King of the Wind

In the novel’s second section, Henry draws upon the historical Godolphin Arabian’s time in Europe but makes authorial decisions to shape characterization and build narrative tension. Chapter 10 introduces two other important 18th-century French leaders, Monsieur le duc and Bishop Fleury. André-Hercule de Fleury, also known as Cardinal Fleury, was chief minister from 1726 to 1743. The duke was Louis XV’s grand-uncle, Philippe II, Duke of Orléans, who served as Regent of France until the king turned 13. Henry presents Monsieur le Duc as a comically vain and haughty man who fails to appreciate Sham and thus causes the horse to be consigned to manual labor. By satirizing French authority figures in this way, Henry underscores how arrogance and cultural prejudice blind those in power to true worth. The narrative thereby contrasts institutional authority with the moral clarity of characters like Agba, who perceive Sham’s value through loyalty rather than pedigree. These choices shift attention from official chronicles to lived experience, foregrounding how authority figures control interpretation while misreading value, which prepares readers to see recognition as a moral rather than a merely institutional act.

Henry also exercises creative license in reshaping Mr. Coke, the character who brings the Godolphin Arabian from France to England. His historical counterpart is an English gentleman named Edward Coke who had connections to the French court and died at age 32. In the novel, Henry’s Mr. Jethro Coke is a retired merchant with an adult daughter and a son-in-law. These changes give rise to some of the conflict in this section; Jethro Coke sends Sham and Agba to Mr. Roger Williams after the horse throws his son-in-law whereas the historical Mr. Williams received the horse upon Edward Coke’s death. Henry’s alterations emphasize Sham’s defiant spirit and the hardships that this repeatedly causes him and Agba. They also allow Henry to stage contrasting ethical responses to Sham’s resistance, since a merchant household, an inn, and a horse-breaker’s yard evaluate the same animal through different logics of usefulness, profit, and care. By moving Sham through these varied social spaces, Henry not only heightens the drama but also critiques how economic structures shape attitudes toward animals and children, reducing both to instruments of labor when loyalty or independence interferes with profitability.

Although the circumstances of the boy and his beloved horse undergo many changes in these chapters, their bond remains constant. One of the primary ways in which Sham shows his devotion to Agba is his refusal to allow anyone else to ride or steer him. This loyalty leads to unfortunate developments, such as the royal cook’s and Mr. Coke’s decisions to sell Sham. Likewise, Henry emphasizes the stableboy’s loyalty through the hardships he endures for Sham’s sake. He experiences hunger, cold, and sleep deprivation during his search for the horse in Paris, works two jobs so that he can care for Sham when the wood carter is his owner, and lives in the open countryside so that he can be near Sham after he’s sent away from the Red Lion Inn. In another development for the theme of The Beauty of Loyalty Between Humans and Animals, Agba demonstrates his loyalty by befriending Grimalkin in this section, and the cat remains a loyal companion to the horse and the boy throughout the story. This triangular bond of boy, horse, and cat reframes family in terms of chosen loyalty rather than bloodline, mirroring the way Henry reimagines history around care rather than conquest. Loyalty functions as agency for a character without social power or speech, since Agba’s commitments shape the plot when verbal persuasion is unavailable to him.

The mistreatment that Agba and Sham endure in France and England advances the theme of Perseverance Through Displacement and Adversity. There are legends about the Godolphin Arabian being used to cart water in Paris, and Henry draws upon these stories in chapters about Sham’s time with the cruel wood carter. Although this plot development isn’t supported by historical evidence, it adds to the story’s drama and thematic exploration of adversity. For example, the stableboy and his friends show their resilience by finding joy in one another’s company: “On Sundays, however, the carter never came near the shed, and it seemed as if all day long the cat never stopped purring and Sham neighed his happiness in a pitiful, thin sound” (89). The description of joy as “pitiful” captures the fragility of their happiness, reminding readers that perseverance often consists of small, precarious acts of survival rather than grand triumphs. Henry develops the theme not only through ruthless characters like the carter and the horse-breaker but also through well-intentioned figures like Mr. Coke and Mr. Williams who offer Sham and Agba only brief respites from their struggles. Agba is so neglected by the novel’s adult characters that he spends weeks “sleeping in hedgerows” and subsisting on what little food he “could pick up in woods and fields” without anyone noticing (107). This neglect exposes how social systems repeatedly fail Agba, turning perseverance into an almost invisible act that is nonetheless essential for survival. The story’s plot and the adversity the protagonist must contend with intensify in this section’s cliffhanger, in which Agba is sent to jail after trying to visit Sham. Displacement here is social and legal, as Agba’s status as a foreign, enslaved child exposes him to criminalization, which sharpens the novel’s critique of how institutions fail the vulnerable.

A significant thematic strand in these chapters involves silence and voice. Agba’s speech disability leaves him unable to defend himself verbally to hostile adults, and Sham’s refusal to accept other riders is a nonverbal assertion of agency. The episode at the Red Lion shows how silence can be misread as guilt, since Agba cannot rebut Mrs. Williams’s accusation, while his work as an “Awakener” ironically gives him a role centered on rousing others with sound. These ironies emphasize that voice in the novel is not literal speech but ethical witness, expressed through loyalty, persistence, and presence. Henry links dignity to action rather than speech, suggesting that care, persistence, and ethical witnessing speak when words are not available.

Sham’s markings add a layer of symbolism during both auspicious and unfortunate moments. The white spot that represents speed is associated with good fortune, and Agba believes that it will help Sham be selected to travel to France, allowing the pair to stay together: “Wild with excitement, he kissed the white spot on Sham’s heel” (61). In contrast, the wheat ear represents misfortune and is mentioned during negative events, such as when Mr. Coke sends Agba and his animal friends away in Chapter 14: “Agba noticed, with a chill of fear, that all this while he had been tracing the wheat ear on Sham’s chest” (102). However, the bond between the boy and the horse goes beyond these signs, as demonstrated by their reunion in the wood carter’s shed: “The ears of the horse began to twitch. His nostrils quivered. Then without a sound he lowered his head and rubbed it against Agba’s shoulder. Agba did not need to look for the wheat ear or the white spot. It was Sham!” (87). Agba’s love for the horse never falters even though misfortune makes the Arabian’s promised greatness seem like a far-off dream in this section. Grimalkin adds to this symbolic field as a figure of refuge and recognition, a creature who survives on the margins yet witnesses and affirms the pair’s bond, which reinforces the book’s interest in humble companions as bearers of meaning.

The Role of Divine Will in Personal Destiny also develops here through Mr. Coke’s scriptural selection and through reversals that appear punitive yet redirect the plot toward England. The biblical passage frames Sham’s fierceness as a quality to be honored, while the chain of sales and separations becomes a route to the setting where his lineage will be acknowledged. By framing accidents and punishments as redirections, Henry suggests that adversity itself is a divine instrument, guiding characters toward the fulfillment of roles they cannot yet envision. The chapters suggest that human authority can misjudge purpose, yet a higher power turns misfortune into passage, which aligns with the novel’s closing claim that destiny unfolds through endurance.