Читать книгу: «Swan and Dragon. Dragon Empire», страница 3

SINGER OF THE WIND

Rose looked around in amazement. Everything disappeared somewhere. There were no more intricate chateau cornices, no ornate facades, and no huge gardens. Instead of taking his captive to the roof, the gloomy villain took her to another space. It was a cleft between two worlds.

Behind the girl’s back were kingdoms, principalities and empires inhabited by people, and in front of them towered blue rocks, blocking mortals from entering the forbidden world.

Blue smoke snaked around the rocks, enveloped the abyss, almost touched the bubbling foam of the river. An aqueduct was thrown across it. A string of patterned, sturdy supports held his stone platform.

The blue rock ahead was shaped like a bastion erected by a shadow architect. Below, the river seethed and twisted in foamy waves around the pillars of the aqueduct, but could not reach the desired height. Rose looked down and felt dizzy. There, as in the palm of your hand, lay the ribbon of the river, entwining the whole country of sorcerers. It was not even a country, but a rocky island, fenced off by a fast, icy current. People called this river Silver because in the darkness its smooth surface shone with silver. It was impossible to wade or swim. It was enough to plunge into the water with just one foot, and it pulled the person like a funnel. Then the body melted into a frothy, liquid silver.

Where its water basins narrowed, arched bridges were thrown, but they were far from safe. Even the halo around the moon here took on an ominous red color.

Having dragged the girl across the bridge, the hunchback pulled out a copper cane from under his cloak, hit it on a flat rock, and immediately a crack formed in the smooth surface. She crawled up, then to the side, drawing some kind of triangular pattern. This drawing turned out to be a door. Someone opened it from the inside. Giant ugly hands grabbed Rose like a toy and threw her into the darkness. The door in the rock closed with a screech, leaving no slit for light.

The princess did not know how long she had to lie face down on the cold floor. But suddenly a torch flashed in the darkness. The flames whipped out dirty, iron bars and padlocks. Some figures moved next to them like shadows, smoothly and silently. Hands, unlike human hands, hugged iron bars. The rustle of long robes was heard.

Several more torches joined the first. They seemed to move through the air by themselves. One of them flew up to Rose’s face. There was no heat coming from it, and the wooden handle was free of any support.

Rose recoiled, and the torch flew past her, illuminating the slippery, slab of floor. Two pairs of hands grabbed Rose by the elbows, forced her to her feet and quickly dragged her along. Rosa made out figures in long robes, their heads hidden by masks with bird beaks.

A torch flew ahead and illuminated the gloomy corridors. From time to time he stopped and drew fire signs right in the air. Rose did not understand their meaning, but the figures in masks read the fiery letters in a whisper, and they immediately extinguished, leaving behind streaks of black smoke.

This hellish corridor will never end, the princess thought. “I will stay here underground and never see the sun again. I am a hostage, I am a victim of betrayal. Thoughts swarmed in her head. Assumptions, one more terrible than the other, hit the brain. The road into darkness had no end. I wanted to forget and fall asleep, but two gloomy guards dragged the captive forward, not allowing her to linger for a moment.

Rose was tired and weak, her eyelids were heavy and sticky, but it was impossible to sleep. Ahead, she saw massive, cast-iron doors covered with intricate ornamentation and bordered by an arc of glowing rot.

“What kind of place is it? What’s waiting for me outside the door?” Rose thought as she walked. Before she had time to cry out or whisper the saving word of prayer, steel hands pushed her into a spacious room that closed in a ring. It was a courtroom.

Wooden stands rose in rows one above the other. Above, under the very dome of the ceiling, there are several latticed windows. This means that Rose was no longer underground or in the rock, but in the very heart of the island of sorcerers.

In the middle of the courtroom was a low, iron stool. The figures who dragged her by force forced the princess on it, and they themselves stood behind her.

All around were people in long robes and cocked hats, motionless and speechless. Each of them seemed to be rooted in its place behind the wooden platform. Fierce eyes looked from pale, haggard faces. Spider fingers fiddled with yellowed parchment scrolls or simply tapped drum rolls on the table top.

Oil lamps filled the room with dim, orange light. The judge’s desk remained free, and the defendant was already sitting in her place. Rose looked around in horror.

Dozens of vile, embittered pairs of eyes stared at her. The size of the hall was overwhelming and oppressive. Here, the fragile figure of the princess in a golden dress seemed tiny. Disheveled hair covered her wounded shoulders. Suddenly a bright beam of light fell on her face. Rose perked up. There were shuffling steps behind her. She saw the crowned hunchback take the place of the judge on the platform. Its heavy, gnarled shadow covered Rose. An angry gaze rested on her face.

“Let’s start!” said the hunchback. His voice sounded like a thunderclap in the deathly silence.

At that moment, the cone-shaped window under the ceiling swung open and an eagle flew into it, flapping its wings. The window sash slammed shut. The bird sat down on an empty chair and screeched. Proudly folded behind the back, the wings no longer concealed the scarlet seam on the eagle’s chest. Rose recognized the trail from her own bullet and was dumbfounded. What was happening was like a nightmare. The bird’s wings began to grow and stretch. The beak was getting smaller. Feathers thickened, turning into black clothes. And now it was no longer an eagle, but another silent jury bore Rose with his angry eyes.

“Do you all recognize the convict?” The judge asked loudly, and many heads in black cocked hats nodded affirmatively.

“What can you say in your defense?” The hunchback’s menacing, accusing voice rang out again.

Rose involuntarily shuddered. A vibe of hatred and contempt emanated from everyone who judged her. They wanted to see someone else in the place of the accused, but at the whim of a mock-fate she found herself here.

The girl tried to mobilize all her courage.

“You are mistaken!” She said. Her own voice seemed weak and strange to her. “I’m not who you want.”

“Who are you?” The hunchback laughed deeply and disgustingly. “What are the names of your parents?”

“My father is King Christian, and my mother is Queen Odile,” Rose said. She wanted to add something else, but her tongue did not obey her.

Hearing her words, the hunchback jumped up from his bench, leaned over the podium and croaked:

“It’ a lie!

He flung down the judge’s gavel, rummaged through the papers heaped on the table, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with torn edges.

“You knew what fate awaited you,” he said, turning to Rose, “your lies will not soften the sentence.”

“Bring her closer!” ordered the judge.

The guards immediately grabbed Rose by the elbows and dragged her to the dais. The hunchback took out a quill from an inkwell and wrote a few more lines at the bottom of the torn sheet. Then he put it down and laid a long, heavy hand on Rosa’s shoulder.

The princess knew that now he was preparing to perform some ancient, witchcraft rite. She wanted to break free, but the guards held her tightly, not even allowing her to move.

“For a long time I have chosen punishment for you from the list of permissible, but none of them will pay off the sins you have committed,” the judge spoke again in a sparkling crown. “By agreement of our council, I have the right to resort to the hitherto forbidden punishment. The execution is canceled. Instead, I put the Swan Curse on you.”

Rose stared at him in disbelief. She didn’t understand anything. A triumphant guffaw echoed through the hall. Rose managed to turn around, but did not see a single juror. All the places were empty, only a screaming flock of gyrfalcons, hawks and other birds flew through the opened doors and disappeared into the pitch darkness.

“Let them fly away!” The hunchback grunted imperiously. “The ritual must be performed without unnecessary witnesses.”

He stared at his captive and began to whisper quietly some incomprehensible, meaningless words for a common man. The hypnosis emanated from him with a dark, strong thread and twisted around Rose. Rose looked into the burning eyes of the wizard, and it seemed to her that she was standing on the edge of a raging, fiery abyss. The princess was seized with a fever. Fainting approached her like a stranger wrapped in a dark cloak.

The hunchback drew a sharp, instructed dagger from his belt and cut one strand of hair from Rose’s head. A strand of black snake curled around the sharpened blade before the sorcerer lowered the dagger into a bowl filled with hissing, silvery liquid. Upon contact with the strand and metal, it immediately turned into a deep, black color.

Rosa watched the sorcerer’s actions in fascination. His words and gestures were incomprehensible to her. Here he covers the bowl with a piece of purple satin with bird heads embroidered on it. Then he pulls out a box filled with shimmering, silver pollen.

The girl made another desperate attempt to escape, but it was too late. The sorcerer poured the contents of the ominous box directly onto Rose’s head. Sugar dust covered her face. Thorny grains fell on the dress, tangled in her hair. Nausea rose in her throat. The eyes grew dim. A sharp pain shot through her left arm, as if someone had slashed a knife across the wrist.

At that moment, the guards released their prisoner. Loud laughter echoed through the gloomy void. Rose held out her hand. It was no longer a hand. The fingers extended into long swan feathers, the wrist extended to the size of a bird’s wing. Dizziness close to fainting did not allow horror to take over the mind during the transformation. The girl disappeared, instead of her a beautiful, black swan circled under the ceiling, trying to break free from the stuffy dungeon. The windows and doors were closed. The bird in vain rushed from corner to corner in search of a way out.

“And you will be a swan until the end of the century,” the end of the spell sounded gloating and solemn.

The hunchback removed all the ritual accessories. He reread the contract for the last time and hid it in a drawer. The swan, beating in despair against the glass of the high window, brought a smug smile to his face.

Meanwhile, sparkling feathers fell from the black wings. The swan slowly descended. The plumage disappeared, but the eye could not see the entire sequence of transformations.

The sorcerer stared doubtfully at the strange scene before him. Had he misread the spell? The condemned woman was supposed to become a bird forever, but a few minutes passed and she lost her swan appearance. On the floor, barely breathing, lay no longer a bird, but the old beauty in gold.

Rose propped herself up on her elbows. Her whole body ached after the transformation. The heart beat a frantic rhythm. The arms, which had been wings a moment ago, ached and bled. Overcoming the pain, the girl got to her feet. Bending under the weight of his hump, the sorcerer rushed towards her. Something flashed in his hand like a purple star. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze thundered with rage.

In the blink of an eye, he grabbed the victim’s wrist, preventing her from moving her hand and put a ring with a huge amethyst on her thin finger. Cold metal gripped the finger, almost burnt into the skin. Rose tried to remove the ring, but it seemed to adhere to her hand.

Meanwhile, the doors of the hall opened, releasing the head of the gloomy congregation and his servants, and slammed again. Wandering lights danced on the walls. Rose was left alone, among the empty benches and stands. Dark evil dwelt here. A quiet, barely audible whisper came from the silence.

“Let the dragon come for you!” someone whispered very close. Rose looked at her hand and realized in horror that the voice was coming from the glowing stone on the ring. All its facets shimmered, and in the dull violet depth a pale, tiny face flashed and disappeared.

The silence echoed with a hellish roar. It seemed to Rose that all the sunlight was concentrated behind a huge high window and eclipsed the night stars. But the sun couldn’t shine so brightly. It was not a fiery disk that lit up the skies, but a majestic, huge silhouette of a winged dragon, like magic, that appeared in the distance. The dragon was approaching. Fire burst from its mouth.

Rose couldn’t believe she was seeing him. Here he is, the heavenly ruler, the kidnapper of young virgins. From his roar the earth cracked and the heavenly heights tore apart. The rumble made Rosea bleed from her ears. The dragon’s fiery breath scorched the air. The walls were hot from the heat. It seemed to Rose that she was in hell.

Metal wings flapped continuously, and the girl thought that it was a hammer knocking on an anvil. An intolerable golden glow dazzled the eyes. A clawed paw scratched the glass on the window. But the dragon is too big for such a narrow opening. He can’t get in here. Rose began to faint. The ring squeezed her finger even tighter.

For a moment there was a saving silence, then a strong blow followed. The window and part of the wall shattered from his force. A waterfall of chips and stones gushed down. A powerful gust of wind tore at the girl’s hair. She lifted her head to meet the stern, flickering gaze of the dragon flying towards her.

Golden wings whistled through the air and caught the wind. These sounds were like a song.

Strong paws with long claws grabbed Rosa and easily, like a feather, tore her off the floor. A moment later, the dragon with its prey was already hovering high in the sky.

The island was left far behind, the Silver River from the height of the clouds seemed like a narrow, trembling thread, and the villages were scattered on the ground in cubes. Nothing could slow down the frantic flight in the sky. The dragon soared even higher, not releasing its prey from its claws.

Gusts of icy wind whipped Rose across the face. The earth was already out of sight. The cold light of the stars reflected in the dragon scales.

An arrow dropped from a bowstring does not fly as fast as this glittering monster. The dragon raced forward, flapping golden wings incessantly. The whistling wind enveloped them. Then he slowed down and began to descend, slowly and smoothly. Rose saw the land, like one airy snowball.

The dragon sank even lower, so that the sloping roofs of the village houses became visible. Residents poured out into the street and pointed their hands up. Some were shouting something, others rushed into the loose. Flakes of snow swirled in the icy air, blocking the look of fear on their faces.

The dragon sank very low and suddenly breathed fire. Rose covered her face with her free hand. The heat from the fire scorched her cheeks, but the flame itself did not touch her. But the roofs of the houses flared up like dry rods. Orange sparks spread to the fragile, thatched roofs of barns and dovecotes.

The peasants fled, but the flame overtook them like a living creature, hissed and grabbed at their clothes. The dragon turned sharply and erupted from his mouth another column of fire.

Rose was numb with fear. What will happen to her? Will the dragon throw her into this huge fire and fly away? But he did not even think about releasing his captive. Golden wings flapped gracefully and the dragon flew towards the forest, blackened in the distance. Rose gripped a polished, smooth claw larger than hers with a hand. She was afraid to fall and break, afraid to turn around and see the village engulfed in tongues of poisonous flame.

A round dance of patterned snowflakes circled outside the window. Hungry wolves howled in the thicket. The trees stood in a ghostly line. Their trunks were buried in the snow.

The small hut was warm and cozy. Smoke poured from the chimney. A fire crackled in the stove. The aroma of delicious food was in the air.

Rose woke up, and slowly her eyes began to get used to the semi-darkness. She lay on a round bunk, shaped like a deep-bottomed bowl. It looked like a fairy crib made from a nutshell. Rose warmed up and calmed down. There are only vague memories of the fear experienced.

Someone covered her with a soft blanket and put a pillow under her head. For a long time no one cared about her like that. The Queen would rather scold her than help her.

Rose tried to get a better look at the meager furnishings of the hut. She noticed the skin of a dead bear on the floor, a crudely hammered table and a couple of chairs.

A graceful, strong hand placed the lantern on the table. Rose closed her eyes against the blinding light. When she opened her eyes, she saw a beautiful, white face bending over her. For a moment she thought she was seeing an angel.

“Everything will be fine, dear girl,” came a quiet, male voice. “No one will offend you here.”

Rose could not take her eyes off the innocent, youthful face, from the cold, blue eyes. After all, the eyes are the mirror of the soul. And in those sad eyes, she noticed a strange reflection, a mystery hanging over them.

She wanted to ask the stranger who he was. She had seen him before in some kind of ghostly, terrible dream, and now he was there. A phosphoric glow seemed to emanate from his face. A pair of curls fell over his smooth forehead. Oh yes, those curls. They are so reminiscent of… Rose tried to shake off the unpleasant sensation, but could not. The obvious cannot be denied. This young man has hair exactly the same color as dragon scales. Even in the dark, they shine with pure gold.

“Am I sleeping?” Rose asked.

He shook his head silently. The wolf howl outside the window now resembled a lullaby. A faint, wavering light fell like a filamentous veil on the walls.

The golden-haired youth walked for a second to the stove, poked the ash with a poker, and then returned back to Rose. He thrust a pewter mug of steaming drink into her hands.

Rose took a sip. The hot liquid burned her throat, and a pleasant warmth spilled over her body. The aroma of roasted meat spread through the hut and made her feel hungry.

The snowstorm outside the window was getting worse. The wind howled monotonously. Singing, inhuman voices sounded in time with him in the trumpets.

“Winter!” Rose whispered. “Winter has already come!”

Only now she woke up from dreams and began to really look at the world. But what was the use of looking for reality in a world that in an instant acquired a fabulous gloss. In this transformed universe, anything could happen.

“What month is it now?” The princess asked.

“January,” came the reply.

“How long did I stay in the courtroom?”

“For the uninitiated, the days there fly like minutes. Sorcerers prefer violent entertainment. A child who has been imprisoned for six months is released as an old man. For a number of reasons, the entrance to the island is closed to ordinary people. In addition, very often sorcerers themselves cannot keep track of the passage of time in their possessions. They are lucky because they are immortal.”

The young man looked straight at Rose and smiled his cold, charming smile. Judging by his clothes, he was a nobleman. The blue camisole embroidered with gray pearls further emphasized the whiteness of the skin. And a sword with a silver hilt fastened to a sling indicated an aristocratic origin. According to the law, only titled persons and their eldest sons had the right to carry such weapons. Rose studied the chiseled profile of the young man for a long time before she decided to ask:

“Who are you?”

“Don’t you remember me?” He wondered. “Oh yes! I completely forgot. I’m branded now.”

He stressed the last word. The voice now rang with heartache. The right hand clenched into a fist in impotent rage and fell against the wall. From such a blow, the plaster crumbled, leaving a dent in the wall.

“I don’t remember anything other than a frantic flight in the sky and a flaming village,” Rose almost shouted.

With the sounds of her melodious voice, the old calmness returned to the young man. Only a rebellious fire lurked in his eyes.

“I didn’t want to submit to fate,” he said apologetically. “Everyone has their own fate in life. My mentors decided everything for me.”

“What are you talking about?” Rose interrupted him. “You also fell victim to the dragon?”

“Dragon?” he looked at her with such amazement, as if he had heard the name for the first time. For a moment, Rose thought that a black winged shadow flashed through his clear blue eyes.

A frightening silence hung in the room. Without support, the fire in the furnace went out. The coals were smoldering. One could hear the winter wind moaning and raging in the chimney.

“I am afraid,” Rose said under her breath.

The mysterious friend immediately hurried to her, took the empty mug and covered the princess with a blanket better.

“You need to eat and sleep,” he said, “and tomorrow we’ll decide what to do next.”

“Do you know what happened to me?” Rose ventured to ask.

He nodded in the affirmative.

“Do you also know the hunchback in the crown?” she immediately asked the second question.

“This is the leader of all who live on the island. When the darkest of the court sorcerers were driven out for their cruelty, he gathered them all under his banner. The hunchback rescued even the most dangerous sorcerers, sentenced to a fierce execution, so that they would serve him. He wanted to acquire such power and greatness that no master of shadows had. The closed island, shrouded in darkness, has become the refuge of all magicians who are ready to worship shadow and evil.”

Rose noticed that the narrator clearly knew more than he said aloud. If only she could read his thoughts, unlock the heavy locks and remove the fetters from the secret that enveloped this golden-haired head.

The food was surprisingly tasty. After the meal, Rose was drawn to sleep again. While she fell asleep, a gentle multi-string voice still sounded in the darkness, enveloping her in enchantment. She wanted to raise her leaden-filled eyelids and once again take a look at the stately aristocrat, who, like a statue, sat by the cooled stove and looked at the black ash as if it was reviving in his memory a long-gone pain and thirst for revenge.

The night is over. A cold dawn broke. Rose woke up and looked around the empty hut. The mysterious aristocrat is already gone. Without it, the meager interior seemed even more squalid. Only something sparkled on the table. The girl jumped up from the bunk and ran to the table. There was a wallet full of coins, and a short note that she could take the money for herself.

So the golden-haired youth was not just a dream or a spirit. This is evidenced by a piece of paper covered with even beaded handwriting and a purse with money.

She can’t go back to Mara. And in her native kingdom, the war has already begun. Rose did not know where to go. Plus, she was afraid of the dragon’s wrath. What if he goes after her? She didn’t even know who snatched her from his claws. Or maybe the dragon himself left her to die in the winter forest, and the young nobleman found her and brought her to the hut.

There was something strange and mystical about this beautiful young man. Since he knew all the ins and outs of sorcerers, it means that he himself knew how to conjure. If you believe the legends, then some mortals are related to elves, fairies or even dragons. After all, he could be one of them and scare the monster with his charms or use family ties.

The small hut was most likely intended for a gamekeeper. But whose forests are these? Where to find a guide who will lead her out of the thicket. As soon as Rose thought about it, the glass in the window snapped. Someone’s jaws snapped. Is there a wolf wandering around the hut? However, instead of a wolf’s face, a luminous face with two amethyst eyes peeped into the low window. Rose immediately recognized her familiar snake. He found her again.

The door opened by itself, as if someone had opened it from the outside. The snake’s tail, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow, slid over the threshold, lifted itself off the floor and waved gracefully, as if beckoning.

The princess wanted to take a blanket with her, but honesty did not allow this. It’s enough that the stranger left her a purse full of gold. You also can’t stay in someone else’s hut for the whole winter. Rose mentally said goodbye to her mysterious companion and ran out into the frosty morning.

The snow sparkled so brightly and dazzlingly that it hurt the eyes. The icy air burned her nostrils and throat. Between the trees, covered with frost, lay a flat path, as if someone had specially cleared it after a snowstorm.

A light ball gown, unfortunately, did not save her from the cold. Frost chilled to the bone. Rosa was already thinking about whether to return to the hut, when she suddenly saw that the same winged handsome man was hovering between the trees right in the air. The serpent coiled in rings so that it resembled a gilded chain on an invisible gate. Its wings flapped quickly and often, so that the whole serpentine body gently swayed over the snowdrifts.

Then the serpent changed its position, straightened like a string and disappeared around the bend in the road. Rose ran after him, hoping that he would lead her out of the forest. She quickly ran after the flying kite, but could not catch up with him. Fluttering wings and a flying ribbon tail showed her the way. But there was a respectful distance between her and the guide.

Apart from them, there was not a soul in the forest. Even the wolves are hiding somewhere. If the fair-haired aristocrat left along this road, then the snow had already covered the tracks.

Rose began to lag behind her fellow traveler. She tried to run faster, so as not to lose sight of at least the golden glow, rapidly flying forward. Snow crunched, brocade skirts painfully whipped the princess on the legs, but she did not stop for a moment.

Soon a gap appeared between the trees. The kite slowed down a little and slowly flew into the snowy clearing. A two-story tavern with a colorful sign towered proudly over a small pond covered with ice. Rose rushed forward across the clearing. Halfway through, she stopped and turned around to thank her guide, but that was already gone.

It got colder and colder. Lightly powdered snow. Rose wrapped her arms around her shoulders to keep warm. Her outfit was in a deplorable state. The puffs on the sleeves are crumpled, and snowflakes are stuck in her hair.

Rose knocked on the tavern door. She was afraid that in this form she would not be allowed to spend the night. However, the hostess immediately recognized the girl as a noble lady and was gladly ready to fulfill any of her orders.

As soon as Rose expressed a desire to buy warm clothes, the hostess recalled that there were things in the upper room that she would be ready to sell. There were, however, several chests with cheap clothes. Rosa bought trousers, boots and a lined camisole that looks more like a jacket. She tied her own dress in a knot. It was not possible to remove the ring from her hand. It froze to the skin so that Rose could no longer feel it. But the stone on it faded and faded.

Rose looked out the upper room window. A blizzard began. Snow, like a white shroud, covered the entire visible space.

Fate is insidious and whimsical. Until recently, life was easy and calm. And now the existence of the Rose has been clouded by three mysteries. A flying serpent, a powerful golden dragon and a mysterious youth with an angelic face. She didn’t even want to remember the incident in the courtroom. The words “Curse of the Swan” sounded like a terrible hum in her head. Rose shivered chilly. She breathed at the window and with a trembling finger drew the outline of a swan feather on the misted glass. This symbol reminded of how difficult it is to be a defenseless bird in a flock of hunters – sorcerers.

Loud, booming voices sounded below. Apparently, new guests have come to the tavern. Rose came out of the room and began to descend the side stairs, trying to keep in the shadows all the time. Precaution today was not superfluous.

Some of the newcomers had already started to play a marching song, others were quarreling with the hostess, others drank in silence. Rose leaned over the railing and saw a dozen soldiers camped behind an oak table in the corner. All were armed to the teeth.

The eldest, apparently the head of the detachment, struck the table with a gauntlet and demanded to bring a barrel of the strongest wine. The hostess immediately hurried to the cellar, and Rose went down a few steps. Maybe she can slip out the door unnoticed. Rose did not want to get involved with drunken warriors. Two of them were already pestering the young maid.

Suddenly one of the soldiers looked up from the beer mug and noticed Rosa. His eyes narrowed angrily as his hand reached out to the hilt of the sword. Only now the girl examined the coat of arms of the enemy kingdom on his cuirass.

“Look! It’s a princess!” He shouted. “She must be captured alive!”

His comrades-in-arms immediately understood what was the matter and also grabbed their swords. Now every second mattered. Rose almost knocked down the hostess who arrived in time and jumped out the door. This time, the princess was lucky. The enemies left their horses unattended. Rose untied the first horse she came across and jumped into the saddle. She was an excellent rider and could get away from any pursuit.

In peacetime, stealing a horse was punishable by death, but during the war, everything was allowed.