Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [24]
Gwen nodded. “Aye, sir,” she said quietly.
“I want a horse!” Little Gwen interrupted imperiously. The horsemaster turned to look at her, then Gwen saw him suddenly look up at her father. Something passed between them, and the horsemaster smiled. Gwen got a shiver of pleasure when she saw that smile. It promised that Little Gwen was going to get what she wanted and not like it.
“Well, then, ye’ll have a horse,” the horsemaster said, “An ye’ll follow me?”
Gwen followed obediently at his heels. Little Gwen marched imperiously in front of them all. When they got to the stables, the horsemaster addressed Gwen in a quiet voice while Little Gwen surveyed the horses in the paddock as if she owned all of them.
“And which of these do ye think suits ye,” he asked.
Gwen ducked her head deferentially. “You should pick, sir,” she said. “Braith said, old and wise. I don’t know which are old and wise.”
He smiled. “Then pick I shall—” he began, when Little Gwen interrupted.
“I want that one!” she declared, pointing at a showy young gray. The king made a choking sound. Gwen caught the horsemaster making a soothing motion with his hand.
“All right,” he replied agreeably. “Let’s us get him saddled, then.”
He ordered the astonished grooms to catch, saddle and bridle the high-tempered beast, and put a lead line on the bridle. Little Gwen was practically bouncing with excitement, but she frowned at the line. “I don’t need that!” she announced grandly. “I can ride!”
“Indeed,” the horsemaster said, but kept the rope clipped to the bridle. “But every rider needs the lead to try the paces.” He swung her up onto the saddle, where she perched as if she were on the old pony, legs slack, hands clenched on the reins. The horse reacted poorly to the latter; he tossed his head, and his mane lashed her face, cutting right across her eyes.
She shrieked. The horse reacted to that by lurching into a run.
Or trying to. The horsemaster had been ready for that. He kept a tight grip on the lead and pulled inward while pivoting on one heel, which forced the horse to stay in a trot in a tight circle around him. Little Gwen bounced in the saddle in a way that made Gwen wince for what seemed a very long time, her shrieks now coming out as painful “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” sounds as she bounced and hit the saddle. Three times she went in a circle around the horsemaster, each time making more and more noise and making the horse try to break into a run. How the horsemaster kept him to a trot, Gwen could not imagine.
It was a relief when she fell off.
She immediately scrambled to her feet, face red with pain and rage. She looked about for something to hit the horse with but fortunately found nothing. The horsemaster pulled up on the lead and soothed the ruffled stallion, but he made no move to soothe Little Gwen.
Interestingly, neither did the king.
Neither man said anything to her as she stared at them in a fury. Gwen prudently backed away from everything and everyone until she had a horse or two between her and her sister. Best to not remind her just who had inspired this desire to have a horse.
Finally, Little Gwen erupted in the tantrum that Gwen knew was inevitable. “I don’t want your old horses!” she screamed, making every horse in the paddock shy or lay its ears back. “I hate horses! You should kill them all and make soup out of them!”
Then she burst into angry tears and ran off. Gwen slowly emerged from hiding. The king and his horsemaster were both