A Blood Red Horse by K. M. Grant

Author:K. M. Grant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Published: 2004-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

15

Saladin’s camp, east of Jerusalem, autumn 1191

Kamil was very pleased with his new horse. He found the chestnut stallion responsive and quick. He was also braver than Kamil’s customary Arab. On the way back to Saladin’s camp, he leaped over water-filled dykes without hesitation, and even when a snake crossed their path, he stood still while Kamil killed it with a spear. By the time Kamil dismounted, he was sure that he had never had a horse quite like him. The only trouble was the horse’s name, which, because the word was so inextricably linked to Christian worship, Kamil refused to use. It did not matter.

“I shall call you Red Horse,” said Kamil as he led Hosanna to his new quarters.

Hosanna found himself in the lap of luxury. He was stationed slightly away from the other horses, shaded from the sun by a silk awning. Kamil’s previous horse was sent to the horse lines, and Hosanna had his undivided attention. Nothing was too much trouble. Kamil felt in his bones that he had stumbled onto something very valuable. He had not had the horse three days before he ordered a special bridle made of soft and supple oiled camel skin. After a cursory look at the jeweled headband Sir Thomas had given William when he was dubbed to knighthood, Kamil threw it away. Then he ordered special brushes and took care to groom Hosanna himself. He frowned when he found the remains of the wale on Hosanna’s neck and wondered how it had got there. It was the horse’s only blemish apart from a few lumps on his legs. Kamil didn’t mind. He thought the scars gave the horse character.

Not that the horse needed any more character. Hosanna charmed his new owner with his intelligence. He did not have to be held if Kamil mounted or dismounted. But within seconds of Kamil leaping on, he could go like the wind. He bent his head willingly to Kamil’s commands, stepping neatly in any direction the boy chose. One afternoon, to much applause, Kamil taught Hosanna to rear and to do a half-turn at the canter. Saladin came to look, and was pleased to see that Kamil had found something to do other than sit and look mutinous.

Kamil found Hosanna no pushover. The horse had lost none of his spirit, and once or twice he dumped Kamil unceremoniously in the sand. It said something for the red horse that Kamil took this in good stead. Far from punishing him, Kamil soon learned to respect as well as love him. As the days grew colder, he sometimes found Hosanna looking steadfastly into the distance, his dark eyes inscrutable. At times like this, Kamil would pet him and make much of him. But although Hosanna seemed happy enough rubbing his head against Kamil’s soothing hands, he continued to gaze at something Kamil could not see himself.

“I think you were fond of that boy, Red Horse,” Kamil said one day as he brought Hosanna a piece of sweet bread and a thicker blanket.

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