Serenity Valley (2 page)

“I’m fine, Sayer, but there is one
thing you could do for me.”

“What do you need, boy; what can I
do?”

“Could you help me get out from under
her? I’m afraid I might be here until the second coming
otherwise.”

“Oh, sure, sure, of course, no
problem.” Sayer helped roll and lift, using Siren’s halter, until I
worked my way free.

Both of us stood there just staring at
Siren’s lifeless body. I said, “It’s almost like seeing the end of
a legacy, the ending of an original and near-perfect
bloodline.”

“Aye, son, it truly is. Up to her
offspring now to carry on the line. At least we have that! Well, I
will inform the lord when he gets up from his sleep. I’m not
looking forward to that, but it must be done.”

“I do not envy that task, Sayer. I
will see to the burial. I would like to bury her with her halter if
that’s all right with you.”

“Yes, yes, of course! She certainly
earned it. She made the warhorse line what it is today. Wrap her in
a new blanket also.” I was touched and amazed that such cost was to
be extended to honor Siren. “I will arrange for the grave with the
groundskeeper and have him send word when it’s ready,” Sayer
said.

“Thanks, Sayer. I’ll see to her; I
consider it an honor seeing her to the final rest.”

“One more thing, Gamel: don’t forget
to eat something.”

“Sure, I will.” I had no idea when the
hollow pit in my stomach could even tolerate solid food. It felt
empty, and my heart felt like it was in my throat. The thought of
food sickened me terribly. Sayer understood this, as we were so
much alike when it came to the horses, and loss.

I had decided to try some hot tea in
my stomach while I waited for the grave to be prepared. Turning to
leave the stall, I noticed some movement from the corner of my eye.
I turned but could not locate what had caught my attention. I
surveyed the entire stall but still couldn’t locate anything amiss.
It could have been some latent movement from Siren’s body caused by
chemicals left behind in the muscles. Then, yet again, a sense of
movement caught my eye toward the rear of Siren’s body. It was then
that I saw it perfectly for the first time, a few tail hairs blown
up into the air. Well, that explained it, just gas escaping the
body, which was perfectly normal. Even as easily explained as it
was, for some reason, my eyes stayed focused on the tail. Something
wasn’t right, not right at all. Hairs were blown up in perfectly
spaced time intervals. I was probably just imagining things because
of the grief and despair I felt, just the mind playing cruel
tricks. Just to put my mind at ease, though, I moved around to
Siren’s rear and moved her tail away.

I saw something white and oddly shaped
protruding from her birth canal. I bent down to look closer and was
shocked to see a white nostril the size of my fist. I reached down
to touch it, and it flared, then recoiled from my touch. I was so
startled, I fell back on my butt. The poor foal must have been
close to birthing when Siren died and was now trapped in the birth
canal. I quickly crawled up to the body and put my face down to the
nostril so I could feel the breath against my face to be sure I
wasn’t imagining everything. I felt the warm breath on my face, and
to my surprise, the nostril was reacting to the scent of my own
breath. When I exhaled, the nostril would expand and contract,
taking in air in short spurts as a horse would when remembering a
particular scent. The foal was still alive, or so it seemed. I
needed to get Sayer, but I knew he would probably be on the other
side of the hold by now. There was no time to wait. If there was a
chance the foal could live, I must cut it from Siren’s body, and
with great haste. I quickly ran to the medical supplies and opened
the old, scarred wooden box. I picked up the sharp double-edged
knife.

Kneeling in front of Siren’s belly, I
said, “Please forgive me, Siren, but I am going to try to save your
foal!” Without any more hesitation, I plunged the knife into the
belly and began my cut. I had never done this myself, but I had
seen Sayer do it on a pregnant cow that broke a leg just short of
birthing. In that case, the cow was put down prior to cutting the
calf free. I continued cutting through various tissue layers until
I came to the womb. I made a long, careful cut to open the womb,
ignoring the gore and odor from the grisly procedure. I had to tell
myself that Siren wasn’t here anymore, just her broken, empty
vessel that once held her spirit. As the cut lengthened, more and
more of the foal exploded into view, until the hind legs were out.
I prepared to pull the foal free, but it was proven unnecessary.
Before I could pull on the legs, the foal slid completely out of
the belly and onto the straw. In front of me was a bright white
foal, struggling to raise its head. What was more shocking than the
fact that the foal was alive was the size of it. Once it
straightened out its legs, it was the size of a small two-year-old.
I started talking to the beastie and blowing in its nose so it
could imprint on me. It again sniffed my breath as if to store it
away for future reference. It shifted position, getting its legs
under it, and I grabbed dry straw and began rubbing the body from
head to hoof to stimulate and dry the various birth fluids from the
coat. I tied off the umbilical cord with a rawhide string I found
in the medical box, then cut the foal free. As if knowing it was
free, the foal stood on shaking legs and began rocking back and
forth. Before it could topple over, I stood and placed a hip
against it as a mother would do. The foal braced against me as I
continued rubbing it down. While cleaning the foal, I realized
something had, till now, been overlooked in all the excitement, so
I took a look at its private parts. “Well, my very lucky young man,
welcome to the world!”

I knew before long something needed to
be done regarding feeding, so I called out, “Need some assistance
here, please.” To my surprise, within seconds Fulk had appeared in
the door of the stall.

“Yes, Gamel, what do you need? What’s
that—we were told that the mare died before birth!”

“She did, Fulk, but her foal didn’t
die with her.”

“Then, how in the world…” Fulk then
noticed the mare’s body, and again, his eyes widened and his mouth
hung open. “You cut the foal from the dead mare’s body…when?
How?”

“I cut it out just now as I found it
alive, but stuck.”

A shocked Fulk gasped, “Stuck! No
wonder it was stuck! Look at the size of it! I have seen smaller
two-year-olds!”

“Fulk, I would greatly appreciate it
if you could go to the herdsman and get some fresh goat’s milk and
a few nursing bottles so this young fellow can get his first meal.”
Fulk looked at me totally different than he ever had before. I
actually thought I could see a bit of respect in his gaze. This
would be something totally new for Fulk, since, he thought he was
the best at everything. The only thing that kept him from trying to
push me around is that I was so much bigger than he was. Although
Fulk was tall for his age, I had always been taller and stout,
often mistaken for a grown man at my current age of 12 years. “What
say you, Fulk, can you help me out here?” I called out.

“Oh, sure, sure, I’ll be back as soon
as I can.” Still staring at me like a curiosity, Fulk finally
closed his mouth, turned, and started running.

With the excitement of
Fulk’s hasty departure, all the horses started their clamoring
again like a bunch of nosy old hens. I couldn’t help but chuckle,
which did not go unnoticed by the new
foal. He looked up at me and let out a little choppy bellow
of his own. I smiled and said, “Well, young man, at least you have
already found humor—a most important thing, humor.” I started
tidying the stall, the young colt tagging along, bracing itself
against my side. He looked at my face and kept his ears trained on
my voice as if trying to remember everything I said.

After cleaning the stall
the best I could, I took my charge into the stall directly across
from Siren’s. As soon as we came out of the stall and began
crossing the aisleway, the entire stable went silent. All horses
froze, their eyes on the new colt as if he were the most unusual
beast to walk the earth. With all ears and eyes trained on him, he
simply stopped and turned, looked down the double-lined row of
horse heads and gave out a shockingly loud and defiant bellow. It
was as if he was announcing his own arrival, the arrival of their
new king, king of all he surveyed. I thought to myself,
What a handful this fellow is going to be.
Perhaps he just doesn’t know that humility is a
virtue.
We made it to the new stall
without event, but the stable remained silent for a long time.
Several minutes passed before any of the horses made small talk
again. Even then, it was very subdued, as if they were in some kind
of shock. I said, “Well, at least you make a lasting impression,
young man!”

It was a very short time before Fulk
returned with feed bottles and fresh goat’s milk. He prepared a
bottle and secured the soft leather nipple on it. I placed the
nipple in the colt’s mouth and was quite pleased to see him take to
it right away. After about a minute, though, he refused to take any
more milk. Curling his upper lip back, he stuck his head straight
up in the air as if smelling something nasty. He lowered and turned
his head, which was level with my face, and coughed, spewing milk
directly into my face. Fulk immediately roared with laughter. The
warm milk dripped from my face onto all my clothes, mixing with
blood, birthing fluid, and any other foul material I managed to
pick up in the last couple of days. The colt nickered as if to say
'unacceptable, how dare you!' A laughing Fulk said, “It seems your
new colt has a sensitive, educated palate, Gamel.” Fulk’s
expression soon turned serious, no doubt remembering the morning’s
lesson in manners, and he said, “Gamel, I have an idea. I’ll be
right back.” Fulk returned with a small jug of something and
proceeded to pour some of the contents into the wooden milk bucket.
He then used a stick to mix the secret ingredient thoroughly. In no
time he had prepared a second bottle and handed it to
me.

“If this is a trick, Fulk, there will
be hell to pay and then some!”

“It’s no trick; just try it, and he
will like it. I guarantee it!”

I took the bottle and tried to get the
colt to suckle it. He turned his head up in the air and rolled his
lips back, telling me once again that my offering was nasty. He
lowered his head and looked at me with his defiant blue-black eye.
I said, “It’s good, really!” I even turned up the bottle and
allowed some of the milk to pour into my mouth. The colt watched me
with his ears trained on me as if I were trying to trick him. To my
surprise, it was quite tasty, as Fulk had doused it with honey. I
then felt the rumble in my belly and remembered how hungry I was. I
latched on to the bottle and drew mouthfuls with vigor. The next
thing I knew, the colt had his lips on the bottle and was trying to
take it away from me. I asked, “Oh, you want it now, do you?” The
colt bent his ears back and nickered demandingly. As I placed the
nipple in his mouth, I said, “You know, we really need to work on
your manners, young man!” The colt totally ignored me as he
greedily sucked the bottle dry in record time. As soon as I removed
the first bottle, Fulk handed me another. Soon the colt was full
and yawning, like the stuffed youngster he was. He stumbled over to
a corner and collapsed in a heap, placed his chin on the ground,
and promptly went to sleep.

“The honey was a great idea, Fulk.
Thank you,” I said.

“No problem, anytime.”

I did not know it at the time, but
this moment marked an important turning point in our relationship,
which would mean so very much in the future.

“Could you keep an eye on him? I
suddenly feel the need to bathe and change,” I said.

Fulk stifled a chuckle. “Go ahead. I
will watch the youngling while you go get cleaned up.”

Without any hesitation, I bolted for
my quarters and suddenly realized sunrise was long past. I grabbed
a change of clothes and headed for the nearby brook. I stripped,
jumped into the water, and started rubbing my arms, face, and neck
where the dried gore clung. Where the crud was resilient, I used
sand as an abrasive to rub it off. I rolled my soiled clothes into
a ball, tucked them under my arm, and started walking back to the
stables.

I was passing the kitchen when I heard
someone drop a cooking pan with a loud clatter. I heard a
high-pitched, annoying female voice. “You there, Gamel, hold right
where you are!” Through the kitchen door ran pretty Basilea, with
her bright gold locks trailing close behind her.

“You, sir, did you forget something?
Are you rude or just daft?”

I couldn’t help but stare at her, her
beautiful golden hair, high cheekbones, and full lips. “I’m so
very, very sorry, Basilea! Whatever I have done to injure you and
put a frown on such a perfectly beautiful face, I am truly
repentant for such a crime!” I could see a small smile start to
form on her lips.

From the kitchen, I could hear someone
say, “God save us from the smooth-talking, fancy men such as that
one!”

Unfortunately, Basilea had also heard
it and soon snapped back into her attack mode. With a forced frown,
she said, “Sir, you obviously don’t even remember you were to take
me for a walk last night. You send no word, nothing. Just leave a
girl standing in the doorway broken-hearted!”