that Issie could ride him!
One foggy morning in December, Avery, Issie and Francoise met Victory off the flight from Melbourne at Heathrow, and after the gelding had been through quarantine they took him home to The Laurels where he settled in as if he had been there all his life.
When the eventing season got underway a couple of months later, Issie began riding Victory on the circuit. It didn’t take long to rebuild their bond and by the following October they were in good enough form to place third at the prestigious Boekelo horse trials in the Netherlands.
By the season’s end, both Victory and Storm had clearly marked themselves out as the stars of The Laurels’ stables. When the call for entries for the Badminton Horse Trials rolled around, there was no doubt in Issie’s mind that they were the ones she wanted to ride.
Entering two horses was common practice at Badminton. However, Issie had her work cut out adapting her riding style between them.
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.
