I did get something of my own back, when William said, “Let’s take our steeds over some jumps today. We’ll head out to Three-Penny Field.” He glowered at me. “Any objections, Awful?”
I shrugged. I’d protested once, when Giffard, who managed Fayerweather lands, had already planted a crop in that field. They would have ridden it anyway—and seen I got the blame—but Giffard happened to be there examining the hops for insects, so William had led the band around and back home. This season, however, the field was lying fallow, so they could do as they pleased.
John, no doubt seeking to curry his older brother’s favour, ordered me to saddle his Welsh pony. I could see he fully expected me to refuse, giving him the perfect excuse to knock me down
“Yes, John,” I said meekly, and I trotted to the stables while the three brothers gave hoots of laughter at having finally taught me my place.