"Or chased," I said, and looked beyond the hedges that separated the fields.

"A point you have there, lad," Teldys said with a heavy sigh, also casting his eyes around. "We shall set a watch, then, and see if we can catch whoever."

We caught no one at that field; I was the eyes that were set to watch, secretly lodged in a tree bordering the field. But that evening, Splendora hobbled back from her pasture and instantly Canyd was called to see what had caused her lameness. I was grooming Cornix when Canyd called me to the door of the box stall. He said nothing as he opened his hand to show me a b.l.o.o.d.y thorn in his palm.

"Iswy's here?" I cried. My heart pounded so hard I was sure that it was audible to Canyd.

"A nasty streak that Iswy has in him, and he claiming to be a horseman!" Canyd snorted. "Some of those Cor-novian tribesmen are like that. Take a real delight in avenging themselves for the silliest points of honor."

"But where's he staying?"

"Oh"-and Canyd threw up one hand, dismissing that consideration-"that one can live off the land. He's a dead shot with that sling of his. Or he's mixed in with some of those who roam these parts, picking up what they find whether it's theirs or no. Couple or three times, we've had to patrol the roads from Deva against bands of thieves. Like attracts like, you know." Then Canyd slapped my back in a friendly fashion. "The important thing is that your bay pony was too smart to be caught twice ... and saved the stallion, too, I warrant."

"But I saw no one. No one in the field, nor in the roadway!" I cried, lest they think I had fallen asleep or been inattentive in my guarding.

"The mares're fields away from where you were, lad. No fault to you." Canyd patted my shoulder rea.s.suringly.

"But Iswy's out there-" I began, distressed at the Cornovian's vindictiveness. Why should he take so against Cornix? No one else had been able to ride the stallion. Was Iswy that vain of his riding ability? But to avenge himself on a mare simply because I had ridden her now and then? Or was he avenging himself on all of us for his dismissal? Surely he had only been hired to journey with the horses to Deva. Had he expected to be taken on to work here? Or had Prince Cador dismissed him when he had returned? Such thoughts galloped about in my mind, but I spoke none of them aloud.

"We shall take precautions, never you fear, lad. Those animals be too valuable. Teldys will spread the word to watch for a lad of Iswy's description. He'll be sent about his business. You'll see."

"Splendora?" I asked as Canyd turned away.

"She's suffered no lasting harm. You're a good lad. Don't worry."

TELDYS SENT A MESSAGE to Bericus concerning the possibility of a band of marauders in the vicinity of the farm. For the next several weeks, we rode out in groups, exercising the Libyans in the fields nearest the buildings. Otherwise they were stablebound, with the mastiffs and geese let loose in the farmyard to warn of intruders at night. And there were men working in every field, mending the hedgerows or doing other "repair" work. Not a meadow that didn't have some eyes on it every hour of the day.

One night the winds blew such a gale that, in the morning, thick frost rimed bare tree, hedge, and gra.s.s. The day was bitterly cold and the footing so treacherous we turned no horse out. Three days the cold snap continued, and we had to break ice from the troughs and from the pond so the horses could drink.

Teldys and Canyd were of the opinion that, with cold winter blowing down over the land, we were unlikely to experience any more unwelcome attentions. I was not so sure: Iswy was sneaky as well as mean. The weather might have defeated him for now, but I intended to keep my eyes and ears open. None of Lord Artos's black Libyans would fall victim to his wickedness: this I swore to myself.

BY THE TIME THAT YEAR ended in the winter solstice and we at the farm had properly observed the birth of Jesus Christ, I learned the hard way that Canyd was the best bone setter as well as horse coper.

Rhodri required me to learn to ride well enough to handle any of the horses on the farm. And because the Libyans knew me, I had to ride them. I dislocated my shoulder twice falling off Splendora, who had healed sound after the thorn incident. Then I snapped the two bones in my left forearm when Spadix stumbled while we were rounding up the mares and foals prior to a storm. So that fall did what the now-absent Iswy had not-kept me off horses.

Canyd set the arm. His hands were as gentle on a human as on a horse, but I could-do little with the splinted arm. Teldys a.s.signed me to Canyd to do what I could, helping him prepare his herbs and simple remedies for equine ailments. Even with one hand, I could strip bark from river willows. And did-for days.

Unfortunately the injury also prevented me from attending ma.s.s at Christmastide in Deva. I sorely missed the joy of the Nativity ma.s.s, but only Teldys, Daphne, and their sons braved the wintry roads to make the journey. Still we made merry with the feast prepared by all the women on the farm. They had been cooking for days, each trying to outdo the others with soups, pies, and special dishes of quail, goose, and duck. There were also roast kid, roast suckling pig, venison, and vegetables, then all sorts of honey-sweet cakes, as well as all the frumenty we could eat. I enjoyed myself, though some of the older men drank too much mead and were very unwell the next day. I was determined to show my reliability in caring for Cornix, so I did not overindulge. Indeed, Canyd and I were the only ones sober enough to do the horses the next morning.

CANYD USED MY CONVALESCENT TIME TO teach me more about The Hoof. From a shelf in his little cot, he brought down the bones of a horse's leg, with the dried tendons yellow against the dark ivory of the bone. He pointed out the small pastern bone, the navicular, which can easily be chipped enough to lame a horse so badly it has to be put down. The larger pastern bone was in place above them. I could actually move the knee and fetlock of this relic. He had dried out a hoof as well, the flesh carved out so I could see into the coronet band and the h.o.r.n.y sh.e.l.l that protects the frog, the inside of it striated with fine vertical lines of hoof horn. The hoof wall was actually no thicker than half the nail of my index finger.

"This is like your own finger- and toenails, Galwyn," Canyd explained, watching me examine the relic. "See here, where there are ridges? Bad year for this horse. See here, where there are cracks? He wasn't getting the right feed to keep his bones strong ..."

He took the hoof in his hand, turning it around and around, obviously pondering some problem.

"Sorry, lad"-and he handed it back. "There is such a thin wall. One would have to be so careful..."

"Of what?" I prompted when the silence continued.

Canyd inhaled and then tapped the hoof. "You know, don't you, that all the Libyans are footsore-between hoof rot and cracks?"

I nodded, because it had been the talk of everyone in the cot: How was Lord Artos going to use horses who kept going lame? Ponies might not be big enough but they were st.u.r.dy and never had such problems with their feet.

"Those big Libyans have nice long hooves but they are accustomed to rocky and sandy surfaces. We have more bogs and marshes hereabouts, an' I mislike what the wetness does to these hooves, especially with such a high frog, where the mold likes to settle."

"But it's all hard," I said, tapping the sh.e.l.l. "Surely..."

"You've scrubbed stables down afore now, lad, and weren't your nails soft after a day in water?"

'Tes, they were-but they're only fingernails, not tough hoof like this."

"The pony that wore this foot was born and bred on this island. Big and strong as the Libyans are, they will need something to keep their feet up out of constant contact with wet ground. If we could only-" He broke off, frowning to try and catch some elusive notion. Then he reached into a dark corner and brought out some very odd looking pieces of leather. One had strings attached to it. He tapped the surface and I identified it as boiled leather, from which my father's guards had made their breastplates and the skirts that fell from waistline belts to protect their thighs from arrows.

"D'you know what this might be, lad?"

Some memory struggled to be recalled: something said in Lord Artos's voice.

"Look at it." And he pushed the thing into my hand. A rounded piece of boiled leather, all right, a sort of sandal-but for what sort of short and rounded foot... ?

"A sandal for a horse?" Yes, that was what Lord Artos had said of Canyd: He wanted to put sandals on horses to protect the hooves he was always talking about. I picked up the strings. "And these tie it on ... ?"

"Good, lad! But leather, as tough as it can be made, is sc.r.a.ped and worn out in several days, and it takes weeks to prepare."

Then he handed me some flat metal crescents. They, too, had ties, but it didn't take me a minute to see that going over rough ground would split the thongs and the sandal would come off. Or it would hang by one tie and be a danger to the animal, not a protection.

"I think we may have to nail it to the hoof..."

I gasped, knowing very well how any sort of puncture in the foot could lame a horse.

"If"-and now Canyd's gnarled forefinger circled the rim of the hoof-"we very carefully put our nails into this part of the horn..."

I know I gawked my astonishment at him, and he smiled.

"Alun and I have been working-oh, years now, I think"-and he grinned at me for all that time spent on vain effort-"on the type of nail that would be slim enough to go in just this area and strong enough to hold a metal rim on the hoof. No hoof, no horse!"

"I know, I know."

"But the time has come, has it not, when those Libyans are goin' to need somethin' to protect 'em. Best we figure it out this time." He gave an emphatic nod of his head. "Had a pony once with bad cracks in his hooves. Fine pony, save for that, so Alun and me did keep the hoof from spreading with a metal rim ... Should have kept on at the proper sort of sandal then." He frowned then and dismissed me to my evening ch.o.r.es.

It should not have surprised me that the next day I was ordered to Alun the Smith's forge, where he did all the metalwork required by the large farm, including making the flat spather swords used by the guards. Alun was the biggest man I had ever seen, with arms like tree trunks and a chest that was as deep and broad as Cor-nix's. He had a cap of very curly black hair, just grizzling above the ears, and a face with smears of soot generally on the ruddy cheeks. When he smiled, and he was a smiling man, he nearly lost his eyes in the creases of his flesh. He had four great anvils about his big fire, and three apprentices: two were his sons, built on the same generous lines as their father, and one a thinner lad who never smiled the whole time I lived at the Devan farm.

Alun and Canyd were working at one of the anvils in the forge, once again trying to find a shape of nail to suit the requirements. Round ones had long since been discarded as unsuitable, though I often heard Alun say that he forged the best nails from Venta to Eburac.u.m. I was set to working the bellows, a job I could easily do with the one hand I had to work with. It was not an easy job, though, for the coal fire had to be very hot to heat the iron enough to make it malleable.

In that forge, I also saw the various shapes of horse sandals that had been devised over the years Alun and Canyd had been experimenting. Sandals with lips three-quarters of the way around that would be hammered down to fit tightly against the outside of the hoof; sandals with long clips that fit halfway up the outside of the hoof. Canyd thought that clamping the clip while still hot and malleable to the horse's hoof would seal it on. I fretted about red-hot iron being applied to a hoof, but Canyd and Alun laughed at my fears.

"There's no feeling to the outer sh.e.l.l. It's deader'n fingernails, you can be sure o' that," Alun told me. "But if it will save the hoof"-and he winked at me, jerking his head at Canyd to be sure I caught the jest-"then that one'll be happy, now, won't he?"

As Canyd laughed at such wit, I was able to smile back. Despite the heat and the smells in the forge-for I was at the back of it, against the wall that ringed the home farm, and constantly inhaling the odd odors of hot metal and coal-I had a sense that these two men were on the brink of an extraordinary accomplishment.

"Light enough to be lifted, strong enough to protect, st.u.r.dy enough to last, and easy to place," I often heard Alun declare.

A f.l.a.n.g.ed sandal was finally eliminated, though such a one stayed on an old pony for weeks. It had to be removed because the thick mud of the winter fields seeped in between hoof and metal, causing the old horse to go lame.

If I heard Canyd murmur, "No hoof, no horse," once, he said it like a litany as he and Alun attacked their objective. And I got so I would groan in protest the moment he formed the first "No."

AS THE WEATHER IMPROVED and spring seemed nearer, I hoped in vain that Lord Artos would come to inspect his mares and foals. Bericus came every month, checking each of the twenty Libyans and the foals himself, though he also read Teldys's laboriously written daily reports. Bericus would ride into the yard on the heavy-boned bay gelding that took him on all his travels, for the horse farm was not the only property Lord Artos had in this area. He would bellow my name and bring me running.

"You get taller every time I see you, lad," Bericus would say.

In truth I was getting some growth, with all the good food Daphne liked to set upon her table. We even had meat twice a week.

Then Bericus would toss me the reins of the gelding and turn to have a few words with Teldys while I stabled the horse.

"Has Cornix eaten the pony yet?" Bericus might ask as we three strode down to the stables. Lord Artos's stallion was always the first to be seen on these inspection visits.

I'd have to strip the rug off Cornix-which I did even with my broken arm-for Bericus was thorough. He'd run his hands down each leg to a.s.sure himself of soundness, and pat the smooth hide. And after the first time Cornix got hoof rot, Bericus always checked each foot. I was careful to use a powder to prevent it, so he never found another trace of it.

"How long d'you think it'll take before they grow their own winter coats, Teldys?" Bericus asked. "Won't be able to pamper them on the march."

"A year or two," Teldys said. "They have to adapt. Horses do."

Then Spadix would nose Bericus for the turnip or parsnip that he always seemed to have in his belt pouch.

"Beggar," Bericus said, but he provided the treat while Teldys tutted in disapproval. "How's the arm, Gal-wyn?" He'd teased me the first time he'd seen it splinted.

"Itches something fierce," I said, but showed him the smooth willow wand that was long enough to help relieve the itching. "Canyd says it'll mend straight," I added, in case Bericus might think I couldn't do right by Cornix.

"Good bones, the lad has," Teldys said, giving me an affectionate buffet on my good shoulder.

If Bericus had time to spare, he would take a meal with Teldys, where doubtless they discussed other matters. Then he would ask me to saddle up the gelding, and while I did that-awkwardly with the broken arm, but refusing his help-Bericus would often tell me more about Lord Artos's activities.

"You see, it's not just the horses the Comes needs, Galwyn. It's the support of other princes around about us here," Bericus said. "Most of them haven't seen these fine Libyans yet, of course, so they have doubts about the effectiveness of Artos's plans to defeat the Saxons the next time they're on the move."

"But surely Lord Artos only has to tell them ..."

Bericus laughed. "He's a grand one for talking, and while he's with them, they're all for him. He's got a way of making men loyal to him." He looked at me and smiled again. "Of course, the Companions, myself included, are still the only ones who really understand the merits of his great plan to unite all Britons against the Saxons."

"But-but-" I spluttered, wondering how anyone could listen to Lord Artos and not believe in his strategies.

"It's the doubters that must still be convinced-against their will, lad. That's why politics is so important," Bericus replied with a grin, clapping his hand on my shoulder; and then, unexpectedly, he peered at me. "I do believe you've put a full hand in height on you since you came back from Burtigala ..." He paused, stepping back to arm's length, to study me. "Aye, and muscled up, too." And he squeezed the shoulder I had dislocated twice.

"I'm helping Canyd and Alun," I said, rather proudly.

"No better men to have as exemplars," he agreed, nodding. "Now politics is how Artos is contriving to keep the kingdom quiet until he is ready to exhibit his new force. You do all you can"-and again he pressed my shoulder-"to further that, and you'll have the full grat.i.tude of the Comes-and"-he grinned again-"the profound thanks of all of us who will ride to battle on our fine black horses."

Bericus swung up into the saddle. "One day, when spring is finally here"-and he wound his cloak tightly about him-"you may have a chance to see our new headquarters. It's slow work but it'll be a fine place when it's finished: a base for our cavalry and a place for training the foot soldiers." He looked off, frowning slightly. "The Saxons remain where they are. It's the Irish we have to contend with right now. Vale, Galwyn," he said in farewell as he kneed the gelding forward. "Just keep the Libyans safe and prospering!" he cried over his shoulder.

As if he needed to tell me. I thought constantly about their safety, Iswy topmost in my mind. Not that we had seen hide or hair of Iswy after that heavy frost. Nor had there been any roving bands stealing from outlying farms or harrying travelers on the roads. Still, I never forgot that particular danger.

I knew about the danger of Irish raiders, too, living as we did not that far from a favorite landfall of theirs. No wonder princes and chiefs around here were not quite so concerned about Saxon invasions, despite the well-founded rumors that Aelle and his sons intended to expand beyond their pale near Eburac.u.m. The Irish were a problem now; the Saxons only a distant menace.

Of course, for Lord Artos's marvelous plan of a swift-moving force to succeed, it would be five or six years before this year's crop of foals were ready for battle. Would we be given the time? Would enough of the princes join forces with Artos to provide a large enough army?

In point of fact, the Libyan stallions could have been used in battle right now, since Rhodri had trained them to respond to movements of heel and seat so that a Companion had both hands free for his weapons. And I had to admit I dreaded the day Cornix would be taken from my care, for he was, indeed, the mark of both Comes Artos's favor and my status on the farm.

BERICUS WAS NOT the only one who noticed that I had grown taller and stronger. All those hours on the bellows and the generous, good food were having an effect. Further, now that my arm bones had knit, I was excused from pumping the bellows and allowed to help make the horse sandals, which meant much work with a hammer.

Bericus had listened to both Alun and Canyd explaining about their device: had listened but had not seemed terribly impressed.

"He only rides the horses," Canyd said later, when Alun had railed against Bericus's lack of enthusiasm. "He hasn't the care of them."

"He cared for them on the journey here," I said. Canyd eyed me a moment. "For his own, but not for all the others who are in our keeping."

"Aye, he's a Companion," Alun said, altering his position, but I don't think it was out of deference to my remark. The smith enjoyed opposing Canyd, if only to be contrary. But it was a good-humored antagonism.

That might even have been what led to an effective horse sandal, because if Canyd suggested one method, Alun would counter with another, totally different. Thus they explored many more possibilities. Boiled leather had long been ruled out as ineffective, and now all their efforts were concentrated on developing an iron rim to somehow attach to the underside of the hoof.

Once again an older pony was used to test the result. I do remember the look on the pony's face when he first realized he had something stuck to his hoofs. He kept picking up his hinds and trying to kick off the unaccustomed weight. We had a good laugh at his antics.

I trotted him out into the cold wet afternoon, he still trying to dislodge the rims and then shying when the iron sandals clanged on stone. He picked his old legs up like a yearling, flicking his front feet. Gradually his kickings subsided as he realized he could not relieve himself of the enc.u.mbrances.

He was turned out again and was watched over the next few days, to be sure the metal plates did not cause lameness or, far more importantly, come off. The fifth day, a hind sandal did get sucked off by the thick mud in the pasture from the heavy spring rains.

Canyd and Alun pa.s.sed the lost rim back and forth, noting the way that three of the five nails had come out and were sticking out of the rim. We found the other two in the pony's foot: they had broken off, but-and this was important-they had not made him lame by remaining.

"They don't sit in firmly enough, though, even with the tapering," Alun said, holding the erring nail up between thumb and index finger.

"But the other rims stayed on," I reminded them. "Three out of four is good."

"Aye," Canyd said, "for want of the right nail, the sandal was lost... and so would the horse be."

"Maybe"-and Alun pondered this before he spoke again, "maybe-if the nail is turned down-hooked, so to speak-on the outside, it will not pull out as easily."

"Aye, that would clinch it in place," Canyd agreed, nodding.

"I will make the nail a little longer, then," Alun said, motioning me to take my position at the bellows to heat up the fire, "to be hammered down on the hoof. It wouldn't hurt the animal, would it?" Canyd shook his head.

THIS TIME THE SANDALS remained on a full two weeks.

"Problem with all these sandals and nails," Alun said when Canyd and I were jubilant to see success, "is that the hoof of a horse grows, or he rubs the sandal on hard ground and gradually wears the nailhead down... or gets grit between hoof and sandal... or ..."

"You've to train men to make the rims," Canyd said thoughtfully. "You've enough work on your hands just making arms an' tools. A man'd have to be sent along with the horses, an' with plenty o' nails, I 'sped, in case a shoe came loose or got lost." His wink at me was significant.

I stared back at him aghast, silently turning my thumb in my own direction.

"And why not you, lad?" Canyd went on. "You've been in on the work since it started." Then he added slyly, "'Tis one way to get to be with Comes Artos, isn't it?"