“Oh, you are forgiven, kind farrier,” the Princess said. “I
must confess that I do not feel much like a Princess tonight. We have ridden
far today and our horses need rest and good food and fresh water, as I do. Will
you not make haste and open up the doors so that we may bed the beasts down for
the night and also be away to our supper and our own beds soonest.”
The farrier disappeared into the stable the way that he had
came and, with much cursing and shouting to himself, finally managed to unbolt
the main stable doors and to fling them wide open.
“Please to bring your horses inside,” the farrier said.
“These three stalls are the best that I have to offer,” he said, indicating
three stalls to the rear of the stable, away from the draught that must surely
come from the ill-fitting doors. “I will fetch fresh hay and water while you
prepare the horses for the night.”
As the farrier disappeared once again into the depths of the
stable, Toad led the two horses into the two stalls which he had chosen while
the Princess led her own into the one remaining, empty stall. As she undid the girth, unbuckled the crupper
and slipped the saddle from the horse’s back, the horse tossed its head to the
side and caught her a glancing blow on the jaw. She dropped the saddle which
made a loud ‘thump’ as it hit the ground.
“Are you alright,” exclaimed Toad, wheeling around from his
own horse. “Are you hurt?”
“I am well, Toad,” the Princess replied. “I should pay more
attention. It is one thing to be able to ride but I forget that horses are ten
times more dangerous when you are standing beside them than they are when you
are bestrides them.”
“Just like Bull,” muttered Toad beneath his breath.
The Princess picked up the saddle and laid it over the rail
at the side of the stall. Removing the bridle and bit, she hung it from a hook
on the very same rail. She turned and gave the horse a few pats across the
cheek under the eyes and a few hearty slaps across the croup for good measure. Unexpectedly,
the farrier suddenly appeared out of the gloom of the stable, a mere shadow of a man away from the dim light
coming through the doors, for all his height, and threw bales of hay into each
of the feeding troughs which lay at the far end of each stall. Running a hose
from a standpipe by the entrance to the stables, he filled three buckets to the
brim and placed one of them in each of the three stalls.
“There, me beauties, all set up for the night, they is,” the
farrier said. “Now, you just get along, missy, your Highness, I’ll keep watch
over them, never fear. They won’t come to any harm while they’re in my stable!”
The Princess held her hand in a raised salute and bid
farewell to the farrier. Turning to step away from her horse, she collided heavily
with Toad who was standing directly behind her. Shaken by the impact, she leapt
away from him as though she had been stung.
“My Lady, you are not hurt, I hope,” said Toad
apologetically. “It is never wise to leave too great a distance between your
charge and the outside world of danger but I fear I have erred in standing too
close this time; my sincere apologies, m’Lady. Please forgive me.”
“You great, big lummox,” the Princess exclaimed. “No, I am not
hurt, merely surprised; I did not expect you so close. However I am glad to see
that you take your duties so seriously. However, a little more distance would
be nice next time that you feel that I need to be protected. Besides, standing so close, how would you
draw your sword?”
“Ah, you can leave that to me, my Lady,” said Toad as he
drew his sword vertically in front of this face, brushing his breastbone and
his nose with the fuller before extending his arm to the side to wave the
blade. “As close as we were, my Lady, your back wouldn’t have felt even the
wind of my blade’s passing.”
The Princess laughed. “I had forgotten that there are
swordmasters who have yet to learn what you have already laid aside, Toad.
Forgive me, you know your own dexterity; I will put my trust in that skill, ever
my trust in that.” She laughed once again and prancing round to the other side
of the soldier, she wound her arm around his free arm and gambolled her way to
the doors of the stable, leading the helpless soldier in her wake.
As they started to make their way across the courtyard and
towards the door to the inn, Toad scabbarded his sword once again in one easy
movement as if the point of the blade knew its home so well that no mind need
to be given to its housing. He tried vainly to disengage his left arm but the
Princess had locked it firmly by now clutching her other hand around her right
wrist.
“Princess,” whispered Toad. “This is unseemly, to be so
entwined like foolish lovers besotted with wine. I think you should unhand me
before someone sees you cavorting with a lowly foot-soldier.”
“Oh Toad,” the Princess said with a disappointed sigh that seemed
all too deep for the emotion that she felt. “I will unhand you, of course I
will, it is but friendship, although I do not know why you should be so
concerned. I am not, after all, in my
father’s house, am I? You will not suffer an untimely death at the hands of the
palace guard for such presumption, although the presumption is not yours; nor,
worse still, a marriage unlooked for. Moreover, I do not consider you to be so
lowly, man of infinite skill! However, I should, if I were in your boots,
consider myself fortunate to contract to such a seamstress as I.” The Princess laughed
again but released his arm and, swinging her arms now to and fro like some
soldier on the parade ground, she sauntered up to the door of the inn.
(to be continued)
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