The Island of Lost Horses Read online

  “Once, was a time when de herd was strong,” Annie said. “Tirty-five horses or more. Den de hurricanes come and it bad-bad. De herd got small. Dere be maybe six or seven horse left…” Annie gestured with her lips. “This one, de Duchess, she be de only Medicine Hat. She be special above all de rest.”

  So Annie already knew this horse! It made sense, the way the mare let Annie handle her. Even so, I was crushed.

  “Is she yours?” I tried to keep a bitter tone of disappointment out of my voice.

  Annie shook her head. “De Duchess she is wild. Ain’t nobody owns any horse here on Abaco.”

  I wasn’t convinced. “She seems to know you.”

  Annie laughed. “Sure ’nuff she should know me!” she said. “I spend my whole life here lookin’ out for dem horse. I feed dem, I try to keep dem safe. You not believe what dem Conchy Joes do to dem horse. Hunters dey shoot dem. Tourists come and chase ’em so dey can get close and take picture. Dem poor horse scared half to death. No wonder dem belly ain’t got no foal…”

  Annie let the sentence trail off and then as if a thought had just occurred to her, she squared up to me, her face so close to mine I could see the green flecks in her black eyes. “You have a dream last night, child?”

  How did she know?

  I stepped away from her.

  “I want to go home,” I stated again. “My mom will be worried about me.”

  Annie grunted. “Soon enough,” she said. “Now you come back inside. Annie got sometink to show you.”

  I didn’t want to go back in the cottage, but what choice did I have? Even if I had known how to get back to the Phaedra from here I wasn’t strong enough to do it alone. I was still pretty woozy to tell the truth.

  Inside, I watched as Annie scuttled over to the shelves where the skeleton bones and conch shells were arranged. There was a small stack of books there too and from this stack she withdrew a bundle of rags. Inside them was a thick book, bound in ancient brown leather. When she passed it to me, I saw the initials on the front, the letters F and M stamped in battered gold type, and felt a shock of recognition.

  It was the same book that I had seen in my dream!

  “Bee-a-trizz, can you divine it?” Annie asked. The way she said this, it made me figure that maybe she didn’t know how to read. But then I opened the first page of the book and I realised what she meant.

  “This book is written in Spanish.”

  Annie looked pleased, as if I had just confirmed something she already knew.

  She pointed to the lettering on the opening page, which I held in my hands.

  El Diario de Felipa Molina

  Felipa Molina – F and M. My breath quickened and I felt for a moment as if I was once more bound in a corseted velvet gown, my feet padding through the cold stone cobbled corridors of the stables in ancient Spain.

  “It’s not a book exactly,” I said. “It’s a diary.”

  Annie grunted. “So, child? You can read?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I can…”

  The Diary of Felipa Molina

  13th January, 1492

  I write these words sitting in a cramped room above a highway inn on the outskirts of Cadiz. It is late at night and beneath my lodgings I can hear the men in the tavern carousing and carrying on like fools. I do not dare venture downstairs to ask the kitchen to make me something to eat – even though I am half starved.

  I did not want to rest here, but I had no choice. Poor Cara was too exhausted to make the return journey to Granada.

  Is it any wonder that my horse cannot go on? We rode like conquistadors today, galloping for almost five miles. At times, when the distance seemed too great and Cara was flagging, I would urge her on, whispering in her ear, “Cara Blanca, show me your speed and prove to me your noble blood. Run as hard as you can, my beauty. For we have been entrusted with this mission by Queen Isabella and we shall not fail her.”

  In truth, though, it is not the Queen’s idea that I am here. It is Princess Joanna – with her wicked sense of humour and her taste for trouble.

  I was sitting at Joanna’s side this morning when Christopher Columbus made his grand entrance to the royal court.

  They say that Señor Columbus has the proud and noble profile of a falcon, but Joanna has other words for it.

  “Here we go,” Joanna whispered as she watched him stride past us towards the throne. “Old bird-nose is back!”

  I had to bite my fist to stifle my laughter and Columbus shot me such a glare!

  I had to lower my head so that I did not meet his eyes and could compose myself. It is not proper to laugh at a man while he meets with the Queen.

  This was Columbus’s second audience with Her Majesty. Once more he had come to ask for support for his plan to sail halfway across the world!

  “It is a wonder my mother is willing to listen to him bore on again with his mad plans,” Joanna muttered under her breath. “When I am queen you can be sure I will not bother to entertain such nonsense.”

  “Careful – you are not queen yet,” I reminded her with a grin.

  “No, but I am the Princess,” Joanna shot back, “so best you hold your tongue!”

  She smiled as she said this, but I detected a royal sting to her words.

  Joanna is only fourteen years old, the same age as me, but already there is talk of her marriage. There are rumours that she is to become betrothed to Philip of Burgundy and Joanna is quite excited about this. Philip’s nickname is ‘Philip the Handsome’.

  “Perhaps they are being sarcastic?” I teased her. “Perhaps Philip the Handsome has a hunchback and a nose like a turnip.”

  “No!” Joanna told me gaily. “I have seen a portrait and he is handsome indeed!”

  Joanna is beautiful too. Like her mother Queen Isabella she has long dark blonde hair and blue eyes. I am the opposite of her – black hair and brown eyes – but inside our hearts we are like sisters. My mother, Teresa, was a companion to the Queen when she was a girl and now I serve the same role for Princess Joanna.

  Lately, the Queen has insisted that Joanna must be present for all the goings-on in the royal court. It is so deathly dull! We would rather be picking flowers in the gardens of the Alhambra or riding our horses, but I suppose this is the training that is required for a future queen.

  After Señor Columbus shot me the withering glance, I settled down and listened. He has a gift for speaking and he captivated the entire court with his talk of claiming a new land with glory and riches for the kingdom of Spain. Then he laid out his plea for Queen Isabella to supply him with ships and enough gold and men to undertake the journey.

  “Columbus,” the Queen said. “You are asking me to squander the wealth of my kingdom and risk the lives of my men. Why should I do this?”

  “Because you are a great queen,” Columbus said, “and because God himself has told me that I shall succeed.”

  There was a murmur throughout the court and then Tomas de Torquemada, the Chief Inquisitor, stepped forward. He looked as fearsome as ever, dressed in his blood-red robes with his men flanking him on either side.

  “Señor Columbus,” de Torquemada said, “how can you be sure it is God? Perhaps it is the devil you have been speaking with!”

  Columbus looked Tomas de Torquemada in the eye. “I tell you, sir, a miraculous voice came and whispered to me in the night! God will give me the key to the gates of the ocean…”

  “Well then he can give you three ships too!” Tomas de Torquemada retorted.

  There was laughter from the court, but not from Columbus, or from the Queen. I could see that she was greatly moved by Columbus and convinced by the passion and manner of his speech, but in the end she said, “I am sorry, Columbus. My answer is no.”

  Columbus bristled, although he bowed politely and said all the right clever words. He left court immediately and as we walked in the gardens that afternoon Joanna and I saw him leaving the city gates, shambling along in his drab brown robes.

 
; “Why does he dress like a monk?” Joanna wondered.

  “He’s not very dashing, is he?” I agreed. “He hardly looks like an intrepid explorer of the high seas!”

  We walked in the gardens for a while then returned to Joanna’s chambers and did our embroidery. I am decorating a mantilla of white lace covered in roses and Joanna has been teasing me that I shall wear this for my wedding.

  “My wedding to whom?” I laughed.

  “Perhaps Philip the Handsome has a companion who would suit you?” she grinned.

  “And what is his name?”

  “Roberto the Even Handsomer,” she said, falling about laughing.

  “No!” I was laughing too, “it’s Alfonzo the Utterly Devastating!”

  We were both laughing so hard we were in tears when the bell rang to signal that we should return to the great hall. The Queen had called her courtiers to her once more.

  “I have spent the past hours in discussion with my advisors and in prayer to God,” the Queen said, “and I have decided I was too hasty to dismiss Columbus. Three ships are but a small price to pay when his adventures may bring great glory to God and to Spain…”

  “Your Majesty,” Tomas de Torquemada bowed deeply, “what a pity it is too late! Señor Columbus has left the city for the port of Cadiz. I believe he intends to set sail and enlist the support of the King of France…”

  “Then I shall send a rider after him with news of my change of heart before he can depart.” Queen Isabella raised herself from her throne. “Fetch me the best rider from my royal guards!”

  It was at this moment that Joanna rose to her feet.

  “Mama… I mean, my Queen,” she corrected herself, then winked at me, “if you really want to catch Columbus you should send Felipa to ride after him. She is the best rider in our kingdom and her Cara Blanca is the fastest horse in your stables.”

  The court was stunned into silence. All except Tomas de Torquemada.

  “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “You cannot send the girl.”

  This was a mistake. For who would dare to tell a woman who rules the whole of Spain that only a man was fit for any task?

  Queen Isabella smiled. “Well, Felipa? Will you do this for me?”

  I was trembling and my heart was racing so fast, I had to steady myself as I made a low curtsey.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” I said.

  “Good,” the Queen said. “Then saddle Cara and leave immediately.”

  As I left the great hall and strode off towards the stables, Joanna ran alongside me with a huge grin on her face.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” She bounced up and down. “You are off on an adventure!”

  “I am off on the open road where I may be attacked by bandits and murdered before I can reach Columbus and Cadiz!” I whispered at her. “What were you thinking, offering my services like that?”

  “Oh, Felipa!” Joanna linked her arm through mine as we walked on. “Do not think about the dangers – think only of the fun. You are so lucky that you are not a princess like me. I would never be allowed to go off on my own. And you know I am right – you are a finer horseman than any man in our kingdom. No one else can ride Cara Blanca!”

  I blushed at her words. As a young filly Cara was considered a ‘Diablo’ – a devil horse. Every one of the grooms in the royal stables tried to ride her and all of them had been thrown violently from her back.

  Wild and dangerous, they called her. I did not listen to their warnings. I was a slip of a girl, but I climbed onboard her back without fear. To everyone’s astonishment, she never once tried to buck or rear. From that moment we belonged together, for no other horse in the kingdom gave me such joy to ride.

  In the stables that day I bade Joanna farewell and saddled Cara on my own. I led her out to the courtyard where the Queen’s guard waited for me with a letter to Columbus, composed in Her Majesty’s own hand and closed with the royal seal. I took this from him, along with a bag of gold maravedis, mounted up and waited for the guards to raise the portcullis, riding out beneath it and heading to the south towards the port of Cadiz.

  I had to hold Cara in check as we set off. She is such a spirited horse. She was prancing about, head held high. Her blue eyes had fire in them, as if she knew that we were riding out at the bidding of the Queen.

  The roads between Granada and Cadiz were legendary for being rife with bandits. I was a young girl, alone, with no protectors, and if the scoundrels knew that I carried a velvet purse filled with the Queen’s own gold, they would kill me as soon as they captured me.

  “But first they must catch us, eh, Cara?” I leant down low over the mare’s neck and urged her on. At a gallop, no thief could touch us.

  And gallop we did, along the road to Cadiz. Cara gave her all, and when she began to falter I spoke to her, urging every stride out of her.

  Finally she was at the end of her strength. The sweat had foamed and caked on her neck and her breath came in dreadful rasps. I could not push her on for much longer and I was beginning to worry that I would fail in my task when I rounded the bend and saw a shrouded figure directly ahead of me.

  “Señor Columbus!” My cries made him stop in his tracks. I brought forth the letter with the royal seal, waving it at him. “I bring news from Queen Isabella!”

  He was more gracious that day than I had ever seen him before. He thanked me many times over for the letter. Then he looked covetously at Cara.

  “This is a fine horse that you have,” Columbus said. “May I take her to ride back to the Queen?”

  I was horrified, but I managed to keep my serene expression. “My horse is tired, señor. I should rest her.” I handed him the velvet purse. “There is enough gold here to buy yourself a mule so that you may ride back to the Alhambra.”

  We walked on together, me leading Cara for a half-mile or so until we reached the roadside inn.

  I did not tell the innkeeper who I was, but it must have been clear from my bearing and dress that I was a noble woman. He no doubt thought it was strange that I should be abandoned by the man I had arrived with, who bought a mule from him then carried on alone.

  He probably thought it stranger still that I should wish to take care of my horse myself rather than leave her to the care of the inn’s grooms, feeding and watering her myself before retiring to my room.

  The innkeeper has just come to find me. Knowing that a lady might not wish to venture downstairs, he has brought my dinner up to my room. Now I have a plate of stew and bread to warm me. The innkeeper also told me that he has checked on Cara Blanca and put a blanket on her to keep her warm. She has run so valiantly for me today. She is my most beloved horse, and I will never, ever forsake her…

  The Duchess

  The real world had ceased to exist for me. I was utterly lost in the pages of Felipa’s diary. Her words, so ancient, written hundreds of years ago, were warm and alive in my hands. The text flowed through me like water and I never hesitated as I translated page after page without stumbling.

  It was the scream that shocked me out of Felipa’s life and back into my own once more. A high-pitched cry, its sound all the more terrifying because it was not human. The clarion call of a wild horse.

  The Duchess!

  I threw the diary down on the sofa and ran. When I reached the pen Annie was already there wrestling with the mare, hanging on to the end of the lead rope attached to the halter. I watched as the Duchess almost lifted Annie off her feet and reared straight up on her hind legs, the whites of her eyes showing as she pawed the air viciously with her front hooves.

  Annie jerked on the rope once more to bring the mare back down.

  “Stop it!” I rushed over and began to undo the gate. “You’re hurting her!”

  Annie ignored my pleas and jerked on the rope once more. This time the mare dropped so that she was on all fours.

  “Ain’t hurtin’ her,” Annie grunted as she held on to the mare. “I is tryin’ to stop her from hurtin’ herself.”


  As she said this, the scream rang out again. The first time I’d heard it, I had assumed it was the Duchess. But the sound came from deep in the jungle behind the house, and now it was accompanied by pounding hoofbeats.

  “De stallion,” Annie said, her eyes scanning the jungle warily. “He come for her. He want her back.”

  The Duchess was looking at the jungle too, her head up high, her nostrils flared and her ears pricked.

  When she heard the stallion’s call she replied with a high-pitched whinny of her own, fighting once more to free herself from Annie’s grasp.

  “Why don’t you just let her go?” I said to Annie. “If she wants to be wild, then let her.”

  Annie shook her head. “De wounds are too deep,” she insisted. “If she goes now, dey will get infected. De horse needs time to heal.”

  The Duchess was still stamping and snorting while Annie gripped on desperately to her halter, trying to keep the mare under control.

  Annie looked at me, her dark eyes shining. “Here, child. You come and hold her.”

  I felt my heart pounding. “No! I can’t…”

  “Child!” Annie’s voice was gruff. “Take her from me. I need to get de runes and do a circle.”

  There was something about the way that Annie barked her orders that made it impossible to refuse. I unhooked the gate to the pen and stepped inside.

  “Take hold!” Annie directed.

  I reached out and took hold of the halter with both hands as Annie let go.

  “Stay dere!”

  Annie ran faster than I would have expected an old woman to move, disappearing round the corner of the house.

  Suddenly, I was alone with the Duchess. The last time we had been together like this we were waist-deep in mud. Now that we were side by side on dry land I could see just how big the mare was. She was tall, and solid too, with a broad back and powerful neck muscles. She looked strong enough that one good shake of her head would be all it would take to loosen the grip of my feeble hands.

  “Good girl, Duchess,” I breathed, trying to keep my nerve and hang on.