Secret of the Stallion (4 page)

All around cameras clicked. The tourists crowded for a better look.

“Don’t miss the picture! Bert! Get a picture!” one lady shouted at her husband as he tried to load film into his camera.

“Did you see the one flinch? Did you get that with the videocam?” a father said excitedly to his son.

“Look at all those horses! They must be identical twins!” uttered a little girl.

Stevie, Lisa, Carole, and Veronica watched, too. They were more interested in the horses than in the guards. The girls admired the way the riders handled the turns. When four horses marching abreast came to a turn, the ones on the outside had to turn farther and faster than the ones on the inside to keep the formation from becoming straggly. Not surprisingly, these riders executed the turns with military perfection.

“Nice!” said Stevie. She was always particularly aware of good technique in intricate riding.

“They take wonderful care of the horses,” said Carole. “Every one of them is perfectly groomed.”

“And did you see how the tack gleamed in the sun?” asked Mrs. Reg.

The girls all giggled when she said that. Mrs. Reg was famous for finding people to polish tack. “Nothing like supple leather,” she’d say.

“It’s very supple,” said Lisa. That made her friends giggle. Even Max smiled.

“Nobody respects me,” Mrs. Reg said. But she was teasing and the girls knew it. They respected her a lot and there was a good deal of gleaming leather at Pine Hollow to attest to that fact.

The guards entered the palace grounds and proceeded through an old ritual, replacing old guards with new as the shift changed.

The performance was executed perfectly and the crowd appreciated it. Within weeks, thousands of photographs of the event would be placed lovingly in albums all around the world. Lisa tucked her camera back into its case, hoping her pictures would come out.

When the last guard was in place and the last photograph had been taken, Mrs. Reg invited everybody to take a walk.

“Are we going near Harrods?” Veronica asked. Harrods was London’s very famous, and very expensive, department store. Veronica could hardly wait to get there.

“Not really, dear. I was planning a stroll through the parks. This one here, to our right, is Green Park.”

“Isn’t that a silly name for a park?” Veronica said grumpily. “Isn’t that the point of parks—to be green?”

“Then it seems like an utterly sensible name for a park,” said Mrs. Reg matter-of-factly.

She led the group into the park. The paths were pleasant and wide. On the lawn, many people were enjoying
the day, sitting quietly, talking, or playing games. A group of children played something that looked a bit like football.

“Rugby,” Max said. “Some people would disagree with this definition, but it’s something like a cross between what we call soccer and the English call football, and our football, which the English call American football.” Stevie didn’t care what it was called. She thought it looked like fun.

They came to an enormous traffic circle, which Mrs. Reg explained the English called a roundabout.

“Everything’s the same, but everything’s different,” Stevie said, thinking out loud. “A traffic circle’s a roundabout; a car trunk is a boot; an elevator is a lift; and soccer is football, but football is American football. It’s all very strange.”

Max laughed. “England and America have been described as ‘two nations divided by a common language,’ ” he told them. It seemed to be true.

They made it across the roundabout by going underground through a series of tunnels and emerged at a place Mrs. Reg told them was called Hyde Park Corner.

“This way,” said Max.

They left the corner and followed him into Hyde Park. To their right was a large open area where some boys were flying kites. To their left was Rotten Row.

“What’s rotten about it?” Veronica asked.

“Nothing at all,” said Carole, a grin crossing her face. “Because look, this is where people ride horses.”

The approach of hoofbeats told everybody she was right. The whole group turned to see the approaching horses. It was more than a little bit comforting to see such a familiar sight in such an unfamiliar place. What they weren’t prepared for was exactly how familiar the sight was going to be.

“It’s the Italians!” said Stevie.

“Marco! Gian! Enrico! Andre!” Carole cried.

Lisa waved at them; so did Max and Mrs. Reg. Veronica took a moment to smooth her skirt.

The four boys drew to a halt in front of the astonished Americans.

“But what are you doing here?” Marco asked.

“Waiting for you,” Stevie teased.

“How wonderful!” said Andre.

“Lisa! How have you been?” asked Enrico.

“I’ve been fine,” Lisa said. She was pleased to see Enrico and remembered what a wonderful time she and her parents had had visiting his home when they were in Italy. “We all have. We’re just excited to be here and we can’t wait to go to Cummington tomorrow. What are you doing now, practicing for the mounted games?”

“Hardly,” Enrico said. “We can’t really do that here and it wouldn’t do much good unless these were the horses we’ll be riding in the games. However, our coach thought it would be good for us to stay in shape, so he
hired these fellows for us. Mine has been giving me trouble all day.”

Lisa took the horse’s reins near his mouth and patted his neck while she talked with Enrico.

“Sometimes horses just get moody, don’t they?” she asked. It had happened to her enough that she knew it was true.

“Yes indeed. I just wish this one wouldn’t be moody when I’m in the saddle.”

The horse flinched. Lisa gripped the reins a little more tightly. It wasn’t that Enrico wasn’t also holding the reins; he was. It was more that she was closer to the horse’s mouth, where a little tug might have a more immediate effect.

“My mother keeps talking about you,” Enrico said. “I was told about twenty times to ‘say hello to that nice American girl, Lisa, and her parents.’ ”

“That’s funny,” said Lisa. “My mother told me to be sure to tell you again how much we all enjoyed staying with you in Italy.”

“And you?” Enrico asked. The tone of his voice had changed. It was quieter, more personal and somehow urgent. “Did you enjoy it, too?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, almost breathless, realizing for the first time that Enrico really liked her.

She looked up at him sitting in the saddle, his head silhouetted against the bright sky. And then she saw something that Enrico didn’t see. A kite suddenly soared
across the sky, skittering down to the earth not two feet from where she and Enrico stood. It was more than Enrico’s fidgety horse could stand. He couldn’t run because Enrico had the reins. He couldn’t rear because Lisa held his bit. But he could buck. And buck he did. Enrico had no warning at all. He flew right over the horse’s head, did a somersault, and landed on his rear!

Lisa was so astonished she barely knew what to do first. Max came to the rescue. Max took the horse’s reins from her hand and separated him from the group until he was back under control.

Lisa ran to Enrico and knelt next to him. He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Enrico? Can you see me? Is anything broken? Are you hurt? Can you stand up?”

He fluttered his eyes. Then he whispered weakly to her. She had to lean forward to hear him.

“I’m sure I can stand up, Lisa, but as long as you’re willing to take care of me, I think I’ll stay right where I am.” There was a totally irresistible twinkle in his eyes.

Lisa burst into laughter and stood up. She offered Enrico a hand, and he stood up as well.

Mrs. Reg asked him if he was okay, and he gave her a much more serious answer than he’d given Lisa, assuring her that he was fine. By then, Max had calmed the horse down. The bay gelding was no longer fussing and fidgeting.

“I think he’s okay to ride, but I’m not certain,” said Max. “I’d be uncomfortable having you get back on him again. Are the stables far away?”

“Not really,” Marco told Max. “We were on our way back there when we spotted you.”

“Then why don’t I ride with you boys and we’ll return the horses and meet the rest of you someplace for lunch. Any suggestions?”

“I have an idea,” said Enrico. “We saw a lot of restaurants over by Piccadilly Circus, including a pizza place. Andre, Marco, Gian, and I were remembering the wonderful American pizza you girls gave us in Virginia. Perhaps you’d let us buy you some English pizza today, and then in the future we’ll have real Italian pizza—”

“Wonderful,” said Max. “The last pizza I had was that revolting stuff on the plane. Mother, why don’t you take Enrico and the girls there. The boys and I will meet you there in about as much time as it will take them to make two large pizzas!”

How could the girls say no to such a gracious invitation? Mrs. Reg pulled out her map and guide book and pointed to the right.

“Piccadilly’s straight ahead!” She led. They followed.

“W
HAT
’
S
THIS
?
” V
ERONICA
asked the next morning at breakfast. She was looking at a bowl of viscous hot cereal that the waitress had put in front of her.

“Porridge,” Lisa told her. “It’s part of breakfast every morning here at the hotel. Didn’t you notice?”

“Hardly,” said Veronica. She handed the bowl to a passing waitress and concentrated on the bread and tea.

“Speaking of tea, Veronica,” Stevie said. “How was your visit with that friend of your family the other day?”

Veronica pasted a smile on her face. She’d promised herself that these girls would never know the truth about that visit—any of it.