Here Be Dragons - 1 by Sharon Penman (best inspirational books txt) 📕

indulgently, "Go ahead, go take a closer look."Llewelyn was not the only one to be captivated by the creamcolored stallion.It had attracted a crowd of admirers, men who looked on enviously now as one of the riders handed over the reins to Gruf-fydd."I bought him in Powys last month," Gruffydd said proudly, as Llewelyn came up beside him. "What do you think, Papa?""He's a beauty, in truth." Llewelyn circled around to get a better lo°k, taking care not to get too close. One reason the destrier was rarely ndden except to war was that its natural gait was a rather jarring trot. W the other reason was that it was notorious for its fiery nature, and "* °ther men, too, were giving the horse respectful room.I had to pay nigh on forty pounds for him," Gruff ydd volunered, and several men whistled. "As soon as I saw him, though, I ^ w » had to have him. You know what he put me in mind of, Papa?a White stallion you gave me for my twelfth birthday, remember?" a'Iremember Th =.<.- " - ".wn yuu gave me tor my twelfth birthday, remember?"a ! remember. That was a well-bred palfrey, but I doubt it could hold" to this one. I'd say he's cheap at twice the price." i^ -^"ydd smiled. "I'm glad you're so taken with him, Papa. You bought him for you."GruffvZ, S3y he S cheaP at twice the price."^htiriivi"glad you're s°taken with wm- pap- *»

pp-~576"You're serious?" Llewelyn turned to stare at his son. "What can I say, Gruffydd? I think you're too generous for your own good; a horse like this does not come along that often.""Nonetheless, I want you to have him." Gruffydd watched as Liewelyn reached out and lightly stroked the stallion's arched neck; it snorted, flung its head up. "However, I'm afraid you cannot ride him just yet. The man I bought him from said he was somewhat skittish, no easy horse to ride. What I'd like to do is to school him myself, until I'm sure he's a safe mount for you.""A safe mount for me?" Llewelyn echoed incredulously. But his astonishment yielded almost at once to irritation. It was not just that he prided himself upon his horsemanship; it was also that he knew himself to be a much better rider than Gruffydd, who tight-reined his horses seemed to take a perverse pride in high-strung, half-broken mounts. "I hardly think that necessary, Gruffydd. I expect I've been riding long enough to know how to handle a skittish horse."Gruffydd was still smiling. "I know you have in the past, Papa. But you were much younger then; the danger was less. I do not mean to offend you, but aging bones are brittle, break more easily. What you were once able to do might now be beyond you, might""Lead the stallion over to the horse block," Llewelyn cut in sharply. Men at once moved back, cleared space, and took up positions to watch. Gruffydd shrugged, stepped aside. And Davydd felt a sudden chill.Llewelyn did not mount right away; instead he stood quietly, letting the horse become accustomed to his scent, the sound of his voice. As he studied the stallion, his anger ebbed and his eyes grew wary. He was close enough now to see the knotted ridges on the horse's withers, the marks of abuse. When he ran his hand over the stallion's shoulder, it flinched. Somewhat skittish, Gruffydd had said. More than that, he suspected, much more. The stallion's head and neck were held well down; the position of its tail told him that so was its croup, while its back was arching like that of a cat. Even more than the laid-back ears, these were the signs of a restive animal, a likely bolter."Papa." Davydd had decided to trust his instincts. Following L'e' welyn to the horse block, he said quietly, "Papa, I wish you'd recon sider. I have a bad feeling about this horse.""So have I.""Then why risk it? You always told me that horses can best tamed with patience, that in any contest of brute force, the horse bound to win." . ^"I know, lad. But if I back down now, I take an even greater that men think me afraid to ride him.""Jesu, Papa, who could doubt your courage?"

577Llewelyn gave the boy a twisted smile. "Do not deceive yourself, Davydd. When a man reaches a point where he has nothing left to prove, he's either dead or dying." Davydd looked so troubled that he added reassuringly, "There's no great trick to handling a bolting horse. I need only get him turning in circles, let him tire himself out."Unbuckling his scabbard, Llewelyn handed Davydd his sword. Taking the reins, he waved Davydd and the groom back, then gripped the pommel and swung up into the saddle. He was expecting some sort of resistance, but what he got was bottled lightning. The stallion shot forward, but instead of bolting, it began to buck wildly, kicking out in a frenzy, coming down with such force thatLlewelyn felt as if his spine would snap in two.Men had scattered in all directions, were shouting encouragements. ButLlewelyn knew there could be but one outcome, knew he could absorb only so much of this punishment. He was half blinded by his own sweat, tasted blood where his teeth had torn his inner lip, and his legs were cramping in painful spasms; he was finding it harder and harder to throw his weight into his heels, to maintain his grip on the saddle. But the stallion had yet to show any signs of tiring, was twisting and plunging as if crazed, so desperate to free itself that at times all four feet were off the ground.The castle dogs were going berserk, making excited dashes at the panicked horse, and they only frightened it all the more. When a large alaunt cut directly in front of it, the stallion reared up suddenly, and Llewelyn felt his first jolt