Bucephalus and the Boys

[osumanduas 1436]

 

Sixto Rodriguez - Street Boy

 

The Midwinter night was cold, freezing by all accounts; a frigid new world in which a blue eyed boy found himself. He had snuck from his father’s cabin, tucked away and hugged by the taiga, hidden in the brush as any woodsman would have had it. So was the youth’s habit, and so in the Midwinter just past midnight would he leave that cabin for the city to the south which never slept like he, or how expectation would have him. The work of the day, and that which would come with dawn was daunting enough for the young lad but he could simply not resist the urge to escape the fresh air for the sense of companionship he felt in a far more urban landscape.

 

When he kept to the city in the dead of night he would still see many doing business in the late hours, it was dangerous, oddly more so than one might expect his outland address to be. It was there among the urchins that he would find his fun, play dice with folk who were as he was, though dice was quite the horrid habit for a child of only seven years. He didn’t mind in the least, even if their clothes were a bit tattered, their manners coarse. Nor was he quite good with the knucklebones they rattled out across the cobbled streets, the shadows illuminated by dim torchlight as they had their fun.

 

It was one night when they were entirely bored themselves, and so the oldest of them; a wild-eyed boy of hair blonde who proposed a reversal. “What was the forest like? The street-boy would question, would they be at risk? would wolves gobble them up if they dared leave into a cold winter night?.” So many questions his companions had, and yet it was his life itself and blue-eyes barely asked himself much of what they asked him in turn. Boastful was he in turn, of his daily excursions and the time it took to return every night odd to their common games and the sound of their lamb-born dice of pale white bone. So that night instead they broke early, he knew his pa would be mad for the company if he awoke; but he would soon lead them back and for every few minutes they began a bout of merry play, for each he would take extra caution in returning them home.

 

So he led them on their way, the usual trail; for blue-eyes knew well enough that to follow his own tracks to and fro would be an easy affair for him at least. Upon the trail home it was there that all turned ill, for they came across a black horse jet as the night they trudged through. Stupid and young, all thought it a great idea to ride it. All the oldfolk ever worth their salt would speak on how great the folk were who could break a wild horse, dangerous to be sure but truly glorious for the troupe of boys and blue-eyes alike. They divided themselves into three smaller groups, whoever could hop on and stay the longest would have the most glory of course, who could fault the excellent logic of these youth who were barely able see much of each other nevermind that of the horse itself. The first three boys did as was only smart in theory, approaching the beast to flank from the rear, the other six divided between its flank, and of course a frontal assault. They surrounded the beast and entrapped the thing which was nearly a fowl itself just a year or so by the tell of any expert.

 

Those three boys who approached from behind soon found themselves inconvenient near immediately as they set in. The others if they could not hear it at least heard the crunch, the force of the blow as the horse brought up his hind legs with such force that one boy’s head lay warped in the snow, it bucked and in a moment the two left over fled. So too was the fate of the boys who brought themselves down upon the horse from the front, wizened by the sharp wail of their fool brothers in the back they themselves fled when he turned his attention and stood rampant to ward them off. Last was blue-eyes and his three man crew, though distracted by the other boys they stood the best to beat the beast. One minute, two minute, three minutes, four; his first mate stuck and hopped onboard. The success didn’t last and he was tossed in one more. The next tried right after and was bucked off just as quick; it was then just him. His last thought: “If this horse doesn’t kill me I swear my pa better not.” With that he hopped on and tried his luck, and he did get home before early light; yet his pride did not survive the night. 

 

Edited December 15, 2020 by Rejacketed