Bucephalus swatted the persistent flies away with his unkempt, wild-looking tail. He was a chestnut stallion with a messy mane and tail that where chocolate brown. No one dared brush him, for he was more wild then the wind and as untamed as the open ocean.
But why was he like this? Why did he throw anyone who dared saddle him?
He did this because he was a wise horse. Although he was young, he had a second sense, as most animals do. He could somehow sense that there would, someday, be a human that would need him. This human would be his human, Bucephalus’s human. They would be equals, friends. They would have joyrides together, human and horse as one, with the wind laughing merrily in their ears.
Bucephalus was sure of this, although he didn’t exactly know how or why. He just....knew.
But he did know what he would do in the meantime. He would wait for this human, the one that would be of importance to him. Bucephalus wouldn’t allow any other human to ride him. No, he would only let one ride him. The one that he was waiting for....
*****
“Hey!” said a loud and obnoxious voice from outside of the stables.
The voice woke Bucephalus. He let out an annoyed snort and shook his messy mane. Pesky horseflies bit his hindquarters and gnats buzzed persistently in his soft and sensitive ears. He whipped his dirty, tangled tail in an exasperated way, in attempt to swat them away. Bucephalus’s ears flattened. What were the annoying humans doing now?
“You got a challenge for me, stableboy?” shouted the voice in a loathsome, important tone.
“Well,” muttered a second voice, a voice that belonged to the stableboy, in a thoughtful, dejected tone, “I think that the only horse that you haven’t rode is Bucephalus. But no one can ride him. He throws anyone who dares embark on his back. Why don’t you ride Zeus? He’s tame....”
“A horse not allow me to ride him? Phooey! I could ride the wind itself,” snorted the arrogant voice of the first boy.
“If that is what you want,” the stableboy murmured. “But you have to saddle him yourself. I’m not going near him. I would like to live today.”
“Whatever, softie,” the first voice snarled.
Bucephalus whipped his tail more quickly and pawed at the ground in anticipation. O-o-oh this was gonna be good.
The snotty boy came over, holding the hated lather saddle in his arms.
Why would I want to schlepp a cadaverous cow on my back? Bucephalus whinnied, enraged. But the rude little boy ignored the great horse’s appeal.
The disgusting human saddled Bucephalus up and led him out of his stable. Bucephalus, pretending to be a laid-back bovine who was timid and tame, followed at a smooth, gentle pace.
“See?” RudeBoy said to the stableboy, who stood watching aghast as he cleaned another horse’s stable. “I have tamed him and I haven’t even mounted him yet! Ha!”
The stableboy didn’t reply as they clopped wordlessly out of the stables and int the open, where RudeBoy was to ride Bucephalus.
Other people had gathered, for they knew that RudeBoy was an excellent jokey, abut cruel. Bucephalus allowed RudeBoy to climb onto his back and ride him in a circle. As RudeBoy started the second circle, Bucephalus broke into a cater and then a gallop.
Bucephalus rose onto his hind hooves held position there for a moment, RudeBoy, red faced, screaming commands to stop all the while. And slammed his front feet onto the packed dirt, his hindquarters high in the air as if he were dong a handstand. RudeBoy, in all his arrogance, was thrown.
You are nothing but a pig with a whip, you rancid human slug! Bucephalus snorted in diffidence.
Bucephalus trotted braggingly in a teasing circle around RudeBoy. But as he did this, someone caught his eye. One of the people in the crowd. It was the smiling face of a boy. There was something about that boy....
As the embarrassed RudeBoy departed, Bucephalus, who had stopped trotting, held the youth’s gaze. He could not make himself look away. The young boy held Bucephalus’s gaze, too.
The boy stood.
“I will ride you,” he said, addressing Bucephalus, oblivious to the many pairs of eyes watching him in awe.
The boy was treating Bucephalus as his equal. He was a boy of importance....
The boy walked over to Bucephalus, unafraid. “My name is Alexander,” the boy whispered in the horse’s ear. “Will you let me ride you?”
Yes! Bucephalus whinnied eagerly. Yes, yes, yes!
But, for once, Bucephalus was not eager because he wanted to tease the ‘pig with a whip’ and throw the ‘human slug’. No, he was eager to find out more about this fascinating Alexander. He was not ardent about throwing him, but about riding with this wonderful by on his back.
Alexander mounted Bucephalus. He had taken the whip from the ground. With his bare hands, in a godlike fashion, he snapped the whip in half and threw them on the ground. “Let’s ride, Bucephalus,” he whispered. “Take me where you wish.”
Bucephalus flicked his ear in ecstasy. He was liking this Alexander character. Let’s go! he cried gleefully.
Bucephalus reared impalpably as that Alexander didn’t fall off. With that, Bucephalus cantered off.
As Bucephalus ran through thickets of brambles and leapt over rushing rivers and shallow creeks, Alexander whooping joyously on his back, he felt something that he had never felt before. When Alexander’s things flexed in preparation to squeeze the horse’s flanks (urging Bucephalus to quicken his canter into a flying pace), Bucephalus followed the command before it was even executed. Alexander and Bucephalus where one....
....human and horse where one....
*****
When Bucephalus, who was exhausted at this point, finally stopped, the two comrades had arrived at a peaceful little meadow.
The meadow was well-peppered with wildflowers of all colors; red-violet, deep-indigo, coal-black, sunshine-yellow, kumquat-orange, ivory-white, chocolate-brown, bittersweet-crimson and countless others. These awe inspiring blossoms were half-hidden behind ivy-green stalks of waving grasses, some only an inch high and others a foot.
A gentle breeze stirred cornelian cherry tree. Bright lemony-yellow blossoms that would become cherries waved in a delicate way. The tree’s silvery-brown bark was covered in these tiny flowers. several other trees looking identical to this waves welcomingly to the boy and stallion that had arrived.
“Wow,” murmured Alexander cynically, unable to believe that this place that seemed to have leapt out of a dream was real.
This place is stupefying! Bucephalus, who, too, had never been to this place before, whinnied in agreement.
“Thank you, Bucephalus,” Alexander whispered into the horse’s ear, even though there was no one to hear. “Thank you for taking me here.”
There was a comfortable silence as Bucephalus rubbed his muzzle affectionately against Alexander’s torso.
“Will you be my horse?” Alexander wondered, as if knowing that Bucephalus knew what he was saying.
Bucephalus let out a great neigh of ecstasy.
“You will?” Alexander cried in astonished glee. “Thank you, Bucephalus, thank you!”
*****
Alexander, seated on his war-horse, Bucephalus, many years later, charged into battle. It was a bloody one. Many a warrior died. The battle, which took place in what is now modern Pakistan, was called the Battle of Hydaspes.
Bucephalus broke the enemy’s ranks with his owner, Alexander the Great, mounted high on the powerful horse’s back. They, as they had been on that joyride to the beautiful meadow, were one. They fought as if their minds were connected. They rode as if they were a single animal, not to separate. They loved each other with a love fierce as flame.
Bucephalus, I sorrowfully say, died fighting by Alexander the Great. Alexander shed many grievous tears over Bucephalus, his loved horse.
But Bucephalus was not to be forgotten.
Alexander the Great named the place where the bloody battle had taken place after his beloved horse.
There are many books written on Bucephalus, and he is arguably the most famous horse in world history.
Alexander the Great died when he was around the age that Bucephalus was when he laid down his life. Bucephalus died when he was thirty, which is old for even modern horses. Alexander died at thirty-two.
And now they ride through the sky, leaping over breaks in the clouds and flying on white-feathered wings.
Human and horse are one....
-KittyLover8
© 2012
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