Knjigice
Fairy tale · Animal stories
Black Beauty
A story told by the horse himself
Also in: Črni lepotec (Slovenian) · Čierny krásavec (Slovak)
The first home I remember was a large sunny meadow with a clear stream. I was a colt: by day I galloped beside my mother, and at night I slept close against her. One day she said to me: "You come of good stock. Always work with a will, lift your feet up high, and never bite or kick." I carried her words with me all my life.
1
When I grew into a tall black horse, a kind master with grey whiskers bought me. He never hurried. First he showed me the bridle and stroked my neck, a few days later the saddle, and only when I was quite calm did he sit on my back. "Good lad," he said softly. From him I learned that a kind word can do more than a whip.
2
On my forehead I wear a white star, and one hind leg is white, as if I had stepped in milk. When the master's wife first saw me she clapped her hands: "What a beauty! Black Beauty shall be his name." I liked the name, and soon everybody called me by it. Whenever I heard it, I lifted my head and stepped along more proudly.
3
In the paddock I found friends. Merrylegs was a round grey pony who could make every child laugh. Ginger was a slender chestnut mare who carried her head high and proud. At first she was sharp with me, but Merrylegs whispered: "Don't hold it against her. Before she came here, she never knew a kind hand." Soon we grazed together and dozed together in the shade of the old lime tree.
4
One evening Ginger told me her story. "My old masters strapped my head high with a tight rein, for hours and hours. My neck ached and nobody heard how much it hurt. That is why I stopped trusting people." I stood quietly beside her. "Nobody here will ever do that to you," I said. And it was true: day by day Ginger's eye grew calmer and her temper gentler.
5
One stormy night my master and I were riding home. The river had risen and was roaring under the bridge. I set a hoof on the first planks — and stopped. Something was wrong. "Get on, Beauty," said the master, but I would not move. Then a man with a lantern shouted from the far bank: "The bridge is broken in the middle!" We turned back the long way round. "Tonight a horse saved us," my master said quietly.
6
One night smoke woke me. The stable was on fire! We horses stamped in terror, and I would not leave my stall. Then came Joe, our young stable boy. He spoke as calmly as if it were an ordinary evening: "Come along, Beauty, out we go." He threw his neckerchief over my eyes and led me step by step to safety. Then he went back for Ginger. Every one of us was saved.
7
Then a sad day came. The mistress fell ill, and the doctor said the family must go to a warm country. All the horses were sold. Ginger and Merrylegs and I rubbed noses in farewell. "Don't forget what your mother told you," Ginger neighed after me. "Work with a will!" Then the cart carried me off down the long road — into the great city.
8
In the city I pulled a cab. My driver Jerry wore a patched green scarf and had a tired, kindly face. Every morning he brought me a crust of bread; every evening he brushed my coat and laid fresh straw. "Be good to a horse and he pays you back twice over," he liked to say. The work was hard, but with Jerry those city years were good.
9
Then came the truly hard years. My new masters cared only for how much I could pull. One hot day the cart was loaded far too heavy. I pulled and pulled until my knees gave way and I lay down in the middle of the road. I thought my days were over. But a good man unbuckled my collar, poured cool water over my head and said: "This horse isn't lazy. This horse is only worn out."
10
When I could walk again, they took me to a horse fair. There an old farmer with white whiskers looked me over a long time, his grandson beside him. "Look at his eye," said the farmer. "This horse has known better days." He bought me, turned me out on sweet grass and let me rest as long as I liked. Day by day I grew stronger, and my coat began to shine as it once had.
11
In the spring the farmer took me to a quiet house where they were looking for a horse they could trust. A young groom with straw-coloured hair and freckles began to clean me. Suddenly he stopped. He looked at my white star, then at my white foot — and cried out: "Beauty! It's you! Why, this is Black Beauty!" It was Joe, the boy who had once carried me out of the fire. He was a grown man now — and tears of joy ran down his cheeks.
12
I have lived here a long time now. My meadow lies under old apple trees, and every morning Joe brings an apple to the fence for me. The children of the house come to stroke me, and nobody ever hurries me. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, it seems I am standing again in the meadow of my childhood, right beside my mother. My troubles are over: I am home — and here my story can rest in peace.
13The End
