HandEater was underneath me. Admittedly, he was held in place by the lines held taut by the stablehands. At least for the moment, he was still and quiet, as if he was considering the situation. He hadn’t tried to buck me off, or roll over, or any of the instinctive strategies a horse would use to remove a rider.

Once the lead lines were loosed, I prepared myself for a fight. But, HandEater didn’t even react. He just remained standing there. If anything, that was worrisome in a different way. He wouldn’t run?

Gently, I squeezed his flanks with the calves of my boots. That was the universal signal for a horse to move forward. However, if he’d never been ridden, would he know what to do?

In a huge surprise, he took one step, then another. It felt like a rousing success, but I knew he hadn’t accepted me at all. With as many years as I’d ridden Honey, I could feel through the saddle when a horse was planning something. Was he waiting for me to let down my guard?

The yard staff led us toward a gate leading into one of the riding pens. There was enough space here for HandEater to run around. More accurately, there was just enough distance for him to kill me before anyone could reach us to intervene.

When the door closed behind us, I suppose that was the bell to begin the first round?

HandEater bucked underneath me, trying to throw me off. I was prepared for that. I had my legs tight around the saddle and my hands firmly gripping the reins. Furthermore, I knew exactly what to do, hunkering down lower against his body.

He continued trying to throw me off, but I just laughed at him. “You think you’re big, huh? Don’t count on it, you little pip-squeak! I’ve got years of experience, but I’m your first serious rider!”

Unfortunately, that was the moment when I realized he had bigger plans for me. I was ready for him to roll, so he opted for another strategy. While he was bucking, he’d been edging closer and closer to one of the fences. At the last moment, he bucked sideways, intended to crush my leg between the saddle and the fence posts.

“Oh HO! No, you don’t!” I pulled up my leg at the last moment, and he smashed against the crossbars of the enclosure. The wood supports groaned and I saw splinters pop off into the air. Regardless, it was well built, so it held fast.

“That must have hurt, right? Are you done now? What’s next?”

Looking across the paddock, I could see all the staff, including the owner, leaning over the fence railings cheering for me. The old stablehand who had declined the ride earlier was smiling and gave me a big wave. Even Eu had paused in her riding lessons, sitting on top of NeedMoreCandy, and grinning at my antics.

HandEater was wheezing under my weight, but he didn’t give a response to my taunting, instead returning to a solid stance with me on top. In other words, he was planning something again.

I grinned at the challenge. I’d picked well. This was a smart horse! Intelligence was an admirable quality, much lauded in the horses that go to battle. What a wonderful feeling! When the horn calls to charge, your horse is your closest ally, so you don't want an idiot underneath you.

Sadly, I didn’t know just how clever HandEater was. When he knelt down, I thought he was going to roll over on me, so I raised up and set my boots on the sides of saddle, ready to jump off. At the same time, I pulled back on the bridle to keep his head high. But then, at the last moment, he bucked up and back instead, kicking with his rear legs.

I was airborne. The only remaining contact I had was my grip around the leather strap of the reins. Even that didn’t last long when I flipped head-over-heels backwards. The whole world spun around, but the final blow was the parting kick in the chest that HandEater gave me while I was still falling.

Luckily, I was wearing my armor. The hauberk was mail, so it shifted with the force, but blunted the impact of his metal horse shoes. More importantly, the thick cloth of the gambeson underneath padded the strike further. It still hurt as I felt my direction change in mid-air, but I knew it wouldn't leave much more than a nasty bruise.

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By some strange turn of luck, I landed feet first. After that, the world was still spinning, so I stumbled backwards to fall down on my rump. I’d had worse experiences back in training when I was young. I could handle this without the need to vomit, right? Based on the feelings from my gut, I wasn’t sure, so I put one hand over my mouth, just in case.

Unfortunately, now that I was on the ground, I was a stationary target. HandEater rounded about and began stalking toward my position. Admittedly, since he only had the one eye, he was circling in on me from his good side, keeping me in the center of his vision.

I heard the paddock door open and a group of people rush out to save me. The first to arrive was a horse and rider, Grit on top of Honey. “Father, grab my hand!”

He had leaned over from the saddle to help me stand up. That was the first step to getting out of here, so I instinctively grabbed at it. With a sharp tug, I was on my feet again, but I was still so addled, I could barely walk.

That’s when Honey took command. She rounded on HandEater and roared at him. It was a terrible sound. Grit was in the saddle, but he wasn’t accustomed to riding a horse into battle. He didn’t recognize the warning signs. She had designated the “enemy” horse as a target and was ready to charge.

Despite having only one ear, HandEater knew what the sound of her challenge meant, so he backed away fast. He might be a fighter, but she was several hands taller than him and probably twice his weight. Furthermore, she’d been trained to fight without flinching. If he tangled with her, it was obvious who would lose.

Even when he retreated, Honey continued advancing, so that now she was stalking him. She was a warhorse, and she’d apparently been insulted by his behavior.

“Father? What should I do?”

“Pull back on the reins! If those two fight, Honey might be injured!” I noticed afterward that I had no concern whatsoever for HandEater. I suppose I’d written him off as a casualty.

“She won’t back down!” I saw that Grit was pulling on the reins, but it’s really a horse’s choice whether to cooperate or not. If the benefits outweigh the perceived drawbacks, a horse will do whatever it wants. The bit might pull at her mouth, but Honey could freely ignore that if she wanted.

HandEater kept his good side facing toward her, but I could see that he was scared. His single eye was wide enough to count as two. Despite that, his tail was high, so he was angry as well, not cowed. Interpreting his posture, he felt like he was backed into a corner, and he was going to fight if he had to.

The stablehands moved in from the sides, but nobody wanted to get too close. An angry warhorse could easily tear them apart. Furthermore, both horses were my property, so they had no skin in the game.

Honey stopped well outside HandEater’s reach. I followed them on foot, but I was scared to break the status quo. Honey had it well under control, neither lunging forward nor provoking him further.

Grit was shivering in the saddle, desperate to avoid a possible fight. He was still pulling back on the reins, so I laid my hand on top of his to let him give Honey her freedom. At this point, I wasn't expecting a battle. I could tell what she was doing. She was acting as if she was the lead mare, the most important horse in the herd.

Eventually, HandEater lowered his head and put his lips down to the grass. He wasn’t eating, but he was pretending to eat. After all, he still had that muzzle on! In other words, in horse language, he was agreeing that she was the boss. It wasn't quite the same as kneeling down, but he certainly wouldn’t oppose her.

Of course, that didn’t mean I could ride him now. But, this did seem like the best opportunity to try. If he bucked me off again, Honey would have “words” with him. Besides, if I gave up at this point, wouldn’t that mean he’d won? I didn't like losing and certainly not to a pony!

This time, I approached again, and held out my hand to let him smell me. I wouldn't have dared without the muzzle around his head, but I figured there was no risk. Regardless, he didn’t have any ropes holding him down, so he could have backed away if he wanted. Instead, he looked at me, then he looked at Honey, and then he sniffed at my hand.

A short while later, I was in the saddle, riding slowly around the pen. Honey followed a few paces behind and to the side. Grit sat useless on top of her saddle like some sort of decoration.

I patted Handeater's neck to reassure him. “See! You aren’t a bad horse! You just … have some authority issues!”

In response, he gave a grunt - in other words, a strong disagreement. I guess he thought he WAS a bad horse? I suppose I was hurting his self image?

“Ahh! I get it now! You ARE a bad horse! The baddest horse I’ve got. The meanest horse in the whole world! But, I’m pretty mean too. Maybe we should work together? We'll be a team! Between the two of us, we'll make the whole world tremble!”

If a one-eyed, one-eared horse could give an evil smile, I guess this is what it would look like.