Dragon's Child by M. K. Hume Page B

its dam, but it had inherited the same length of leg. It was also cleaner of limb, with legs that were unmarred by thick hair above the hooves, although its body coat was still rough and curly. Its head was smaller and more delicate than its mother, yet, for all its apparent fragility, the young horse appeared strong and heavy-boned.
    ‘She must have found herself a wild pony when she was in season,’ Targo decided. ‘Perhaps it was a descendant of the horses brought from Gaul, or it might have been one of the hillside beasts that are still found in the high places. I don’t know if he’ll be any good, but he’s a handsome colt.’
    ‘He’s beautiful, Targo,’ Artorex breathed, as the foal nuzzled his arm with soft, questing lips.
    ‘I hope he’s not too beautiful or else the young master might be tempted to take him off you,’ Targo murmured regretfully.
    ‘Master Ector has already ordered me to become a horseman, so could you ask him if I could be responsible for the foal’s training?’ Artorex asked.
    Artorex expected Targo to reject his request outright, but the veteran pursed his lips, then bit on one calloused knuckle until, finally, he came to a decision.
    ‘I’ll ask him before the young master decides to take the foal for his own use.’
    Privately, Targo had already determined that he would keep Aphrodite’s foal safe from the grasping hands of Caius. His gorge still rose whenever he remembered Aphrodite’s coat, slick with blood and sweat, after Caius had beaten the mare almost to death. Targo had believed the mare would die with her spirit crushed, but she had found a well of hatred within her being that kept her alive. This foal wouldn’t be spoiled like its dam if he had any say in the matter.
    When Targo approached Lord Ector with his request, the master was inclined to be generous. For several months, Ector had been concerned that Artorex’s riding lessons were inconvenient for the smooth running of the villa and this small, bastard horse was of very little value, except to solve the problem. If his foster-son could make something of the unpromising creature, then Ector would be advantaged once again.
    And so Coal, as the young man named him, became Artorex’s horse.
    ‘Why did you give him that particular name?’ Targo asked curiously. He had expected a far more grandiose title, even for such an awkward little colt.
    ‘Coal burns hot and it fires the forges that make iron. It’s stronger than wood and yet it is glossy and easily shaped. Yes, Coal is his name, for he is my fire,’ Artorex answered with perfect seriousness.
    ‘Well, he’s your horse, boy, so you can select whatever name you like for him,’ was Targo’s non-committal reply.
    Horsemanship was the least of Artorex’s newly acquired skills. Golden limbed, cleanly muscled and fair of face, Ector’s foster-son drew the eyes of the villa women with little effort or conscious use of charm. Perhaps his innocence contributed to his attractiveness, for the lad had no notion of his sexual power. But Lady Livinia recognized Artorex’s burgeoning manhood and, belatedly, remembered her promise to Myrddion Merlinus.
    Towards the end of one long, tiring day, as Artorex trudged back from ploughing, slick with sweat, soil and the cold water he had sluiced over his head and shoulders, Lady Livinia left orders for her foster-son to attend to her in the atrium once he had bathed. Artorex was surprised, but he complied as quickly as he could, joining Lady Livinia and her maid on a limestone bench under a single linden tree. Lady Livinia was working her large floor loom while her maid was spinning degreased wool on a simple, wooden spindle.
    ‘You asked to see me, my lady?’ Artorex asked carefully, his grey eyes watching the flicker of coloured thread as her shuttle passed across the loom.
    ‘Yes, Artorex.’ She smiled in welcome. ‘I’ve been remiss in your education. As Lord Myrddion explained, a true gentleman should