Free A Blood Red Horse by K. M. Grant Page B

the next few weeks he observed a remarkable change in the horse’s condition.
    â€œIt’s a miracle,” he told Ranulf.
    â€œIt’s my prayers,” said Ranulf.
    Andrew said nothing at all. For only he knew the truth: that he too had taken to visiting Hosanna each day and not only was using his ill-gotten gains to try to restore the horse’s strength but also, deep into the night, was looking up every reference to animal healing in the abbey library. Over the next two months Hosanna found himself treated with all the oils, herbs, medicines, and pastes Andrew had accumulated in his treasure chest. The monk spent hours making special mashes and rubbing the horse’s ruined legs as tenderly as if they had been those of a baby.
    The results of these ministrations were startling. By harvesttime Hosanna’s coat began to shine again. Ranulf combed out his mane and tail until one day when he came out of the stable, far from being a horse a child could hold, one of the younger grooms found he had his hands full. At the time of the first frost, even Ranulf had to lead Hosanna out not in a rope halter but a bridle. He walked with the horse hour after hour to build up his strength. Eventually walking was not enough, and despite Prior Peter’s disapproval, Ranulf got on and rode him. Hosanna was quiet atfirst. But as his spirits rose, he became a warhorse once more, and one afternoon, to Ranulf’s surprise, on hearing a hunting horn, Hosanna suddenly tossed his head and broke into his floating gallop. As Ranulf clung to the saddle, unable to stop and enjoying an unaccustomed sensation of fear, he knew that the horse could no longer be kept at the abbey. It was time for him to return to his proper life at Hartslove. He rubbed Hosanna down and covered him in a blanket to keep out the autumn chill, then steeled himself to tell Hugh that the horse was no longer suitable for the monks to use. The abbot, who had taken as close an interest in Ranulf’s state of mind as Hosanna’s physical health, put his hand on the monk’s shoulder and nodded.
    â€œCan you take him yourself?” he asked. “Think hard, my son, before you answer.”
    Ranulf looked Hugh straight in the eye. “I have made promises to God about my life and this horse,” he said. “And I believe that now, with your support and God’s help, I can keep them both. I would like to go to the Holy Land. But maybe my time will come in a different way. I am prepared to wait and pray.”
    Hugh nodded. The following morning, as he blessed Hosanna in preparation for his journey home he told Ranulf to enjoy the ride and to take his time walking back. Then he went into the abbey church to give thanks for the mysterious ways that are God’s.
    Ranulf arrived at Hartslove without incident. To put off the moment when he had to hand Hosanna over, he rode past the castle and found himself on the jousting field. William, who had dealt with the pain of parting from Hosanna by physically tiring himself into oblivion every day, was exercising Dargent. Both he and the bay wereexhausted. William’s face was thinner and harder than it had been in the spring, and while he praised his horse, it was obvious that his heart was not in it.
    This afternoon, he was particularly despondent. The year had been an eventful one. King Henry was dead and Richard crowned. The call for crusade was now loud and insistent. It could not be long before, along with his father, he would be leaving for the Holy Land. He was tussling with his conscience, for despite his father’s orders, he wanted desperately to go to the monastery to see Hosanna, or at least hear news of him, before leaving. He sighed, patted Dargent, and turned for home. As he did so, something caught his eye. At first William thought the light was playing tricks. He shut his eyes and opened them again. He stopped breathing. This could not be a trick. There, at the edge of