outbuildings on the north side of the villa and the villa itself is also brick paved, and there is a simple fountain midway between the villa and the stable, where water flows from a spout into a circular basin. Lerial assumes that there must be some piping somewhere that drains the excess so that the fountain does not flood the paved area that strikes him almost as a courtyard without walls.
Lerial dismounts outside the stable, then leads the gelding inside, following the majer, who steps through the wide stable door and points.
“The third stall on the right is yours. You have to groom your mount … you do know how to do that, don’t you?”
“Yes, ser. Father insisted on that.” If not that often. Lerial pauses, surprised that the stable has a brick-paved floor. The only other stable he has seen with such a floor is the one serving the palace, not that he has been in more than a handful of stables. “I only have a travel brush.”
“There are brushes in the tack room. You’re also responsible for feeding your mount and cleaning the stall every day. I’d suggest first thing in the morning and late in the afternoon or early evening, but that’s up to you. The soiled straw and offage go into the old cart on the side of the stable. The shovel, the pitchfork, and an old broom are on the peg racks over there. Put them back clean whenever you aren’t using them.”
“Yes, ser.” Lerial hasn’t had to clean a stall, but he has watched the palace stable boys do just that.
“The feed barrels are in the storeroom beside the tack room, but you’ll have to carry water from the outside fountain. When you finish unsaddling and dealing with your mount, we’ll get your kit to your room, and then I’ll show you around.”
Somehow Lerial finds that the whole process of unsaddling the gelding, racking the saddle and blanket, and grooming the gelding takes longer than he recalls. He does remember to check the gelding’s hooves, but he sees no stones or cracks, and the shoes look sound. He makes his way to the fountain through the late-afternoon heat that feels hotter than it probably is because there is no breeze at all. He half fills the bucket from the stall, then frowns and pours a little out. The gelding will be thirsty, but he is not that hot, because the pace from Brehaal had been deliberate. Still …
He carries the water bucket back to the stable and watches as the gelding drinks. Then he finds a grain barrel and half fills the feed bucket in the stall. By then, his undertunic is soaked, and sweat pours off his forehead
Finally, he closes the wooden stall half door, lifts his kit bag, and walks from the stable toward the courtyard fountain, where the majer has appeared, as if he had known when Lerial would finish.
“Maeroja and the girls will likely be in the courtyard, enjoying the cool.” Altyrn looks at Lerial. “You could use that as well.”
“It’s hotter here than in Cigoerne, and there’s no breeze today.”
“There usually is, but it’s been drier and calmer this summer. We’ve had to use more water from the Lynaar. That was one reason why I wanted these lands, and your grandmother and father were kind enough to grant them.”
“I don’t see any ditches…”
“I put them underground, and they leave the river farther uphill. That way there’s pressure for the fountains and the water’s cleaner.”
Lerial hadn’t thought about either, but he nods.
The north entry to the villa is just a simple recessed arch with a single ironbound door, but as Altryn opens it Lerial can see that the wood is thick, and the back is also ironbound with a double set of brackets for bars. Once they are inside, the majer immediately closes the door.
“We leave the shutters closed and don’t dally with the doors until it’s late in the evening and it’s cooler outside.”
While Lerial would not have called the wide corridor especially cold, the air is definitely cooler inside the villa.
“Most
Lerial dismounts outside the stable, then leads the gelding inside, following the majer, who steps through the wide stable door and points.
“The third stall on the right is yours. You have to groom your mount … you do know how to do that, don’t you?”
“Yes, ser. Father insisted on that.” If not that often. Lerial pauses, surprised that the stable has a brick-paved floor. The only other stable he has seen with such a floor is the one serving the palace, not that he has been in more than a handful of stables. “I only have a travel brush.”
“There are brushes in the tack room. You’re also responsible for feeding your mount and cleaning the stall every day. I’d suggest first thing in the morning and late in the afternoon or early evening, but that’s up to you. The soiled straw and offage go into the old cart on the side of the stable. The shovel, the pitchfork, and an old broom are on the peg racks over there. Put them back clean whenever you aren’t using them.”
“Yes, ser.” Lerial hasn’t had to clean a stall, but he has watched the palace stable boys do just that.
“The feed barrels are in the storeroom beside the tack room, but you’ll have to carry water from the outside fountain. When you finish unsaddling and dealing with your mount, we’ll get your kit to your room, and then I’ll show you around.”
Somehow Lerial finds that the whole process of unsaddling the gelding, racking the saddle and blanket, and grooming the gelding takes longer than he recalls. He does remember to check the gelding’s hooves, but he sees no stones or cracks, and the shoes look sound. He makes his way to the fountain through the late-afternoon heat that feels hotter than it probably is because there is no breeze at all. He half fills the bucket from the stall, then frowns and pours a little out. The gelding will be thirsty, but he is not that hot, because the pace from Brehaal had been deliberate. Still …
He carries the water bucket back to the stable and watches as the gelding drinks. Then he finds a grain barrel and half fills the feed bucket in the stall. By then, his undertunic is soaked, and sweat pours off his forehead
Finally, he closes the wooden stall half door, lifts his kit bag, and walks from the stable toward the courtyard fountain, where the majer has appeared, as if he had known when Lerial would finish.
“Maeroja and the girls will likely be in the courtyard, enjoying the cool.” Altyrn looks at Lerial. “You could use that as well.”
“It’s hotter here than in Cigoerne, and there’s no breeze today.”
“There usually is, but it’s been drier and calmer this summer. We’ve had to use more water from the Lynaar. That was one reason why I wanted these lands, and your grandmother and father were kind enough to grant them.”
“I don’t see any ditches…”
“I put them underground, and they leave the river farther uphill. That way there’s pressure for the fountains and the water’s cleaner.”
Lerial hadn’t thought about either, but he nods.
The north entry to the villa is just a simple recessed arch with a single ironbound door, but as Altryn opens it Lerial can see that the wood is thick, and the back is also ironbound with a double set of brackets for bars. Once they are inside, the majer immediately closes the door.
“We leave the shutters closed and don’t dally with the doors until it’s late in the evening and it’s cooler outside.”
While Lerial would not have called the wide corridor especially cold, the air is definitely cooler inside the villa.
“Most
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