The boys agreed. "But we must also protect you from street fights," Enzio explained. "We must save your hands. They are small as...."
"I know." Giorgio bit his lips, then supplied the missing words. "Small as girl's hands!"
It was scarcely any relief to swing up on Gaudenzia and ride twice a day in the Provas. For even then he was not free. He knew that he was being carefully observed, his every action noticed and weighed.
Why, he asked himself, did it take two Palios to teach him all the rules and regulations leading up to the big race? He answered himself honestly. Turbolento and Lirio, the horses he had ridden last year, had been little more than names to him—no, they had almost been nameless. But Gaudenzia was a part of his very life.
So now, for the first time, he was terrified by a rule that had not really concerned him before. According to a proclamation of the Grand Duke in 1719, the choice of the fantinos is not made final and official until the day of the Palio. If through Giorgio's carelessness Gaudenzia were kicked and lamed as in last year's Prova, he could be dismissed abruptly. He had been hired, yes, but he could still be replaced, even on the very morning of the Palio!
Thus, tortured by uncertainty, he took great care to keep Gaudenzia clear of the other horses, and to bring her in slowly at the finish of each Prova.
At night, however, he and Gaudenzia knew no restraints. When the moon rode high, he took secret delight in waking his bodyguards, who slept on mattresses in his room.
"Wake up, or I go alone!" he told the sleepy young giants.
Grumbling, they dressed and went out with him into the night. They pounded heavily on the locked door of the stable of Onda. It was easier to wake Gaudenzia than the sleeping barbaresco.
"Open!" shouted Giorgio, and it was the mare's stomping and pawing that finally woke the groom. She remembered well the routine of galloping in the dark, and the time clock in her mind said, "Now."