Serenity Valley (3 page)

Again from inside the kitchen, “That’s
more like it!”

I had no idea I had made such a date,
but I probably had and then forgotten all about it. I immediately
decided to turn this situation around to my advantage. “My fairest
lady, I did not mean to slight you and humbly beg your forgiveness.
I would rather poke a sharp stick in my own eye than see worry upon
such an, an…exotic and beautiful face as your own!” Now she was
smiling and fighting back a laugh as best I could tell.

From the kitchen again: “God save us
all; spent too much time listenin' ta the guards that one
has!”

Ignoring the interference of the
voice, I continued, “I ask only that we sit for a moment while I
tell you some most tragic news, my lady, as I feel a bit faint from
lack of sleep and food.” I maneuvered Basilea to the kitchen
doorway steps and waited for her to sit. I almost collapsed upon
the steps next to her. In perfect position to be heard through the
open kitchen windows, I intended to give the kitchen staff far more
than they bargained for. Eavesdropping and meddling in affairs not
their own was very rude.

I began telling my yarn, explaining
how the queen of the horses, Siren, was always my charge at
birthing because no one else liked her. I got this far and my
rapscallion mood quickly turned somber. I truly tried to make light
and take advantage of the situation, but as my voice became shaky
and my eyes filled with tears, I soon felt this whole idea a very
bad one. I could no longer look at Basilea, but looked out into
space while I droned on with my detailed and somewhat grotesque
story. It actually felt good to tell someone about my feelings, so
I did not leave anything out. With tremors in my voice and tears of
sorrow freely flowing, Basilea and other nosy people learned of my
own personal tragedy and triumph, with all the gut-wrenching pain,
then the emotional revival via the birth of the new king of horses.
At the end of my story, I looked at Basilea to find her face
streaked with tears and her linen dress water-spotted in many
places. “I am so very sorry; I have upset you with my silly tale of
woe is me, woe issss meeee.”

Basilea wiped her eyes and turned to
look at me. “Give me your clothes, sir; I will see to them
myself.”

“I prefer not to, fair princess, as
they are covered in gore and a foulness that has yet to be
discovered or even described by man.” Well, that sounded more like
it. My mood had started to lighten. Unfortunately, the kitchen
busybodies also fell victim to my tale of emotional tragedy. I
heard several comments to the effect of: “Saddest thing I ever
heard!” and “Poor boy having to go through all that by himself.”
Also, “How sad! An honorable lad that one is!” Comments often were
followed by the distinctive sound of a nose being blown. Well, my
work was complete here, and I needed to get back. With a lighter
heart and the satisfaction of knowing I had more than gotten even
with those out to make trouble for me, I rose and prepared to make
my goodbye speech. I suddenly felt lightheaded, and everything went
black for an instant. I could feel my body swaying from side to
side but could not balance.

I do not remember falling, only waking
up to the worried look of beautiful Basilea leaning over me. She
was holding my hand with both of her own. For the first time, I
really noticed how unsettling her eyes were. “Gamel, are you awake?
Good sir, are you all right?” she asked when she saw my eyes
open.

“Am I in Heaven? Surely I am, for I
see two bright emeralds with bright comets dancing upon the edges.
Oh, oh, no please don’t be troubled, my dear princess. Sorrow upon
your face is like a rain cloud that dares to spoil the most
beautiful of all sunsets!” Basilea’s face instantly changed from
concern to a bright smile.

One of the kitchen hens cackled, “Oh
hell, he’s back; must make this crap up while he sleeps!” Laughter
erupted around a somewhat sizable group.

I sat up and looked around. “How long
have I been out?”

“Only about five minutes, good sir,”
Basilea answered.

“Oh, my goodness, I really need to get
back. The king of all horses may awaken any time you know!” I
slowly stood up and was shocked to realize that my head had been
resting in the fairest lap of Basilea the Beautiful. If I would
have realized this sooner, I would have stayed there longer; much,
much longer! Life can sometimes be filled with such pleasant
surprises. I bent down to retrieve my soiled clothes, but Basilea
waved me away.

“Your clothes will be cleaned, folded,
and placed in your room. No more debate! If they cannot be cleaned,
then I will make you new ones, good sir.”

“Unfair, I say, as no mere mortal man
should dare banter with such exotic beauty. Ladies, I bid you
fondest farewell. Fairest princess, be assured that life will
simply be endured and time freely wasted until I am once more in
your fond company.”

It seemed like a good time to take my
leave. With a gracious bow, I turned and took off at a slow run to
the barn. Still in earshot, I heard one of the kitchen ladies say,
“Is it suddenly hot out here? Does anyone know da king’s penalty
fer ruinin' a child? Oh my goodness, I think I be a child
molester.” The roar of laughter from the kitchen workers could be
heard to some distance, and even herders at the cattle pens turned
to see what was so funny.

Upon returning to the stables, I found
Fulk sitting on the ground in front of the colt’s stall. He was
filthy, with a torn shirt and ripped breaches. He just looked up at
me and said, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“What goes on here; what happened?” I
asked.

“He woke up!”

I went to the stall door and looked
over the top. The feed trough and water bucket lay splintered and
scattered throughout the stall. Straw was strewn everywhere as if a
great battle had taken place. In the middle of the stall stood the
colt, pawing at the floor, head down, ears pinned back. I said,
“Well, young man, I see you have been busy in my absence.” Upon
hearing my voice, his body snapped to attention, head high in the
air, ears trained on the origin of the sound. He let go a loud
whinny. I stepped into the stall and approached the colt, who
immediately lipped my arm and raised his head high in the air,
curling his lips back to check my scent. Satisfied with my scent,
he lowered his head and walked to me on his still-wobbly legs. He
placed his head against my chest and let go a soft nicker in the
form of a greeting. I asked Fulk if he could help me prepare
another feeding and started collecting the pieces and shards that
were left of the former stall furnishings. The colt stayed close to
me as if he were attached by a rope, watching my every move, ears
pricked up and trained on me at all times. To my surprise, he bent
his head down and picked up a piece of the shattered wood, wobbled
over to the stall door, and dropped it on the other side as he had
seen me do. “Oh, but you are a smart one, you are.” While I patted
his snow-white neck and praised him, he stood erect with head held
high as if praise were being exalted upon some pompous, arrogant
royal. “Oh, but you are also full of yourself, you are!” I said
with a chuckle. The colt just turned his back on me and walked away
as if the jibe was totally insignificant. “Arrogant bastard, you
are!” Following my remarks, the colt let out a most distasteful
bellow, no doubt some sort of curse in horse language.

The second feeding was uneventful,
with the colt stuffing himself as a pig would. With his belly
stuffed to exploding, he wobbled over to a place where straw was
piled high and collapsed with his legs under himself. With his nose
to the ground, he promptly began snoring. By this time, word of the
unexpected colt had spread through the entire hold. People from
various areas and occupations throughout the hold were happening by
to see this new curiosity. It was not long before I heard people
acknowledging the hold lord’s arrival. The small crowd parted, and
there, standing at the stable door, was Sayer with Lord Goodwin. I
presumed that I might be in trouble for not waiting for Sayer to
remove the foal from his dam, but my spirits lifted when both men
stood in the door, looking at me with huge smiles across their
faces. I said, “Good morning, my lord, Marshal Sayer. Please allow
me to present your new stud colt, the last descendent of Queen
Siren, lord and master over all that he surveys!”

“Well done, Gamel. Well done, my boy!
I am in your debt. Thank you for saving the foal when all had
seemed lost!” a smiling Goodwin said.

“Thank you, my lord. I hoped you and
Marshal Sayer would not feel ill towards me for attempting the
procedure without waiting, but I felt time was running out, and I
had to act quickly or lose the foal.”

“You took the right actions, son,”
Sayer told me. “You had observed such a procedure before, knew what
must be done, and acted without hesitation in saving the
beast.”

“Thank you, Marshal Sayer. I could not
have done it without your teaching.”

Lord Goodwin and Sayer were looking at
the snow-white colt with intense scrutiny.

“Sayer, the colt is huge! No wonder it
could not be birthed,” Goodwin said.

“Aye, my lord, I had feared that there
was the possibility of this happening. I feared the horses used to
get both the sire and dam had a very large horse bred to a smaller
horse. In such cases, it is unusual but possible that the large
growth traits from both bloodlines emerge in the offspring,
creating a freakishly large foal.”

“I wish now that I had listened to
your warnings, Sayer. But for that, the beloved Siren would still
be among us.”

The three of us just stood there in
our awkward, somber silence for some time. We all felt great loss
and pain but would not dare show it in front of one another. I was
to break the silence first. “Marshal Sayer, I must make repair to
Siren’s body before burial. She should not go to her final rest
defiled.”

“Yes, Gamel, do what you must. The
grave is not yet ready,” Sayer answered.

“Young Gamel, I understand that you
were Siren’s handler these past years. Be at ease knowing that
Siren will be honored with all dignity and respect. A place is
being prepared in the main garden for her burial, and a stone is to
be commissioned for a marker,” Goodwin told me.

“That is grand, my lord, truly
grand!”

Lord Goodwin and Sayer unlatched the
stable door and gained entrance to the stall for a closer look at
the stud colt. The sound of the latch alerted the colt, who was
fully awake now. His eyes enlarged, and his ears trained toward the
sound as he rose to a standing position. Remarks from the crowd
exclaimed disbelief throughout. “Craggy me, look at the size of
'im!” “Biggest newborn I ever seen!” and “He will be a monster, he
will!” were some of many that I heard. I was standing close to the
middle of the stall as Goodwin and Sayer moved to close the gap
between us. Without notice, the colt was between me and the two
men. In another instant, he charged Lord Goodwin and head butted
him in mid-torso, knocking him into Sayer and sending both men down
in a tangle. By this time, the colt was screeching as horses do
when engaged in combat and circling me. I pushed and shoved to get
the colt to the farthest corner of the stall, then went to the aid
of my lord. I stammered, “My lord, my lord, are you all right?”
Both men had struggled to their feet and began to regain their
bearings when I noticed movement from the left side of the stall.
The colt had changed position to avoid me and was starting to
charge the two men once more. When about 10 feet from his intended
victims, he raised up on his hind legs and began screeching and
flailing with his front hooves as he moved forward. Given there was
no chance for escape, I jumped in front of the colt, raised my arms
high in the air, and yelled the first thing that came to my lips,
“BACK, back, you demon, spawn of the Devil!” I have no idea why I
said this. I probably remembered it from some sermon the local
church bishop preached, but it worked. The colt stopped his
screeching and came down on all fours. He then positioned himself
between me and my masters. I said, “My lord, I am sorry; are you
all right?”

“I am fine, Gamel.” Sayer and Lord
Goodwin looked tentatively at the colt with curious eyes, then
Goodwin said, “It would seem, Gamel, that he has claimed you, and
he wishes to protect you at all cost. What do you make of it,
Sayer?”

“Aye, he imprinted on the boy, who now
belongs to him, and the rest is just pure instinctive aggression. I
have never seen this much aggression in any colt. I fear we may
have the makings of an outlaw here.”

“True, Sayer, but the lad seems to be
able to control him.”

“Gamel, is there anyone else who can
handle the colt besides you?” Sayer asked.

I felt the sharp shock of fear charge
through my body. Outlaws were put down to avoid damage to property
and life because they often became insane murderers. “He seems to
get on with Fulk fairly well, Marshal Sayer,” I responded, though I
knew I was stretching the truth, if not outright lying.

“Well, there may be some hope, then,”
he said doubtfully.

“Please, Sayer, he doesn’t know any
better. I can work with him. He will not become an outlaw. He is
the smartest horse I have ever seen, and he learns
quickly!”