Lionheart's Scribe Read Free Page B

and she skittered nervously. I began to wonder just what I was going to do with her. I had used her as an excuse to get into the camp, but I hadn’t the vaguest notion of what to do with her now.
    Just then a woman called out to me.
    â€œIs that a good milking goat?” she bellowed.
    â€œOh, yes,” I answered straightaway. Not that I had the slightest idea of whether she was or not, as I have no taste for milk and had never tried to milk her, but it seemed a sensible thing to say.
    â€œI need milk for my little ones. There are goats all around here, but I cannot for the life of me catch one, they are so quick and shy. Will you give me the loan of her for an hour or so? I can offer you some bread and cheese in exchange,” she added.
    My stomach growled and decided the issue for me.
    â€œThat I will,” I replied. I handed over the rope to her. She, in return, gave me a knob of fresh breadand a chunk of soft new cheese. I left, wolfing the food down in such big bites that I almost choked. I have not eaten so well in months.
    I prayed the nanny would cooperate.
    Then I set to exploring the camp. I drew as near as I dared to the pavilion of King Richard, but his guards chased me away. I did, however, find the stables where they are keeping the horses. I have always liked horses, but I have never seen any such as these. Compared to our wiry little island ponies these beasts are immense. Their backs are higher than my head, their limbs are like tree trunks and their hooves are bigger than the flat loaves of bread the baker makes. They are all shades, from black, to gray, to dun colored. They have long, tangled manes and tails, and their heads are big and wide.
    I slipped in and wandered around amongst them. They did not mind my presence. Some even welcomed me with soft snuffling noises. Horses, it seems, do not fear a crippled boy. The smell of horse hung over everything. I like that smell. It is sharp and pungent and warm.
    Then one of the guards saw me. I prepared to run, but he stopped me.
    â€œYou, boy,” he called. “Fill those buckets with grain and be quick about it.”
    I suppose he thought I was a stable boy. What a piece of luck! I ran to do his bidding.
    â€œGo on, then,” he growled when I had filled the buckets. “Get on with feeding the beasts.”
    I must confess I was more than a little nervous when I approached the first horse. It did look big. Iheld the bucket out, ready to flee at the slightest sign of danger. To my surprise and great relief, the animal just swung its heavy head around and stared at me with huge, dark eyes, as if sizing me up, then calmly settled in to eating.
    The sun was rising by then and I realized I was going to be late getting to my work with Vulgrin. When the guard’s back was turned I slipped out. I hope the real stable boy turned up to carry on with the feeding. I wouldn’t like to think of the horses going hungry. Still, I imagine valuable animals like that would not be neglected. Truth, they probably eat better than I do.
    I made my way quickly back to the tent where I had left the goat. I hid behind a tree when I got there and watched for a few moments, trying to see if the nanny had been a success or whether it would be wiser not to show my face. The woman was boiling up some sort of stew on the fire and the goat was tied to a bush nearby, munching on the sparse grass. Two infants tumbled around the woman’s feet. They were enormously dirty, but seemed content enough, so I made my way forward.
    â€œHow was my goat?” I asked as the woman looked up. “Did she satisfy you?”
    â€œShe’s a marvelous goat,” she answered. “She gave as much milk as we needed and more besides. Can you bring her each morning?”
    â€œThat I most certainly can,” I answered, delighted that I now had the means of getting into the camp every day. “I will bring her here for milking every day. In return for