The Pythagoras Curse Part XV

In Search Of Gerung Brandt

The decision to travel in country with hopes of finding Gerung presented Long Feather and I a few obstacles to overcome.

Most of the locals we spoke to were quick to let us know travel beyond the “black stumps” was relegated to the insane, rogue bushrangers, and indigenous tribes of seeking revenge on the white man.

This would not be the first time Long Feather and I had consciously put our lives in jeopardy, and from my viewpoint it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Our first order of business was to obtain stock hardy enough to make the journey, but not so wild and unruly we would suffer the riding of them.

After locating a stable and bartering with the merchant until I reached a reasonable price for two horses, a saddle, bridle and a rifle sheath we walked to one of three corrals behind the establishment.

“So mate, you and the blackfella…”

“As I said before the boy is Indian. His name is Long Feather.”

“Aye, my apologies sir. Meant no disrespect.”

“And yet you offered it freely.”

The merchant scowled and started to reply. When I shifted my sword from my left hand to my right he hesitated, stared at my hands then pointed to the corral to the far left of us.

“As I was to say sir, you and uh, Long Feather, can have pick of any one of those in the corral.”

As I nodded Long Feather walked over and slid between the rails into the corral. Horses on either side of him shied and scampered away, but he paid little attention. Instead he walked to the center then stopped, closed his eyes and held both arms out to form a T.

“What the hell is he doing mate?”

I shook my head, choosing to remain silent as the boy began to hum, a low melodic, chanting which instantly seemed to calm the frenzied motions of the horses.

As Long Feather continued to hum, his eyes closed, his arms outstretched, one of the horses, a bay about thirteen hands tall cautiously approached him, curious but tentative still the same.

Perplexed, I watched the horse sniff one of Long Feather’s outstretched hands then nuzzle its forehead against the boy’s arm. Long Feather opened his eyes and very slowly began to stroke the horse’s mane and shoulder, at the same time whispering into the animal’s ear.

What happened next was something I had never seen in my six hundred years on this planet.

I watched the boy gently stroke the horse’s shoulder and ease his hand to its pastern where he grasped it and tugged as if prompting the horse to lift its heel.

The horse complied, lifted his hoof and allowed Long Feather to guide it in the direction of its rump. As both the merchant and I stared in amazement the horse knelt on one knee, then the other.

“God in heaven, I don’t believe I have ever seen such a sight mate.”

“Nor I.”

Stupefied, we watched the boy quickly mount. When the horse stood, Long Feather grasped the horse’s mane and guided it to the edge of the corral where we stood.

With a rather serious looking expression he gazed at me and said, “Long Feather no pick horse. Horse pick Long Feather. Shaman you come. I will sing for you.”

I thrust my sword into the ground and took one of the two bridles I’d purchased from the merchant. With Long Feather astride his horse we walked to the center. As I closed my eyes and held out my arms Long Feather began to hum again.

It only took three or four minutes. I felt warm air blowing against my outstretched hand, felt the softness of horse flesh against my arm. As I’d seen the boy do, I opened my eyes and began to stroke the horses mane, neck and shoulders.

It was a beautiful animal. Coal black and yet it’s flesh glimmered with a lustrous sheen against the glare of the sun. It offered me a look of intellect from its widened brown eyes as if it were studying me. As if it were gauging my threat to him.

I continued to stroke the beast, pausing to whisper into the horse’s ear as I’d seen Long Feather do.

“I mean you no harm beast. I only seek you to carry me to my long lost brother. I will respect your wishes, tend to your needs as if they were my own. And at the end of our journey I will be gone from you and help you become free of servitude.”

As if the horse understood each word, it snorted and shook its head. Slowly, I held up the bridle and let the horse sniff it. Again I stroked the horse and whispered into its ear.

“If you will allow it I will introduce you to the bridle and bit and then the saddle. It will be how you and I will communicate, and how I shall accompany you during our travel.”

The horse stood patiently as I gently moved the bridle up along its forehead with the bit in the palm of my hand. Using a thumb I gently pried one of his lips up and pressed the bit against his gum.

The horse immediately opened his mouth and let me slide the bit in. After fastening the noseband loose around his nose, I brought the crownpiece up making sure the bit stayed in place and fastened it behind its ears.

Once complete, I again stroked the beast and gave it few respectful pats as I gazed into its eyes.

“Horse has picked you to journey with Shaman.”

“Yes boy I believe he has.”

As patient as my horse was with the bridle and bit, he was just as patient as I covered his back with blanket, saddle, rifle sheath and saddlebags.

Soon after, we were journeying Northwest through the streets of Melbourne toward the farthest perimeter of the city.

Neither of us spoke as we rode past the “black stumps”.

We were committed to the journey, the quest to find Gerung. If it meant we were to travel as we did before in the territories and go further into the “beyond” then we were prepared to do so.

We would travel where civilization was said not to exist. To places where unseen dangers never show themselves until seconds before death.

READ ON — THE PYTHAGORAS CURSE PART XVI

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part VIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII Part XXIII, Conclusion

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