Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [43]
“Sound advice,” Dorrin said. “And I will follow it. I don’t want to forbid them all play, even play with toy swords, but it must be supervised. You are right; they had too much experience with cruelty and bullying before.”
A few days later, she came around a corner of the house and found two of her squires red-faced and angry, and Beclan leaning on the wall looking coolly amused.
“What’s this?” Dorrin asked.
“I am not a child, just because I’m younger,” Daryan said.
“I never said you were,” Gwenno said. “I was only trying to help—”
“I didn’t need your help.”
“I’m sorry!” Gwenno flung out an arm, whirling half around and glaring at Dorrin instead of Daryan. “I just thought—that’s the tallest horse in the stable—”
“Stop this,” Dorrin said. They fell silent. “Now, I will hear what you did, one at a time, no interruptions. Beclan, you first, if you please.”
“We were to ride out and inspect the progress on the new road, as the Duke knows,” Beclan said. “It was Daryan’s turn to saddle the horses, and as he is … shorter … Gwenno offered to help, and Daryan took it amiss.”
“You were the one—” Daryan began; Dorrin quelled him with a glance.
“Go on,” Dorrin said.
“Well, I may have—I did—suggest that maybe he would need help with my horse, as he is the tallest and fidgets when being tacked up.”
“And you have not trained him out of it?” Dorrin asked.
“Well … no … I’m not a horse trainer.”
“And yet you have horses,” Dorrin said, as mildly as she could. “I perceive you have had stable servants available your whole life to deal with the bad manners of your mounts. A wise knight makes sure his mount is reliable, Beclan. I will give you extra time to train yours.”
“Me? The Marrakaien are the horse-lovers.” Beclan shot a glance at Gwenno, who bit her lip but said nothing.
“Those who depend on horses must learn to manage them well,” Dorrin said. “It is part of a squire’s training that I will not neglect; I have seen squires die for lack of it—riding well is not enough.”
“Die?” Gwenno said, before she folded her lips again.
“Yes,” Dorrin said. “Unhorsed in battle, with a mount too skittish to stand, and thus easily surrounded and struck down.” She looked from one to another. “Whatever else this is about—and I will ask more in a moment—you must all see that your mounts improve in training, and that starts with handling on the ground. From this day, you will each, every day, groom, tack up, and ride. You will rotate through all the horses, mine included.”
“But—” Beclan began; Dorrin held up a hand.
“They are all up to your weight, Beclan, even if not as pretty as yours. You may someday have to use an enemy’s horse when your own has been killed or run off. This is another essential skill.”
“Yes, my lord,” Beclan said. He dipped his head, but Dorrin could feel his resistance.
“You may tack up your own horse today, but tomorrow you will switch. I will write up a rotation.” In all her spare time—but she foresaw considerable good out of this. “Stay and be quiet,” she said to Beclan. “I will hear the others. Now, Daryan, tell me your story.”
“Beclan said I might need help with his horse because it was so tall and I’m the shortest. He told Gwenno to help me. He’s always telling us what to do.” Beside him, Gwenno fizzed with impatience, but Dorrin ignored that; the girl needed to learn self-control. “I said I didn’t need any help, and he laughed, and Gwenno said besides she was better with horses—and just because she’s a Marrakai, and they think they know everything about horses. It wasn’t her brother who saved the king’s life; it was Roly. I said that, and all Juris did was sit there like a stone—”
“He was spelled!” Gwenno burst out. “He couldn’t—”
“Not now, Gwenno,” Dorrin said. “Go on, Daryan.”
“Well, then you came. My lord.”
“I see.” Dorrin folded her arms and gave him a hard stare. “It was ill-done to taunt Gwenno with her brother’s having been spelled by the same magery that held the Marshal-Judicar, the Knight-Commander of the Bells, and the king himself