Hardly daring to believe that such a horse could be here, in these stalls, I moved forward and opened the gate. He backed up nervously, tossing his head and whuffling through his great nostrils as I approached. When I was face to face with him I stopped, looking up, and then stretched out my hand. He hesitated there for a count of three heartbeats, then gently dipped his head and stretched his neck to investigate my hand with his soft muzzle. I felt immediate regret that I had brought no gift for him, but I contented myself with stroking his muzzle silently and simply looking at him, or at as much of him as I could see. He seemed coal black, but so was the interior of the stall. He made no effort to withdraw from me, and finally I hooked my fingers into the plain rope halter that he wore and led him, first out into the central aisle of the barn and then out into the full light of the morning, where I could examine him properly.
He was magnificent, taller at the shoulder and more heavily muscled than even Germanicus had been, and a lump swelled in my throat as I looked at him, at the way the light made his glossy coat shimmer like black water. His mane and tail were long and clean, and great feathery leggings grew down over his fetlocks, almost concealing his hoofs ; completely. His back was straight and broad and the muscles of his chest rippled as he moved, backing up, away from me. There was not a blemish on his entire coat; he was black from the tips of his ears to the polished black horn of his hooves.
"His name is Bucephalus." I swung about at the unexpected sound of the voice so close behind me. Shelagh and Tress were watching me from the doorway of the stables, and so astonished was I to see them there that it did notoccur to me to ask them how they came to be there. Instead, I turned back immediately to the horse.
"Whose is he?"
I heard Tress laugh. "He's yours, of course." By the time I had whipped my head around to look at her, all trace of ' laughter had faded from her face and voice. "We did not expect Germanicus to die, any more than you did, but Ambrose had this colt set aside for you four years ago, before he was even a year old, and had him raised in secrecy. Germanicus was beginning to grow old, and Ambrose foresaw the day when he would no longer be strong enough to carry you... "
Shelagh took up where she had left off. "Donuil told me about Germanicus as soon as he arrived, and so we had Bucephalus here brought in yesterday from the farm where he was raised. "
I smiled at Shelagh, thanking her wordlessly, and then turned back to the horse. "He's been well broken, I can see that. There's no fear in him, no skittishness. Who trained him, do you know?"
"I did. " Shelagh's statement, and the casual way she said it, brought me around on my heel to gape at her, but she ignored my surprise completely. "And there's coltishness in him to spare. He's a wild one, but he has a sweet disposition once he has given his trust. " She smiled at me, no more than a trace of mockery in her eyes. "Much like you, in fact. "
I was still gaping. "You broke him by yourself?"'
"No, not by myself, not all alone. I worked with the master of horse. But I was first up on his back and I was first to ride him. He taught me all his tricks; I taught him mine. "
"I see. " I could tell from the colour in her cheeks that Shelagh was proud of her achievement in this, and justifiably so. I glanced at Tress. "And did you name him, too? Bucephalus?"
"Not I! Yon's a foreign name from foreign parts. I had nothing to do with it. "
"I believe you, Shelagh, " I told her, grinning widely. "But d'you know who Bucephalus was, the first Bucephalus?"
"Aye, the horse of some Outland king. "
"Emperor, Shelagh, he was more than a mere king. He was the greatest warrior of all the ancient world, before the time of Rome. Alexander of Macedon. Men called him Alexander the Great, and his horse was Bucephalus."
"Aye, I've heard. And it threw him over a cliff, did it not, and killed him? Bad omen for a king who would ride this one. It was your brother Ambrose who named him."
"Ah, Ambrose again. Then I had best thank him soon, for he has made me a fine gift, here. The name is wrong, nevertheless, and we'll change it now. Bucephalus was white, as I recall. This fellow's name is Germanicus. The' ninth Germanicus to serve Britannicus."
Tress had moved forward to stand beside me, and as I placed my arm over her shoulders I became aware for the first time of how strangely she was dressed. I had grown used to seeing Shelagh in men's riding clothes over the years, but now I realized that beneath her long, concealing cloak, Tressa was also wearing some form of armour. I brought her around in front of me and pulled apart the edges of her cloak, staring in amazement at the toughened leather cuirass she was wearing over a short, military kilt of armoured straps. Her long legs were breech clad like a trooper's, albeit in far finer leather and far more richly worked, very much like my own. By the time I raised my eyes from her legs to her face, she had blushed crimson. I looked from her to Shelagh.
Tress could see the confusion in my eyes, and it was then that she and Shelagh told me how they had passed their time while I was away at war. Shelagh had taught Tress to ride, and had taught her well, training her strictly and with little gentleness, ignoring the fact that Tress was female just as single mindedly as she denied her own femininity in the performance of men's activities. For months, they told me, Tress had been up at dawn and out to the stables with Shelagh, learning first the use and care of her saddlery before graduating to groom and saddle her own horse. And then, once she had mastered the art of staying in the saddle, she had learned to ride as a man rides, sometimes spending entire days in the saddle, accustoming her muscles to the disciplines of riding and controlling horseflesh, and inuring herself to the pain of saddle sores and cramping, aching leg, thigh, back and belly muscles.
Listening to Tressa's enthusiasm, and admiring the high colour in her cheeks and the way her eyes danced with delight as she described what she had learned, I realized that here was the explanation of the fleeting thought that had occurred to me when I had bedded her, my first night home. She was harder, her muscles firm and full and clearly visible, her entire shape slightly less voluptuously rounded, although no less womanly or desirable.
Not only had Tress learned to ride, she had learned how to use a shortsword, our new, light cavalry spear and a bow. The latter, with a full quiver of arrows, now hung from her saddle horn, she told me, and the sword hung from her right side. She was no cavalry trooper, but Shelagh assured me Tress knew how to use both weapons and could defend herself in any situation. They now passed their free time together every day, riding the length and breadth of Camulod's holdings.
I listened in silence to all they had to tell me, and when they were finished, I reached out my hands to Tress. She had been eyeing me nervously, wondering how I would respond, and I set her mind at ease immediately by asking her to show me how she rode. Both women immediately re-entered the stables and I followed them in to find them leading their mounts, already saddled, from the stalls in which they had hidden themselves from me.
Shelagh's mount was her favourite of years, a large, well made, dun coloured gelding of no great physical beauty but of great stamina and willingness. Tressa's mount was chestnut coloured, and larger, too, than I would have expected. She held him confidently by the strap of his bridle as she brought him out, and then she caught the saddle horn in her right hand, raised her foot into the stirrup, hopped twice and swung herself up into the saddle effortlessly, finding the other stirrup with her right foot and standing on straight legs to arrange her cloak comfortably behind her. I laughed in delight and brought my arm across my chest in a punctilious salute to such prowess before asking them, out of mere curiosity, where they were bound that morning. They had no idea, Shelagh said. They would head out northwards, at first, towards the old Villa Varo, our closest neighbour, but then they might cut eastward towards the Colony's main horse farm, which lay along the route towards the Mendip Hills, where Publius Varrus had found his skystone.