The Stolen Queen by Lisa Hilton Read Free Book Online Page B

Othon straddled his legs and let out a fountain of hot piss, which splashed on my boots. Tomas laughed again.
    â€˜I think Othon is ready to take me again,’ I remarked. ‘Please help to mount me.’
    Tomas kept me in the ring another week for hours each day, circling, turning quickly from a canter, taking a small hurdle at first, and then taller ones until I was jumping fences higher than my small self.
    â€˜A pretty sight you look, Isabelle,’ huffed Agnes.
    â€˜I think the Lady Isabelle is ready to walk out, madame,’ Tomas said with encouragement.
    Agnes fussed and admonished, making me promise over and over to be careful, and to protect my face from the sun and mind my gown. Tomas heard her out, reassuring her that if I grewtired he would take me before him and lead my horse; all the time I could feel Othon tensing beneath me in anticipation. I had to hold him tight as we trotted down the road. Tomas led us through the meadows and over the bridge, his own horse grabbing saucily mouthfuls of high-summer mallow grass, until we turned through the trees and came out into a tight, steep-sided valley. Only the towers of Lusignan were visible now.
    â€˜Get down, my lady.’
    â€˜Why, Tomas? I want to ride.’
    He grinned, showing brown stumps of teeth. Tomas was very old, at least fifty years. Bandy and bent like the reed in a thrush trap, his skin tanned to leather armour, yet he was the strongest man at Lusignan. Only he was allowed the exercise of Lord Hugh’s great warhorses.
    â€˜I thought you might be wanting this.’ He had a sack on his back.
    â€˜I’m not hungry, Tomas. I want to ride!’
    â€˜Quarrelsome little thing, aren’t you? Get down now.’ He scooped me up in his arm, the smell of him musky and deep like cumin, somehow familiar. I was on the ground in seconds. The sack did not contain provisions, but a saddle.
    â€˜Oh, Tomas!’
    â€˜Didn’t think you’d have much use for that silly thing.’ He swiftly unstrapped the high-pommelled lady’s side-saddle that Lord Hugh had had made for me, its wood prettily painted yellow, and replaced it with a real saddle. ‘Reckon you can ride astride?’
    â€˜But Tomas, it’s wicked.’
    Queen Eleanor of England, the mother of King John, had ridden astride when she raised her sons and their men in rebellion against their own father, and tried to gallop away like a man before old King Henry captured her and locked her up for years and years. Hearing my mother and the maids whisper about it, it seemed that sitting astride was a worse sin than encouraging men to steal their own father’s lands.
    â€˜There’s no one but the trees to see you, my lady. I won’t be telling.’
    â€˜But Tomas, you might get into trouble. I don’t want you to be punished.’
    â€˜Never mind about that. You may need it, one day, my lady. You may need to ride fast and hard, like a man so’s you can give little lord Hal a run for his money, eh?’ Tomas gave a wheezy laugh, delighted with his own impertinence. I threw him a conspiratorial grin.
    I bunched up my gown behind me and Tomas jumped me over the saddle. ‘Promise you won’t get into trouble, Tomas?’
    â€˜I promise. There’s an army’s worth of saddles in the stable house and I have the key. Are you ready, then?’
    I nodded. I couldn’t speak I was so excited.
    â€˜Wait, now.’ Tomas had a little clay crock in his hand. He scooped a handful of paste from it and knelt to rub it into Othon’s forelegs. ‘Hold out your hands.’ The paste was black and smelled of iron and fat. ‘This will make you go faster. Let him go.’
    I had no spurs, but I barely needed to touch my heels to Othon’s side before we were off. I gave myself up to the air.It did not seem as though Othon’s hooves even touched the ground. All I felt was the rush of the wind on my face