A Blood Red Horse Read Online Free PDF

doorway.
    â€œKeeper John, I know. But I’ll explain to my father. He’ll understand. Have you ridden that horse? You should have felt what I felt. I know I can’t explain very clearly why I want it. But I do want it. Please, Keeper John. Have you never felt like this?”
    The man sighed. The day should have been an easy one. He cursed the fact that he had brought the chestnut stallion down with the others. If only he had left it out of sight beyond the river, it would have been sold before Williamever set eyes on it. Now the day had turned sour. William should know better than anyone that you cannot make a Great Horse out of a courser. What had got into the boy? He had been pestering his father for at least two years for a “proper destrier like Montlouis,” and now he had the opportunity to take one, he would have nothing but Sacramenta’s foal.
    He looked at William again. “It won’t do, Master William.”
    William looked mutinous.
    Keeper John tried a different line. “The likelihood is that he will break down under the great weight of armor and equipment that you will have to carry.”
    William shrugged, but his eyes looked disbelieving. Keeper John pursed his lips. “You won’t change your mind?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe horse will never be like Montlouis.”
    â€œI don’t care.”
    â€œVery well, then.” Keeper John suddenly gave up. “Hal, go and tell Peter to unsaddle the bay and saddle up the chestnut. Master William will be taking him home.” He exchanged looks with Sir Walter.
    â€œTell your father I am not responsible for your choice,” Keeper John said, as much to Sir Walter as to William. Then, suddenly softening, he added, “Just remember, Master William, the bay will be here for another week or two if you should change your mind.”
    â€œI won’t.”
    Keeper John raised his eyebrows but said nothing more.
    In the late afternoon sun the chestnut glowed like fire as William remounted for the homeward journey. The horseflicked his ears back for a moment, then blew out from his nose. Hal, leading Sacramenta, who seemed singularly uninterested in her offspring, caught his breath. Whatever else, the horse really was beautiful.
    Sir Walter, complaining, got onto his gray.
    â€œWell,” he said. “Let’s be off.”
    William turned to take a last look at his friend. “Keeper John,” he called. “Thank you. I’m sorry to cause you trouble, but there is just one more thing.”
    John looked up.
    â€œDoes this horse have a name?”
    â€œYes,” the man answered. “We call that horse Hosanna.”

5
    It was late in the evening by the time the small party returned to Hartslove, with Hal leading Sacramenta and William, looking rather battered, astride his new mount. Both William and Hosanna were sweating profusely. Sir Walter, aching with gout, was now seriously worried. On the way back, Hosanna had occasionally behaved perfectly well and occasionally indulged in antics more befitting an unbroken yearling than a three-year-old with pretensions to being a warhorse. William had come off four times, which made about ten within twelve hours when you counted the falls he had taken earlier in the day. Thankfully, and rather surprisingly, the horse had not run off as William hit the forest floor, but waited to be remounted. Sir Walter had watched, shaking his head. Hal also watched with increasing dismay, his normally smooth forehead creased with doubt. It would be his job to look after this horse. If Hosanna managed to throw William, an experienced rider, what chance did Hal have?
    After crossing Hartslove’s drawbridge, William was tight-lipped and silent. Hal took Hosanna from him and led the three horses toward their suppers. Hosanna looked about him with interest but followed obediently, occasionallypushing Hal gently forward with his nose. Sacramenta swished her