“Throw your heart over!”

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The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy is an adventure through history. The Golden Spark (Book #2) won the 2011 Written Arts Awards for best Science Fiction/Fantasy.

The year is 1816 and Meagan has found an obstacle she can’t jump…

But I freely admit that the best of my fun I owe it to horse and hound.

—George John Whyte-Melville (1821-78)
Jumping the Gate (c. 1745) by James Seymour - Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

“Danvers, look!” Meagan shouted. A field of horsemen streamed from behind a distant rise on the horizon.

“Thundering heavens, there they are! Going by the mill where they’ll lose the fox for sure. We’ll cut short. There’s a lane here somewhere that leads to town and goes right by the mill…” Danvers stood high in the stirrups, surveying. They tramped across tall weeds, letting the horses pick a path through. “There it is!” he called, pointing to an ancient wall buried in brambles and overgrown brush. The wall’s stones had loosened, and many of the large rocks had fallen to lie scattered on the ground. “It’s a bit sticky, I dare say, and I can’t recall it having a gate. It’s not so bad as the stile out of it, so hold your breath.”

With that, Danvers released Finnigan into a canter. Meagan urged Banjo forward, letting the leaders’ enthusiasm fire them both. Finnigan wavered, looking for a way through, and launched himself at the overgrown wall. A crashing followed, and Finnigan and Danvers vanished into the brush behind the wall. Meagan pulled Banjo off her planned line to the wall and circled away.

“It’s all right!” came Danvers’ cry from inside the brush. “Maybe come on a wee strong to get all the way in the lane!”

Meagan turned toward the wall again, asking Banjo for a faster canter. The horse opened his stride and pricked his ears, raising his head as he came toward the thick brush. He bobbled, tripping over a loose stone, and at the last moment Meagan pulled the horse away.

“What’s the matter, love?” Danvers called. “I’m back up. Come on over!”

“Where? I can’t see you!”

“I’m on the other side, where did you think? I can’t bloody well raise a flag.”

Meagan felt warmth pass from her into the cold air, leaving a hard, frozen spot in the pit of her stomach. She urged Banjo back into a canter and swung back to the wall. The brush behind it seemed impenetrable. Furious with herself, Meagan pulled out and circled again.

“I can’t, Danvers!” she called.

“Why bloody not? Just kick on … he’ll have a go!”

“No, it’s me.” The dreadful admission hung in the air.

“You’ve heard the trick, love. Throw your heart over and follow it.”

“I don’t know if I can, Danvers. I can’t even see the landing. It’s ridiculous.”

“Bother, the finest things in life are ridiculous! Leave it to the horse. He doesn’t mind a bit.”

Meagan inhaled deeply and circled again. This is going to be fine, she told herself. Banjo shook his head, thoroughly confused, but opened his stride again and pricked his ears at the wall buried in dense thicket. Banjo picked through the stones as Meagan sat tall and waited for the bounce into the air. Instead, Banjo swung violently to the left and the wall swerved away.

“What’s this?” came the voice from the other side of the wall.

He stopped that time, Danvers.” She hated the miserable moment of missing a difficult jump with a refusal and having to make another attempt. “Maybe you should go on by yourself.”

“Nonsense. He’s had a runout, that’s all. You’ve shaken his confidence, all that mucking about you’ve done. Now he thinks it’s dangerous.”

“It is dangerous!”

A loud call interrupted: “You there! I’ve told the lot of you to stay off my land!” Meagan turned in the saddle to see a man approaching on foot, waving a pitchfork and shouting.

“Sounds like Old Baker, that does. You’d try that wall again if you knew what was about.”

“He has a pitchfork, Danvers!”

“Are you coming then, love?”

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Time travel can be tricky

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The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy is an adventure through history. The Golden Spark (Book #2) won the 2011 Written Arts Awards for best Science Fiction/Fantasy.

Meagan was enjoying the formal 17th century social outing when she was abruptly whisked to an English farm of 1820. Time travel can be tricky.

Image of Meagan & “Beecher” by Marti Adrian Gregory © 2014 Micron Press

The young man dealt the draft horse a couple of affectionate whacks that echoed off the nearby barns. The horse swung his mighty head around, gently lipping the man’s sleeve. “Say, Martin, could one of your hands bring him around? I’ll pay a half-day’s wages.”

“I don’t have any hands available, Chadwick.”

“What about the young lady there?”

Both men turned to look at Meagan. She smiled and gave an embarrassed wave. Pink satin was hardly farm apparel.

“Never seen her. Must have strayed by.”

“She’s slicked up for something.” The younger man called to Meagan: “You, there! Not lost, are you?”

“No, just made a wrong turn.” Meagan was mortified to be standing in a field in such a dress. “Could you point me to town?”

“Town?” The men looked at each other. “There’s a mill up that road a ways. Did you walk here?”

“I-I was dropped off.” She looked down the long, tidy driveway.

The men exchanged another glance. The younger, Chadwick, shrugged and strode over. “I have my business, I suppose you have yours. Say though, if you would follow my carriage with this horse there’s two pence and a meal waiting. No need to get dirty, and it would be a real favor. I can give you a ride somewhere once we get the horse home.”

Meagan hesitated. Her real wish was to hide.

“Come on, now, don’t be afraid of him. He’s big, but he won’t hurt anything bigger than a fly. Then take a meal with the family and I will get you where you want to go.”

I doubt it, she thought, but smiled and agreed.

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A Gypsy’s Warning

Gypsy gold does not chink and glitter.
It gleams in the sun and neighs in the dark.

—Gypsy proverb


"Capriole" gold coin from The Golden Spark - Book #2 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogyThe meal was
of well-roasted bird and acorns, garnished with greens. For a long time afterward Meagan stared into the dancing flames that brought warmth, food and security. Early dusk had fallen, and light raindrops were still tapping softly on the tent.

One of the dark women came to sit with Meagan. She leaned over, peering into the fire. Her jewelry jingled slightly with the motion, and a tendril of her long hair trailed across Meagan’s arm. “What do you see?”

“Oh, I … nothing.” Meagan shrugged. “I was just watching.”

“It is wise to be careful of looking into fires, young one.” The woman’s voice was soft and low. “You do not know what might be looking back.”

Well that’s creepy enough, Meagan thought as the woman seated herself, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable. Meagan pulled her blanket tighter and shifted to make room.

The woman’s perfumed scent soaked into the cold air of the tent. Shadows from the fire played over the olive face. The woman was nearing middle age, but in the flickering light she could have been a mere youth—or ancient. “Who would you hope to be looking back, if it was someone?” The woman said this seriously, and leaned forward to hear the answer.

“I … don’t know.”

“Think. Look back to the fire. Look until you see black flame.”

The fire danced invitingly. It struck Meagan how the flames shifted between infinite shades of red, white, yellow and orange. She had never thought of fire as having different colors. She looked longer, until another color stood out: black shadows danced among the flames as lively and real as the others.

“The fire itself may be a shadow of darkness. If something is watching you, they will be in the black flames. Who is it you wish to see?”

Meagan swallowed. “My parents.”

The woman stretched her arm towards Meagan. “Here, give me your hand.” Turning Meagan’s hand over and gently opening her palm, the woman traced over it as if to wipe it clean.

“Do you read palms?” Meagan asked.

“No, child, I read lives. Let me see the other.”

Obediently, Meagan held out her other hand. The woman knitted her brow and peered closely. “Your life line…” The woman’s eyes grew large and she gripped Meagan’s hand more tightly. “Who are you, girl?”

Meagan tried to pull away. “Please, let go.”

“Where are you from? I want to know the place.”

Meagan wrenched her hand away.

The woman rose. “Your line has no roots. Where is your home?” She knelt and put her face close. Spice perfume washed over Meagan. They looked at each other a long moment. “Child,” the woman said finally, her voice gentle. “Tell me. I can be trusted. Where is your home?”

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The above excerpt is set in 1666 Europe, where Meagan receives a meal from a camp of gypsies, and a warning …

The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy is an exciting and well-researched adventure through history. The Golden Spark (Book #2) won the 2011 Written Arts Awards for best Science Fiction/Fantasy.

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“We are not leaping…”

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This excerpt is from The Golden Spark, Book #2 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy, an adventure through history―on horseback.

The year is 1666 and Meagan is watching a riding demonstration of her rescued horse, Nero, at the Court of Versailles.

“They say princes learn no art truly,
but the art of horsemanship.
The reason is, the brave beast is no flatterer.
He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.”

—Lord Byron (1788-1824)

Meagan was dismayed to see a thin male form hurrying through the entrance. It was Robert Cheveley, pulling on gloves as he strode across the arena. “Your Majesty!” he called out boisterously, “I apologize for my tardiness. I was in the process of losing a tournament of cards.” He went quickly to Nero and lifted his leg to mount. No one moved to assist. Meagan wished it were acceptable to boo.

"Capriole" by Marti Adrian Gregory, illustrating a horse character performing a Capriole in The Golden Spark, book 2 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy.Pardon, monsieur,” Pierre said diplomatically, “but the demonstration is today given by riders of the Court.”

“Oh, that. No need. I shall ride my own horse, and no one else need bother. This dressage riding is in fashion and I am ready to restart my tuition.”

“But not today, Monsieur, I beg.”

“Yes, today. I am here, am I not?”

The King cleared his throat. “Perhaps, Instructor, this could be a test of the manège art. Surely our English guest’s skills are not less than the average cavalryman’s … ?”

Oui, Majesté,” Pierre said in surrender, giving a signal to his assistants. They busied themselves adjusting the tack and helping Robert to mount. Swinging his leg high, Robert sat upon Nero with a hard thump—the horse jerked his head up as if awaking to a bad dream. Robert tugged on the reins and Nero swished his tail, tucking his head behind the bit and chewing voraciously.

“He seems a bit sluggish,” Robert commented loudly. “Why? He used to be so spirited.”

“Please, monsieur.” Pierre wrung his hands. “Petit à petit the horse is become relaxed and calm.”

“Calm? But I want the horse to leap and kick. I do not want him calm.”

“The horse needs this calm to perform the leaps with élan.”

“Come now, let us not argue. You are the instructor. Instruct.”

Pierre looked at the chandeliers of the Court manège for a moment, and then spread his arms. Music commenced. “Yes, monsieur … please lower the heel. Maintain the soft contact. The heel is lower, please. Tighten your thigh, shoulders back, do not lean! Heels lower, if you please, monsieur. Head up, elbows not press, wrists out, fingers closed, hands off neck. Look up from the ground, monsieur, heels lower! Lower, if you please, monsieur, we are not dancing the ballet. Wrist strong, head up, knees back, chest open … heels, monsieur! Heels!

Robert’s face was getting redder and Nero was champing on the bit, ears pinned back. Nervous sweat was beginning to show on the gelding’s neck. Finally Robert shouted and jerked the reins. “This may be well and good, but I want to do one of those Airs!”
Pierre glanced unhappily at the King. Meagan almost stood to give her own comment, but realized her place and remained silently stewing.

“Proceed, Instructor,” the King said mildly.

“Very well, Majesté. Very well, Monsieur Cheveley. The first principle is calm, the second is balance.”

“Bother calm. We have talked of nothing else since we began. I want to leap!”

Pierre looked a final time to the King and, defeated, indicated to the attendants to stand close. Men took Nero’s bridle and Pierre took up a position near the horse’s side. Nero shook his head and yawed his mouth, prancing tensely. “Monsieur Cheveley, please attend. The leap is resulting from the horse’s obedience to the driving aids, made con brio with the aids of holding. The horse releases himself when the point of tension must become equilibrium.”

“We are not leaping…”

“In the Capriole, monsieur, the height of the leap is of second importance to the forward spring and the kick. If the kick is well finished, the landing will be light.”

Robert shrugged irritably. “This is quite tedious. Just tell me what to do!”

“Yes, monsieur, of course. Commence the Piaffe.”

Robert lifted his reins higher and spurred. Nero nearly escaped from his handlers, but they hung on grimly and the horse threw himself into an uneven fidgeting-in-place.

“Now what?” shouted Robert.

“It is not … raise the hand slightly, monsieur, slightly. Remember to be the velvet glove over the iron fist! Now, softly apply the leg.”

Robert hauled the reins high and clapped his legs on Nero with all his strength. The horse did, in fact, abandon his calm: he struck out a hind leg, tore his bridle from the attendants’ grip, planted both feet in the finely raked dirt and flung Robert off with the first hitch. The incensed gelding continued plunging across the manège … scraps of Royal tack scattered in a colorful stream behind him.

The King rose and Pierre, shaking, took the Royal chair. Meagan sat stunned in the gallery as the orchestra fell silent, though one flutist tried for a time to accompany Nero in his circuits around the arena.

Robert waved away assistance and stood, brushing himself. “I say, the horse was much better before all this training.”

“We must thank Monsieur Cheveley,” said the King gravely. “He has made our own riding seem beaucoup plus expert.

Robert picked up his hat from the dirt and shook it before bowing low to the King. “It is my pleasure, Majesté.”

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Book II: Horse Ahoy!

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This excerpt is from The Golden Spark, Book #2 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy, an adventure through history―on horseback.

The year is 1519 and the Conquistadors are bringing horses to shore … from where they have been absent for many thousands of years.

“Once more upon the water,
yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed that knows his rider!”

—Lord Byron (1788-1824)

WITH A GIANT splash, the water closed over the horse’s head and sprayed against the side of the ship. Meagan gritted her teeth: it was not getting any easier to watch. Each time she had finally convinced herself the horse had drowned in the ocean, the animal’s head popped up, mane and forelock plastered back like a mythological beast rising from the sea. Giving a spraying blast to clear its nostrils, the horse would whinny and turn to shore. A cheer went up from the men and the horse was away.

For two days the Spaniards had held the town. Native emissaries visited, alternating with scouting parties in full war paint. Dark, slinking figures moved everywhere. And now came the call for the horses.

A splash signaled another horse departing for New Spain. Meagan walked down the line of stalls to El Morzillo. She patted the black horse, pushing him away as he nudged for treats. His ears had been stopped with cotton and his tail braided to reduce the drag of the water.

Meagan moved slowly to avoid startling the skittish stallion. It seemed strange to take a finely bred horse out of a lavish stall and unceremoniously toss him into the ocean, but the Spaniards did exactly that, and each horse had survived the trip and was now bucking and running across the beach.

The Golden Spark (Book #2 of the Legend of the Great Horse trilogy) won the 2011 Written Arts Awards for best Science Fiction/Fantasy.

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» See All Excerpts from The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy.

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» See the Media Kit for more information about the trilogy.

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Eclipsed by Shadow - Book #1 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy - Bookcover (straight-on, drop shadow) 142px by 203 px
The Golden Spark - Book #2 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy - Bookcover
Into the Dark - Book #3 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy - Bookcover (straight-on, drop shadow) 142px by 203 px

The Captain’s Orders

“I am a priest, child. What are they going to do? They have gotten themselves into a corner here on this beach, and chances are they will need me to get out, so to speak.” …

Image of parchment-like background with the words: "A modern teen sails on the expedition of Spanish Conquistador Cortés that conquered Mexico with 13 horses..."“After God, we owe it to the horses.”

—Diego Duran (1495-1579), conquistador led by Hernán Cortés in conquest of the Aztec empire

“My Brother has not heard the Captain’s orders. That can be the only explanation.” An uncomfortable moment passed as the men contemplated each other. “Unless his wine has made him forgetful.”

“The flesh is weak, Padre Giaollo. I meant nothing.”

“The English-speaking woman is to be left alone by strict order of the Captain. You are a brave man.”

“No! No, Padre Giaollo. Allow me to repent.”

“Oh, is it now understood?”

“Yes, yes! And I will watch carefully for signs of disobedience in the others. I will be vigilant, Padre Giaollo.”

“Then I will say nothing of it. Perhaps, Brother, this time could be used in prayer?”

“Yes, of course.” Bowing his head, the priest turned to go.

“Wait there, my Brother! Spirits only dull the mind.” Macario held out his hand, and the first priest reluctantly placed the bottle into it. “To temperance, amigo!” Macario toasted him, and upended the bottle in a swig.

“God be with you, Padre Giaollo.”

“And also with you. Good night.” Macario offered the bottle to Meagan.

“Thank you, but no,” Meagan refused politely.

“The ‘thank you’ is accepted, the ‘no’ is not. It is a sin to drink alone, señorita, and I am a man of God. Now hold up your glass.”

Meagan consented and sipped the fiery liquid. “You speak English well, Padre Giaollo.”

“Macario! Please, call me Macario! Why would I not speak English, por Dios? It has all the good words and twice the bad! By my lights, I cannot understand why anyone speaks anything else.”

“But the ship and the soldiers, aren’t they Spanish?”

“As the days are hot, hang their mothers … but not I. I am Italian by birth, schooled in Oxford before I joined the seminary.” He spit onto the beach. “Rot all Spaniards!” he shouted, waiting for the chorus of returned insults. “Foul devils,” he said, turning back to Meagan with a grimace. “They will rule the world, of course.”

“Why are you here?”

“The Church likes Her lofty hand in others’ affairs, and She can be a persuasive wench. And you? From England, have you said?”

“No, not really.”

“France, then? You could be French. Ah, sweet Avignon, those blasphemers … begging your pardon if it offends, of course.” Macario took a swig and shouted, “God hates all Spanish and the dogs they lie with!” Catcalls were flung back. “They are all going to Hell,” he said offhand, listening to the returning curses.

“Excuse me, but they do not seem the kind of men one provokes.”

“I am a priest, child. What are they going to do? They have gotten themselves into a corner here on this beach, and chances are they will need me to get out…”

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The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy is an adventure through history … the above excerpt is from the chapter “Dragons” set in 1519 AD during the invasion of Mexico. Meagan is an unwilling passenger aboard a Conquistador’s ship …

The Golden Spark (Book #2 of the Legend of the Great Horse trilogy) won the 2011 Written Arts Awards for best Science Fiction/Fantasy.

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A Ship in Trouble

The opening scene from The Golden Spark (Book #2 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy … after Meagan escaped a medieval mob at the end of Book #1: Eclipsed by Shadow.

The opening scene from The Golden Spark, Book #2 of The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy … set in 1519 AD.

Appleton's ColumbusTHE FLOOR ROLLED sharply and Meagan fell hard against a wall. A tide of cold water sloshed over her feet. All around in the darkness were piercing screams of horses and the thudding concussion of hooves. The floor rolled the other way and Meagan felt herself sliding. She leaned to stay against the wall, but there was nothing to hold.

Putting a hand out in front of her, she touched the soft hair of an equine coat. The tilt of the floor pressed her against the horse as saltwater and the smell of fish washed over her. Meagan felt for mane and grasped the hair tightly. The animal slipped and scrambled as the floor rose to its steepest before beginning to roll back. The horse’s body shook with a frightened whinny.

“Easy there, that’s a good horse.” Meagan felt around in the dark. The lead rope was tied to a heavy iron ring. She grasped it as the floor rolled past level and started its new tilt. She had moved again—but this time the sensation of flying had been replaced by a simple melt into this new place. What were the words she had said? “Promise, please take me home,” she said to the air, and repeated it, but there was no response …

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The Legend of the Great Horse trilogy is an adventure through history … the above excerpt is from the chapter “Dragons” set in 1519 AD during the invasion of Mexico. The section does contain historical portrayals that, while accurate, may not be enjoyed by young or sensitive readers.

The Golden Spark (Book #2) won the 2011 Written Arts Awards for best Science Fiction/Fantasy.

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