Read Online Greek Series 02 - Dark Prince by David Gemmell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Gemmell
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ran on towards the stables and pastures, his eyes scanning the hills, picking out the giant form of Titan alone in his pasture. The horse was running also, but stopped to watch him. Parmenion's scalp prickled as he ran alongside the fence under Titan's baleful glare. The stallion's domain was not large, some eighty paces long and fifty wide, the fence sturdily constructed of thick timbers. Not a horse alive could leap such an obstacle but even so, when Titan cantered towards him Parmenion involuntarily moved to his right to put more distance between himself and the fence. This momentary fear infuriated him, fuelling his determination to conquer the giant.
He saw Mothac talking to the slender Croni and the boy Orsin at the far gate, and more than twenty Thessalians had gathered to watch the coming contest. One of the men clambered up on to the fence, but Titan raced across his pasture, rearing to strike out at the man who threw himself backwards to safety, much to the amusement of his fellows.
'It is not a good day for such a ride,' Mothac told Parmenion. 'There was rain in the night and the ground is soft.'
Parmenion smiled. The old Theban was trying to give him an easy way out. 'It was but a smattering,' said Parmenion.
'Come, let us be starting our day. Which of you brave fellows will rope the beast?'
Mothac shook his head, his concern obvious. 'All right, my boys, let's be seeing some Thessalian skills!'
Several of the men gathered up long, coiled ropes. There was no humour evident now - their faces were set, their eyes hard. Two men ran to the right, keeping close to the fence, waving the coils and calling to Titan who charged at them, the fence-posts rattling as he struck. To the left, unnoticed by the enraged beast, Orsin and Croni climbed into the pasture, angling out behind the black stallion. Suddenly the beast swung and darted at Orsin. Croni's rope sailed over the stallion's great head, jerking tight as he reared to strike the youngster. Feeling the rope bite into his neck, Titan turned to charge Croni. Now it was Orsin who threw a loop over the stallion's head and neck, hauling it tight.
Instantly the other Thessalians clambered over the fence, ready to help, but Titan stood stock-still, his great frame trembling.
The huge head slowly turned, his malevolent gaze fixing on Parmenion as he jumped down into the pasture.
'He knows,' thought Parmenion, with a sudden rush of fear. 'He is waiting for me!'
The Spartan moved towards the horse, always keeping in its line of vision until he stood beside the neck and head.
Carefully his hand reached up to the top rope, loosening it and lifting it clear.
'Steady, boy,' he whispered. 'Your master speaks. Steady, boy.'
Still the stallion waited, like a black statue. Parmenion eased his fingers under the second rope, sliding it up along the neck, over the ears and down the long nose, waiting for the lunging bite that could tear away his fingers.
It did not come.
Stroking the trembling flanks, Parmenion took hold of the black mane, vaulting smoothly to the stallion's back.
Titan reared as the Spartan's weight came down, but Parmenion locked his legs to the horse's body, holding his position. Titan leapt high in the air, coming down on all four hooves with bone-crunching force, dipping his head and dragging his rider forward. Then he bucked. But Parmenion was ready for the manoeuvre, leaning back and holding to his point of balance.
The black stallion set off at a run, then rolled to his back, desperate to dislodge and crush his tormentor. Parmenion jumped to the ground as the stallion rolled, leaping over the belly and flailing hooves, and springing once more to Titan's back as the horse lunged to his feet. The Thessalians cheered the move.
The giant stallion galloped around the pasture, twisting, leaping, bucking and rearing, but he could not dislodge the hated man upon his back.
Finally Titan charged towards the fence. It was a move the Spartan had not
He saw Mothac talking to the slender Croni and the boy Orsin at the far gate, and more than twenty Thessalians had gathered to watch the coming contest. One of the men clambered up on to the fence, but Titan raced across his pasture, rearing to strike out at the man who threw himself backwards to safety, much to the amusement of his fellows.
'It is not a good day for such a ride,' Mothac told Parmenion. 'There was rain in the night and the ground is soft.'
Parmenion smiled. The old Theban was trying to give him an easy way out. 'It was but a smattering,' said Parmenion.
'Come, let us be starting our day. Which of you brave fellows will rope the beast?'
Mothac shook his head, his concern obvious. 'All right, my boys, let's be seeing some Thessalian skills!'
Several of the men gathered up long, coiled ropes. There was no humour evident now - their faces were set, their eyes hard. Two men ran to the right, keeping close to the fence, waving the coils and calling to Titan who charged at them, the fence-posts rattling as he struck. To the left, unnoticed by the enraged beast, Orsin and Croni climbed into the pasture, angling out behind the black stallion. Suddenly the beast swung and darted at Orsin. Croni's rope sailed over the stallion's great head, jerking tight as he reared to strike the youngster. Feeling the rope bite into his neck, Titan turned to charge Croni. Now it was Orsin who threw a loop over the stallion's head and neck, hauling it tight.
Instantly the other Thessalians clambered over the fence, ready to help, but Titan stood stock-still, his great frame trembling.
The huge head slowly turned, his malevolent gaze fixing on Parmenion as he jumped down into the pasture.
'He knows,' thought Parmenion, with a sudden rush of fear. 'He is waiting for me!'
The Spartan moved towards the horse, always keeping in its line of vision until he stood beside the neck and head.
Carefully his hand reached up to the top rope, loosening it and lifting it clear.
'Steady, boy,' he whispered. 'Your master speaks. Steady, boy.'
Still the stallion waited, like a black statue. Parmenion eased his fingers under the second rope, sliding it up along the neck, over the ears and down the long nose, waiting for the lunging bite that could tear away his fingers.
It did not come.
Stroking the trembling flanks, Parmenion took hold of the black mane, vaulting smoothly to the stallion's back.
Titan reared as the Spartan's weight came down, but Parmenion locked his legs to the horse's body, holding his position. Titan leapt high in the air, coming down on all four hooves with bone-crunching force, dipping his head and dragging his rider forward. Then he bucked. But Parmenion was ready for the manoeuvre, leaning back and holding to his point of balance.
The black stallion set off at a run, then rolled to his back, desperate to dislodge and crush his tormentor. Parmenion jumped to the ground as the stallion rolled, leaping over the belly and flailing hooves, and springing once more to Titan's back as the horse lunged to his feet. The Thessalians cheered the move.
The giant stallion galloped around the pasture, twisting, leaping, bucking and rearing, but he could not dislodge the hated man upon his back.
Finally Titan charged towards the fence. It was a move the Spartan had not
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