Highway Robbery (4 page)

‘You don’t often see that,’ Wrenbeard said. ‘Most horses keep their nostrils clear.’

‘Sign of a great heart,’ said Haystack.

‘Is it?’ I said.

‘So they say,’ said Haystack.

‘So they say,’ said his friend.

They were completely besotted with her, sir, and very reluctant to move on. Haystack fetched a second bucket of water and Wrenbeard fed her carrots with the tops on and a handful of the oats they had brought for their own mare, though it didn’t please her one bit and they had to give her some too. I wanted to keep those two fellows with me for ever. They were big and strong and gentle, and they
carried their slow, country ways with them wherever they went. Even when another cart came along behind them, they were in no hurry to leave, and it wasn’t until the other driver got impatient and began to call them bad names that they eventually took their leave of the mare and me, and picked up their cudgels and went on their way.

I MISSED THEM
when they had gone and so did the mare. I swear it, sir. She whinnied after them, and it was the only time during the whole day that she made any kind of sound or took any kind of notice of anyone. But there was someone else who was only too pleased to see the back of those country men. Old Toothless. When I saw him coming back, I had a feeling that he’d been there for a while, waiting for them to move off, hiding down one of those dark little alleys like the gutter rat he was. This time he had someone with him: a stout man in a waistcoat and a pair of very muddy riding breeches. You might think his attire marked him as a gentleman, sir, but I assure you he wasn’t. He might have been better dressed, but he was made of the same stuff as Toothless, without a doubt.

And like Toothless had done, he never looked at me at all, but walked around the mare and examined her from every angle you can imagine. And when he’d done that, he strode up to her head, and without any warning or by-your-leave he pulled open her lips to look at her teeth. She didn’t like that, sir, not one bit. She threw up her head and backed away into the road, and since I wasn’t about to let go of her, she dragged me with her through the mud and the gardyloo.

I protested, sir. I asked them what they meant by assaulting my master’s horse in such a way and told them to take themselves off, though not in such polite terms as that.

‘Who is this master of yours, then?’ the man in the waistcoat asked me. ‘And why has he abandoned his horse in the middle of a pigsty?’

‘He hasn’t abandoned her,’ I said. ‘He has left her in my keeping. He’s sure to return very shortly, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave well alone, because if he were to catch you gawping into her mouth, he wouldn’t take kindly to it.’

‘But he can’t think much of her, can he?’ he said. ‘To leave such a fine animal
standing in a muck sweat with nothing but a guttersnipe to care for her?’

‘I won’t have you calling me a guttersnipe!’ I said.

This sent both the men into gales of laughter, and while they were occupied with that I led the mare back to the side of the street. She followed me like a lamb and I rubbed her nose for her so she would know I was pleased.

‘I like this lad,’ said Muddybreeches. ‘Shall we let him in for a share?’

I don’t think Toothless cared much for that idea, but he made no objection and the other one told me his plan.

‘I buy and sell a great many horses, and I prefer my dealings to be above board. So I propose to give you thirty shillings for this mare.’

‘Thirty shillings!’ Toothless spat, but Breeches ignored him and continued like this:

‘That way you won’t go home to your gutter empty-handed, and I can say I
bought the horse fair and square. I shall get perhaps seven guineas for her and my friend here will get a share for bringing the matter to my attention. So what do you think of that for an arrangement?’

Thirty shillings was tempting. It was, after all, a full nine shillings more than the guinea I had been promised. And it was all the more tempting when I saw the coin purse come out and heard the very fine jingling sound it made.

‘He’ll never find you again, lad,’ said Toothless. ‘Runt of a thing like you can lose yourself easily enough in a big city like this.’

I looked around the street and became aware of a new danger. The two carts had disappeared, leaving deep muddy troughs in their wake. The pigs were already in there, digging in the bottoms with their filthy snouts, but there were no people to be seen anywhere. What was to stop these two crooks from taking the horse anyway and leaving me with nothing? How could I stop them, after all? And that fine gentleman wasn’t going to give me no guinea for losing his horse, was he? But still I couldn’t agree to it. I was all
puffed up and full of my own virtue, after what those two farmers had said about me. Besides, I hadn’t forgotten about that smart lad, who was probably waiting round the corner. I was resolved not to give up that horse without a fight.

‘I won’t let you have her,’ I said. ‘Not for thirty shillings and not if you were to offer me thirty guineas.’

I tightened my grip on the reins, gritted my teeth and got ready for the blows that I was certain would come next. But yet again the heavens smiled upon me. For the second time that day I felt thunder coming up through my feet, then heard the clatter of hooves approaching along the road, then the jingle of bridles, the delighted calls of
a young child round the corner, the squawk of a chicken that moved too slowly. Then they came thundering into view: a dozen of the king’s soldiers in all their finery. They didn’t come as fast as the gentleman on his black horse had done, but it was clear that they had been riding hard because their horses were lathered with sweat and there was so much steam rising from them that it looked as if the soldiers had brought their own cloud along with them, in case they needed rain.

I pulled the mare closer in towards the houses at the side of the street, to give the soldiers more room to pass by, and as I did so, I noticed that Toothless and Muddybreeks had vanished just
as silently as they had first appeared. I confess I wished that I could vanish so easily because, as I’m sure you know, sir, street beggars and soldiers do not make natural allies. But I couldn’t vanish and I couldn’t prevent them from noticing me, either. Although they had the whole road to themselves now, they did not pass by. They stopped, all of them, and stood in a horseshoe around me, for all the world like a bristling scarlet fence.