Bonecrack

I sorted my way through the maze. 'Are you saying that at a further stage than sterility, our hypothetical syphilitic gent can convince himself that he can move mountains?'

'Not only convince himself,' he agreed, nodding. 'But actually do it. There is literally no one more likely to move mountains than your megalomaniac syphilitic. Not that it lasts for ever, of course. Twenty years, perhaps, in that stage, once it's developed.'

'And then what?'

'G. P. I.' He took a hefty swallow. 'General paralysis of the insane. In other words, descent to cabbage.'

'Inevitable?'

'After this megalomania stage, yes. But not everyone who gets syphilis gets G.P.I., and not everyone who gets G.P.I, gets megalomania first. They're only branch lines- fairly rare complications.'

'They would need to be,' I said with feeling.

'Indeed yes. If you meet a syphilitic megalomaniac, duck. Duck quickly, because they can be dangerous. There's a theory that Hitler was one-' He looked at me thoughtfully over the top of his glass, and his old damp eyes slowly widened. His gaze focused on the sling he had put round my arm, and he said as if he couldn't believe what he was thinking, 'You didn't duck quick enough-'

'A horse threw me,' I said.

He shook his head. 'It was a direct blow. I could see that- but I couldn't believe it. Thought it very puzzling, as a matter of fact.'

'A horse threw me,' I repeated.

He looked at me in awakening amusement. 'If you say so,' he said. 'A horse threw you. I'll write that in my notes.' He finished his drink and stood up. 'Don't stand in his path any more, then. And I'm serious, young Neil. Just remember that Henry VIII chopped off a lot of heads.'

'I'll remember,' I said.

As if I could forget.

I rethought the horse-threw-me story and substituted a fall down the stairs for Etty's benefit.

'What a damn nuisance,' she said in brisk sympathy, and obviously thought me clumsy. 'I'll drive you along to Waterhall in the Land-Rover, when we pull out.'

I thanked her, and while we were waiting for the lads to lead the horses out of the boxes ready for the first lot, we walked round into bay one to check on Archangel. Checking on Archangel had become my most frequent occupation.

He was installed in the most secure of the high security boxes, and since Enso's return to England I had had him guarded day and night. Etty thought my care excessive, but I had insisted.

By day bay one was never left unattended. By night the electric eye was positioned to trap unwanted visitors. Two specially engaged security men watched all the time, in shifts, from the owners' room, whose window looked out towards Archangel's box: and their Alsatian dog on a long tethering chain crouched on the ground outside the box and snarled at everyone who approached.

The lads had complained about the dog, because each time they had to see to any horse in bay one, they had to fetch the security guard to help them. All other stables, they had pointed out, only had a dog on duty at night.

Etty waved an arm to the guard in the window. He nodded, came out into the yard, and held his dog on a short leash so that we could walk by safely. Archangel came over to the door when I opened the top half, and poked his nose out into the soft Mayday morning. I rubbed his muzzle and patted his neck, admiring the gloss on his coat and thinking that he hadn't looked better in all the weeks I'd been there.

'Tomorrow,' Etty said to him with a gleam in her eyes, 'We'll see what you can do, boy, tomorrow.' She smiled at me in partnership, acknowledging finally that I had taken some share in getting him ready. During the past month, since the winners had begun mounting up, her constant air of worry had mostly disappeared, and the confidence I had remembered in her manner had all come back. 'And we'll see how much more we'll have to do with him, to win the Derby.'

'My father will be back for that,' I said, intending to reassure her. But the spontaneity went out of her smile, and she looked blank.

'So he will,' she said. 'Do you know- I'd forgotten.'

She turned away from his box and walked out into the main yard. I thanked the large ex-policeman guard and begged him and his mate to be especially vigilant for the next thirty-four hours.

'Safe as the Bank of England, sir. Never you fear, sir.' He was easy with certainty, but I thought him optimistic.

Alessandro didn't turn up to ride out, not for either lot. But when I climbed stiffly out of the Land-Rover after the second dose of Etty's jolting driving, he was standing waiting for me at the entrance to the yard. When I walked towards the door to the office he came to meet me and stopped in my way.

I stopped also, and looked at him. He held himself rigidly, and his face was thin and white with strain.

'I am sorry,' he said jerkily. 'I am sorry. He told me what he had done- I did not want it. I did not ask it.'

'Good,' I said casually. I thought about the way I was carrying my head on one side because it was less painful like that. I felt it was time to straighten up. I straightened.

'He said you would now agree to me riding Archangel tomorrow.'

'And what do you think?' I asked.

He looked despairing, but he answered without doubt. 'I think you will not.'

'You've grown up a lot,' I said.

'I have learned from you-' He shut his mouth suddenly and shook his head. 'I mean- I beg you to let me ride Archangel.'

I said mildly, 'No.'

The words burst out of him, 'But he will break your other arm. He said so, and he always does what he says. He'll break your arm again, and I- and I-' He swallowed and took a grip on his voice, and said with much more control, 'I told him this morning that it is right that I do not ride Archangel. I told him that if he hurt you any more you would tell the Stewards about everything, and I would be warned off. I told him I do not want him to do any more. I want him to leave me here with you, and let me get on on my own.'

I took a slow deep breath. 'And what did he say to that?'

He seemed bewildered as well as distraught. 'I think it made him even more angry.'

I said in explanation, 'He doesn't so much care about whether or not you ride Archangel in the Guineas. He cares only about making me let you ride it. He cares about proving to you that he can give you everything you ask, just as he always has.'

'But I ask him now to leave you alone. Leave me here. And he will not listen.'

'You are asking him for the only thing he won't give you,' I said.

'And what is that?'

'Freedom.'

'I don't understand,' he said.

'Because he did not want you to have freedom, he gave you everything else. Everything- to keep you with him. As he sees it, I have recently been holding out to you the one thing he doesn't want you to have. The power to make a success of life on your own. So his fight with me now is not really about who rides Archangel tomorrow, but about you.'

He understood all right. It drenched him like a revelation.

'I will tell him he has no fear of losing me,' he said passionately. Then he will do you no more harm.'

'Don't you do that. His fear of losing you is all that's keeping me alive.'

His mouth opened. He stared at me with the black eyes, a pawn lost between the rooks.

'Then what- what am I to do?'

'Tell him that Tommy Hoylake rides Archangel tomorrow.'

His gaze wandered down from my face to the hump made by the clavicle rings and the outline of my arm in its sling inside my jersey.

'I cannot,' he said.

I half smiled. 'He will find out soon enough.'

Alessandro shivered slightly. 'You don't understand. I have seen-' His voice trailed away and he looked back to my face with a sort of awakening on his own. 'I have seen people he has hurt. Afterwards, I've seen them. There was fear in their faces. And shame, too. I just thought- how clever he was- to know how to make people do what he wanted. I've seen how everyone fears him- and I thought he was marvellous-' He took a shaky breath. 'I don't want him to make you look like those others.'