Gordon Doherty - Strategos - Born in the Borderlands

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.

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 first, the very act of staying on horseback had proved difficult for him, his scarred leg stinging as he clung to the beast, but the rush when he rode was unmatched and only a few weeks after Mansur had first shown him the basics of handling a horse, riding felt more natural to him than walking.

This morning he and Maria had raced at full pelt down the banks of the Piksidis, before turning in and up to the tip of the valleyside. Then they had sped down the opposite side, rounding Kutalmish’s farm, Apion shouting a pox on the boy Nasir — much to Maria’s chagrin — and then galloping back up the valleyside. Now they were coming to the hilltop just north of the farm. Apion had first discovered this hilltop on his first solo morning gallop; it was probably the highest point near Mansur’s farm, and afforded a fine vista of the breaking dawn.

As they reached the hilltop, they rounded the small beech thicket and then the mare slowed just by a terracotta boulder cairn. Apion’s eyes were drawn to the topmost boulder, sporting a faded etching of some creature with two heads, broad wings and rapier-like talons. The etching was very old by the look of it, but the fierceness in the creature’s eyes still made his spine tingle every morning when he saw it.

Then Maria cuffed his ear. ‘Have you lost your mind? I was terrified we were going to be thrown to the ground and dashed on the rocks!’

Apion laughed; this was the first time she had ridden with him. She had begged him to take her with him because Mansur — who had forbidden her from riding as she was too small — was away to market today. He turned to her, grinning, but his face fell as he noticed that she was shaking. He put a hand on her knee. ‘I’m sorry, Maria, I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just that I’ve never felt more in control than when I’m riding.’ He patted the mare’s mane and the beast snorted in reply, breath clouding in the dawn air. ‘I’d never be able to make it up here on foot with my crutch.’

She glanced at his withered leg and he felt the usual shame. His leg had at least formed a pink welt of scar tissue since leaving the squalid conditions of the cellar inn, but this scarring held the limb bent at the knee, forcing him to walk in a lop-sided fashion. To stretch the scar and stand tall sent a furious agony through his body, so riding suited him perfectly.

‘It’s okay,’ she said softly, ‘I know you didn’t mean to upset me.’ She looked around, the wind dancing through her hair. All was still dark apart from the band of light blue to the east. ‘Anyway, why have we stopped here?’

‘You said you would watch the sun rise with me one morning, remember?’ He pointed to the glimmer of red on the eastern horizon. ‘Well, here we are.’

She rested her chin on his shoulder and they remained in silence as the glimmer swelled and spread, growing into orange until the light spilled through the valleys, illuminating the burnished terracotta hillsides, silhouetting the farms and mills that dotted the rich soil flatlands in between and igniting the Piksidis like a silver asp.

They watched until the sun was fully over the horizon, their breath slowing at the majestic transformation.

Maria sighed contentedly, finally breaking the spell. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘I never tire of watching the land come to life. It washes away all the worry from my mind,’ Apion replied.

‘It’s a wonder you get any sleep at all — you’re up before the goats!’

Apion laughed. It had taken him a while to realise but life on the farm had kept him engaged at all times: riding, goat herding and farming absorbing his days and every night was ended with a welcome cup of creamy salep. Even the nightmares had begun to subside in the last few weeks, and the resulting rest had been most welcome. Every morning he had found himself refreshed and calm, rising before dawn to come up here, basking in the beauty of dawn.

His thoughts were interrupted as he noticed Maria shuffling in discomfort. ‘It is beautiful, but there will be many more mornings. . and I’m hungry. Are you not?’ She reasoned, jabbing a finger into his ribs and grinning.

‘Aye,’ he chuckled, ‘let’s go home.’

He heeled the mare to turn towards the farm and they set off at a canter. When they got back, they prepared a platter of goat’s cheese, bread, yoghurt and figs, and a now unmissable cup of sweet, creamy salep to wash it down. The goats had struck up a chorus of enraged bleating as they ate.

‘You’ll get your food once we’ve had ours!’ Apion chirped. Through the open door he could see two kids, born in the last month, jostling for position at the front of the pen, ears flopping over their faces, eyes wide in anticipation. ‘Anyway, I thought you were goats, not pigs?’ He chuckled.

‘You’re one to talk; you get through the cheese faster than I can prepare it!’

Apion spun round to see Maria stood, the hint of a smirk edging her lips. ‘Ah, it’s only because I graze them so well that the cheese is so tasty!’ He pulled a handful of blueberries from the branch in the middle of the table, popping one in his mouth, the tangy juice inside the fruit bursting across his tongue. The house was quiet and Mansur’s dark-blue felt cap was conspicuous by its absence from the peg by the door. It warmed him that the old man trusted him, a Byzantine boy, like a son. It warmed him more to reciprocate that trust. He looked to Maria, wolfing bread in a less than delicate manner, crumbs lining her lip. She was either black or white; she’d snarl at him in a temper then she’d grin at him and he felt good, like everything was okay.

‘You’ll come out with me again one morning?’ He munched on the last of the blueberries.

‘When I grow taller I’ll be riding the fawn mare. . on my own,’ she replied, looking past him austerely.

‘Then we can race!’ Apion grinned.

‘You’re becoming more like Nasir every day. Is that what happens to all boys as they grow up?’

Apion thought of the cinnamon-skinned boy and frowned. Nasir and he had clashed on a regular basis, usually on the valleyside when he was grazing the goats. The first time, Nasir came past and mocked him, saying that Apion was a cripple and not even worth fighting. Apion had stayed quiet, refusing to meet the boy’s glare and maintaining an air of disinterest. It was only after the boy left him alone that Apion let his fury boil over. Taking his crutch into his hand like a sword and smashing it time and again against a tree. The last time they had met, just last week, Nasir had introduced himself by means of bouncing a stone off the back of Apion’s head. His ears ringing, he could only lip-read the obscenities the boy hurled at him until his hearing recovered.