Nightstorm and the Grand Slam

Victory was a typical Thoroughbred – catlike and elegant with lean limbs and a gallop that swallowed the ground on a cross-country course – Nightstorm was burly and heavy-set with the strong haunches and powerful neck that spoke of his Andalusian bloodlines.

But it wasn’t just their physiques that were opposite. Their personalities were also worlds apart.

“When you ride Victory, you ride with your head,” Francoise once said. “Nightstorm is different – he must be ridden with your heart.”

The French dressage trainer was right. To get the best out of Storm, Issie needed more than technical perfection – she needed to emotionally connect with the stallion; to convince him that he wanted this as much as she did.

It wasn’t easy. Storm had a mind of his own – as he had proven today in the warm-up arena! Even as a young colt he had been headstrong, and now that the stallion was fully grown he had become even harder for Issie to manage. Issie would often end a schooling session frustrated by the power struggle between her and the obstinate bay stallion. She would have given up on him entirely if Storm weren’t so ridiculously talented. His dressage paces were elevated and spectacular, his jumping ability was unrivalled, and despite his burly conformation he was speedy and agile across country. He was the perfect eventer. Or at least he would have been if it weren’t for his unpredictable dressage antics. At the Boekelo horse trials, he had thrown what could only be called a tantrum – kicking out his hindquarters in a dramatic buck every time Issie asked him to change his paces. Issie had stayed onboard but she had left the arena almost in tears.

“Storm’s problem is that he is too clever for his own good,” Francoise had consoled her back at the horse truck that day. “He knows all the dressage moves, but he is easily bored and some days he simply cannot be bothered! That is the price you pay for his genius. When he is bad he is horrid, but when he is in a good mood – he is unbeatable.”

Today had definitely been a ‘good mood’ day. It had been a fabulous test and as Issie rode back towards the stables Stella came running up to greet her.

“They’ve posted your scores already!” she said.

“How did we do?” Issie asked as she vaulted down off Nightstorm’s back, passing Stella the reins.

“Guess!” Stella said brightly.

“Stella!”

“Come on!” The bubbly redhead grinned. “Take a guess.”

“Stella!” Issie took off her top hat and wiped her forehead. “I’m hot, I’m exhausted and I’m not in the mood for guessing games! What was my score?”

Stella pulled a face. “You know you were more fun before you turned pro…”

Issie shot her a glare and Stella laughed. “OK, no messing around. You really want to know? You got thirty-eight!”

Issie’s jaw dropped open. In eventing a low score was a good thing. She had been hoping for perhaps something in the forties. But thirty-eight? It was beyond her wildest dreams.

“So where does that put me?” she asked Stella. “Have I made the top ten?”

Stella smiled widely at her best friend. “Better than top ten,” she said. “Issie, you’re sitting at number three!”

Issie couldn’t believe it. A few minutes ago she’d been on the ground dusting the arena sand off her top hat, and now she was on the leaderboard in third place with the cross-country and showjumping, Storm’s two best phases, still to come!

As they walked back to the stables, Issie tried to contain her excitement. After all, this was Badminton, the biggest four-star competition in the world, and there was so much that could still go wrong in this dangerous game.

She had no idea how right she was.

Chapter 2

With the dressage behind them, the Laurels team were now completely focused on the next phase. The cross-country tomorrow would be the biggest challenge that Issie had ever ridden. Not just because of the size of the fences – although at the maximum height of a metre-twenty they were massive. More than the sheer scale, it was the devilish complexity of the obstacles at Badminton that threatened to trip up even the most experienced equestrians. With demanding combinations of ditches, banks and angled corners, the course was treacherous. It was so tough that half the competitors would fail to finish – many would be eliminated for falls or refusals, while others would retire halfway around when their horses couldn’t cope.

While the horses weren’t allowed to see the course beforehand, the riders were encouraged to walk around it as many times as they liked.

So far, Issie had walked it three times – and considering the course was a little over six kilometres long, she figured that was a pretty good effort. When Avery suggested they walk it a fourth time after the dressage test, she thought he must be kidding.

“I think we need to take another look at the Vicarage Ditch,” Avery said. “I’m still not certain we’ve got the best path resolved into the spread. It’s going to be very hard riding to get your angle right into the jump…”

“Tom,” Issie shook her head. “We could walk the course a hundred times but it’s not going to make those jumps any smaller. We’ve figured out my line for that spread. It’s going to be fine.”

“All the same,” Avery said. “I think we should walk the course one last time.”

Tom Avery had been Issie’s instructor since she first started riding at the Chevalier Point Pony Club. She knew better than to argue with him. And so, she dragged herself up off the sofa in the horse truck and pulled on her boots.

“Let’s go then.”

The cross-country course began in the main stadium with the flower bed. From there a broad blanket of grassy track led on to the brush, the quarry and then the Huntsman’s Close complex which involved a tricky combination and a very acute angle on a corner fence. The lake complex and a broad wooden tabletop fence came after that, and then the trickier narrow obstacles that required precision riding – two round tops and the intricate farmyard fences. After that, the horse had room to gallop until they reached one of the biggest fences on the course. The Vicarage Ditch was a massive obstacle. The ditch itself was almost three metres wide, with a hedge and solid wood rail set into the middle of it, placed at an odd angle.

“So how are you going to face him up to this? Will you turn straight towards the rail?” Avery asked as they walked towards the jump.

Issie frowned. Avery knew exactly how she planned to attack this fence. They had talked it over three times already!

“I’m going to ignore the ditch and take a straight line at the rail,” she said tersely. “It’s a big jump so I’ll really put my legs on to get a strong canter into it, but Storm and Victory are both fit and they should have loads of energy…”

“…Maybe too much energy,” Avery cut her off. “The last thing you want to do is rush it at a gallop and risk mis-timing and crashing into the rail…”

“Well, obviously!” Issie said. “I…”

But Avery had turned his back on her and was now walking the perimeter of the ditch. “I’ve decided that the best thing to do is to avoid the Vicarage Ditch entirely. If you take the long route here you don’t have to jump it, you can go around and take the two offset hedges instead…”

Issie couldn’t believe what she was hearing!

“Tom, that’s the alternative route! If I avoid the Ditch it will take me three times as long!”

“I know that,” Avery said, “but it’s the safer option.”

“Not if I want to win!” Issie replied. “The long option will add at least ten seconds and that would kill my chances of coming in under the allowed time. I’ll be penalised.”

“A few time penalties is better than twenty faults from a refusal,” Avery argued.

“A few time penalties is all it will take to lose me the competition!”

Issie was stunned that her trainer was suggesting this change at the eleventh hour.

“You’ve never suggested that I take the soft route before. It’s always ‘go straight through!’ So why the sudden change? Why are you acting so weird?”

“I told you.” Avery looked distressed. “It’s better to risk the time faults.”

“No,” Issie shook her head. “It’s not…”

“Yes, it jolly well is!” Avery snapped. “It’s better to risk the time faults than your horse’s life!”

The words hung there in the silence between them. Issie now understood why they were out here standing on the cross-country course, with her instructor in a complete meltdown. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t even about Victory and Nightstorm. This was about Avery and something that had happened long ago. She’d been a fool to forget what this jump in particular meant to him. Back in the days when Avery was competing, the Vicarage Ditch was known as the Vicarage Vee. It was this fence that had ended her trainer’s professional eventing career. He had fallen here on his horse, The Soothsayer. Avery had come away with minor cuts and bruises, but The Soothsayer had not been so lucky. The horse’s life had ended when he broke his leg attempting this fence.

Avery had never spoken to Issie about the accident – in fact he never spoke to anyone about what happened that day. It must have been so painful for Avery to be here now, reliving the agony of that moment all those years ago when he lost his beloved horse.