Once there was a very wealthy man who lived in the rolling hills of beautiful country land. He owned a great deal of property there, and even had his very own stables and horses. He visited these stables often, as he was an avid rider and always willing to perfect his skill. His father was the best rider in the town, years ago when he was alive, and the man, having always looked up to his father, wanted the same thing for himself. The stables were not a far distance from his magnificent estate, where he lived in prosperity with his wife.
He would come down to these stables any time he wanted to, to ride or just to visit. The architecture of the place was stunning - opulent tiles served as the floor and all the stalls were large and spacious with golden detailing throughout. The man was also dressed impeccably with stunning garb of brown leather breeches and tall black boots. He had a starched collar of the most blinding white, and a sharp spur, the same silver as his polished horse's bit. His black top hat finished off his stately impression, and made him look even taller than he was.

He would walk his stables slowly, up and down the aisles, with a solid expression, making sure everything was in order. He was strict and businesslike, and never hesitated in voicing his own opinion regarding the stables or anything else. As it was his place he felt that it was his rightful duty to do so. Smiling was not one of his usual habits around the stables, but it was possible to hear him laugh jovially when talking to a wealthy friend, who was seen often on the property, visiting from his neighbouring estate. Only then could you see his teeth, which shone, white as a dove, despite his love of cigars. He possessed an aura of self-importance and pride, and it was clearly visible throughout his entire voice and manner.

He was no doubt an intimidating man, and most of the farmhands and grooms took to the opposite direction upon hearing the fearful sound of his heel on the granite. For he had no problems informing the workers of his expectations regarding the cleanliness of the stables and horses, and these expectations were high. If someone had not met his standards, he would promptly inform them of their inadequacy. But even though he was an uncompromising gentleman, the stable workers never thought to leave and find work elsewhere. Of course, they were paid well, but he also had a certain enchantment about him, and one could not help but be impressed. He was not exactly a charming man, but he could effortlessly command the attention of a room; and when he spoke, everyone listened. Whether it was because of his status and wealth, or maybe because he had a captivating magnetism, I am not sure.

Anyway, the man was a superb rider and competed regularly in the steeplechase and the foxhunt. He had a healthy steed of a stunning red, and she was swift indeed. Being a mare had not kept her sensitive and cautious, on the contrary, she had quite a fiery temper and could gallop those hedges with the best of them. She was a spirited lady and had a true competitive streak. In this way, she and her master were very much alike.

They won a race often, boldly jumping fence after fence, to claim the prize money with a self-satisfied nod, like they weren't surprised in the least. And maybe because of his attitude, no one else seemed very surprised either. No one suspected that he would be dishonest, but this is where the people were naïve. In true fact, the man had a common and undignified habit of cheating! He would do anything to assure his place in the winner's circle, and was so bold to commit such distasteful deeds such as tampering with the other riders' tack, or simply riding dangerously. He was downright ruthless in a race! It was as if his pride would not allow him to lose. He would try anything to win, and he did it so slyly that he never got caught. Of course, when he interfered with other riders, cutting them off and such, he would always apologize afterwards, blaming the error on his young, spirited horse, who had evidently gotten carried away. No one knew what he was up to. Until one day.

Now, the man's stable hands and grooms were very obedient, and tried to meet his demanding expectations to the best of their ability. But there was one stable hand in particular, a younger man, who was the most obedient of all. He always did as he was told, no more, nor less, and listened very carefully to every instruction he received. When the master took his horse out for a ride, the stable hand would dutifully clean the area in which his mare had stood, scrubbing the floor until it shined. When his master returned from his ride, the young hand would be standing outside ready with a fresh bucket of cool, clean water for his horse to drink. In all the stables there was never a worker more obedient.

One day there was a race planned with a generous purse as the prize. The young stable hand was called upon to bring the master's horse in from the pasture. The young man agreed willingly, of course. He promptly brought the mare to the stable, and then went back out to bring in another for the master's wife, who wanted to hack out on the trails. (Technically, he could have brought both these horses in at once, but as he had always seen, and learned from, the other workers who always brought in one horse at a time, this fact had never crossed his mind.)

Anyway, it came time for them to leave for the race, and the young stable hand, being so obedient, was chosen by the master to call along as the official groom. This was quite an honour. The worker felt quite fortunate to be coming to the big race with so noble a man. However, at the race, the young man saw something quite disturbing.

It was just before the race had begun, and the master had gone over to speak with a competitor. They were standing by his horse, leaning over the saddle talking. They were conversing, just the two of them, when the other rider turned away for a moment to make a comment to his wife. Suddenly, the young man saw his master take a pocketknife from his waistcoat and a slice across the leather of the stirrup! The young man watched in horror - the top of the competitor's stirrup was now hanging on by mere threads!

What did this mean? Thought the young man. Why had he just done that? That is very dangerous thing to have done, is it not? The man puzzled over this curious incident, wondering what to make of it. He thought to himself, my master is such an honest, honourable gentleman, there is just no way he would do such an immoral deed as this! The stable hand debated in his mind what should be done. He saw in his mind, the fate of the innocent rider. Surely, the leather would snap and, after falling, he would be at the mercy of pounding hooves!

This cannot be right, he decided, something must be done. Yet, the young worker stood there, on the dewy grass, unable to move. Who am I to expose my master to the rest? He thought. What will they do to him? He has been nothing but hospitable to me, and now this is how I repay him, by getting him expelled from the hunt, and tarnishing his reputable image?

The young man stood there, unable to make up his mind about whether to prevent a dangerous fall, or trust his master. He was so obedient that he hardly knew what to do unless someone was instructing him. He saw all the men on horseback gathering their mounts toward the starting line. It was now or never.
Suddenly, the blow of a horn pierced the air, and off the horses went.

The young hand watched immobile, hoping to God that he had daydreamed the past few minutes. He couldn't believe his master would do something like this. He was such an honest man.

Of course, about two minutes into the race, the stirrup leather snapped and the poor man, being thrown off balance, slid to the ground. The stable hand shut his eyes, unable to watch the pathetic outcome of this dirty trick. He was suddenly overwhelmed with grief and shame. I could have prevented this! he thought, overcome by shame. If only I had simply said something! Oh, I am to blame! I am to blame!

After this day, the stable hand, being so wrapped in sorrowful regret, was unable to concentrate on his job. He was no longer the master's most obedient worker. The master recognized the workers' efforts to do a job well done, and he knew the man was slipping.

Thoughts of apologetic misery filled the stable hand's mind, day in and day out. And he knew, as well as the others, that he was not meeting the standards of his master. No longer did he clean the floors till they sparkled. No more was he seen outside, bucket in hand, waiting for his master to return with his mare. It was like he had lost all respect for his work, and in turn, the other workers were starting to lose respect for him. Around the stables, tongues were wagging, saying all sorts of things regarding him. Like how he was soon to be replaced, and that the master was wholly unimpressed with his work. This was the reason that, when he was informed of the fact that he was to be replaced by someone new, he was not surprised.

The man knew there was nothing he could do to keep his position at the stables. Yet it was painful news, and he still felt ashamed for what he had failed to do. Knowing there was nothing he could do to change his fortune, he went off, still feeling the bitter embrace of gloom.

Meanwhile, the wealthy man polished his trophy proudly and added it to his vast collection that stood smartly on the mantle of the fireplace. He stood staring at it for a moment - now he had just as many as his father did when he was racing. The only exception was that his father was not a cheater. The wealthy man pondered this fact, feeling a sort of sadness cling to him momentarily. For he knew he was not his father and could never be him. He could only be himself - but what a man he was! He looked out the window at all his land and stables, and thought of all his friends and neighbours, and his beautiful wife. He welcomed that sense of pride again. For he knew who he was inside and was prepared to fully accept that. He knew he could not shake his longing for victory and success, just as he could not change the colour of his hair.

Thus, he invited a group of friends over to celebrate his win in the drawing room among brandy and cards. He enjoyed their good-natured company a great deal, and they spoke of business and horses and every pleasant subject there was. He laughed merrily with them, feeling the fresh coins in his pocket, and the presence of his new trophy on the mantle, winking at him in the candlelit glow. Its shadow fell on the wooden mantle and its gleaming front of gold reflected the light of the candle. He gazed at it standing there. He gazed at it until its shadow merged with the light of the candle, and he could no longer differentiate between the light and the dark.