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“It’s all right,” whispered Colpevole, “You can trust me.”

That’s exactly what I can’t do, thought Bartolomeo. You’ll betray me to
Helios, or worse, pretend to be my friend and then turn me in for an apple core,
for a sugar cube, for a looser knot of the reins.

Colpevole was an impressive horse, entirely of white except for the
underside of his wings which were each tipped with a most subtle luminous
red, reaching from his shoulders along the outer rims of his wings all the way
to the tips. Colpevole was a smart, alert horse; friendly, inquisitive, with a
selfless helpfulness which Bartolomeo greatly mistrusted. “Very well,” said
Colpevole, “You don’t have to trust me. Just know that I’m a sympathetic ear if
you ever feel you need one.” Colpevole nuzzled down inside a semi-circle of his
own forelegs and went to sleep. But Bartolomeo didn’t need Colpevole. He
didn’t need anyone, and no one needed him, and that was fine, that was just
fine.

The next day, after their training and regimens, Colpevole stood near
Bartolomeo at the trough, drinking, just as silent as Bartolomeo. Is he waiting
for me to make a mistake and say something I’ll regret so he can sell me for an
apple core? wondered Bartolomeo, or is he in fact a kindred spirit? Could I tell
him I’m going to bolt? Bah, what good would that do? The chances of our
being hitched together on the same day to the chariot are thousands-to-one, so
it’s not as if we could plan anything together --

But it turned out they were hitched together. The Day of Immolation
came at last, and Bartolomeo discovered himself in a team of four, including
Colpevole and two other horses.

Bartolomeo was astonished. He’d done it! He’d fooled Helios into
thinking he was loyal and obedient. His silence had paid off. He was hitched
to the chariot, his loyalty unquestioned. You didn’t get hitched to a team if
Helios thought you were disobedient. He wouldn’t take even the slightest

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