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IT was nearly noon on the following day when Shasta was wakened by something warm and soft moving over his face. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the long face of a horse; its nose and lips were almost touching his. He remembered the exciting events of the previous night and sat up. But as he did so he groaned.
"Ow, Bree," he gasped."I'm so sore.All over.I can hardly move."
"Good morning, small one," said Bree. "I was afraid you might feel a bit stiff. It can't be the falls. You didn't have more than a dozen or so, and it was all lovely, soft springy turf that must have been almost a pleasure to fall on. And the only one that might have been nasty was broken by that gorse bush. No, it' s the riding itself that comes hard at first. What about breakfast ? I' ve had mine."
"Oh bother breakfast.Bother everything," said Shasta."I tell you I can't move. " But the horse nuzzled at him with its nose and pawed him gently with a hoof till he had to get up. And then he looked about him and saw where they were. Behind them lay a little copse. Before them the turf, dotted with white flowers, sloped down to the brow of a cliff. Far below them, so that the sound of the breaking waves was very faint, lay the sea. Shasta had never seen it from such a height and never seen so much of it before, nor dreamed how many colours it had. On either hand the coast stretched away, headland after headland, and at the points you could see the white foam running up the rocks but making no noise because it was so far off. There were gulls flying overhead and the heat shivered on the ground;it was a blazing day. But what Shasta chiefly noticed was the air. He couldn't think what was missing, until at last he realized that there was no smell of fish in it. For of course, neither in the cottage nor among the nets, had he ever been away from that smell in his life. And this new air was so delicious, and all his old life seemed so far away, that he forgot for a moment about his bruises and his aching muscles and said:
"I say, Bree, didn't you say something about breakfast ?"
"Yes, I did," answered Bree."I think you'll find something in the saddle-bags. They're over there on that tree where you hung them up last night—or early this morning, rather. "
They investigated the saddle-bags and the results were cheering—a meat pasty, only slightly stale, a lump of dried figs and another lump of green cheese,a little flask of wine, and
some money;about forty crescents in all, which was more than Shasta had ever seen.
While Shasta sat down-painfully and cautiously-with his back against a tree and started on the pasty, Bree had a few more mouthfuls of grass to keep him company.
"Won't it be stealing to use the money ?" asked Shasta.
"Oh," said the Horse, looking up with its mouth full of grass,"I never thought of that. A free horse and a talking horse mustn' t steal, of course. But I think it' s all right. We' re prisoners and captives in enemy country. That money is booty, spoil. Besides, how are we to get any food for you without it ? I suppose, like all humans, you won' t eat natural food like grass and oats."
I can t.
"Ever tried ?"
"Yes,I have.I can't get it down at all.You couldn't either if you were me."
"You're rum little creatures, you humans," remarked Bree. When Shasta had finished his breakfast (which was by far the nicest he had ever eaten), Bree said,"I think I 'll have a nice roll before we put on that saddle again."And he proceeded to do so.
"That's good. That's very good," he said, rubbing his back on the turf and waving all four legs in the air."You ought to have one too,Shasta," he snorted."It's most refreshing. "
But Shasta burst out laughing and said,"You do look funny when you're on your back !"
"I look nothing of the sort," said Bree. But then suddenly he rolled round on his side, raised his head and looked hard at Shasta,blowing a little.
"Does it really look funny ?" he asked in an anxious voice.
"Yes, it does," replied Shasta. "But what does it matter ?"
"You don't think, do you," said Bree, " that it might be a thing talking horses never do—a silly, clownish trick I ve learned from the dumb ones ?It would be dreadful to find,when I get back to Narnia, that I' ve picked up a lot of low,bad habits. What do you think, Shasta? Honestly,now.Don't spare my feelings. Should you think the real,free horses—the talking kind—do roll ?"
"How should I know ? Anyway I don't think I should bother about it if I were you. We ve got to get there first. Do you know the way ?"
"I know my way to Tashbaan.After that comes the desert. Oh,we ll manage the desert somehow,never fear. Why, we ll be in sight of the Northern mountains then.Think of it ! To Narnia and the North !Nothing will stop us then.But I d be glad to be past Tashbaan.You and I are safer away from cities."
"Can't we avoid it ?"
"Not without going a long way inland, and that would take us into cultivated land and main roads;and I wouldn t know the way. No, we'll just have to creep along the coast. Up here on the downs we ll meet nothing but sheep and rabbits and gulls and afew shepherds.And by the way, what about starting ?"
Shasta s legs ached terribly as he saddled Bree and climbed into the saddle, but the Horse was kindly to him and went at a soft pace all afternoon. When evening twilight came they dropped by steep tracks into a valley and found a village. Before they got into it Shasta dismounted and entered it on foot to buy a loaf and some onions and radishes. The Horse trotted round by the fields in the dusk and met Shasta at the far side. This became their regular plan every second night.
These were great days for Shasta, and every day better than the last as his muscles hardened and he fell less often. Even at the end of his training Bree still said he sat like a bag of flour in the saddle."And even if it was safe, young' un, I'd be ashamed to be seen with you on the main road."But in spite of his rude words Bree was a patient teacher. No one can teach riding so well as a horse. Shasta learned to trot, to canter, to jump, and to keep his seat even when Bree pulled up suddenly or swung unexpectedly to the left or the right-which, as Bree told him, was a thing you might have to do at any moment in a battle. And then of course Shasta begged to be told of the battles and wars in which Bree had carried the Tarkaan. And Bree would tell of forced marches and the fording of swift rivers, of charges and of fierce fights between cavalry and cavalry when the war horses fought as well as the men, being all fierce stallions, trained to bite and kick, and to rear at the right moment so that the horse s weight as well as the rider s would come down on a enemy s crest in the stroke of sword or battleaxe. But Bree did not want to talk about the wars as often as Shasta wanted to hear about them."Don't speak of them, youngster," he would say."They were only the Tisroc's wars and I fought in them as a slave and a dumb beast. Give me the Narnian wars where I shall fight as a free Horse among my own people ! Those will be wars worth talking about. Narnia and the North ! Bra-ha-ha ! Broo hoo !"
Shasta soon learned,when he heard Bree talking like that, to prepare for a gallop.
After they had travelled on for weeks and weeks past more bays and headlands and rivers and villages than Shasta could remember, there came a moonlit night when they started their journey at evening, having slept during the day. They had left the downs behind them and were crossing a wide plain with a forest about half a mile away on their left. The sea, hidden by low sandhills, was about the same distance on their right. They had jogged along for about an hour, sometimes trotting and sometimes walking, when Bree suddenly stopped. "What's up ?" said Shasta.
"S-s-ssh !" said Bree, craning his neck round and twitching his ears."Did you hear something ? Listen. "
"It sounds like another horse—between us and the wood,"said Shasta after he had listened for about a minute.
"It is another horse," said Bree. " And that's what I don't
like."
"Isn't it probably just a farmer riding home late ?" said
Shasta with a yawn.
"Don't tell me ! " said Bree." That's not a farmer's riding. Nor a farmer' s horse either. Can' t you tell by the sound ? That' s quality,that horse is.And it's being ridden by a real horseman I. tell you what it is,Shasta.There' s a Tarkaan under the edge of that wood.Not on his war horse—it' s too light for that.On a fine blood mare,I should say."
"Well, it's stopped now, whatever it is," said Shasta.
"You're right,"said Bree."And why should he stop just when we do ? Shasta, my boy, I do believe there' s someone shadowing us at last."
"What shall we do ?" said Shasta in a lower whisper than before."Do you think he can see us as well as hear us ?"
"Not in this light so long as we stay quite still," answered Bree."But look ! There's a cloud coming up. I'll wait till that gets over the moon. Then we' ll get off to our right as quietly as we can, down to the shore. We can hide among the sandhills if the worst comes to the worst."
They waited till the cloud covered the moon and then, first at a walking pace and afterwards at a gentle trot, made for the shore.
The cloud was bigger and thicker than it had looked at first and soon the night grew very dark. Just as Shasta was saying to himself,"We must be nearly at those sandhills by now," his heart leaped into his mouth because an appalling noise had suddenly risen up out of the darkness ahead;a long snarling roar, melancholy and utterly savage.Instantly Bree swerved round and began galloping inland again as fast as he could gallop. "What is it ?" gasped Shasta.
"Lions !" said Bree, without checking his pace or turning his head.
After that there was nothing but sheer galloping for some time. At last they splashed across a wide, shallow stream and Bree came to a stop on the far side. Shasta noticed that he was trembling and sweating all over.
"That water may have thrown the brute off our scent," panted Bree when he had partly got his breath again."We can walk for a bit now."
As they walked Bree said, "Shasta,I'm ashamed of myself. I m just as frightened as a common,dumb Calormene horse. I am really.I don t feel like a Talking Horse at all.I don t mind swords and lances and arrows but I can t bear—those creatures. I think I ll trot for a bit."
