Read Online Strategos: Born in the Borderlands by Gordon Doherty - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gordon Doherty
Tags: Historical fiction
Ads: Link
and sowing the modest farmland. Hard work, but happy times. Yet the memories were becoming flatter and more hazy over time.
Mansur’s face saddened at this and he gazed into the fire. ‘I know where you are, lad. Loss; it takes a long time to come to terms with it. Indeed it drives you to seek answers from the darkest of places before you finally make peace . . . ’ his words trailed off, his voice breaking up.
Apion noticed that Mansur’s eyes glistened now. ‘Your wife?’
‘Ten years ago,’ Mansur spoke flatly, his grey crop shimmering with sweat, his face stony as he gazed into the fire.
Apion nodded. So Maria would never have known her mother. Suddenly he felt heart-sad for her. Mansur’s grief was there but not there, like its rawness had been chipped away and polished down to a smooth burden that he bore without question. He pulled at his prayer rope and wondered at his next words, whether Mansur would appreciate them.
‘Does it help to know she is with God now?’
Mansur did not look round from the fire but his face hardened a little. ‘God, if such a thing exists, makes our lives a constant struggle.’ He lifted his salep and supped thoughtfully.
Apion frowned. ‘You must have loved God once to say such a thing?’
Mansur turned to him and nodded. ‘When you lose what is dearest to you, you have a choice: worship or reject. I have made my choice.’
‘My mother and father, they were Christian. I am Christian. But, and I don’t know if I am betraying them in saying this, I can’t see why God could let what happened to them happen,’ his eyes darted around the flagstones as he searched for his feelings, then he looked up to Mansur.
‘That’s what makes me doubt it all, lad,’ Mansur replied. ‘If God created man, then why are we so foul and blinded? We live our lives for a few handfuls of seasons and we spend most of them making mistakes, terrible mistakes. Only when we’re grey and withered do we realise where we should have turned and when.’ He shrugged his shoulders and lifted one side of his mouth wryly. ‘By then, our children have grown into their own cycle of pig-headedness, doomed to blunder on until we are all merely dust.’ A log snapped in the fire.
Apion nodded as he considered Mansur’s words. ‘Father would have taught me and guided me well. I know it. He always showed me things and said that when I was old enough he would teach me all that he had learned. He promised that after the next campaigning season, he would teach me to tame a horse and make it my own, so I could become a rider like him. Now I will never learn from him.’
The old man held his gaze for a moment longer then shook his head and took a deep breath. ‘As I say, learning is usually a matter of making mistakes. Well I am grey and withered and I’ve made many mistakes in my life. I can help you learn.’
‘You’d do that for me? A slave, not of your blood, not even of your kin?’
Mansur finally broke into a weary smile. ‘You’re no slave, Apion, just as you told me that day in Trebizond. So, the learning begins tomorrow; the grey mare is about the right size for a lad of your age and build. After breakfast we will get you used to life in the saddle, how does that sound?’
Apion grinned.
6. The Horseman
Dawn had not yet broken and only the moonlight outlined the land. The fresh wind rushed over the pair riding on the grey mare.
‘Slow down!’ Maria cried out, grappling her hands together around Apion’s waist and hugging herself to his back.
‘Are you joking? This is like having wings! Anyway, we’re nearly finished.’
He leant forward on the saddle and focused on the dark-blue dappled eastern horizon, then heeled the beast’s flanks. ‘Ya!’ He bellowed. The mare accelerated before they hit the uphill slope to the tip of the valleyside separating the two farms, heading for the hilltop.
At
Mansur’s face saddened at this and he gazed into the fire. ‘I know where you are, lad. Loss; it takes a long time to come to terms with it. Indeed it drives you to seek answers from the darkest of places before you finally make peace . . . ’ his words trailed off, his voice breaking up.
Apion noticed that Mansur’s eyes glistened now. ‘Your wife?’
‘Ten years ago,’ Mansur spoke flatly, his grey crop shimmering with sweat, his face stony as he gazed into the fire.
Apion nodded. So Maria would never have known her mother. Suddenly he felt heart-sad for her. Mansur’s grief was there but not there, like its rawness had been chipped away and polished down to a smooth burden that he bore without question. He pulled at his prayer rope and wondered at his next words, whether Mansur would appreciate them.
‘Does it help to know she is with God now?’
Mansur did not look round from the fire but his face hardened a little. ‘God, if such a thing exists, makes our lives a constant struggle.’ He lifted his salep and supped thoughtfully.
Apion frowned. ‘You must have loved God once to say such a thing?’
Mansur turned to him and nodded. ‘When you lose what is dearest to you, you have a choice: worship or reject. I have made my choice.’
‘My mother and father, they were Christian. I am Christian. But, and I don’t know if I am betraying them in saying this, I can’t see why God could let what happened to them happen,’ his eyes darted around the flagstones as he searched for his feelings, then he looked up to Mansur.
‘That’s what makes me doubt it all, lad,’ Mansur replied. ‘If God created man, then why are we so foul and blinded? We live our lives for a few handfuls of seasons and we spend most of them making mistakes, terrible mistakes. Only when we’re grey and withered do we realise where we should have turned and when.’ He shrugged his shoulders and lifted one side of his mouth wryly. ‘By then, our children have grown into their own cycle of pig-headedness, doomed to blunder on until we are all merely dust.’ A log snapped in the fire.
Apion nodded as he considered Mansur’s words. ‘Father would have taught me and guided me well. I know it. He always showed me things and said that when I was old enough he would teach me all that he had learned. He promised that after the next campaigning season, he would teach me to tame a horse and make it my own, so I could become a rider like him. Now I will never learn from him.’
The old man held his gaze for a moment longer then shook his head and took a deep breath. ‘As I say, learning is usually a matter of making mistakes. Well I am grey and withered and I’ve made many mistakes in my life. I can help you learn.’
‘You’d do that for me? A slave, not of your blood, not even of your kin?’
Mansur finally broke into a weary smile. ‘You’re no slave, Apion, just as you told me that day in Trebizond. So, the learning begins tomorrow; the grey mare is about the right size for a lad of your age and build. After breakfast we will get you used to life in the saddle, how does that sound?’
Apion grinned.
6. The Horseman
Dawn had not yet broken and only the moonlight outlined the land. The fresh wind rushed over the pair riding on the grey mare.
‘Slow down!’ Maria cried out, grappling her hands together around Apion’s waist and hugging herself to his back.
‘Are you joking? This is like having wings! Anyway, we’re nearly finished.’
He leant forward on the saddle and focused on the dark-blue dappled eastern horizon, then heeled the beast’s flanks. ‘Ya!’ He bellowed. The mare accelerated before they hit the uphill slope to the tip of the valleyside separating the two farms, heading for the hilltop.
At
Similar Books
