not to bite, but to hammer with. The blows seemed no heavier than hailstones to Hobgoblin. Yet they maddened him into a wild rage. He lunged, baring his teeth, ready to sink them into Sham’s neck.
With a mighty cry, Sham tossed his head upward, catching Hobgoblin under the jaw, actually lifting him up on his hind feet. The little horse rained blow upon blow on Hobgoblin, forcing him farther and farther up on his hind legs until finally he fell over backward, thrashing and kicking.
Agba beat his fists together. The great Hobgoblin was down! The massive, heaving, hulking body was grunting in pain and defeat.
A ringing cry of victory burst from Sham. With a rush he sought Lady Roxana. He leaped about her, prancing lightly as if his legs were set on springs. He arched his magnificent neck. He plumed his tail. His eyes were bold, his body wet and shining. Sham, the fleet of foot, the pride of the Sultan’s stables, was on parade before the beautiful Roxana.
Suddenly they were together, touching each other with their noses, talking in excited little nickers. Then, manes and tails in flowing motion, they streaked to the far end of the paddock. It seemed plain to Agba that both Sham and Roxana wanted to be far away from the distasteful, groaning Hobgoblin.
Agba wanted to sing for joy. He longed to talk, to laugh, to cry. His hands flew to his throat helplessly. But it was Roxana whose voice substituted for his own. It was her whinny, high and joyful, that said all he wanted to say.
20. Wicken Fen
A FTER A MOMENT of stunned silence, the Earl of Godolphin led his guests away. Twickerham ran to Hobgoblin, rolled him onto his belly and helped him rise. When the horse was once more in his stall, the groom followed the Earl. He must have orders before he saw Agba.
Agba, meanwhile, had gone back to work to avoid showing his joy. Not until darkness closed in did he realize what he had done. Then the gravity of it struck him. He had acted without orders. He had allowed Sham to fight Hobgoblin. Sham mighthave killed the Earl’s favorite stallion, his star of hope!
The boy swallowed hard. He had hurt the kindliest friend he had ever had. He was ready to take whatever punishment might come.
So it was with no surprise that, as he stood in Sham’s stall, he saw coming toward him the quick, spidery legs of Titus Twickerham. They cast long, frightening shadows because of the lanthorns which the groom held in each hand.
“Agba!” he called out as soon as he was within hearing. “What I has to say can be said over the door.”
There was not the slightest hesitation or stammering in Mister Twickerham’s speech. It was as if he had wound up his words in a ball and now had only to unwind them.
“The Earl wants to be quit of ye,” he pronounced. “He don’t want nobody ever again to mention ye or yer horse in his presence. He can’t trust himself to look at ye. Not ever. Not ever, do ye hear?”
Agba bent his head. He could understand. He thought of the wheat ear and unconsciously began tracing the swirling hairs on Sham’s chest.
“Look me in the eye, ye blockhead! Take yer fingers off o’ that weed. Listen sharp! All yer nag is fit for is cat’s meat. Yet his lordship says ye’re to saddle him immejate and follow the North Star ’til it brings ye to Upware Inn. Get a-goin’ with that saddle!”
Agba went for the saddle. His hands were shaking as he laid it on Sham’s withers and slid it into place. Sham stretched his neck in Mister Twickerham’s direction, opened wide hismouth, bared his teeth, and let forth a high and mighty neigh.
“Kill-devil!” the groom spat. “Laugh all ye want to now. Ye an’ yer hooded turtle of a boy, and yer cat, too, is going to Wicken Fen. And there, in the dismal swampland, ye’re going to end out yer days.”
Agba felt a chill. The night mist was rising. It reminded him of the dank air of Newgate Jail.
“Shiverin’ in yer timbers, be ye, Agba?” taunted the groom. “Ye
With a mighty cry, Sham tossed his head upward, catching Hobgoblin under the jaw, actually lifting him up on his hind feet. The little horse rained blow upon blow on Hobgoblin, forcing him farther and farther up on his hind legs until finally he fell over backward, thrashing and kicking.
Agba beat his fists together. The great Hobgoblin was down! The massive, heaving, hulking body was grunting in pain and defeat.
A ringing cry of victory burst from Sham. With a rush he sought Lady Roxana. He leaped about her, prancing lightly as if his legs were set on springs. He arched his magnificent neck. He plumed his tail. His eyes were bold, his body wet and shining. Sham, the fleet of foot, the pride of the Sultan’s stables, was on parade before the beautiful Roxana.
Suddenly they were together, touching each other with their noses, talking in excited little nickers. Then, manes and tails in flowing motion, they streaked to the far end of the paddock. It seemed plain to Agba that both Sham and Roxana wanted to be far away from the distasteful, groaning Hobgoblin.
Agba wanted to sing for joy. He longed to talk, to laugh, to cry. His hands flew to his throat helplessly. But it was Roxana whose voice substituted for his own. It was her whinny, high and joyful, that said all he wanted to say.
20. Wicken Fen
A FTER A MOMENT of stunned silence, the Earl of Godolphin led his guests away. Twickerham ran to Hobgoblin, rolled him onto his belly and helped him rise. When the horse was once more in his stall, the groom followed the Earl. He must have orders before he saw Agba.
Agba, meanwhile, had gone back to work to avoid showing his joy. Not until darkness closed in did he realize what he had done. Then the gravity of it struck him. He had acted without orders. He had allowed Sham to fight Hobgoblin. Sham mighthave killed the Earl’s favorite stallion, his star of hope!
The boy swallowed hard. He had hurt the kindliest friend he had ever had. He was ready to take whatever punishment might come.
So it was with no surprise that, as he stood in Sham’s stall, he saw coming toward him the quick, spidery legs of Titus Twickerham. They cast long, frightening shadows because of the lanthorns which the groom held in each hand.
“Agba!” he called out as soon as he was within hearing. “What I has to say can be said over the door.”
There was not the slightest hesitation or stammering in Mister Twickerham’s speech. It was as if he had wound up his words in a ball and now had only to unwind them.
“The Earl wants to be quit of ye,” he pronounced. “He don’t want nobody ever again to mention ye or yer horse in his presence. He can’t trust himself to look at ye. Not ever. Not ever, do ye hear?”
Agba bent his head. He could understand. He thought of the wheat ear and unconsciously began tracing the swirling hairs on Sham’s chest.
“Look me in the eye, ye blockhead! Take yer fingers off o’ that weed. Listen sharp! All yer nag is fit for is cat’s meat. Yet his lordship says ye’re to saddle him immejate and follow the North Star ’til it brings ye to Upware Inn. Get a-goin’ with that saddle!”
Agba went for the saddle. His hands were shaking as he laid it on Sham’s withers and slid it into place. Sham stretched his neck in Mister Twickerham’s direction, opened wide hismouth, bared his teeth, and let forth a high and mighty neigh.
“Kill-devil!” the groom spat. “Laugh all ye want to now. Ye an’ yer hooded turtle of a boy, and yer cat, too, is going to Wicken Fen. And there, in the dismal swampland, ye’re going to end out yer days.”
Agba felt a chill. The night mist was rising. It reminded him of the dank air of Newgate Jail.
“Shiverin’ in yer timbers, be ye, Agba?” taunted the groom. “Ye
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