Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [93]
“Aren’t we all,” said Rupert. He hugged his sister and Lucy returned his hug. She didn’t see much of Rupert and she missed him.
After Rupert had left, Lucy felt the eyes of both her parents on her. It was not a comfortable feeling. “I’ll go and check on Thunder,” she said. “I thought I heard him whinny just then.”
“Don’t be long,” said her mother. “Supper’s nearly done. Shame your brother couldn’t wait for supper,” she sniffed. “It’s stew.”
“Thought it might be,” muttered Lucy.
“What?”
“Nothing, Ma. Back in a tick.”
Lucy clattered down the wooden stairs and pushed open the battered old door that led onto the run up to the drawbridge. She took a few deep breaths of smoke-free, snowy air and walked briskly around to the old stable at the back of the gatehouse, where Thunder was residing. Lucy pushed open the door and the horse, lit by the lamp that she had left in the tiny high window, looked at her, the whites of his eyes glistening. He pawed the straw, shook his head with its dark, heavy mane and gave a restless whinny.
Lucy was not a great horse person, and Thunder was bit of a mystery to her. She was fond of the horse because Simon loved him so much, but she was also wary. It was his hooves that worried her—they were big and heavy and she was never quite sure what Thunder was going to do with them. She knew that even Simon took care not to stand behind the horse in case he kicked.
Lucy approached Thunder cautiously and very gently patted the horse’s nose. “Silly old horse coming all this way to see me. Simon must be so upset that you’ve gone. Won’t he be pleased to see you? Silly old horse . . .”
Lucy suddenly had a vivid picture in her mind of riding Thunder off the Port barge and Simon’s look of amazement when he saw what she could do. She knew it was possible; she had seen the daredevil boys who rode their horses off the barge instead of leading them. It couldn’t be that difficult, she thought. It was only up the gangplank, which was not exactly far to ride a horse. Then Simon could take over and they could ride back together. It would be such fun . . .
Lost in her daydream, Lucy decided to see how easy it was to actually get up onto Thunder. Not at all, was the answer. Lucy regarded the horse, which stood so much taller than her—his back was as high as her head. How did people get onto horses? Ah, thought Lucy, saddles. They had saddles. With things for your feet. But Lucy did not have a saddle. Gringe had not found one cheap enough, and Thunder had had to make do with a thick horse blanket—which Lucy rather liked, as it was covered in stars. It was also, in the cold, much more useful to him.
Lucy was not deterred; she was determined to get up on Thunder. She fetched the set of wooden steps that reached to the hay manger and set them beside the horse. Then she climbed the steps, wobbled precariously at the top and clambered onto the horse’s broad back. Thunder’s only reaction was to shift his weight a little. He was a steady horse and it seemed to Lucy as though he hardly noticed her. She was right. Thunder had barely registered her presence; the horse had someone else on his mind—Simon.
“Drat!” An exclamation came from somewhere near the floor.
Lucy recognized the voice. “Stanley!” she said, looking down from her great height. “Where are you?”
“Here.” The voice sounded rather aggrieved. “I think I’ve trodden in something.” A rather portly brown rat was peering at his foot. “It’s not very nice if you don’t wear shoes,” he complained.
Lucy felt excited—a reply from Simon, and so soon. But Stanley was fully occupied inspecting his foot with an expression of disgust. Lucy knew that the sooner he got the horse poo off his foot, the sooner she would hear Simon’s reply to her message.
“Here, have my hanky,” she said. A small, square of purple dotted with pink spots and edged in green lace floated down from Thunder. The rat caught the scrap of cloth, gave it a bemused look, and then scrubbed his foot with it.
“Thanks,” he said. With a surprisingly