“Ooof!” The Prince rolled heels over head on the soft turf.

Toli rushed to him. “Are you hurt?” He picked up the boy and brushed him off. There was mud on his chin and elbows.

“No-it is not the first time I have fallen. That, at least, I seem to have the knack of.”

“I am sorry it will not be the last time, either,” laughed Toli. “But I must keep you in one piece, or your father will have my head!”

The Prince looked up at his instructor, frowning, his smooth brow knitting in consternation. “Will I ever get it right?”

“Of course, in time-”

“But the hunt is less than a fortnight away!”

“Do not worry, young master. You are making good progress. You shall ride with the hunt, I promise. And your father will have his surprise. All in good time. But first you must learn not to hesitate when you approach a jump. It confuses your mount, and he will jump badly.”

“May I try it again?”

“We should be getting back. I’ve duties to attend to.”

“Please, Toli. Just once more. I would not like to end the day’s practice with a fall.”

“Well said. One more jump, and then we race for home.”

The Prince dashed to his mount, Tarky, who had stopped to nibble the grass at the end of the path. Toli went back to Riv and remounted. “Think about what you are doing, young sir!” called Toli. “Concentrate!”

The boy climbed into his saddle, a look of dire determination on his face. He eyed the obstacle ahead, gauging the distance, then snapped the reins and spurred the horse ahead.

Away they galloped down the path. In a twinkling they were hurtling toward the log. Prince Gerin leaned low in the saddle, lifted his hands, and the horse flew up and over the log as graceful and light as a deer. The Prince pulled the reins and with a whoop of triumph wheeled the pony around and broke for the far trees across the meadow.

“Well done, Prince Gerin!” shouted Toli. “Well done!” Then he, too, spurred his mount for the trees and beyond them to the road leading back to Askelon.