Aidan sat by Centurion in the hot meadow, unpicking the knots in the horse’s mane. He watched the vet run a hand over the animal’s swollen leg.

Please don’t be broken, Aidan pleaded inwardly. Dad pressed a hand on his shoulder. Please!

‘What’s the diagnosis?’ asked Jon, biting his thumbnail.

‘He is going to be all right, isn’t he?’ Emmi asked anxiously.

Ann, the vet, continued to inspect the knee.

Aidan heard whinnying and saw Firefly and Fenland Queen by the fence at the far side of the field.

‘What happened out here, Aidan?’ his dad asked quietly, so only he could hear. ‘After what I told you about not riding him, how could you have disobeyed me like that?’ He sounded more hurt than angry.

‘It was the flames …’ Aidan mumbled. ‘On the lake.’ He wouldn’t be surprised if Dad didn’t believe him; he hardly believed it himself.

Dad screened his eyes and looked over the lake. ‘Maybe sunlight reflected off the water. The glare got him spooked.’

Aidan decided not to argue. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he said.

Dad gave a short nod. ‘I’m just glad you’re OK.’

Aidan felt the painful throb in his arm, but what was that compared to what had happened to Centurion? He pressed his hand into his pocket.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘Well, the good news is there’re no bones broken,’ Ann told them.

‘Really?’ Aidan grinned and he heard Dad let out a relieved sigh.

‘That’s great!’ said Emmi. ‘For a minute I was really, really worried! If the leg had been broken and Lord Berryman had found out –’

‘Hang on, hang on,’ the vet raised a hand to interrupt her.

Aidan stopped smiling.

‘Ligaments have been badly strained,’ said Ann with a frown. ‘Recovery is hard to predict. But with the right treatment and healing time …’

‘I’ll pay for any treatment Centurion needs,’ Aidan’s dad said quickly.

Ann lowered her voice. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Martin, it’s going to cost a fair amount to put it right. He’ll need a course of anti-inflammatory injections, and I’ll have to do an ultrasound scan in a few days, to get a true understanding of the extent of the injury.’

Aidan glanced at Dad. They both knew money was tight. Dad had spent all he had, and more, on trying to get Mum well.

‘Meanwhile, cold therapy will help take down the swelling.’ Ann pressed a rubbery ice pack on to the horse’s leg. ‘Surely Berryman’s insurance can cover the treatment costs,’ she said. ‘I’ll need to get his approval with a signature, of course.’

‘Oh, Lord Berryman can’t find out about the injury!’ cried Emmi. ‘Even if there are no broken bones, he could still use it as an excuse to have Centurion put down. If the fracking happens he’ll get rid of the horses, and he won’t be able to sell an injured one.’

‘Yeah,’ Jon nodded. ‘He’ll use the horses for the Iceni Festival one last time to impress his girlfriends, and then that’s it!’

Aidan’s chest went tight. The festival! The day after tomorrow. He’d completely forgotten he was supposed to be using Centurion in the chariot race!

Ann filled a syringe with liquid from a small bottle. ‘If you ask me, it’s no coincidence the fracking’s scheduled for the same day as the festival. It’s an attempt to distract people’s attention.’ She stroked Centurion’s leg then pushed in the needle. ‘That should ease the pain for you, old boy.’

The vet gave a small shake of her head. ‘But listen – do you really think Lord Berryman will have Centurion put down? He must know how important he is to you and your dad, Aidan.’

The old Lord Berryman knew, thought Aidan. But things had been different since the young Lord Berryman took over.

Centurion. Aidan swallowed. Mum had named him when he was a foal.

Aidan heard Dad’s voice catch as he spoke: ‘I’ll pay for the treatment.’

‘Even though you’ll have to leave him,’ Ann reminded him quietly, ‘once the fracking starts?’

Dad stood a little straighter. ‘I know it might not be for much longer, Ann,’ he said. ‘But while the horses are still in my care, I’ll do whatever I can for Centurion.’

Aidan felt a flush of pride.

Ann looked at Aidan’s dad, then gave a stiff nod.

‘And who’s to say the fracking will ever start, anyway?’ said Emmi. ‘The protest’s not over yet, and we’ve still got two whole days! People power can still stop it – and you saw the TV cameras!’

‘I made sure they got a good close-up of my banner,’ added Jon. ‘The footage is already on YouTube!’

‘And there’s the community meeting at the museum this evening,’ Emmi went on. ‘To weigh up our final options.’

Jon rolled his eyes at Aidan. ‘Bo-ring!’ he mouthed.

Aidan caught Ann’s arm. ‘So you won’t tell Lord Berryman about Centurion?’

The vet gave a long, drawn-out sigh, then winked. ‘Cross my heart,’ she said.

‘What this horse needs now is to get out of the sun and have plenty of rest.’ She crooked an elbow round the animal’s neck, ushering him to his feet. ‘Martin, give me a hand, will you?’

Aidan followed as Ann and Dad led the limping horse towards the stables.

‘Centurion will be OK, Aide,’ said Jon as they went, and Aidan tried to return a smile.

‘Hey, why don’t we go and get the chariot ready for the race?’ suggested Jon. ‘Test it out with Firefly or Fenland Queen.’

‘Yes, great idea!’ Emmi pulled on Aidan’s hand. ‘Take your mind off …’

The sound of a car engine interrupted their conversation. A vehicle was making its way towards the estate. Sunlight reflected off the metallic red bodywork. It was a convertible, with the top down, and little needles pricked Aidan’s stomach. Only one person round here had a car like that.

‘Berryman’s coming!’ he hollered at Dad. ‘Get Centurion out of sight!’

‘They won’t reach the stables in time!’ Emmi said in alarm.

‘We’ve got to delay him!’ Aidan leapt through the hedge and sprinted towards the cattle grid, his friends following. He knew Berryman would have to slow down at the grid.

The red Porsche rounded the corner. There was a screech of brakes and the car stopped in a rush of spitting gravel. Berryman’s thin, boyish face poked out.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ his voice whined over the purr of the engine. ‘I nearly killed you!’

‘Sorry Lord Berryman,’ panted Aidan, thinking fast. He glanced past the man’s shoulder. He could see Dad and Ann with Centurion, close to the stables, but still in full view.

‘There’s a big pothole up ahead that we needed to warn you about. Dad hasn’t had time to repair it yet.’

‘Pothole?’ Berryman ran his fingers through his long blonde hair. ‘I’m perfectly capable of driving round it!’

Come on, Dad, thought Aidan. Come on …

‘Yes, but it’s a huge pothole,’ said Emmi, edging round to block Berryman’s field of vision.

Nearly there …

‘Practically the Grand Canyon,’ said Jon, who, Aidan noticed, couldn’t help gazing at the car. ‘We could open it to tourists and charge an entrance fee.’

Berryman narrowed his eyes a little, looking suspicious, then he spun his head round and peered towards the stables.

Aidan exchanged relieved glances with his friends. Dad and Ann had made it.

‘Pothole!’ Berryman muttered. ‘This car’s got high-tech suspension and state-of-the-art engineering!’ He settled himself back in his plush leather seat.

‘I need to talk to your father,’ he told Aidan. ‘But you’ll do. An important politician friend of the family is coming to visit ahead of the festival, and his daughter is an experienced rider.’

He revved the engine. ‘I need Centurion saddled up for her right away.’

Aidan saw Emmi raise her eyebrows at him in alarm. He stepped forward, thinking fast. ‘But you know how Centurion is. Only Dad can ride him. He says he’s too headstrong. I’m never allowed to handle him alone, unless he’s tied to the chariot or whatever.’ His voice trembled a bit. ‘What if your friend’s daughter was thrown off and broke her leg? Or worse?’

Berryman didn’t reply. He ran his fingers through his hair then gave an irritated sigh.

‘Tell your father to get another horse ready then instead, please,’ he said impatiently. ‘Tell him to buff up the saddle and give the horse a brush up as well – make it look its best.’

Aidan gave a nod. He glanced at Jon, who was giving him a thumbs-up. ‘I’ll tell him.’

Berryman revved the engine. Then he looked hard at Aidan, wagging a finger.

‘But it’s...