Four becomes three, three becomes two.
Two more rounds before the arsenal is empty and this phase of combat operations is complete. Early on as with any complex task such as construction of a castle, we divided the process into small, understandable parts, separating surgery from siege, siege from radiating magic. Like a military campaign we keep each goal simple and attainable so one is always within sight, then reach, then grasp. Even fatigued and short of sleep we can count from four to one and then move on.
When the siege began and our mage-general wove the incantations around his potions, he instructed us that we only had to count from four twice. Four is easier than eight, less daunting than sixteen or one hundred and twelve. Four and four again, like our fathers counting to ten only less angry, each slightly more patient than our mothers counting to three.
In the stables beside the gatehouse, the horses grow restless. Bays, grays, buckskins and chestnuts shift impatiently in their stalls reflecting the mood of their riders. Once the trebuchet like the arsenal is empty, we will gather them in the courtyard. Knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder, our cavalry will charge through the unbarred and open gate, taking the fight to the enemy. Like Alexander’s Companions at Issus, we will charge the grendel's hill first with lances level then with swords, breaking enemy formations while companies of our infantry hold our lines against their pernicious assault, cutting down any enemy who stands in our path until their commander is slain or flees the field.
Destriers and chargers stomp and prance in anticipation, coursers and rounceys toss their heads and snort. No palfreys or hobbies, these are aggressive and energetic mounts bred for battle. It is too early for them to be saddled, too early for their lather. So we whisper in their ears to sooth them, reassuring them with tales of their coming valor when they will leap over walls and hedges, clearing fences and ditches in a perilous steeplechase toward our goal.
They believe our lies, our tales of glory, and settle back to munch their oats, waiting, as we do, through this protracted countdown.
As four becomes three, three becomes two.
© 2007 Edward P. Morgan III
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Eight is the total number of Karen’s chemo treatments, 16 the number of weeks she spent in chemo, 112 the number of days. We never counted down the days, but we did count down the treatments. In the beginning, it was less daunting that way.
Karen loves horses. Her mother grew up on a New England farm and owned a horse when she was young. Karen’s grandfather still had a horse when Karen was young. She took riding lessons and went to a horse camp in high school, eventually becoming an instructor. She took lessons again several years ago until she was thrown when the horse balked at a jump, and cracked a vertebra. Even that didn’t deter her love of them.
There is a county equestrian park just up the road from the house. The park behind the house was used for riding before it was opened to the public. We still occasionally see riders along the road at the entrance to the neighborhood, but only a handful of times have they ridden through the neighborhood.
One morning Karen that was home, we looked up through the front window to see half a dozen beautiful horses clomping down our suburban street, all with female riders. Like a gift encounter from the gods of chance. I can still see the expression of pure joy on Karen’s face as she watched them pass by. For those few moments, she was a little girl again.
So, horses had to make an appearance in her adventures.
Issus is a famous battle fought by Alexander the Great against the Persians. It is noted for Alexander modifying the prevailing tactics of the day by anchoring his left flank with his strongest infantry, and leading his cavalry in a charge through the weaker units to his right. The Macedonian charge broke the Persians and routed Darius from the field as Alexander and his personal bodyguard, called the Companions, wheeled on them from behind. Battles are won by innovation.
Picture notes: We went out to the Walsingham Equestrian Park to see if we could find some horses that Karen might get a picture of. In front of Walsingham Park, we spotted two riders headed home. They were kind enough to allow Karen to take some pictures. Another nice thing about living in the wilds of Pinellas, seeing horses every now and then.
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