The King's Peace by Jo Walton Page A

most of the time picketed in the fields inside the walls, but we rode now to the stable block where eager grooms started up as they heard the clatter of hooves.
    These grooms were mostly young people around Garah's age or a little older. I eventually managed to make one of them understand that even though I was coming in with the ala I had no prearranged place to put Apple. I told her he was well behaved and well used to other horses, but she took us to the transient's stable where there was plenty of room. There was so much room in fact that she found him a stall with a space on either side. This showed me she was used to handling stallions. I knew Apple wouldn't have given any trouble, but I was glad of the courtesy.
    The floor was dry, and walls only slightly chewed. Apple headed straight for the manger.
    A young groom brought Apple the same turnips and carrots and armloads of fodder the other horses were having. He began to eat enthusiastically. She showed me the room where I could store Apple's tack. Before I had quite settled Apple, Marchel appeared. She had taken off her helm and I could see that her hair was the color of damp straw. She leaned over the side of the stall.
    "Magnificent, isn't he?" she said. "Good appetite. He doesn't even look terribly tired.
    And he's a real fighter too. How old is he? A six-year-old?"
    "Six, yes, he was four when my father brought him back from Caer Tanaga."
    "So you've only had him a couple of years? Any luck with foals yet?"
    I straightened up, all my joints aching. "He was given to my father's war-leader, Duncan, not to me. Duncan already had a greathorse of his own, though he was a gelding, being an unlucky color. Duncan came riding up out of the east twelve years back, and his was the only greathorse we had before my father brought those three back. Duncan did not want to change, so he gave Apple to his daughter Rudwen. The king had given my father and my brother each a mare. So last year we had two full-bred colts, each as pretty as their father, and this year one filly, paler in color but with a noble head. I was beginning to help train one of last year's, by Apple out of my father's mare Dauntless." I looked away, I did not want to think where little Hero was now. Apple was eating happily. I
    leaned over and patted him, taking comfort from his warm presence. "He would have been mine when he was grown. Mostly I rode my brother's mare, training, or Banner, who was a half-breed four-year-old that Duke Galba gave us as a colt. Apple had the run of our other mares as much as he would, the other stallions wouldn't come near him, and my father was well pleased with the general improvement of the horses."
    "Anyone would be. But I didn't mean to make you sad talking about your stock, which has been lost. Not that the Jarnsnien will get much good of them. Greathorses don't do much good in twos and threes, you need a whole ala to be effective. Oh but he's a lovely beast. I was just admiring him and wondering if my Spring would like him as much as I do. If ap Cathvan says it's a good match, that is. He'll know, and care. He spent an awful lot of time getting so many horses mannered and ready to be given away at the crowning, but he remembers them all. Some of the monks at Thansethan didn't like Urdo doing that with the herd, not that they didn't have enough left. They've been breeding horses there for a long time."
    "Are the monks there devotees of the Horse Mother, then?" I asked, putting one of my blankets Page 23

    over Apple's back and making the Horse Mother's sign. Marchel raised an eyebrow.
    "They worship the White God, all of them, very devotedly. He watches over them well, and horses thrive in the pastures there."
    "I do not know the White God."
    Marchel looked up at me, frowning. "Where were you educated?" she asked.
    I looked at her. "My mother taught all of us to read and write, and Duncan taught me fighting."
    She laughed. "Forgive me. You speak such excellent Vincan I had