The Silver Horse (8 page)

Emilia had hated the Roundheads ever since they had killed her father, and she had a natural distaste for the puritanical views of those who ruled the country, as it contradicted everything she thought most good and beautiful about life. So she came closer and closer to the Cavaliers, hoping to catch a word or two.

Suddenly her eyes widened in surprise. Standing there, talking urgently to the lords, was a boy she knew well.

‘Tom Whitehorse!' she cried. ‘What are you doing here?'

His head snapped round, with a look of fear and horror on his face that she did not understand. He stared at her, not recognising her in her boy's clothes.

The gentlemen swiftly looked her up and down, frowning, then nodded curtly to Tom and stepped away.

‘Thomas, my boy, we will talk further later,' the black-haired one said.

‘But, my lord!' There was anguish in Tom's voice.

‘Later. When you have had a chance to catch up with your friend.' The lord smiled, nodded meaningfully, and walked away.

Tom stared at Emilia in angry consternation.

‘It's me,' she said. ‘Emilia Finch. Don't you recognise me?'

‘Emilia!' He was incredulous. ‘What on earth are
you
doing here?'

‘I'm racing,' she said.

‘You can't race, you're a girl.'

‘Not today,' she said coolly, indicating her breeches with a wave of her hand. She was beginning to regret accosting him.

He looked scandalised. ‘Surely you're jesting.'

‘No. I'm entirely serious. If I were you, I'd be putting money on me and Alida, because we're going to win this race.'

He put up his eyebrows. ‘I'm not here to gamble,' he said.

‘No? Then why are you here?'

He flushed and bit his lip. ‘Visiting friends,' he said shortly.

‘That man in the velvet coat? But he's old enough to be your father. Surely he's no friend of yours?'

‘Friend of my father,' Tom said, his flush deepening.

Emilia opened her mouth to ask more
questions, and he said quickly, ‘He too is visiting in the area. We are staying at the . . . at one of the big houses around here. I'm . . . ah . . . I'm staying only a few days. My host is racing one of his horses today, and we've come to watch.'

Tom waved his hand towards an elderly man in an ornate mulberry coat who was leaning lightly on an ebony stick with a silver knob, as he talked earnestly to the black-haired lord. Neither was paying any attention to the horses.

‘Surely he's not racing himself!' Emilia said.

‘Of course not. His groom will be riding the horse.'

‘Of course,' Emilia said mockingly. ‘How could I be so stupid? Gentlemen do not ride their own horses.'

Tom stared at her, in half a mind to be affronted, then suddenly grinned. ‘Not in a race they want to win, anyway,' he admitted.

Emilia was relieved to see him smile. She could
not understand why he had been so fidgety and uncomfortable with her, when they had known each other for years.

‘I'd better go,' she said. ‘My race starts soon. Wish me luck!'

‘All right, good luck!' he said.

She waved her hand at him and went back to find Felipe and Cosmo. When she turned around a few moments later, Tom was gone.

‘W
here have you been!' Cosmo cried. ‘The race is about to begin. Come quickly! I've got your mare bridled and saddled and raring to go! I've given her a good slug of my special brew, and there's no holding her now.'

‘Why, what's in it?' Emilia demanded.

Cosmo moved his hand from side to side. ‘A bit of this, a bit of that. Come on! I've found a pair of old boots for you that should fit all right, and I'm lending you my own lucky whip. I've won more races than I can tell you with that whip.'

As he spoke he was leading her quickly through the crowd, until they reached the start of the racetrack, where half-a-dozen horses were milling, held in check by their trainers. Felipe was there, his hand on Alida's bridle. The mare was sidling and dancing, not liking the unfamiliar taste of the bit in her mouth, or the weight of the saddle on her back. Emilia would not put on the boots, which were wickedly spurred, or take the whip, which made the Hearne men angry with her. She was adamant, however. She had never used such instruments of control on Alida before, and she would not start now.

In the end Felipe just shrugged. ‘No time for this. Put her up!'

Cosmo threw Emilia up into the saddle, and she took a moment to familiarise herself with the stirrups, which at first felt quite odd, after a lifetime of riding bareback.

‘They give you much more control,' Cosmo
told her. ‘Remember what I told you! Use them!'

Emilia's mouth went dry and her mind completely blank. She could not remember a thing Cosmo had told her. Sensing her panic, Alida reared. A few of the grooms seated on the other horses jerked their elbows at her and grinned. Emilia felt a hot flush burn up her cheeks. She brought Alida down sharply, and took the reins into her left hand, so that she could touch the lucky charms at her wrist.

First she rubbed the coin, the golden crown.
The crown is for light and luck and magic. It's why they call me the Queen of the Gypsies . . .
Maggie had said.

Then Emilia touched the little silver horse, galloping through air.

The charm of the running horse . . . It is silver, the moon metal, and has the power to charm all the beasts of field and forest, the charm to wheedle that you have, my darling girl.

Tears stung her eyes at the remembrance of her grandmother's words.

‘Are you ready?' Cosmo demanded.

‘Yes,' she cried.

There was a roar from the crowd as Felipe undid his red kerchief and held it high. Alida shied at the sound, but Emilia forced her to the starting line, keeping her knees hard against the mare's sides. The boys around her were tense and focused, leaning low over their mounts' necks, yet holding them back firmly. The horses trembled with eagerness, dancing and cavorting, throwing their heads up and down, snorting through their flared nostrils.

Emilia dropped one hand to stroke Alida's satiny neck. ‘Run like the wind, my darling girl,' she whispered.

The flag dropped. The horses took off. Emilia found herself jostled on all sides. Whips cracked in her ears. Someone elbowed her sharply in the
side. She cried out and flinched. Alida's stride faltered, and the big bay to her right drew ahead. Gritting her teeth, Emilia leant forward, urging Alida on. As the mare's stride lengthened, she remembered what Cosmo had said, and stood up in her stirrups, lifting her weight clear of the saddle, leaning so far forward she was in danger of banging her chin on Alida's neck which plunged up and down below her. Most of the horses fell behind. She felt Alida's head twitch the reins as the mare strove to turn her head, but Emilia held her firm. Ahead of them, the bay mare sent great clods of earth flying back, hitting Emilia in the face and showering her with mud. Emilia fixed her gaze on the track beyond the mare, and drove Alida forward.

‘Fly like the wind, my darling,' she murmured. ‘Fast as the hot desert wind. God made you to fly like an eagle.'

Alida responded to her voice, her hooves
seeming barely to touch the ground as she surged ahead, her nose at the bay mare's tail, then at her heaving withers, then racing past her rigidly held head, her white rolling eye. As Emilia galloped past, she felt the sudden unexpected sting of a whip across her face as the rider beside her lashed out. Although she gasped aloud, she did not falter, only lifted herself higher in the saddle so that Alida could begin the hard, heartbreaking gallop up the steep rise of the track.

Alida's breath gasped in her throat. Her nostrils flared red as she struggled to suck in air. Emilia felt her hooves sinking into the soggy ground. ‘Come, my darling, my beauty,' she whispered. ‘Fly for me.'

She could hear hooves thundering up behind her, could feel the earth shake. ‘Please, darling girl, please . . .'

Blood was running down her face, and the salt of her sweat stung in the whip cut. Emilia ignored
the pain. Alida was faltering. Her heart was pounding so loudly Emilia felt sure she could feel it between her knees. Above them was the green curve of the hilltop, and the blue arc of the sky. Emilia imagined them taking flight into the sky, spreading wings of golden and silver light, and launching off the top of the hill. ‘Come on, darling, come on . . .' she panted.

Alida leapt forward, touched the hill's crest lightly with one hoof, and then surged on down the broad sweep of the track. Emilia's heart leapt into her throat. She risked a quick glance back. The other horses were galloping down upon her, eyes rolling, chests heaving. Sweat and mud scudded their coats. Some, she saw, were failing badly. They were no threat. But there were two, the big bay mare and another fleet-footed chestnut, bearing down on her at incredible speed. Their riders had their teeth bared in mirthless grins and were wielding their whips cruelly. Emilia
just had time to see the blood that ran down the bay mare's sides before she had to look forward again, sensing a change in Alida's stride.

Ahead of them was the bend and the muddy stream. Emilia shifted her weight forward, bent to one side as the mare took the curve, and then lifted herself high over Alida's neck as she soared over the ditch, landing nimbly on the far side and accelerating as the track once again began to climb. She heard the thud of hooves behind her, then a heavy thump. Once again she risked a look behind her. The bay horse had taken the corner too fast, and had slipped in the mud and fallen. The air was filled with the dreadful sound of her screams, as her rider whipped her savagely, trying to make her rise again. Emilia could see at once that the mare had broken one of her legs.

The chestnut mare came past at a canter, took the ditch at the far side, and broke once more into
a gallop. The groom riding her drove his spurs into her side, and she leapt forward, her chest labouring, foam flying from her grimacing mouth.

Her breath rasping in her chest, Emilia looked no more. She fixed her eyes upon the finishing line, where Felipe stood with his red kerchief held high, flapping in the wind. ‘Now, Alida!' she whispered. ‘Run like you've never run before.'

The mare did her best to respond, but she was exhausted. Her hooves rose and fell more and more slowly, her breath wheezed in her chest. With every touch of Alida's hoof to the ground,
Emilia felt the shock of it run up her body and through to her arms, clinging so tightly to the leather reins. Behind them came the relentless rhythm of the other mare's hooves, slowly but inexorably gaining on them. Then Emilia heard the panting breath, and was flecked with the flying foam as the chestnut galloped up on her inside. Beside her, the other groom rose and fell steadily, his eyes fixed ahead, his whip flailing mercilessly.

Emilia took a deep breath and sighed it out, relaxing her desperate grip, giving the mare her head. ‘Please, Alida,' she whispered. ‘Fly for me!'

Her mare made one last great effort. Her muscles bunched beneath Emilia's mud-spattered skin, the rhythm of her hooves quickened. For a moment dapple-grey and chestnut were poised, neck to neck, then Alida stretched out, and raced through the finish line, a scant hand span ahead of the chestnut.

The crowd went wild, throwing up their hats
and waving their kerchiefs. Emilia drew Alida up and slipped down to the ground, her legs barely managing to hold her up. She pressed her face against Alida's shivering skin and let the tears well up. Everything was a roar. She was so dizzy, she feared she might faint. Dimly she heard Felipe crowing with triumph, and calling out, ‘Pay up, my fine gentlemen! What a race! And against such odds! Who would have thought that little grey mare had it in her? Pay up, my dear fellows.'

Cosmo slipped his hand under Emilia's elbow. ‘Steady, lass,' he whispered in her ear. ‘Swoon on me now and we may have your secret discovered. Here, have a sip of this.'

‘What is it?' she whispered.

‘My special brew,' he answered, then, when she turned her face away, said with a laugh, ‘peach brandy, you little fool.'

She drank, and felt a sudden shock of warmth and giddiness. She clung to Alida and, when the
giddiness had passed, found she could stand again, and turn to receive the excited congratulations of all those mobbing around her. Her hand was shaken so vigorously, she feared it might fall off, and Alida was petted and praised extravagantly. One man offered Felipe a bag of gold coins for her there and then. Another snarled that the gypsies had cheated, once again, which made Cosmo finger his dagger and hiss, ‘What did you say?'

Emilia tried to lead Alida free of the crowd, wanting to look her mare over and check she had not hurt herself in any way, but she could not get away.

Suddenly she heard a high, shrill whistle. At once Felipe's and Cosmo's heads whipped round, and they stiffened. Then Cosmo had seized Alida's bridle and was forcing her through the crowd at a great pace. Felipe was holding out his hand and demanding his money in a low, urgent voice, and then went hurrying away towards the gypsy
encampment. Turning her head from side to side, Emilia saw that every single gypsy in the crowd was extricating themselves as rapidly. Fear jumped in her throat.

As soon as they were free of the pressing mass of people, Cosmo turned and threw her up into the saddle. ‘Get out of here, Emilia,' he said. ‘Take Alida, and get to wherever it is that you and your cousin have been hiding. Tell Sebastien we'll meet him on the road, all right?'

Emilia nodded, too scared to speak.

‘Make sure he brings that mare with him,' Cosmo warned. ‘Else I'll curse you myself.'

‘The Rom don't curse the Rom,' Emilia managed to say.

‘They do when they steal their horses. That mare is mine now, lassie.'

‘Only until I give you back the silver charm,' Emilia protested, and then saw by his face that he did not expect her to live long enough to return
the charm. Her heart sank, but there was no time to say more. He had slapped Alida across the rump, and the poor, exhausted horse went stumbling away across the Downs, Emilia so weary and sick she was swaying in the saddle.

Cries of alarm rang out from the crowd. Emilia looked back. Marching along the top of the Downs was a company of Roundhead soldiers, the sun glinting on their helmets and pikes. At their head, striding out impatiently, was a tall, burly-shouldered man wearing a brown buff coat, a metal gauntlet on his left hand. Emilia's heart jolted. Coldham!

He raised his face, scanning the crowd, and then saw her. For an instant, their eyes met. Then he raised his arm and bellowed a command. Soldiers broke into a run, pounding along the Downs towards her. Emilia dug her heels into Alida's side, and the mare broke into a heavy-footed trot.

Emilia risked another look over her shoulder, only to see Coldham seizing the reins of a horse that had been about to run a race. It was fresh and full of vim. As Coldham swung his heavy bulk into the saddle, cursing to find his stirrups much too short, the horse reared and sidestepped, almost toppling the big man from the saddle.

Throw him!
Emilia pleaded silently.
Toss him off!