Bacchus gets his run

“Bacchus!” Alred cried, marching up to the horse’s stall. “Cease your horseplay and act your age, you old rascal.”

Bacchus shook his mane and snorted playfully. He had only been kicking the door to get his master’s attention.

“Him only wants to run,” Wulsy said affectionately.

“I know you do, old man,” Alred said to the horse, “and so do I, but I have previous engagements. Unfortunately for you, your master is a jealous man and doesn’t let just anyone take you out. You shall have to hope that young Bertie decides to steal away with you again.”

Wulsy chuckled. “He made it in one piece, God bless him. His lady did tell him to take the fastest horse.”

“He hasn’t taken him again, has he?”

“Bacchus is not to be saddled for anyone but Your Grace without my say-​​so.”

“That’s fine, Wulsy, but have you not considered that he will simply ask for Apollo next time?”

“If there’s anyone besides Your Grace who can saddle Apollo,” Wulsy laughed.

“My squire can,” Alred began, but he was interrupted when the heavy door swung open and the Duchess came in with the groom Olaf.

“Alred! Oh, Alred!” she was crying.

“What is this?” Alred barked. “What are you doing out here without so much as a cloak, my lady? And what are you doing home so soon, Olaf?” He had sent Olaf out that morning to take a pair of draft horses out to the work site and bring back two others that would be needing a rest. He did not see how he could have returned so quickly with the heavy beasts.

“Alred, it’s Egelric!” Matilda wailed. “He’s gone! Tell him, Olaf!”

“A little calm, my lady,” Alred soothed. “What’s this about Egelric, old man?”

“The Squire hasn’t been seen since Saturday night,” Olaf explained. “They thought he was out here for Sunday, but when today come and they found his horse still there, and him not, they got worried. And they did found his pack in his hut but not him. And then when I come, they said, you go tell your lord. And so I come back.”

“Did he sleep in his bed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Damn!” Alred said, beginning to pace. “Damn! Did they find anything odd in his shack? Did he say anything about what he meant to do?”

“I don’t know, beg Your Grace’s pardon.”

“Damn!”

“He did run off once before,” Olaf reminded him.

“I remember. In the dead of winter, too, that idiot.”

“Oh, Alred,” Matilda whimpered.

“I shall bring him back to you, my beauty,” Alred promised. “I shall even allow you to be the first to scold him. I wouldn’t trust myself not to bash his thick skull in anyway, when first I catch him.”

“What if he’s hurt or sick?” she protested.

“Then I shan’t bash his skull in, silly woman, and you shall be the first to tend him. Wulsy, get Bacchus saddled on my say-​​so, and get me four or five men if the lot of you aren’t too busy today. It’s a damn shame we can’t take the dogs that far.”

Bacchus, apparently having heard his name and the word ‘saddle’ pronounced in the same sentence, kicked his stall door again.

“That’s right, old man,” Alred chuckled and shoved the horse’s head playfully. “You at least have something about which to be happy. You shall have your run today after all.”