The Whispering Pegasus

By Steven J. Corner

The Whispering Pegasus is for all lovers of horse racing and people who would go to any lengths to get their hands on National Hunt’s probable, greatest ever steeplechasing horse.

Ex Para and SAS man, John Brennan, owes his brother a favour to safeguard the horse and the blade’s training is tested to the full!

Watch out for this brilliant horse in steeplechasing’s illustrious races like the Cheltenham Gold Cup, King George VI Chase, Irish Grand National and Aintree’s Grand National.
Would the horse be kept safe long enough to be ranked alongside the greats like Arkle, Red Rum, L’ Escargot, Desert Orchid and Kauto Star? True legends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291980929

Book preview

The Whispering Pegasus

The Whispering Pegasus

By

Steven J. Corner

OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

E:\army complete\image A1.jpg

A DREAM FROM THE SOMME

D:\Steve Corner Docs\Creative Writing\Somme Front Cover.jpg

Copyright

Copyright © Steven J. Corner 2014

eBook Design by Rossendale Books: www.rossendalebooks.co.uk

eBook ISBN:  978-1-291-98092-9

All rights reserved, Copyright under Berne Copyright Convention and Pan American Convention. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. The author’s moral Rights have been asserted.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organisations, events or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

C:\Documents and Settings\scorner\My Documents\Picture 1370.jpg

This is the author’s second novel (after DREAM FROM THE SOMME 2014) and is based on his passion for National Hunt Racing. In this second book he has tried to capture the pride, joy, disappointment, and sometimes the sadness, of owning, training and following steeplechase racehorses. Steven Corner is an electrical engineering lecturer at Darlington College, and also a Royal Marines Commando trained Army Reservist in his spare time. He has used his knowledge of National Hunt Racing to develop this novel.

DEDICATION

To my wonderful nieces Imogen, Mia, Jaelyn

and my nephew in Australia, Carter.

Love you all,

Uncle Steve

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to people in horse racing that helped me write this book. Also, Sarah and June Hayden for your painstaking proof reading. Many thanks.

Below: Aintree’s Red Rum Statue

C:\Documents and Settings\scorner\My Documents\Picture 1286.jpg

THE AIRBORNE PRAYER

May the defence of the most high be above and

beneath, around and within us, in our going out

and in our coming in, in our rising up and in our

going down, all our days and all our nights, until

the dawn when the sun of righteousness shall

rise with healing in his wings for

the people of the world

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen

PRELUDE

Dedicated words of wisdom from the most successful people

Dream big, work hard, stay focused and surround yourself with great people. This creates success. This man did just that!

Below: Aintree’s Statue of Ginger McCain, Red Rum’s great trainer

C:\Documents and Settings\scorner\My Documents\Picture 1283.jpg

1

THE MORNING GALLOP

It was a beautiful day in May and the sky was a pastel blue, with whispy clouds feathering high above. The sea wind lightly swept the golden sand down the wrinkled beach, until it collided with the snow white crests of the advancing waves. The warmth of the breeze made the distant dunes shimmer and gulls soar, shrieking noisily upwards.

‘Whisp’ held his head aloft, ears pricked, he took command of his bit and galloped the furrow along the Walney Island beach. He was followed by the other horses of the yard, who, as always struggled to find the pace and stamina to pose any threat to the dominance of this heavenly animal.

His hooves hammered the sand with both violence and grace. The bay coloured mane flowed like the wind as he ‘winged’ along the makeshift track.

The two mile stretch of beach was quickly devoured by the ten horses on the daily morning gallop. Their progress was watched with a keen eye by the yard trainer, who, gave a wry smile at the sight of ‘Whisp’ being ten lengths in front of his pack of stable mates.

He reached the dunes first and you could hear his loud snorts; his breath creating white clouds as it met the cold sea air. The horse came to a canter, turned round and rose his two fore hooves into the air like a victorious boxer. His loud whinny beckoned home the trailing horses. This was ‘The Whispering Pegasus’ at his majestic best.

Finally, when all of the stable horses had reached the end of their morning exercise the stable lads walked them in a large circle through the incoming sea. Cold and salty water soothed the overheated hooves, tendons and ligaments, unleashed the healing powers of the Irish Sea.

The horses each sweated a misty haze around their backs. Loud snorting, whinnying and the stable lads’ happy craic was carried by the stiff sea breeze to the ears of the trainer.

He looked through his binoculars and raised a smile as he focused on Whisp’.

The horse was recovering and appeared very well indeed. Whisp’s owner would be very pleased with this news, he thought, as he reached into his pocket for the whistle; it was raised to his lips and signalled that it was time for the horses to return to the yard for their breakfast oats and warm stable.

The shrill carried across the dunes to the stable lads, who raised an arm on receipt, and spun their charges around to head in the direction of the farm. Their yard’s morning work was now complete.

2

THE SCHOOL JESTER TO STABLE LAD

Whisp’ led the ‘pride of the yard’ from their beach training ground onto the country track ridden by his ‘lad’, Davey Jones. Steam rose from every horse as the air evaporated away their exercise sweat.

The rest of the lads could be heard, behind him, ribbing each other with craic and banter in their Irish accents. All not long since finished comprehensive school but now ‘schooled’ in their horse racing education.

Davey led his steed and the tired pack onto the tarmac road. The passing cars that gave Whisp’ a respectful wide berth still fell foul of a well-aimed kick from a hind leg. There was cheek in him too like the lad that he let ride saddle on his back.

Davey Jones was a lad from County Durham and he fell into yard riding by accident. He went to King James Comprehensive School, in Bishop Auckland, but far from being a ‘king’ in academic study he was the class court jester. A joke to his mates! As a result he did not get the GCSEs his Mam and Dad had wanted for him.

His Dad forced him down to the Job Centre in Bishop Auckland. You’d better find something lad! You are not lazing about here. Join the Marines if you have to! This was an order. Davey knew better than to cross his father, who had served for twenty five years’, man and boy, in the Royal Marines. He had finished his career as regimental sergeant major of 45 Commando, in Arbroath.

Davey, instead, decided to sign up to a ten week trial jockey course at Robert Smith’s South Church yard, in Bishop Auckland. Smith’s yard had produced the 1968 Grand National winner, Red Alligator, ridden by Crook bred, Brian Fletcher.

The pub, half a mile away, near to Saint Andrew’s church, proudly sported the name of ‘Red Alligator’.

Like the potential race horses in Smith’s yard, he needed ‘schooled’ in discipline. After many ‘run-ins’ with the yard’s stable jockey trainer, Geordie Gill, eventually settled and allowed his later-to-be mentor to see his natural potential.

When Geordie amicably parted company from the yard he coaxed Davey Jones along with him too. The pair would try their own hand at training race horses, around Geordie’s birth town of Barrow-in-Furness.

It had been three weeks’ since Whisp’ had tasted victory, at Cheltenham, in the prestigious Gold Cup. His ten length win over, the Paul Nichols trained, Solar Star, had been unbelievable. Whisp’ had been ridden by nineteen times champion jockey, TJ Brady.

The Racing Post’s headline, ‘The Whispering Pegasus aloft in the heavens of equine Gods’, summed up the victory. The jockey, TJ Brady said, ‘Whisp’ had given him the best day of his life!’

The racing press had set up camp around the entrance to the horse’s millionaire owner’s estate, in Dalton-on-Furness, for a full week after the majestic Cheltenham success. It had been a glorious time for the whole yard.

Davey led the parade of race horses to their stables at South End Farm that overlooked the Irish Sea to the west, and Vickers Shipyard to the east.

A wash down, a dry bed and a nosebag of their favourite Canadian oats awaited the horses; their bodies covered in white frothy sweat from the morning’s exertions.

Their hooves ‘clip clopped’ on the cobbled stones to sound their return and were met by adoring grooms who would tend to their needs. Davey thought it was a heaven on Earth and, inwardly, thanked his lucky stars.

He pushed up the rim of his helmet and pointed his whip skyward. This was practiced every morning as he dreamed of winning the Grand National. Perhaps his dream would come true some day in the future.

3

A STAR IS BORN

The bay coloured Whisp’ was destined for greatness having been foaled in 2005, at the Kilkarlarney stud, Northern Ireland. Four white socks above each hoof and a clear white star on his nose made this new born a handsome proposition. He was already worth half a million guineas. The Sporting Life had described him as ‘a gift from God’.

The Kilkarlarney stud already had its own crown jewel in the form of the treble Gold Cup and twice Grand National winner, the mighty Poseidon! He was their chief source of breeding income. Mares could try their Irish luck with the hottest chasing star since Red Rum, who, sadly had just died at the age of thirty years’ old.

Poseidon had not matched Rummy’s three wins and two seconds, in the World’s greatest steeplechase, but was still an equine god. Owners of mares had been charged a fee of one hundred thousand pounds for them to be covered by the ‘mystical one’. In Poseidon’s first season over one hundred mares had ‘danced the dalliance’ with the Sea God and produced forty three foals to date.

The fifty first (51) mare was an extraordinary horse. The club had her down as being named Medusa! The mare was recently retired due to a hoof injury; similar to the pedal bone injury that ended the racing career of the mighty Arkle. This was a hairline fracture of the near fore-hoof that would never fully heal.

She had victored in the 2001 Gold Cup and Scottish National followed by the 2002 Grand National at Aintree. In 2003 she was the clear winner in the Topham Chase, at Aintree and the Arkle Challenge Trophy at the illustrious, Cheltenham festival.

The pairing of Poseidon and Medusa was a match made by Zeus and their offspring would equal those mythological steeds ridden by Greek Olympians.

4

MYTHOLOGY FROM THE GREEK GODS

Pegasus was the Greek winged horse, depicted as crystal white in colour and had been sired by Poseidon, the mighty warrior horse and foaled by the Gorgon, Medusa.

Roman poets wrote about his ascension into the heavens after his birth and obedience to Zeus, King of the Gods, who had instructed the horse to bring thunder and lightning from Olympius.

Pegasus had allowed the Greek hero, Bellorophon, to ride him to defeat the monster, Chimera. Bellorophon had tried to use Pegasus to fly to Mount Olympius but, Zeus unamused, sent an insect to bite the ‘winged horse’. Pegasus was bitten and bucked Bellorophon off his back.

The disloyal warrior fell to earth and to his death. Pegasus continued to wing his way to Heaven where he took his place in the mighty stables of Zeus.

This kidnap attempt had been the last of many efforts. Zeus had lost patience with his colluding warriors, despite his mount carrying many of them, injured through battle, to the safety of Zeus’ Kingdom of the Gods.

Zeus was the only rider of Pegasus and he ruled the stars of his Kingdom with this winged legend. The pasture of the 51st Pegasai Constellation Star was their favoured summer grazing – Medusa (the 51st mare) was stabled there and the proud Dam of her Pegasus.

5

WHAT DO WE CALL HIM?

It was 1.30am, on 2nd December, 2005 in Medusa’s stable. The yard’s vet, Gordon Meldrum, had been in attendance for several hours after being telephoned by Geordie Gill. The Dam had been whinnying in contractions pain for an hour or so. Gordon called upon help from Walney Island’s vet.

Geordie Gill’s wife, Sarah, was awake nursing their one year old baby boy, Tony. The yearling was as tense as his father but this was due to ‘wind’ and not cries of a horse.

Geordie was in the yard when he saw the dipped headlights of a Range Rover approach the South End Farm’s entrance gates. Gordon’s help had arrived.

Open the gates, will you! He shouted at the stable lads who were all very much awake. Their excitement had been too much for slumber that particular night.

Can you not keep the noise down Geordie?! Sarah shouted from the bedroom window. Can you not WHISPER? Tony’s nearly asleep. She growled through gritted teeth.

Ten minutes later the foal was born. The Dam was exhausted. Geordie, Gordon and the lads were ecstatic. Davey Jones echoed, we had better whisper lads as the bairn’s asleep. What are we going to call him? Geordie looked at the new born foal and thought for a heartbeat. He will be called, ‘The Whispering Pegasus!’ Everyone was beaming with happiness and relief.

Foal and dam had come safely through the experience. That’s if the owner and the Jockey Club like the name? Bring out the champagne boys. I think a new racing star has been born. Geordie was quick to add.

The bay foal was of above average size and in excellent shape. His limbs were perfectly formed and his rear appeared slightly larger than the rest of him. This had been a potential sign of a powerful jumping prowess. He was much like the mighty Arkle when he was foaled.

Medusa cleaned him despite her exhaustion and the new foal was quick to suckle milk from her. All looked well and Geordie Gill was proud that they now had a son of the infamous Poseidon in their famous yard; a future famous racing yard.

6

THE EX-ENGLAND CAPTAIN OWNER

The owner of the mighty Whisp’ was Steve Brennan who, at 43, had retired from professional football. Steve had been the England captain and been capped by his country no less than 102 times. He began his career at Liverpool as an apprentice and won the Premier League, FA Cup and Champions League with various managers.

Spain then beckoned this gifted player, and a fifty million pounds move to Real Madrid, made this new Galactico a wealthy man indeed. He had scored many spectacular goals for Real and for England during this period with the Champion’s League medal featuring twice in his trophy cabinet.

Steve’s financial worth, due to branding and business interests, was estimated in excess of seventy million pounds. He was never interested in a management career or a pundit’s seat on Match of the Day.

Instead he followed his convictions and his passion for horse racing. During his early footballing career he was always seen at the ‘big races’; Aintree, Cheltenham, Ayr.

Whenever he was free from training he would always go racing. Most of his good friends were jockeys like TJ Brady, Richard Johanson and Dennis Walcher. It was steeplechasing that was in his blood. When he was at Liverpool Football Club ‘his’ South End Farm came on the market for £750,000.

Walney Island had been the place where he had grown up. Steve Brennan thought it was time to leave his large house in Liverpool and return to his beloved Barrow-in-Furness.

His father had been an electrician in the Vickers Shipyard and they lived in modest housing in Vickers Town. A town purposely developed for Vickers workers.

Many Sunday afternoons were spent walking around the Island with his mother, Barbara, and grandparents, Gordon and Berta. South End Farm was a place that he had wanted to own, even as a small boy. He enjoyed seeing the horses in their stables and around the fields.

Steve gave the asking price for the farm and the surrounding land; an indicator of his great desire to be the outright owner. He had always enjoyed the view of the Irish Sea that the farm commanded.

On a clear sunny day, it