The Star of Kazan

As far as she could see, Zed and old Wenzel did all the work of the farm and it was unending. Not only did the animals have to be fed and mucked out and milked, but this was the time of year when fences had to be repaired and ditches cleared and logs cut and carried to the house. Zed worked without complaint, but it was when he was with Rocco that he relaxed and was happy.

He exercised the horse every morning, he saddled and bridled him for Hermann when he had to, but whenever there was a spare moment he went to talk to him, or walked with him through the lanes as one would talk and walk with a friend.

To Annika, who had only seen horses ridden formally in the Prater, the way that Rocco and Zed played together was amazing. Rocco came to Zed’s whistle in an instant; he chased after Zed in the paddock like a child playing tag. When Zed rolled on his back in the grass, Rocco copied him.

‘He’s special, isn’t he?’ asked Annika.

‘Yes, he’s special. I know you think I’m saying that because I’ve looked after him all his life, but it isn’t so. Some horses stand out . . . it’s their action; the way they hold their heads . . . You can tell from the start. My father could . . . so could the Master; that’s why he bought him.’

Zed was silent, remembering the stud at Zverno, and the foal caught in a ray of sunlight, coming so eagerly towards them.

‘Horses like that want to learn things. There’s nothing you can’t teach them if you handle them right. But they’re easily spoilt, especially if they’re young. If you tug at their mouths or hit them or give the kind of signals that don’t make sense, you can turn the best horse into an enemy. Rocco’s only just four; you have to go gently with him.’

‘Is that why you don’t want Hermann to ride him?’ asked Annika, who had seen the change which came over Zed when he had to get the horse ready for her brother.

Zed had been scratching Rocco behind his ears. Now he stopped for a moment and the horse turned his head and looked at him reproachfully.

‘Hermann’s hands are bad. He hauls at his mouth and kicks much too hard – and you can’t trust him with a whip. Any other horse would have thrown him.’ He turned away and Annika only just caught the words he said next: ‘When I take Rocco up for Hermann I feel . . . as though I’m betraying the horse.’

The next day Annika had the chance to see for herself what Zed had meant.

Hermann was in a gracious mood. ‘You can watch me ride,’ he told Annika after breakfast. ‘The boy is bringing my horse round at ten o’clock.’

And punctually at ten Zed led Rocco to the mounting block in the courtyard. Annika had expected Zed to look sulky and sour and he did, but the change in Rocco was what surprised her. His ears were flat against his head, he walked slowly like a horse going to the slaughterhouse after a life of toil, and when Hermann, dressed like a miniature cavalry officer, got on his back, he shivered and skittered and rolled his eyes.

‘I hope you’ve tightened the girths properly,’ said Hermann. ‘And where’s my whip?’

‘You don’t need a whip,’ said Zed.

Hermann glared at him, but he said nothing and dug his heels into Rocco’s flank.

‘Forward!’ he commanded. ‘Come on, you lazy brute.’

But it wasn’t till Zed gave Rocco a firm slap on his rump and told him to move that he set off reluctantly towards the field where Hermann liked to practise what he called his riding drill.

Zed went back to the farm; he couldn’t bear to watch, but Annika stood patiently at the edge of the field. Hermann was her brother and she wanted to be fair.

But after half an hour she too returned to the house. You did not have to know anything about riding to see that what was going on in the field was both dangerous and wrong.

The following day the first letters came from Vienna. There was one from Pauline, one from Stefan and one from Ellie, which Sigrid too had signed.

Pauline wrote that they had tried to go to the hut without her and it had been no good. Stefan had brought his brother Ernst and Pauline had found a really good story called ‘Androcles and the Lion’.

It’s about a lion who was put in an arena in ancient Rome to eat Christians, but when the first Christian came in the lion recognized him because he had once taken a thorn out of the lion’s paw and he refused to eat him or anybody else, and the emperor was furious and there was a riot. You’d think it would have worked, wrote Pauline. The story, I mean, but it didn’t and we’ve decided to give up acting and just use the hut as a meeting place.