With a final, tight pull on the boiled leather cord, Vilon bound the bundle firmly against the cantle of his saddle.
Chestnut snorted in sharp displeasure at the newly added weight, his heavy hoof stamping the autumn leaves. "Easy, boy. Easy," Vilon murmured soothingly, reaching up to scratch the beast right behind his flicking ear.
To his quiet relief, the courser allowed the touch without snapping his yellow teeth. Perhaps the animal was finally softening to him; or perhaps the small mountain of sweet orchard apples Vilon had been feeding him over the past three days was working its quiet magic. Now that silver jingled warmly in his scrip, the diet of both knight and mounts had earned a grand elevation.
When the gods saw fit to throw an extra crust your way, it was only fair to toss a bite to the beasts that carried you.
