‘Yes, he certainly looks as good as Conomor,’ Luke observed, climbing up to sit on top of the fence and putting his hat on a pole.

‘He’s better than Conomor,’ Kane added, copying his younger brother’s actions. They were sitting side by side, Luke, tall like Oliver, head on the same level as Kane’s red one.

‘Take some horse to be better than Conomor, Master Kane,’ Jack said.

The foal left its mother, a neat black mare with white socks and blaze, to try out its long straight legs in short elegant runs round the paddock. The men and boys watched in admiration until it tired and returned to suckle the mare. They made a charming scene against the backdrop of open fields, a few wind-waving tall trees and a clearing white sky.

‘We should have brought Olivia with us,’ Kane said regretfully. ‘She could paint a lovely picture of them.’

‘She can come another time,’ Luke said shortly, ‘with Mama and Cherry.’

‘The foal will need a good rider, too, as good as Sir Oliver,’ Matthias said.

‘I’m going to ask Father if I can have him,’ Luke said confidently. ‘He’s not to be sold, do you hear, Matthias?’

Matthias and Jack exchanged amused grins. ‘I don’t know what plans Sir Oliver may have for the foal, Master Luke,’ Matthias replied, ‘but I’d be surprised if he’s thinking of selling him. Sir Oliver’s really proud to see the stud produce such a fine animal again. Cornwall’s not renowned for good horse-breeding.’

‘Aye, he’ll do well at the Truro, Redruth and Bodmin races,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing him race at them.’

‘Me too,’ Luke said.

‘Me too,’ Kane echoed.

‘Well, he might outrun Conomor, if he’s his father’s son, but although he’d have youth on his side, Conomor has experience. Aye,’ Matthias said in a satisfied voice, ‘one of the best sights in the Lord’s creation is a fine piece of horseflesh.’

‘Perhaps Father will give him to Olivia,’ Kane said. The foal trotted in front of Kane and after a little encouragement moved in close and allowed the boy to smooth its jet-black neck. The mare looked up but stayed at an unconcerned distance.

‘Olivia!’ uttered Luke with scorn. ‘Waste good horseflesh on a girl! I shall ask Father to give him to you, it’s you he came up to, it’s you he obviously likes.’

Luke Pengarron was an odd mixture of moods and emotions. He was not jealous of the sturdy well-proportioned foal falling in readily with the rapport that all animals shared with Kane, but he was envious of the closeness between Kane and their sister. That Kane was a Pengarron in name only did not matter to him. All Luke required was that he was at the centre of everyone’s attention and he ensured that by whatever means it took.