you’ll have robbers around you thicker than flies on dog droppings.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Chareos irritably. Stepping into the saddle, he steered the stallion out into the back street behind the auction yard.
Twenty minutes later he was in the foothills to the south of the city, with the wind in his hair and the stallion galloping at full stretch. He let the beast have his head for a full quarter mile and then drew him back, pulling left to climb a gentle rise. At the top he allowed the horse to walk for a while, watching the beast’s breathing. He need not have been concerned; within a few minutes the stallion was no longer snorting, and there was little evidence of sweat on his flanks.
‘You are strong,’ said Chareos, stroking the long sleek neck, ‘and fast. But when will you let me know why you are such a troubled beast?’
The stallion plodded on, but when Chareos urged him into a canter over the hills the horse responded instantly. At the end of an hour’s riding the city was far behind, though Chareos could still see its turrets in the misty distance. He made up his mind to turn back, for dusk was fast approaching and the great stallion was finally tired. Angling the beast down a short slope, he spotted billowing clouds of smoke from the south, beyond the hills. He rode on, entering a circle of trees. In a clearing he came on a group of soldiers sitting around several small fires. He recognised the officer – who was sitting apart from his men – as Logar, the Earl’s champion.
There is a large fire south of you beyond the hill,’ Chareos told him. ‘Have you not noticed the smoke?’
‘What business is it of yours?’ asked Logar, rising smoothly. A tall, lean young man with cold eyes and a dark trident beard, he moved forward to stand close to the stallion. The horse did not like the proximity of the soldier and backed away; Chareos calmed him.
‘It is not my business,’ he said. ‘Good day to you.’ He rode from the clearing, topped the rise and gazed down on a scene of devastation. There were twelve homes burning, and several bodies lay sprawled on the ground. Elsewhere people were trying to bring the blaze under control at a large communal barn. Chareos cursed and returned to the soldiers’ camp.
Logar was dicing with a junior officer and both men looked up as Chareos rode in. ‘There is a village close by,’ said Chareos, ‘which has been under attack. You will take your men and help with the fire-fighting. And know this – I shall report you to the Earl for dereliction of duty.’
All colour fled from Logar’s face as he rose and grasped the hilt of his sabre. ‘Step down, you whoreson! I’ll not be insulted by the likes of you.’
‘You have been,’ said Chareos. ‘Now do as I told you.’ Swinging the stallion he rode to the village, tethering the horse upwind of the smoke before running to help the villagers. The fire at the barn was out of control. As a man ran by him bearing a bucket of water, Chareos dragged him to a halt. ‘You must get out what you can. The barn is beyond saving,’ he told him. The man nodded, and ran on to the others as the soldiers arrived and hurled themselves into the work. Three of the homes were saved, but the barn fire raged on. Several axemen hammered an entrance at the rear of the building, allowing others to enter and drag clear what grain sacks could be saved. The battle went on long into the evening, but finally the fires died down.