Kitabı oku: «The Devil’s Diadem», sayfa 4

‘My Lord Saint-Valery, you are making my young companion blush with your pretty words. Maeb, our lord king likes to keep Sir Ranulph at his court for the beauty of his poetry. You have at your side one of England’s greatest poets. Is that not so, my lord?’

Ranulph made a deprecating gesture with one hand, then half turned aside as a servant made a fuss in the refilling of his wine cup.

The momentary distraction allowed Evelyn to whisper into my ear. ‘Be careful of him, Maeb. A celebrated poet he may be, but he is also one of Edmond’s spies at court. He uses his poetry and sweet tongue to coerce even the most well-kept secret from the tightest lips.’

I squeezed her hand, grateful for the warning.

I wondered if my table companion was mere happenchance, or if Edmond had decided I might be a spy in the employ of the King of Sicily after all.

Saint-Valery and I chatted for a while of Witenie, where I was born and raised. He knew of its market, having attended one day, which knowledge surprised me.

‘You did not see me?’ he said, his mouth curving in a smile. I was a little disturbed to suddenly realise how sensual that mouth was. ‘Choosing among the apples?’

‘No, my lord,’ I said, ‘for I should surely have remembered so distinguished a visitor had I seen you. Perhaps you came disguised? A travelling minstrel perhaps. A vagabond. So that none might recognise you and mark your presence.’

The smile widened a little, although the expression on his face was now speculative rather than amused. ‘You have courage with your words, Mistress Maeb. You are not afraid to tease.’

‘It is the wine,’ I murmured. ‘It goes to my head.’

‘Then I shall press it the more urgently upon you, that I might know you better.’

I was about to reply, but just then the mellow tones of two horns sounded by the door and all conversation stopped as we turned to look.

‘The king,’ Saint-Valery murmured, and with that all assembled at the long tables rose, and either bowed or dipped in courtesy.

Edmond and the Earl of Pengraic and Lady Adelie had entered the hall. Edmond led the way, Lady Adelie on his arm, with the earl a step behind. All were dressed richly, and I thought that Edmond now looked every part the king in his splendid blue tunic with its gold embroideries, fur-lined mantle, jewelled brooch, and heavily jewelled circlet upon his brow. He wore a sword at his left hip, and its hilt looked to me as if it were fashioned from pure gold inlaid with diamonds.

Lady Adelie looked weary, but otherwise sparkled with jewels in the circlet she wore on her head and wound through her braids which hung almost to the floor. The earl likewise wore rich cloth and many jewels, and a sword as well. He and the king were the only men in the hall, apart from the men-at-arms standing against the walls, who wore their weapons, although all of us carried small eating knives at our belts.

Saint-Valery saw me looking at the swords. ‘No one wears their sword in the presence of the king,’ he murmured, ‘save his host.’

I nodded my thanks.

Behind came Walter de Roche, the Earl of Summersete, and Gilbert de Montgomerie, the Earl of Scersberie.

Lord Stephen walked a few steps behind the two earls, looking splendid in a gold and silver tunic, possibly the one I had seen him in that first day I’d met him, and I am afraid my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. I wondered if he would see me from where he ate at high table.

After Stephen came Alice and Emmette and the two boys, Ancel and Robert, with Mistress Yvette a step behind. She was dressed in a manner almost as rich as Lady Adelie, which showed as nothing else the favour in which Lady Adelie held her.

Edmond and Lady Adelie drew close to where Evelyn, Saint-Valery and I stood, and while the countess kept her eyes ahead, the king glanced over.

For a moment he met my eyes, then I dropped mine and sank a little deeper in courtesy.

When I looked up again, the entire party had passed me and had arrived at the high table where they were in the process of seating themselves.

Once the high table had sat, Pengraic, who alone had remained standing, raised his wine cup and led the wassail toast in honour of Edmond.

‘Drinkhail!’ the assemblage responded as we raised our cups and toasted the king. Then we all sat, and the evening’s feasting and entertainment began.

Considering the king, the earl and their respective retinues had only arrived this morning, and with no warning, William the house steward had done his earl and his lady proud. A pig and a yearling ox had been slaughtered and roasted: a half score servants brought in the meat piled high on silver platters. As well as the pork and ox, several swans and a score of rabbits had been roasted and served, and there followed several platters of pigeon and fish in various spiced milks and pottages. And yet more men followed, bearing bowls of stews and vegetables, sauces and soups.

A servant appeared at my elbow, placing a trencher of bread before me, as well as a small plate. The high table was served their food first, then the servants came down the long lines of the table, offering us our choice of meats and their accompanying dishes.

Saint-Valery chose for me, selecting cuts of meats and sauces for my plate and trencher, until I thought that perhaps he was intending to feed me for a week. I protested somewhat weakly at the amount of food he thought I might eat and he inclined his head in acquiescence, and thus we began our feast.

Minstrels came to entertain us with harps and pipes and sweet voices.

I was, I confess it, overawed. Nothing in Lady Adelie’s household had prepared me for a courtly event like this. I stole glances at the high table, watching the king and the nobles eat and drink, laugh and gesture, and offer each other choice pieces of meat as well as other courtesies. I thought Stephen had been well placed, sitting between the earls of Summersete and Scersberie, and I confess I watched him the most and was both delighted and flustered when he saw me, and raised his wine cup in a greeting to me.

I was even more flustered when it became obvious that Saint-Valery had witnessed the exchange.

‘Lord Stephen shines like a young god, does he not,’ Saint-Valery said.

I did not know what to say, and hid my confusion with a sip of wine.

‘It is said that the earl seeks a foreign princess for his eldest son’s wife,’ Saint-Valery added.

‘And Lord Stephen would be worthy of such,’ I murmured, hoping it was the right thing to say.

‘But fear not,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘I am sure that Stephen will not forget you. Most lords take mistresses, and Stephen would treat such a woman well, I think. Perhaps you —’

‘I would not want such a thing!’ I said, hoping I had injected enough righteous indignation into my voice.

‘I was only going to suggest that you might like to attend his wife, as you do now his mother,’ Saint-Valery said, his eyes glinting with humour.

I was angry with him. It was not what he had wanted to suggest at all.

‘The Lady Adelie says she shall find me a gentle husband,’ I said.

‘As I am sure she can,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘A knight such as your father, perhaps … a man of gentle name and rank but with little lands nor any offices to his name. You do not have a large dowry, do you? No, I thought not. Possibly none at all, knowing your father. Virtue is all very well, Mistress Maeb, but not when your “gentle” marriage means you shall need to glean with your peasant womenfolk so you might have bread for your table.’

I could not reply. I was furiously angry with him now, not simply for his ungenerous words and bawdry, but at the fact that he seemed to know my circumstances all too well. He knew of my father and his lack of extensive lordships and coin, but I had not once mentioned it.

Who had been discussing me with Saint-Valery? And why?

‘Maeb,’ Saint-Valery said, ‘I only speak of the ways of the world and of the court. Virtue is all very well, but not when it condemns you to servitude. You are a beautiful woman. You must have seen the eyes that pass your way. And you are spirited, and many a nobleman likes that in a woman. Yet you have no dowry. Not even the care of Lady Adelie could win for you anything but the basest knight. I only wish to open your mind to the possibilities.’

‘I can only hope for the basest knight, my lord? Then surely that puts you well within my reach. Speak to Lady Adelie, and I am yours.’

Saint-Valery stared at me, then roared with laughter. Everyone about us paused to look, and from the corner of my eye I saw those at the high table turn to us as well.

I flamed with colour, and wondered if I should stand, and leave.

‘Maeb,’ Evelyn murmured, ‘just dip your head at the high table, and smile graciously, then return to your meal.’

I did so, almost unable to bear to look at them. Stephen was smiling, Lady Adelie looked a little concerned, Pengraic’s face was a mask of disdain, and, sweet Jesu, the king actually nodded at me and raised his wine cup slightly.

Mistress Yvette merely looked cross.

All I had wanted was to enjoy the evening, and yet now it was tainted.

‘My lord,’ Evelyn said to Saint-Valery. ‘You speak too boldly to Maeb. She is young, and untutored in courtly ways. You accuse her of teasing, and yet you are unmerciful in it. Be wary, I pray you, for both the earl and the countess take good care of her well-being and happiness.’

I admired Evelyn then as never before. She had spoken gently, and yet even so, she had issued Saint-Valery a stern warning. Well might Saint-Valery have the ear and the regard of the king, yet he could ill afford to make an enemy of the earl.

Saint-Valery inclined his head, accepting the rebuke.

‘I beg your forgiveness, Mistress Maeb,’ he said, and the apology in his voice seemed genuine. ‘I have not spoken well, and that was discourteous of me.’

I gave a small nod, accepting his apology, although the unhappiness must have been obvious on my face. For the next few minutes we ate in silence, then the awkwardness was broken when the Earl of Summersete rose — for what reason I do not know — and in the doing bumped into a servant directly behind his chair. The servant was carrying yet another platter of food, and all went flying, servant and earl both, the food spattering in a gravy-laden arc about them.

My mouth twitched, happy to see that even such a nobleman as the earl could make as much a fool of himself as I might, and I heard muffled chortles all about me.

‘I am glad to see you smile again, Maeb,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘Will you forgive me enough to talk with me again?’

I was happy enough to do so, for in my amusement I had put aside all my anger and embarrassment. Thus, as the meal progressed, we chatted of this and that, Saint-Valery pointing out nobles and retainers at the tables and telling me a little of each.

‘Your lord has put on a goodly feast for his king,’ Saint-Valery said as the feast drew toward its final dishes. ‘He has done himself proud in Edmond’s eyes.’

‘And his household had little enough time in which to do so,’ I said. I did not particularly like the earl, from my brief encounters with him, but I was happy enough to bolster the regard of his household.

‘It is all a great flurry,’ Saint-Valery said. ‘One moment we were happy in court at Edmond’s palace at Westminster, the next we are fleeing eastward to Oxeneford, detouring to collect the earl’s family. What can be the matter do you think? It must be dire news.’

I had by this stage had a great amount of the spiced wine to drink, and its headiness had fuzzed my mind.

But not enough to endanger my head by babbling the secrets I had heard that day in the solar.

‘It is terrible news, I have heard, my lord.’

‘Yes?’ he said, leaning a little closer.

Beside me, I felt Evelyn stiffen.

‘Aye,’ I said. ‘I have heard …’ I paused, drawing out the moment, ‘ … I have heard that the very dryads from the woods threaten the king! They rustle their leaves, and the king grows anxious!’

Saint-Valery chuckled. ‘You have done well, Mistress Maeb. No doubt you know I shall be reporting thus to Edmond. I —’

‘Mistress Maeb,’ said the Earl of Pengraic’s voice, and a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. ‘I would speak with you privately if I might.’

My stomach fell away. I looked up at the earl’s face. It was impassive, but I thought I saw anger in his eyes.

Sweet Jesu, what had I done so wrong he needed to single me out like this?

I murmured a politeness to Saint-Valery, then rose and walked after the earl out of the hall.

I could feel the eyes following me as I went.

Pengraic led me to a quiet corner by the staircase, then turned to me.

‘What did Saint-Valery speak with you about?’ he said.

‘We chatted of the court, and he pointed out the nobles to me, and —’

‘Did he ask about the meeting in the solar?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said that the king had learned the dryads in the forests threatened to shake their leaves at him, and thus he fled Westminster.’

Foolishly, I thought he would laugh at my wit as had Saint-Valery.

‘What do you know of the dryads in the woods?’ the earl snapped.

‘I am sorry, my lord,’ I stuttered, ‘I only thought to deflect Saint-Valery’s interest.’

The earl simply stared at me.

‘I am sorry, my lord,’ I repeated, and hung my head. It was aching now from all the excitement and the wine, and all I wanted was to escape everyone and flee back to my chamber.

‘You think too much of yourself, Maeb.’

I bit my lip. I did not know what to say.

He sighed, and I found the courage to look at him again.

The earl’s face had lost all its anger and now only looked tired. I realised that he, as the king and everyone who had arrived with them, had been riding for a full day and night and must be exhausted.

‘Maeb, my lady wife will need all your love and care on your journey to Pengraic. She is not well with this child.’

‘I know, my lord. She shall have it. I care for her greatly.’

He studied me, then gave a small nod. ‘I am very much afraid the world shall be a dark place for many months to come.’

I was feeling ever more uncomfortable, mainly because I had not thought to see the earl this vulnerable — he had always been so proud and strong and terrible to me — and that vulnerability frightened me.

‘Maeb, remember this, and remember it well. Every word spoken is carried by the wind to each corner of this mortal earth, and to the ears of God and the Devil. Remember it.’

‘I will, my lord.’

In my tiredness I could not grasp what he meant, nor could I foretell that my utter failure to remember his words in time to come would make a wreck and a mockery of my entire world.

Just then Evelyn appeared, pausing a few steps away.

The earl nodded to her, then he walked toward the hall.

Before he had gone too far, I called out to him. ‘My lord? I have said nothing to Saint-Valery, nor anyone else. Truly.’

He looked at me a long moment. ‘I know that,’ he said, then he walked off.

I put a hand to my head. ‘Evelyn, I think I need to go to bed. Is it seemly that I leave the feast now?’

She smiled and came close, taking my arm. ‘Yes. No one will take offence. Come now, I have had enough myself, and I think those at high table are making murmurs about their beds, too. Yvette will look after our lady and we will make sure Alice and her sister and the boys find their beds, and then we will sleep.’

Much later I lay in the bed I shared with Evelyn, unable to sleep even though my head throbbed and my limbs ached with weariness. My mind could not stop, revisiting everything I had seen and heard and done this day.

After a while I felt Evelyn’s hand on my arm. ‘You did well today, Maeb. I do not know what you heard in the solar, but if all that wine Saint-Valery pressed on you did not loosen your tongue, then little else but torture will … and I do not think you need worry about that in our company.’

I chuckled. ‘Not even from the earl?’

Evelyn laughed softly. ‘I think he might be too tired, but maybe next week, when he is recovered …’

‘Evelyn … may I ask something of your life?’

‘Of course. I have little to hide.’

‘Are you wed? I was wondering this evening, as we walked into the hall …’

‘And you wondered if I could have my pick of all the men?’ Evelyn laughed again. ‘Maybe so, but I have little interest. Yes, I was wed, but my husband died within a year of our marriage and eventually I took service with my lady. I have a daughter from that marriage, fourteen summers this year.’

‘Truly? Where is she now?’

‘In service to the household of Sir Roger de Tosny at Redmeleie, north of Glowecestre.’

I considered her words — thinking Evelyn would be a good mother and that she must miss her daughter. ‘You do not wish to wed again?’

She took a long time answering, and I wondered if she had fallen asleep or if perchance I had hit on the little she did want to hide.

‘I will tell you this, Maeb, not only because I like you, but also because you will hear of it soon enough from someone else. I was only surprised Saint-Valery did not speak of it to you — but then I suppose he had his reasons to keep silent. I also tell you of this because of the way Edmond looked at you this morning. When you fell from your courtesy … by the Blessed Virgin, Maeb, you did not see him almost fall himself in his rush to aid you!’

She paused. ‘I did long for another man once, and lived for those hours I spent in his arms, but there was no question of marriage. Maeb, I was the king’s lover for one summer. I loved him with every breath I took, but … his whims burn furious and then fade fast. Many others have replaced me in his bed since that summer and my own passion for him has long since died. It was a summer’s fancy only. He looks upon me kindly now, but I swear he has forgot that once he took me to his bed. Now, no, I have little interest in finding myself another husband. I have a secure home with the countess, and after Edmond …’

I was struck dumb. I had not expected this confession.

‘And now he wants you, Maeb. But he will not touch you, not yet. Not while you remain unwed — that is his idea of courtesy.’ She gave a brief, soft laugh. ‘But if ever you do wed, my sweet, and return to court, beware of his interest. He has marked you well. Saint-Valery was at your side this evening for good reason and it had little to do with whether or not you prattled about what you heard in the solar. Edmond wants to know you better, and the only way he can do that for the moment is through Saint-Valery. Even now Saint-Valery will be at the king’s side, whispering quietly in his ear. Be careful, Maeb. Be very, very careful.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next day passed in a blur of activity as the household prepared to leave. I think both the earl (indeed, all three of them) and the king were greatly impatient with this necessary delay, but they bore it well, and spent the best part of the day out hunting for venison with many of their entourage, including Stephen and Saint-Valery. I spent my time between the children’s chamber and the solar, at one moment helping Evelyn and the nurse pack for the children (and keeping the younger ones from under everyone else’s feet), at the next hurrying to Mistress Yvette’s impatient call that I aid her and the countess. In other parts of the house, servants packed plate and linens, barrels of wine and salted meats, tapestries and hangings.

I had not realised so much of the earl’s house travelled back and forth between Pengraic Castle and Rosseley.

‘Normally,’ Evelyn remarked to me at one point during the day, ‘much of the household would be sent on ahead of the earl and his family, to be waiting for them at the castle. But now …’ She shrugged, and moved back to folding linens and ribbons.

I was glad to be so busy with the packing, and running this way and that.

My mind continued to spin with all that had happened yesterday. I had met a king, and sat in on a privy meeting between him and three of his highest nobles. I had heard of great terror approaching, and yet could speak of it to no one. I had attended a great feast of court and had the king’s own man sit next to me.

I had caught a king’s eye.

As had, once, Evelyn.

I found it difficult to reconcile all of this, and what it might mean for my future. Of everything to be afraid of, it was Edmond’s interest which truly unsettled me. His interest would be a passing fancy, little else, and yet it might well ruin my life. I would be discarded as had Evelyn, and as had many others. My only security in life at present was my place within the Pengraic household. There was nothing else. My only future security would be a good marriage to a man with enough estates to ensure I would not lack, through any circumstance. Without that marriage I was truly most vulnerable.

Yet such a marriage rested only on Pengraic’s tenuous goodwill, for I had no dowry to attract interest. I could do nothing to threaten that goodwill if I wanted any future security in life. Pengraic had warned me against his son Stephen. What did he think now, knowing of the king’s interest? That I had deliberately aimed my ambitions higher than Stephen?

I worried and fretted all through the day. News of the plague slipped into the dim recesses of my mind. It was Edmond’s interest that represented my most immediate threat.

Despite what Lady Adelie had said about Pengraic, I could not wait to reach the castle within the Welsh Marches.

The king would be far distant then, and I could relax.

We would be leaving very early the next morning. Lady Adelie had said to me that the first two days would be hard riding, but then, having left behind the king and Pengraic with the greater part of their retinues at Oxeneford, we could travel in more leisurely a fashion to our destination. It was late in the night, and Evelyn and I were readying ourselves for sleep (there had been no feast tonight; merely grabbed food from a platter a servant had brought round), when Evelyn turned abruptly to reach for a shoe she had left to one side of the stool.

Suddenly she cried out in pain, both hands reaching for her back.

‘Evelyn! What has happened?’

She was white and biting her lips. ‘I have wrenched my back, Maeb. Oh, such stupidity! Why could I not have been more careful? And tomorrow we must travel. With this!’

I helped her to bed, Evelyn again crying out with pain as she lowered herself down. I wrapped a shawl about my chemise, and went down to the kitchens to get her a warm poultice for her back.

When finally I, too, went to bed, I cuddled up close to Evelyn, desperately tired, but not able to sleep. I wished for those long, calm, bright days of my early days at Rosseley, and wondered if they would ever come again.

We rose early the next day. Well, I rose, but Evelyn managed to get to her feet only with the most heartbreaking cries of pain. Her back was seized and swollen and every movement hurt. After I helped her to dress I left her sitting mournfully in the children’s chamber, watching as the nurse and Alice and Emmett managed to dress the children.

I went to aid Mistress Yvette get the countess ready. She was up, already in her linen chemise with Mistress Yvette helping her into her kirtle. The earl was with her, too, and I gave him a brief glance and quick dip of courtesy as I passed.

I could not look at his face.

‘Where is Evelyn?’ said the countess.

‘She wrenched her back badly last night, my lady. Forgive her not attending you this morning. She is in great pain.’

‘Oh, poor Evelyn!’ Lady Adelie said. ‘My lord, she will need to join me in my travelling cart. She cannot ride.’

Pengraic belted his tunic, then reached for his sword belt. ‘Your cart is already overladen, madam. The nurse and the two younger children will need space by your side, as will Mistress Yvette, who wobbles off any horse that goes beyond a walk.’

I kept my face downcast, amused by the mental image of Mistress Yvette ‘wobbling’ off her horse.

‘Now we must pack Evelyn in there some place.’ The earl paused. ‘Mistress Maeb, please tell me you do not require space atop the cart as well. The lighter it keeps, the faster it shall travel.’

‘I can ride well enough, my lord,’ I said, finally looking at him. He looked tired and irritated, but I think that was so much his normal expression I thought little enough of it.

‘By what do you mean “well enough”?’ he said.

‘I learned to ride on my father’s courser,’ I said. ‘The horse was old, but still of uncertain temper. Few managed him — my father and I alone.’

The earl stared, then gave a nod. ‘Well, we shall see. The saints alone know what horses are available. I will need to speak to Ludo. Madam,’ he continued, his attention now given back to his wife, ‘I will break my fast below. I need to oversee preparations. Be ready soon. It will be a long day’s journeying for us, and I cannot wait on your prayers.’

‘My lord,’ Lady Adelie said, and the earl left the solar.

She sighed, and turned back to Mistress Yvette. ‘Fetch me some bread and cheese, Yvette, and a mug of small beer. We can pray well enough when we are lurching along the road, and I do not wish to keep my lord awaiting. Maeb, how do the children?’

By the time I returned to the children’s chamber, they had all vanished to the courtyard below, and only the nurse remained, gathering a few last items.

‘Evelyn is waiting in the cart below,’ she said. ‘One of the servants carried her down the stairs. Fetch whatever you need, Maeb, and join us below.’

Suppressing a flare of excitement in my belly, I went to the small chamber Evelyn and I had shared, wrapped my mantle about my shoulders, picked up my bag of possessions and hurried down the stairs.

The courtyard was a mass of movement, cantankerous voices, nervous hooves slipping across cobbles and the excited barking of dogs. The larger part of the entourage that the king and the earls had brought with them was waiting on the road beyond, but the courtyard space was still crowded enough with men and carts and horses.

I stood undecided, not knowing what to do or where to turn, when the earl, who had been speaking to Ludo, his Master of Horse, turned and saw me. He said something to Ludo, and the man hurried over to me.

‘Saints save me, girl,’ Ludo said, his creased face even more deeply lined than usual on this morning, ‘I pray you spoke truth when you said you could manage a horse. Here, man, take this bag and set it into one of the carts — into that of my lady’s, if there be any room left.’

A groom appeared beside me, and I relinquished my bag.

‘This is the one mount I have available that might be suitable for you,’ Ludo continued, ‘and I value her too highly to allow her to be wasted on a doltish rider.’

There was a clatter of hooves, and another groom led over a lovely grey mare, all fine boned and dark eyed and flagged of tail. She was a palfrey, and thus an expensive horse — of far more worth than my father’s courser had been.

I felt the first needle of worry. What if I allowed her to run away from me and she foundered in a ditch?

‘I need to see you ride her first,’ said Ludo. ‘If I am not satisfied, you will need to walk behind the carts, unless a place is found for you within them. Come, we will go to the orchard. There is space there for me to see you ride Dulcette, yet fence enough to stop the mare should she bolt.’

He led Dulcette to a mounting block. I walked over, trying not to notice that the earl was now standing, arms folded, watching, and mounted with Ludo’s help. Once I had settled my skirts and rested my feet in the stirrups, Ludo let me take up the reins, and, my heart in my mouth, I gave Dulcette’s flanks a little press with my legs.

She responded immediately. She had spirit and I knew at once that she was unnerved by this new rider upon her and that all she wanted was to dash. I held the reins firmly, and guided her through the mass of people and horses toward the orchard.

The mare’s ears kept flicking back toward me, and I could literally feel her trying to decide if she liked me or not — her muscles were bunched tight under the saddle.

I did not care if she liked me. All I asked was for her to respect me enough to obey me.

We reached the orchard and some space and quiet. My heart thudding, I gave Dulcette another press with my legs and clicked my tongue. She tried instantly to run away with me, as I had thought she would, but I pulled her back and spoke disapprovingly to her, warning her with my voice.

She responded, praise the saints, her ears twitching faster than a march fly, and I allowed myself to relax a little. I kept her to a hard walk until we reached the farthest reaches of the orchard, then I turned her back, and gave her a little more rein.

I had thought she might break into a trot or even a canter, but instead Dulcette did something remarkable, something I had never before felt while riding.

She broke into a fast-paced gait that was neither trot nor canter, but which was unbelievably smooth.

She ambled!

I had only ever seen a horse do it once before — the knight who had passed by our village had been riding a horse that ambled, and then I had watched in fascination at its fluid, effortless gait. An ambler was most highly regarded, for in this gait it could cross ground more speedily and with far less effort than could a horse that only progressed at a trot or canter. Amblers could go further and faster than most other horses.