The Rose of York Read Online Free

flashed, thunder shook the skies, and still he climbed. Some crossed themselves and said prayers while clutching rope lines and cables; others stood hugging the rails, slack-jawed with awe as he undid the stays, first one, then another. He gathered up the wildly beating scarlet canvas and furled it tightly together.
    It was done.
    A mad cheer went up. The men ran to their stations; buckets were passed down into the hold, filled, brought up, and emptied. Another struggling line of men tripped and stumbled as they secured the rope, staggering across the rolling deck, but now smiles lit their gaunt, hollow-eyed faces.
    Richard left his wedge, crawled to Galahad, and received a welcoming whinny for his troubles. Now that the ship had eased its savage lurching and it was steadier below, Galahad’s belly wasn’t heaving as much. Richard reached between the wood fencing of the stall and stroked his neck.
    “We’re going to be all right, Galahad,” he whispered, scratching the white blaze around his forehead that gave him a look of wonderment before moving to one of his honey brown ears in the way Galahad loved. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Cousin Warwick has saved us.” Galahad batted long gold eyelashes and nuzzled him. Richard could smell the steamy warmth of his body. He rested his head on Galahad’s cheek, remembering the many times he’d stolen into the castle stables seeking his friend’s companionship during the civil war between his father and the wicked queen. He was glad now to give Galahad back some of the comfort Galahad had so often given him. “You’re a brave horse,” Richard said, “and if Edward wins the throne, I promise I’ll have his archbishop bless you.”
    “What good will that do?” demanded George, who had sat down to rest now that the great excitement was over.
    Richard flushed. He had forgotten to keep his voice down. “He’ll be a better horse. And he’ll get into Heaven when he dies.” He hoped that was a good reason. The truth was, he didn’t really have one. He just thought it would be nice for Galahad to be blessed by an archbishop.
    “You witless dunce, a horse can’t…”
    The seas broke over the ship again and the vessel gave a violent roll. Frantic with fright, Galahad reared. He kicked at the wood of his stall. A sharp snapping sound ripped through the small cabin as it cracked. He charged again and it gave way. He bolted out. The long leather strap that leashed him to a timber post yanked him back momentarily, but he reared again and the strap unravelled. He plunged out across the gangway onto the main deck.
    “No, Galahad!” Richard screamed, running after him. “Come back, come back!”
    With all his might, Richard jumped for the leather strap dragging behind Galahad. He landed on the gangplank with a bruising thump, caught the end of it, and pulled hard to slow Galahad, but he might as well have been a plume in the wind, for Galahad, oblivious, dragged him out onto the deck.
    A gigantic wall of water crashed over the ship. Galahad lost his footing, went sliding across the deck, shrieking fiercely, and Richard followed, clinging to his strap, screaming “ Galahad! ” but his cries were blown from his lips by the wind that bore Galahad’s shrieks to him. He felt its icy blast in his face, the sting of the water like hot stones against his flesh, then water gushed into his nose, knocking the breath from his lungs and sweeping him away. He surfaced once, caught sight of the foaming sea, and knew he was going overboard. As he headed at breakneck speed for the side, something slammed into him. The stunning pain in his body forced his fists open and Galahad’s strap slipped out of his hand. It was something solid, curving, with a waist like an hourglass. He closed his arms around it and clung for his life as the ship pitched again.
    The water receded and he saw that it was the capstan that had broken his fall. There was no sign of Galahad. The icy water