Joachim had said nothing so far, but he suddenly put in, with a look toward me, “I’m going to the high plateau tomorrow myself.”
“Good,” I said. “We’ll go together. While you talk to the hermit, I’ll search for this magical horned rabbit there. A wood nymph’s grove might even attract it. At the same time the duchess and her hunters can be looking for its trail down here. Between all of us, we should catch it.”
IV
In the early morning, the high plateau was half hidden by mist, but the sun rising behind it gave the rows of trees against the sky a halo of light. When the count’s stable boy led our horses into the courtyard, I saw at once that he had switched the harnesses. The rangy bay Joachim had been riding had the correct saddle, but its bridle had bells, whereas my old white mare had no bells.
Joachim did not actually become angry; he never did. “I’m a priest and a representative of the cathedral,” he said. “I can’t go visit a hermit while riding a horse with bells,” and he proceeded to lengthen the stirrups on my mare.
“Wait a minute, Father, I can change the bridles,” said the mortified stable boy.
“It’s not your fault,” the chaplain said quietly. “I have no time to wait, but think no more of it.” His long legs reaching well below the mare’s belly, he rode out through the gates, while I scrambled up on the bay, hastily tugged up the stirrups, and hurried to catch him.
We rode in silence, through a woods where dark pines stood tall on either hand, then slowly up and out of the pines as the road ascended toward the plateau. Our horses were breathing hard when we emerged at the top.