Free Shadows and Strongholds by Elizabeth Chadwick Page B

to your grandmother. She will have nothing further to say to you about the misfortune just now'. His expression hardened. 'I give you my promise on that.'
    'Thank you, my lord,' Brunin said, feeling relieved and grateful, but still uncertain of his ground.
    Joscelin nodded firmly to show that the matter was dealt with and changed the subject. 'While I think on it, and while we are here, I have a gift for you. I understand that your father was unable to find you a new mount at Shrewsbury Fair.'
    'Yes sir.' Once again caution entered Brunin's eyes. The reason they had not found a mount was that owing to the incident with Gilbert de Lacy's squires their choice had been very limited by the time they came to look. All the best animals had been sold.
    'I thought I might have a fitting beast among my herd. My daughter Hawise is your own age and I asked her to choose.' He indicated the black pony. 'His name is Morel and, if he suits you, he is yours.'
    If innate caution had held Brunin back before, now he was lost for words and could only stand and stare. Joscelin watched him, the corners of his eyes creasing. 'I take it that he does.'
    'He is mine?' Brunin echoed, tearing his eyes briefly from the pony to look at Joscelin.
    'Have I not just said so?'
    Somehow, Brunin stammered out a thank you. The pony regarded him out of long-lashed eyes, stalks of hay protruding cither side of its whiskery, moleskin muzzle, jaws champing. Brunin stretched out his hand, palm flat so that the pony could grow accustomed to his scent. The small cob stretched its neck and lipped at his tunic.
    'You probably smell of new hay' Joscelin said with a smile.
    Brunin smiled in return, but all his attention was on the wonderful gift. While the dream lasted he was going to enjoy it to the last drop. He ran his hands over the sleek, black neck, working back until he found the spot on the withers, and scratched. The pony leaned blissfully into him. Brunin admired its short, glossy back, the rounded hindquarters, the raven cascade of tail. He had wanted either a pied pony, or one as black as midnight shadow—and, in a roundabout and strange way that he was not going to think about too hard, he had got his wish. He spoke softly to the cob, unlooped its tether and, grasping a handful of mane, threw himself across its back. The pony responded with a startled snort, but answered the grip of Brunin's thighs and the tug on the rope.
    A thoughtful expression on his face and satisfaction at his core, Joscelin watched boy and pony circle the barn and then trot out into the yard. FitzWarin was right about the child. Out of his element, Brunin was as awkward as a grounded swallow, but give him the open sky and he had the potential to soar.
     
    'You see now why I asked you to take him,' FitzWarin said.
    Joscelin fondled the ears of the deerhound curled beside his chair and took a drink from his cup. It was Welsh mead, sweet, potent and dark. 'Yes, I see,' he said. 'And I am glad to have him… truly glad. His light may be hidden under a bushel, but I saw it glow as bright as day when I gave him the black pony.'
    'That was generous of you.'
    Joscelin gave a negating shrug. 'I knew that you had found nothing suitable at Shrewsbury. The boy rides as if he and the beast are one.'
    A spark of paternal pride lit in FitzWarin's eyes. 'He was on a pony before he could walk,' he said. 'I have done the same with all my sons, but it is Brunin's particular skill.'
    Perhaps because it was one of the few areas where he could be free, Joscelin thought. And a horse might act up, but it was never judgemental.
    A brief silence fell between the men, punctuated by the settling of the logs in the central hearth and the soft snoring of one of the dogs. The women had retired to their chamber and the children were abed. In the hall, folk were laying out their sleeping pallets along the side aisles. Joscelin drained his mead. 'I heard some interesting news last week,' he said casually.
    'Oh yes?'