(no subject)

[hippodamio]

It is a thing Hektor has found, that horses and men are more different than one might think. Oh, yes, there are plenty of jokes to be made there; he has heard his uncles at it often enough. But he's seen men working with horses, assuming that the beasts have the same wills and desires as men, and it is not so. They have wants, yes, and needs- but theirs are not like those of men; there is no scheming in them so far as he can see. Only that which they want, if it is fodder or water or mares or shelter, and whether or not they can have it. They go after it, and if it is in them, they take it and that is that. If it is not- well, they wait and try again some other time; or they fall away from it and forget, or go off in search of something else.

That is not so different from men, in itself, but he has never seen a horse lay a trap for its rival. Neither has he seen one sulk and grow bitter, hiding its heart. If a horse dislikes you, you cannot help but know it. At the most, he has seen them wait and seem quiet, at least until the chance to strike comes clear; but they fight then, of their own will, and they do not call others in to do their work for them and walk off tutting with clean hands. And mostly they do not fight, anyway. A nip here, a kick there- that is all, no harm done. The air is clean, after that.

A thing worth learning, maybe; for certain he will never learn it from Phoitios.