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Informationen zum Autor Marguerite Henry (1902–1997) was the beloved author of such classic horse stories as King of the Wind, Misty of Chincoteague, and Stormy, Misty’s Foal, and her work has won several Newbery Awards and Honors. Wesley Dennis was best known for his illustrations in collaboration with author Marguerite Henry. They published sixteen books together. Klappentext Here is the story of young Hans Haupt and his rigorous apprenticeship and training at Vienna's Spanish Court Riding School! home of the famous Lipizzan stallions. Ms. Henry has artfully woven authentic details within this warm and sensitive tale. 104 illustrations. White Stallion of Lipizza Chapter 1 THE MORNING PARADE THE CLOCK on the steeple of St. Michael’s church showed two minutes before seven. Hans, driving his father’s bakery cart, clucked to Rosy to hurry. In two minutes they must be at the Hofburg. Rosy broke into a shambling trot, clattering over the cobbles at her best pace. And just as the church bells were chiming the hour of seven the policeman on the Josefsplatz threw wide his arms in a commanding “Halt!” From both directions all cars screeched to a stop. Hans pulled up smartly. His body alerted, and a smile of eagerness spread across his face. His luck and timing had been perfect this morning. He and Rosy were not only first in line, but they were nearest the curb, too. The very best spot to see. It was the Lipizzaners Hans was watching for, the famous white stallions of Vienna. Every morning they were led out from their stables on one side of the Hofburg, then through the archway to the great old Palace which housed the Spanish Court Riding School. Here they were carefully trained in the intricate and beautiful movements of classical ballet. And here each Sunday great crowds thronged the vast hall to see their unique performance. Hans, the baker boy, had never been inside the Palace. He had no money for a ticket. But the horses fascinated him, and morning after morning he maneuvered for a glimpse of them in passing. From before daylight, while he splashed just enough water on his face to pass inspection by his mother, he began scheming how to hurry her as she filled the big bakery trays with poppyseed bread and rye, long rolls and tiny kipferln. On the rare occasions when she was ahead of schedule, he dawdled over his tasks of carrying empty flour bags and butter tubs to the attic storeroom. But when she was behind, he pitched in and helped feverishly, one eye on the clock. In his haste he sometimes dropped a kipferl, and once he clumsily let go a whole tray of hot bread. That day he ended up last in line, behind all the spitting, chuffing automobiles, and in the fog and fumes he couldn’t see at all. But today, here he was in first place. It was bitter cold this early February morning, but Hans was unaware of his cold fingers. The bright moment of his day had come. His eyes fixed on the great stable doors. They swung open. Even before he caught his first glimpse, his whole body vibrated to the kettledrum rhythm of hoofbeats on the cobblestones. First one vague shape emerged from the depth of the stables; then suddenly the semidarkness was slashed by a parade of white stallions, blanketed in red and gold. “Notice me! Notice me!” Rosy neighed sharply. For a whisper of time the lead stallion glanced at the aged mare hooked to the bakery cart. Then he faced front, and in majestic dignity stepped across the street with long, supple strides. The other stallions never turned their heads. Spellbound, Hans watched the rippling movement of the powerful hindquarters, the thrust of foreleg, the proud curve of the neck. A groom in dark u...
