Chapter 2007: The Rumblings of War – Part 5

“Did master not tell you to hurry up?” The boy snapped. “You’re staring off into space, doing fuck all, as usual.”

The stable boy bit back a reply. “What are you doing leading the horse? You know that’s my job.”

“I’m doing what the master told me to do,” the boy snapped. “He said to take this one to you.”

“When?”

“Just now, as he passed by. What does it matter when? I’m busy, and you’re making more work for me. I’ve got a few hundred stables to muck out before the day is done. And who’s there to help me, eh? Definitely not you.”

“Why this horse?” The stableboy said, confused. “We’ve already got an order established. They’re to come through in order of how they’re stabled.”

“You figure it out,” the other boy said, forcing the reins on him, and practically fleeing from the giant white horse that stood there. He made sure to shoulder him on his way out. “Bloody city is a mad house… Trying to make us do all this work outside… if that King Patrick was really…”

The rest of what he was saying was lost to the echoes of the corridor. Though he was brusque, and his hatred was a palpable thing, the stableboy found it hard to hate his colleague. The position that they were in was a rough one. The amount of work that was demanded of them so suddenly was an inhuman thing – and all because of the impulsive decision of a newly crowned King. It was hard not to grow resentful, but the stableboy reminded himself that he didn’t have the worst of it. It was the soldiers that did. Two or three days of nightmarish work was all he had – they had to walk through the fires of hell.

Many workers weren’t fond of the new King for the workload that he’d put on them, and for how suddenly he’d seized the crown. They spoke of him in the same terms that Lord Blackthorn did, as an outsider, despite the fact that he was the one that had defended Ernest so many times. They mistrusted a General that would seize power for himself.

The stableboy wasn’t sure what to think. It was easy to be swept up in all directions. The only thing he did know, however, was that King Patrick, again and again, had put his life on the line in fighting. By all accounts, he was a brave leader, and selfless. It was something that the stableboy knew he could not do. He hated fighting. His place was with the horses. So he reserved his opinion, and gave his respect instead, knowing that he could not have done the same, in the same place as he.

“Now what of you…” The stableboy said, leading the white horse into the room with him, so he could properly have a look at him. He fastened his reins to the post, and then walked around him.

A big beast is what he was. He looked as much like a carthorse, maybe a Clydesdale or something of the like, as he did a military horse. He was the sort of horse bred to carry the weighty load of a man in a full suit of armour.

And his temperament was suited for it as well. Never had the stableboy come across such a bloodthirsty beast. There was a look in the animal’s eye that was like that of a rough drunk at the bar, looking for any excuse to start a fight with a stranger. For now, however, he was well behaved, and even in his temperament. The sideways look from the corner of his eye was enough for the stableboy to know to treat him carefully.

“Well, aren’t you a fine looking stallion,” he said. “I imagine your master is rather fond of you.”

If the braids along the beast’s neck were anything to go by, the stallion’s master certainly gave him a special degree of attention. They were a little messy, if the stable boy had to be critical. It was something that he would certainly have been able to do better himself, given how much practice that he had. But it spoke more certainly to the fact that the horse’s master had been the one to do it. He’d forced away all other hands, and all other possible servants, and done the task himself.

Perhaps that was the reason for the horse’s immense presence and dignity – the fact that he knew its master cared for him properly. That if the stableboy were to perform his task poorly, then it was the ire of the creature’s master that he would have to face.

The stableboy inspected each hoof carefully, giving them a long hard look. There was mud in there, that he pried out with his rod, but once the mud was free, the hooves were in good condition, well looked after, and definitely seen not too long ago by a farrier.

“You’ve been riding, even out in this snow? And hard enough to get mud in your hooves?” The boy said, almost impressed. “I wonder if you like the snow? You’ve such short fur. Not to worry, spring is not too far off. It’s been a long winter, but soon enough it’ll all be done with.”

The horse snorted, the boy almost expected that it understood him. As he worked, the horse followed him with his eyes. There was too much intelligence there, far too much understanding.

Each time the stableboy produced another tool from the wall, he showed it to the horse before he worked on it.

“Just going to brush you down now,” he said. “Then I’ll try and untangle those braids that your master made for you, and give your mane a proper brushing. You’ll glow when you go back to him, I promise you that.”

The horse neighed again. It was beginning to feel very much like a conversation. It was almost disconcerting.

“You’re in good condition,” the stableboy said, once he was almost finished with his brushing. “You look well. You’re strong. I bet you can race for a good distance, despite you being such a big horse.”

Again, the beast looked like it understood. It didn’t neigh, but the look on its face was proud.

“Now, I better sort those braids out,” the stableboy said, putting down his brush, and reaching for the braids.