A Gallop Into Distress

‘Once upon a time’ is a very cliché start to a story, but here we are.  

Once upon a time, Dale went on a journey to save His Majesty, the King. Dale used to spend most of his days with his brother, Gabe, and some of his friends. Sometimes, his Mistress, Princess Consuela, would take him for a stroll and to important meetings since Dale was the strongest, most good looking and most reliable of his kind. Dale’s father was the King’s favourite as he, like Dale, was mighty and loyal to the core. In a war thirteen years ago, Dale’s father became a martyr. His contribution to His Highness and the Kingdom of Fortis will always be remembered.  

 Dale remembered little of his mother. He was still a colt and Gabe was just a foal when she died of equine influenza. For as long as he could remember, he belonged to the Princess. Ever since he was born, he was her favourite.  

On a warm summer day, Dale was munching on his favourite snack, legumes, partially ignorant to the soft nickers amongst his stable-mates. He knew most of the horses were a herd of robust beasts from the outside, but on the inside, they were as gossipy as a fishwife. Dale, unlike his brother, did not care for such slander. However, when he heard mention of the Princess, his ears perked up.  

“-And the Princess will be going to the Kingdom of Cherville.”  

“You heard this from one of the maids? That is not a very reliable source.”  

“Well, yes. But I got the confirmation from one of the chefs, too.”  

“Which one?”  

“The bald one.”  

“With the pot belly?” 

“Yes!”  

“Oh, that one always knows if it’s true but he never knows how to keep it on the hush. I just adore him.”  

“Never mind that! What was it you said about the Princess?” Dale was losing his patience as he heard the conversation go astray.  

“Just that she is going to Cherville. She is preparing for the journey as we speak.”  

“Yes, I heard that too. And that King Tyrion of Cherville has demanded seven bags of gold from our royal house.”  

“The Princess is going to give gold to Tyrion? Whatever for? His Majesty would never answer such absurd demands.” Gabe said as though he would rather think it more probable for His Highness to give gold to goblins and pixies rather than a fellow king demanding it.  

“His Highness is unwell. Our Kingdom is big and strong but we have no clue as to save our King. Cherville is famous for its herbs and King Tyrion claims to know how to treat His Highness.” Grey said.  

“No amount of gold can be more precious than our King’s health. If that’s the case, Princess Consuela must pay whatever the price is that Tyrion appeals.” Gabe replied.  

The horses, who were discussing the matter as the council of ministers instead of a mere flock, came to a halt when they saw Princess Consuela rushing out of the palace and towards the royal stable.  

When the Princess approached, Dale noticed what she held in her hands; a royal blue caparison along with a pommel, chanfron, peytral, flanchard, and crupper. Gee whiz! Were we going to a battlefield? Or to a grand ceremony? Questions ran through the horse’s head, yet he stood still and silent as the Princess covered him in those accessories. When the additions were in place, the Princess looked him over and let out a soft sigh. 

“Come on, Dale; we’ve got some forests to cross.” Princess Consuela said. The unnamed emotion that flared in her eyes were masked as she untied the rope that secured Dale to his home. 

Dale neighed in reply. He had to go to the Kingdom of Cherville to save his King and he would make no delays. The other horses looked at him solemnly, some were jealous, some were awed, and Gabe seemed proud.  

The Princess put her foot in the stirrup, grabbed the side of the saddle, and hefted herself up, taking the reins in her control. As they started treading along the path, Dale wondered if what he heard was true or if it was mere hearsay. Even if the rumours were partially true, how much? And if they were all true, then how much was missing? Was the King in mortal peril? Dale sent a silent prayer for the King’s prosperity. When Dale saw a carriage follow them to the forests, he was almost sure what he heard was the truth. However, the Princess didn’t confirm it and Dale did not dare ask. 

Without much delay, Dale headed towards the forests with the Princess on his back and the carriage on his tail. As he had been all around the Kingdom, Dale knew his way well. At least, until they reached the borders. Through the dense forest he gaited, the pull at his rein directing him on his way. 

He steered through the dense forest and along rough trails that had never before been trodden upon. He wandered along in difficult curves and angles. The sun had set and rose. The cycle continued, yet they were unaware of the outside world in the midst of the murky forest. Dale's gallops slowed to a stroll as they reached the end of the forest. 

It took three days; three days to reach the Kingdom of Cherville. Three long days without much food and occasional stops for water; their King was critical, they couldn’t afford longer breaks, not even to feed themselves well. After three days of mastering these difficult paths, the trees cleared and they arrived at the main gates of the Kingdom. Spread in front of them was the Kingdom of Cherville.  

The guards took one look at Dale’s ornaments and whispered a few words to another guard, who left as if to transfer a message. A man who looked like an official came and greeted them.  

"Would you like some refreshments, Your Highness?" The man asked with a bow. 

"Thank you for the gracious offer, but I would like to get done what I came here for," the Princess replied in a stern yet civil tone. 

 "Very well. Follow me, please." He bowed again. 

He led them past the gardens and straight to the palace. At the entrance of the palace, the Princess dismounted and surprisingly, tugged at the leather strap, indicating Dale to come along. They entered the foyer and proceeded to a large hall where King Tyrion was awaiting their arrival. 

“His Majesty, the King of Cherville,” the Princess addressed King Tyrion with a curtsy.  

“Ah! Her Royal Highness, Princess of Fortis. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Although, the circumstance is unfortunate,” the King replied. “Quite a beautiful horse you have got here.” He admired Dale, who was gorgeous as ever, despite the long journey. 

“Indeed. I would like to present my offerings.” The Princess motioned the servants to bring out the plethora of gold from the carriage.  

“This is very gracious of you.” 

“Not at all. This is the least I can contribute in exchange for your help. As you are aware, my father requires your help.” 

If Dale had not been familiar with the Princess ever since he was born, he would not have been able to hear the hostility concealed by her fake politeness and proper mannerisms. 

“Then let us not waste any time. Allow me to lead you to where I keep my potions.” 

“Certainly.” 

“Take the horse to the royal stable.” The King addressed a man to his left. 

“Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed and led Dale away. 

Princess Consuela glanced over her shoulders at Dale, the longing and despair in her eyes masked by the worry she felt for her father.

The sun had long set across the hills of Cherville when Dale was still anticipating the Princess’ return. The other horses had given him curious looks but remained quiet. Dale found the silence of the horses quite unsettling, as he was accustomed to the constant gossips from his stable-mates.  

At the break of dawn, a young man brought a stack of hay for the horses to feed on. Over breakfast, a few whickers broke the silence. 

“Hi. I’m Phar.” A black horse introduced himself. 

“Dale.” His reply was curt, not wanting to engage in polite

conversation with horses he would never see after that day. 

“So, Dale, you are here to stay, are you?” Phar asked. 

“Uh, no. I am just waiting for the Princess.” 

“The Princess? You mean the Princess of Fortis?” The horse seemed hesitant. 

“Yes. Why?” Dale was unnerved by his tone. 

Just as Phar opened his mouth to respond, King Tyrion entered the stable along with a man. 

“A beauty, isn't he?” He asked, his eyes set on Dale. 

“There can be no second opinion, sir.” The other man confirmed.

“My son will love him for a birthday present, don’t you agree?” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Alright then. Let’s allow the new horse to enjoy his breakfast and head back to the palace to enjoy ours.” 

“After you, sir.” 

With that, the two men left, continuing their conversation as though the Earth had not just stilled in its rotation. Or was it rotating at a faster pace than usual? It seemed that way to Dale.  

“New horse? For his son? But- but- the Princess-” Dale stammered. 

“Left,” Phar interrupted. 

“Left?” The word felt foreign on Dale’s tongue. 

“I was about to tell you.” 

Dale opened his mouth to argue. It just couldn’t be! The Princess loved him. She was his family and he was hers. Not to mention, she came with him, how would she leave? 

“The carriage!” Dale gasped. “She left on the carriage, didn’t she?” 

“I’m afraid so,” Phar replied, his voice laced with pity.

The other horses were now wrapped in the conversation. Horse-nature is not that different according to geography, now, is it?

“Do not be afraid, Dale. The King had bought me too. He considers collecting horses a hobby, but he is a nice man. He takes care of us.” A white horse told Dale. 

Dale could not care less about whether the King would treat him right or not; his mind was otherwise occupied. Dale remembered the confusion he felt when the Princess had covered him in metal and decorated him. It happened just a few days ago, before they proceeded to Cherville. Funny how a few days could seem like a lifetime.

With that memory, came another. A few years ago, a woman had come to the Palace of Fortis, trying to sell idols to the King. Dale remembered how she had vigorously scrubbed and polished the idols just outside the palace before displaying them to the King. That is what the Princess had been doing, wasn’t it? Preparing an object for sale? The realisation left Dale feeling cold and alone. 

Anger. It wasn’t an alien emotion for a horse, but the anger of this magnitude was unexplored. Dale was furious, and rightfully so. The difference in their species had never been a barrier before. Their love for each other was unconditional and eternal. Or so Dale had thought. 

Dale thought of Gabe. He would never see his little brother again. He wished he at least knew of this negotiation beforehand. At least he would be able to have a few parting words with Gabe. He would be able to tell him so many things; about his mother, his father, and the Princess. But if he had known when he stepped on this land, he would never return, would he have come at all? Dale knew he would. Gabe was right; nothing was greater than their King’s health. As if a mere animal such as myself would be given a choice by the royals, Dale thought spitefully. But if he had known, he would have gotten a chance to say a final goodbye. 

Dale tried not to think of Gabe anymore. He tried not to think of his stable-mates. He tried not to think of the palace and its grounds. He tried not to think of the future he had envisioned with his Mistress. He tried not to feel the pain of being rejected by someone he wanted to make proud. He tried not to think that he was just an animal; lowly and insignificant. He tried not to take it personally. He tried. 

Guilt. It tore at his heart. How could he even think of being spiteful at the Princess? At the royals? They raised him. They cared for him. He was sure they even loved him. The King was in a critical condition. It was the only way. A small voice in Dale’s head told him that there is always another way. That the Princess could surely bargain a better deal, a deal where she wouldn’t give away Dale as though he were a piece of meat. Dale quickly dismissed the thought. The Princess would never have done this if she had a choice, would she? 

No! Of course not! It isn’t her fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. This is life, I suppose, Dale thought. Now that the initial anger had faded, he felt calm. Proud, even. Proud that he played a role in saving his King. Dale was sure that his father would be proud of him, too. He had fulfilled his duty. He had served his King.