The Nizam's Daughters by Allan Mallinson

Author:Allan Mallinson [Mallinson, Allan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9780553111347
Google: dneUMFBk7lIC
Amazon: 0553507141
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 1999-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

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THE BOURRH LANDS

A few days later

‘Choose which you would, Captain Hervey,’ said the rajah. ‘You will have an eye for quality, and Mr Selden has told you of the requirements for hunting the boar.’

The rajah’s stables were indeed full of quality, and punkahs in each stall drove air over the fifty saddlehorses that were his pride. However, he had had all the stall-names covered for Hervey’s visit so that he might choose one horse above the rest without knowing anything of them (though since the Sanskrit names were written in the Devanagari script he could hardly have gained anything from seeing them).

‘A greater test than merely spearing the biggest boar,’ Selden had smiled as Hervey began to appraise each animal.

Fifty horses and ponies, perhaps two minutes to run over each – there were two whole hours before them, unless he was to come across perfection before then. The trouble was that he knew little enough about the Arab, let alone the other breeds, to make a choice. What made one better than another? All he could do, therefore, was apply the trusted principle of eye, wind and limb. Wind would have to be judged by depth of chest alone. As for limb, the feet, and leg blemishes, seemed his safest indicators, since these were horses too superior to possess significant faults of conformation. Up and down the lines he went, into each stall – Arab, Turkoman, country-bred, Akhal Tekke (much prized for their legendary endurance) and the hardy Khatgani from Afghanistan. He looked at every eye. More, even, than with a man or a woman, it could tell so much. He glanced at the chest and ran a hand up and down the legs, then looked at each foot, lifting one here and there. It took him the best part of two hours, but noone – the rajah especially – showed the least concern, until at length he chose a jet-black Turkoman gelding, about fifteen and a half hands.

‘Why do you choose him?’ asked the rajah.

‘Your Highness,’ replied Hervey, his hesitation speaking of the difficulty he had, ‘I could say that it was his quarters, which seem especially powerful, and his legs, which look to me to have exactly the right amount of bone to make him at once both hardy and fleet. His chest is deep; I like his head, too, which is set on well, and gives him a most noble appearance. But above all, this horse has a look of intelligence. His eye says to me that he would see what I could not, and would take the right course in spite of my inaptness.’

Selden had smiled broadly during the verdict, the reason apparent when the rajah clapped his hands together and made a little sound of delight. ‘Truly, Captain Hervey, I could not better have expressed why this gelding is my own favourite. And you shall ride him when we hunt the boar. His name is Badshah.’

‘ “The King”?’ replied Hervey; ‘Your Highness, I am greatly honoured.

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