Traveller Probo

Osborne, a horseman since early childhood, sat in the saddle with an easy familiarity that, to Professor Taylor, looked every inch the Centaur of ancient Greek legend. Osborne watched carefully as the men became comfortable on their mounts and, the academic noted with chagrin, that more supervisory attention was directed to his efforts than any other. He sat back into his saddle, carefully placing his hands so as to not grip the saddle’s pommel. The team had practiced their horse-riding as Kievan Rus traders used horses for transport and beasts of burden. Not only was his bottom and perineum sore but the professor felt too high from the ground and feared the consequences of any fall. Thankfully, no such accident had occurred.

Yet.

There were some positives of course. He had toughened, even he could tell that. With his dramatically increased fitness came a greater confidence. Yet he envied the men about him for their youth, physical prowess and indomitable spirit. They seemed untouchable and were barely known to complain, no matter how dire their circumstances. Once, when training in the mountains, Taylor had been almost frozen and the men had laughed and joked together while they helped him along. He could barely understand their jocularity. Parker later told him that they were all as cold as he. It was all a matter of how one viewed discomfort.

How did these men do it?

As they moved off, Osborne rode alongside Professor Taylor. One of the Turkish Travellers led, for most of them were expert riders. The only team member who seemed to dislike horses was the burly Parker. Chuck described his riding style as if ‘he had a stick up his arse!’

“You’re doing well Professor,” nodded Osborne with satisfaction. “You’re relaxing into it and becoming one with the horse.”

The academic’s horse was a particularly placid mare. “Better watch out Professor,” joked Poxon, fresh from his mission in Saxon Aengland. “If your mare’s anywhere near heat, Osborne’s stallion will hump her, whether you’re riding or not.”

“Yeah, that would be one hell of a sandwich,” chuckled McAlister, and the men around them laughed along.

The professor was often the butt of their jokes but they repeatedly assured him that they meant well. Osborne once told him that if they didn’t like him, they would ignore him.

“You’re doing very well Professor, don’t listen to these dickheads,” called Osborne happily. “You’ve come along superbly. Just relax into the movement of the horse. There’s nothing wrong with a sore bum, it’ll pass. Your horse knows you’re the boss. I think you’re a bloody legend actually!”

Professor Taylor looked up, surprised and happy. “Really?” he exclaimed. Praise from Osborne was uncommon.

The tough Australian nodded. “Sure! You’ve come much farther than you think. You’re tougher than you imagine and we’re all proud of you,” and he slapped the academic on the shoulder as he pushed past to speak with the troop leader. Parker trotted up gracelessly bouncing on his horse and grimaced in a pained similitude of a smile. “Good one Professor. I told you you’re doing well. Congratulations!”

Professor Taylor nodded his thanks.

“If I could only ride so I don’t keep smashing my balls, I’d be so much happier,” grimaced Parker.

“Oh, the perils of having big balls,” added Poxon.

Parker nodded, “Sod off! I only wish I got to use mine as often as you do.”

The patrol rode steadily to the top of a range of rugged hills where they eventually stopped for a break. A local farmer provided feed and water for their horses, including two spare mounts so they would develop a familiarity with pack horses.

The men settled into a meal of flatbreads, lamb and tomatoes. As they ate, the sound of an approaching chopper caused them to scan the skies until they identified the craft normally flown by Princess Prudence. The chopper flew smoothly to a nearby field and, in her classic manoeuvre that had Professor Taylor’s stomach roil, the craft dropped quickly to hover metres above the field before a smooth touchdown. To his surprise the craft was powered down and both Princess Prudence and Deniz clambered from their craft.

Osborne strode forward with a wave and a smile, “Captain! Lieutenant!” he called, “So glad you could join us.”

“What the fuck?” muttered Chuck and he looked to Baki and Hami, who both shrugged, oblivious to the reason for the chopper crew’s presence.

Like her co-pilot, Captain Kartal had left her helmet in the helicopter and was a striking figure of a woman. Her auburn hair was cut professionally short in a modern style so, even in her flight suit, she was surprisingly pretty, despite her habitual frown.

“Captain Osborne,” she greeted with a curt nod.

“These are your mounts,” smiled Osborne as he led them to the two spare horses Professor Taylor had assumed were draft horses. The Australian held the reins of an attractive chestnut pony. “Come, she won’t bite,” he encouraged in Turkish and Captain Kartal strode up with a stunned expression. Hesitantly she held her hand out while the horse touched its nose to her palm and gave a sniff. Captain Kartal, the hardest helicopter pilot in the Turkish military, gave an involuntary squeal and a giggle. “Oh, her lips are so soft and velvety,” she laughed and she went to stroke the horse’s muzzle but the horse raised its head and she jumped involuntarily.

“It’s okay, she won’t hurt you,” smiled Osborne. “She’s just getting to know you. Here,” he took a carrot from a leather pouch he wore on his belt. “She’ll love this. Just place the carrot into your open palm and she’ll take it.”

Captain Kartal held the carrot nervously in her hand and, as the horse went to take it, the fearless captain jumped and squealed again and this time laughed out loud in delight. The other men wore a mixture of puzzled smiles and looks of open astonishment. Chuck’s mouth was open in shock. After all of the conflict they had experienced at the hands of Princess Prudence, it looked like Osborne might finally crack her icy exterior. Osborne soon assisted the helicopter pilot onto her horse, his hands manoeuvred in hesitant familiarity, and he began to teach her how to ride.

By the time the men were ready to mount up, she looked to have mastered the rudimentary skills necessary to not immediately fall off. As their patrol moved out, Professor Taylor heard Chuck mutter, “Genius. Bloody genius! Ozzie said she’d never ridden a horse before and now, look at her. She’s almost human!”

The young woman looked enthralled. Chuck was correct. This might be the best way to break through Captain Kartal’s reluctance to be part of the team. Her co-pilot seemed quite happy on his mount, though he had been mostly ignored by Osborne. Chuck looked across to the Professor and arched his eyebrows, impressed.

Princess Prudence looked like she was going to have a day to remember.