"I wouldn't mind having a crack at her." His hand twitched in midair, seeming to flick an invisible whip.

The horse dealer's eyes gleamed. He and Flann dick- ered eagerly, but Flann shook his head and turned away at the trader's asking price. He flung a taunt at Hal, who fell in with the farce and glared at him in reply. The

Celydon 10S horse trader liked Flann, who appeared to be just such a bully as himself, and he was anxious to be rid of the troublesome filly. He soon offered to sell her for a rea- sonable price, and Flann counted the coins into his hand.

Then he hit the man, hard, in the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Now get you hence," Flann grated, showing all his disgust, "you and your nags. And if you ever visit these parts again, I'll have you locked up until you rot. Now go!"

The fellow did not stay to argue the point. He scurried to his nags and rode out, glad of the coins in his pocket.

Flann let out a grunt of fury, shook himself, and turned toward Hal. The filly had stopped trembling, and was watching with interest the departure of her former com- panions. The stable hands returned inside. Hal, Alan, Flann and the filly were left alone in the gently falling snow.

"She is yours, Hal," the groom said, "by her own choice."

"Flann," Hal answered huskily, "I can never thank you enough. I would have given anything for her." And before PIann could protest Hal added, "I will repay you when I can."

Flann gestured impatiently. "The value of the work you have done here is already more than the amount I paid for the horse. Let us have no more nonsense."

The next few days were busy ones for Hal. Early the next morning the filly got a bath and a grooming. As caked dirt and dead hair were brushed away, her coat be- gan to shine a beautiful sorrel color with dapplings of a darker russet. She was painfully thin, but her bone was sound and her mouth good. Hal talked to her constantly, even when he was with Arun in the next stall, and she became much calmer and more cheerfui. Alan came over when he was done with Alfie, and at Hal's bidding she let him pat her.

"We shall just let her rest for the next few days," Hal said. "Then we shall start taking her out."

"What do you intend to do with her?" Alan asked.

Hal was silent for a moment. "She has fine spirit," he said, "but she is sensitive, and gentle as a kitten. She can- not be broken by force; she would die first. But once she has given her heart, she will do anything." Hal paused

106 THE SILVER SUN.

and looked at Alan, seeking and finding reassurance that he would understand. "When she is feeling better, I shall tell her about my lady. Perhaps she would like to be her horse."

So he truly does speak to the animals in a language they understand. Alan thought- He was not entirely sur- prised. In the half a year he had known Hal he had come to believe, and hope, things he would never before have considered possible.

"You call her Asfala," he said. "What does it mean?"

"It means 'Daughter of the Wind.' '*

For several days it continued to snow hard, and the ex- ercise yard was covered to a depth of nearly three feet.

The wind blew snow about, and it was bitterly cold. Alan and Hal burrowed deep into the hay in their loft at night, warmed also by the body heat of the horses below. They spent long hours working in the stable, feeling indebted to FIann for the price of the filly and the cost of her feed.

But he continued to make light of their obligation.

Flann marveled constantly at the progress Asfala was making. She was gaining flesh rapidly, and was much more content than before. Flann and Alan were now her trusted friends, and she had learned to tolerate the stable hands, for none of them were allowed to be careless or rough.

Now that her fear was gone, she was beginning to exhibit coy, playful tricks, and was likely to become the pet of the stable.

"How ever did you do it, Hal?" Flann asked one day as Asfala nibbled his sleeve. "She came here a shivering, frightened wretch, and within a week she has become a happy-go-lucky little lassie."

"How not?" replied Hal evasively. "There is nothing to frighten her here." But Flann looked at him askance and grunted his disbelief.

When Hal and Alan took their own horses to exercise, Asfala went along, looking like a pony beside the larger horses. She followed close by Arun's side and listened carefully to everything Hal said. Alan had the uncanny feeling that the filly was learning how to behave under a rider without ever having been mounted.

"Do you plan to ride her, Hal?" he asked.

"Nay, I'll let my lady have the training of her. It will make a bond between them."

Though they made no effort to keep the filly a secret,

Celydaa 107

there was little risk of Rosemary's seeing her before it was time, for she never came near the stable if she could help it. And the occasion was not too far off. The Festival of the Winter Solstice was only seven generations old in Isle, having come with the Easterners and their stargazing sor- cerers. But it was embraced by the countryfolk, for it was a gift-giving time and followed conveniently on the slaughtering of the pigs. In Nemeton, the court people called it the Natal Day of the Sacred Son, and they gifted and feasted and sacrificed victims in his honor. But through most of Isle folk called it only Winterfest, a wel- come break at that bleak time of year.

The festival day came at last, and Hal was up before dawn, brushing and shining Asfala until any ordinary horse would have kicked in protest. She, however, seemed to enjoy the proceedings. After her dappled coat was shin- ing, her mane and tail were brushed until they were smooth as silk and her hooves were rubbed with oil. Alan and Plann watched in amusement as she arched her neck and minced about, tapping her shiny hooves. For a finish- ing touch, Hal brought out yards of green ribbon and plaited it into her mane and tail, ending with a love knot Just over her left ear. Asfala looked as if she would burst with vanity, and cocked her head under her pretty bow drawing applause from a circle of grinning stable hands.

Then at last they were ready to go to the keep.

Pelys and Rosemary were sitting in the study when Alan came to them with an air of suppressed excitement, requesting that they follow him to the audience hall on the ground floor. Pelys clapped for his retainer, and they went downstairs. When they were seated, Alan rapped on a window. In a moment there were odd shuffling noises out- side the door.

"What in the world!' Rosemary began, but her breath was taken away as Hal led Asfala in. The gentle beast wore neither bridle nor halter, but followed Hal freely.

He led her to the foot of the dais where Rosemary sat, dumbfounded.

"Here is my gift to you, my lady," he said. "Her name is Asfala, which means 'Daughter of the Wind.' There is not a better-mannered horse in all of Isle. I know there are other things you would rather have, but pray accept her with my heart's regard, for she is all I have to give you."

108 THE SILVER SUN.

"She is lovely," said Rosemary in a tight voice. She would sooner have Jumped in the river than touch that beast. Yet she knew that if she did not pet her, Hal's feelings would be gravely hurt. So she clenched her teeth and walked toward Asfala, a nervous smile on her face.

But as she approached, a marvelous thing happened.

Asfala backed away from her and whisked behind Hal, looking out over his shoulder with big brown eyes, like a child peeping from the shelter of its mother's skirts.

"Why, she's afraid of me!" exclaimed Rosemary, as- tonished.

Behind her back, Alan and Pelys were grinning broadly, but Hal's face was perfectly sober-

"She's a bit shy at first," Hal admitted, "and she is very sensitive. You must be very gentle with her." Then he coaxed the filly, "Come out, Asfala. The lady will not hurt you."

As the filly daintly, hesitantly emerged from behind Hal's back. Rosemary saw her as if seeing a horse for the first time. She noticed the shining hooves dancing on the floor, and the beautifully colored, soft and glossy coat.

She noticed the mane and tail, smooth and clean as her own hair, plaited with green ribbons. She saw the delicate, finely shaped face, the pretty, pricked ears, the soft nose, the intelligent eyes. The filly's head stood little higher than her own. Amazed at herself. Rosemary realized that she longed to comfort this beautiful creature, so gentle and timid. She held out her hand to Asfala, wheedling.

"Come here, Asfala. Poor little thing, I wouldn't hurt you."

"Here," said Hal, handing her a lump of bread. "Give her this."

The horse's touch on her hand thrilled her. Asfala took the bread courteously. Delighted, Rosemary patted the smooth cheekbones and the arched neck. Pelys looked on in astonished joy. Hal allowed himself to smile now, and he took the lady's hands and placed them on either side of the filly's head.

"Now, Asfala," he said seriously, "this is your mistress, and you are to follow her and obey her. Be a good horse."

Then he stepped back. "Walk away from me, my lady, and see if she does not follow you."

Rosemary walked toward her father, and Asfala trotted

Celydon 109

after her like a big dog. "Father!" she cried happily.

"Look! She likes me!"

Pelys nodded, his sharp eyes glowing like hers. "Well, well, lass, let us take her to the saddlery."

This was across the courtyard, near the stables. Pelys rode in his chair, and opened the door with a large key.

In the dim light, generations of saddles and trappings shone with mellow splendor. There were war saddles and hunting saddles, ornate pleasure saddles, large and small, each richly tooled and ornamented with metal and jewels.

With bis quick eye, Pelys picked out a few that might do.