Serenity Valley (4 page)

“Calm down, Gamel. No decision has
been made. The lord and I must discuss some things in private. Be
calm. I will send for you later.”

After Lord Goodwin and Sayer left,
Fulk and I discussed the situation with the colt and what possible
decision would be made regarding his future. We were not
comfortable with anything we could imagine as possible results.
Before long, the beautiful Basilea entered the stables carrying a
large covered basket in one hand and drink jug in the other. “Sir
Gamel, as you have yet to report to the kitchen for something to
eat, I have brought it to you before you faint again,” she
said.

“You fainted?” Fulk asked.

“I just got up too fast and lost my
bearings for a time is all.”

“Well, now that I think about it, you
have been going for near two days without sleep and food. You
should eat and rest,” he said.

After Basilea looked in on the colt,
we arranged some straw in front of his stall, and the three of us
sat down together. Basilea spread out linen and plates, filled mugs
with cider, laid out a loaf of bread, fresh fruit, and the most
succulent roasted turkey legs to be eaten by man. I was starving
but had to watch my manners in the presence of the fair lady.
Still, in short order Fulk and I had devoured both of the turkey
legs and most of the fruit and bread. Basilea nibbled on some fruit
and drank cider while we gorged ourselves. I said, “Sorry to be
such a pig, my princess, but it is just so wonderful a feast, and I
am somewhat beyond hunger.”

“I understand. I like to see hungry
men eat.”

“As always, most beautiful princess,
your tolerance is only matched by the sunshine contained within
each of your tender smiles.”

With that rhetoric, Fulk choked and
spit cider everywhere. All three of us started laughing. Fulk
stopped now and then to cough. When he had regained his breath, he
barked out, “Oh, good God, it even came out my nose. Is he always
like this?”

“Only since I have known him, Sir
Fulk, since he was old enough to talk, that is.”

“So the two of you have been here all
of your life?”

“I was born here, and Gamel was
brought here as an orphan baby. My father fell on hard times after
Mom died and secured a position for me here so I wouldn’t starve to
death. I don’t know what happened to him after that. I never saw
him again.” As Fulk and Basilea continued to talk, I leaned back
against the stall wall, enjoying the warm spring breeze with my now
pacified stomach and fell into a long overdue sleep.

Aware that Gamel was asleep, Basilea
continued to talk to Fulk. “You know, if he befriends you, you
could have no better or loyal friend. Gamel has what I call an old
soul with his own sense of right, wrong, duty, and honor. He does
not judge people lightly or by what they allow others to see.
Somehow, he can see through the walls that people put up in front
of them, and knows what the person feels in their
heart.”

“You and Gamel are good friends,
then?”

“We are best of friends. My mothers
say that we are bound to one another since childhood.”

“Mothers? You have more than
one?”

“Oh, yes, the entire kitchen staff
adopted me after Mom passed and Father left. Now I have many
mothers.” Basilea told Fulk how Gamel had been placed in the care
of the blacksmith as a baby. “The smith and his wife, barren of any
children, saw to his needs and education as best they could until
Lady Bella hired a teacher to educate the many children of the
hold. We were five years when we met during daily lessons. Gamel
was always in trouble, but he had a way with words even at an early
age and could talk his way out of almost anything. When we were
seven years old, the great fever came to the hold that claimed many
lives. Some called it the pox. Among the many, Gamel’s stepparents
were taken. I got the fever and developed the lung disease. I was
very weak and not long for this world when Gamel found me in the
tents used to hold the dead and dying before cremation. He carried
me off to the smith’s quarters and cared for me day and night. He
begged for poultices and herbs from the healer, but was refused as
I was judged beyond all hope. He stole what he needed and followed
his own way. I believe to this day that it was his own will that
refused to allow me to die. I wanted to go. I had given up, you
see.”

“You mean to say that Gamel the Honest
actually stole something?”

“Do not be misled, Sir Fulk. There
would be no limits to what Gamel may do for someone he
loves!”

“So you do love him, then?”

“With all my heart. And he loves me,
although he will not actually say it. It is easier to hide behind
his silver-tongued rogue disguise.”

It was near dusk when Fulk shook me
awake.

“Wake up, Gamel, the marshal has sent
for you.”

“Guess I dozed off for a bit. Did
Basilea leave?”

“She left some four hours ago; said
she would be back with dinner.”

“I must see to Siren’s
preparations!”

“I already took care of it, Gamel. I
restored her body, and she was laid to rest in the rose garden with
all respect. Now you must go.”

“I need to see to the
colt!”

“I will see to the colt. He has gorged
himself and now snores. Go!”

“Thanks, Fulk. I’ll be off
then.”

“They want you at the main
house.”

I roused myself, brushed off my
clothing, and started the trek to the main gate. Spring flowers
were in bloom along the path leading from the stables to the great
house. Vibrant colors, in yellow, blue, and reds, lined both sides
of the roadway. All were painted in the fading light of early dusk.
Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt to suck up to the kitchen ladies a
little to ensure the continuance of most favored meals. Besides, I
was in the mood for pies, and Ada, the pastry cook, made the most
delicious pies. I quickly gathered three bouquets of wildflowers
and twined them with stems. Upon reaching the kitchen, I entered
through the side door and sneaked up on Ada, who was kneading out
pie dough.

“Lady Ada,” I said, “I saw these
flowers, and they reminded me so of the rich blue of your
shockingly, vibrant eyes that I just had to bring some to
you.”

“Ah, the lad of silver tongue. You
wouldn’t be wantin' a pie now, would you, boy?”

“I am hurt deeply, Lady Ada. I assure
you, my intentions are purely honorable.”

Ada smiled and walked over to a tray
of cooling pies, wrapped one in linen, and handed it to me. “Here,
boy, try this; blueberries picked just this morning.”

“I thank you, dear lady. You are so
kind.” I handed the blue flowers to Ada and moved to where Eva, the
meat cook, worked over a side of beef. “Sweet Lady Eva, please
accept this small token in appreciation for the most delicious
turkey meal I have yet experienced.” Eva took the yellow bouquet,
smiling.

“I thank you, young rogue.”

I found Basilea at her bread station,
just removing a dozen fresh loaves of bread from the stone hearth
oven. “Ah, Princess Basilea, these flowers are for you. The red
reminds me of the color of your cheeks in the crisp morning
air.”

Basilea smiled and accepted the red
flowers, taking time to inhale their sweet fragrance. “Why, thank
you, kind sir, but shouldn’t you be somewhere?” she asked. I looked
at her with puzzlement on my face. “Do not look so shocked, sir.
Nothing happens in the hold that is not soon known by the kitchen
staff. Sometimes, we know of things even before they happen.” I
just stood there, a little deflated. She said, “Go now. They await
you in the study.”

“I do not wish it, but I reluctantly
take my leave.”

Basilea smiled and turned back to her
work.

I walked through the kitchen to the
great hall. The door to the library was on the other side of the
hall. I felt the difference underfoot as I stepped from the rough
stone floor of the kitchen to the smooth, polished marble of the
great hall. Lady Bella had great pride in the new floor, and it was
kept spotless. Unlike most hold halls, with their dirt or rough
stone floors and suet-stained walls, she insisted the hall be kept
pristine at all times. She was known to say that one should take
pride in themselves and their surroundings, as it was an outward
sign of a person’s character. I leaned up against the first great
support column I came to and began to attack the blueberry pie I
had been gifted. Halfway through my pie, I heard footsteps and
talking heading my way. As the voices neared, I could make out that
one of them was Lady Bella, talking to one of the house staff. She
was inspecting the great tapestries that hung from the ceiling
timbers of the hall. Some were to be taken down and cleaned the
following day. Not wanting to be found out, I slid around to the
opposite side of the huge column that had been a great tree in its
former life. Not wanting to be caught eating a pie, I quickly
stuffed the remainder in my mouth. Lady Bella had finished
attending to the list of tapestries to be cleaned. Footsteps were
heard fading away into the distance. Still chewing, I turned and
walked around the column to make my way to the study. I was stunned
to find Lady Bella standing directly in front of me with her hands
on her waist. Despite my surprise, I couldn’t help but notice the
lady’s beauty, with long black hair to her waist and yellow-gold
eyes set in a perfectly sculpted face of olive-colored skin. She
was said to be the daughter to a king of desert lands far to the
south.

“Ah, young rogue Gamel, what are you
doing here? Why are you attempting to hide in my hall behind that
post?”

I must have turned a solid sheet of
red with embarrassment. I opened my mouth to speak, but with my
first word came a flutter of flaky pie crust. I quickly clasped my
hand over my mouth to contain the escaping, treasonous material,
and with huge, shock-filled eyes, stared back at Lady Bella’s
golden gaze. She could stand it no more. She erupted in
unrestrained laughter. I chewed and swallowed as quickly as I
could, which seemed to entertain the lady even more. With a hard,
dry swallow, I finally said, “I beg your forgiveness, my lady, but
may I say that the evening sky brings out the brilliance in your
eyes.”

“Why, thank you, young master rogue,
but I believe you have business in the study, do you
not?”

“My lady knows that I have been
summoned?”

Looking very serious, Lady Bella
pierced me with her most disturbing eyes and said, “Gamel, I know
all that goes on in house and hold. You have done yourself proud
this day, and I am very pleased with you, in spite of you bribing
pies from my kitchen staff.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady, I mean,
sorry, my lady, I mean—”

Placing her hand on my shoulder, she
said, “Go, Gamel, they wait for you now. I will come see the colt
tomorrow.”

With a smile and short bow, the lady
scurried away.

Making haste to the library door, I
knocked, then entered. Sayer and Goodwin were bent over a large
table in front of the great wall of scrolled records. I had spent
many hours in this place, researching various bloodlines for Sayer.
The wall is said to contain the records from the lord’s ancient
relatives all the way back to the original Lithuanian, Spanish, and
Persian bloodlines that stood as foundation for the horses bred
today.

“Gamel, please come here,” Goodwin
said when he saw me. “We have some questions for you.”

“Good evening, my lord, Marshal
Sayer.”

“First, how is the colt doing?”
Goodwin asked.

“Fine, my lord. He is gorged on milk
and sleeps as a stuffed pig would.”

“Good, good, we have something very
important to ask you and I say, be not quick with your answer until
you have heard all of it. You must consider everything.”

Sayer took over at this point. “Gamel,
there has only been one other colt with such a history of
aggression in his bloodline that survived to a somewhat successful
level. You are familiar with him. He is the stud colt’s sire,
Hades. Although Hades has produced a most sought-after bloodline of
charger, we carefully breed him with the most comely mares to
contain the aggression.”

“But, Marshal Sayer, Hades is a
battle-proven warhorse himself. How can we say he was only slightly
successful?”

“Hades returned to us in a trade-out
situation that saved his life. We thought him useful as a standing
stud, but he was destined to be put down by his owners. Although he
came through several campaigns where his aggression proved an ally,
it is reported that he would become immersed in battle fever once
the bloodletting started. He would dance on the edge of insanity
without any control or hopes of reaching him. He became murderous
and untrustworthy. After numerous injuries to allied forces, he was
retired from battle and slated for execution.”

“I had no idea, Marshal
Sayer.”

“Gamel, with the new colt, there is
only one chance for success, and that relies on the bond that
exists between you two,” Lord Goodwin said. “We hope that the bond
is strong enough that you will be able to control him. We would
never consider sending him to battle, where his aggressive
instincts could become overpowering, but the hope is to use him to
breed a whole new line of warhorse. Gamel, I took a very big risk
with the match I made, but I was after a particular trait that
could be produced from such a union. If you think size was the
objective, you would be wrong. Both Hades and Siren have great size
and bulk but are also constructed more affably to a distance racing
horse than the bulky, blocky, stout chargers currently bred. This
gives them quick and agile movement, as well as speed and
endurance. Both Hades and Siren have one unique trait also: they
both possess an ambling gait. As you know, horse and rider can
cover up to twice the distance daily with the ambling gait. This
trait did not pass to the offspring of Hades or Siren, no matter
what combination was conjured. This is why I took such a risk in
mating them with one another, in order to achieve a vision for the
future.”