“Hold that barge!" Gord thundered up the dusty road that led from the village of Neannarsh to the ferry. The vessel was already several feet from its mooring, but the stallion's rider urged the animal to a gallop and pulled hard on the reins. The great steed soared across the slowly widening gap with ease. The watching yokels stood slack-jawed, the boom of iron-shod hooves on the planks of the pier still resounding in their ears, as the stallion shot past, leaped from the pier's end, and landed ...squarely upon the hastily vacated poop of the ferry. The big vessel pitched at the impact but was otherwise safe from harm. "Here, boatman, is my coin. Ferry me and Blue Murder here safely across this broad-bosomed waterway," Gord said, slapping the neck of the horse in an unmistakable display of admiration. The master of the barge scratched his cheek and shook his head at such outlandish talk and behavior, but the coin tendered was a fine silver noble — ten times the cost of passage.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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