THE BIG IRON GATES slammed ominously behind me as the high-ranking official, the assistant adjutant, ushered me through the guarded private entrance, closed off to the public. It was my second visit to Buckingham Palace. During my first trip the autumn before, I had stood outside the front gates with the rest of the tourists, popping off snapshots, gaping at the spectacle from a distance, separated from the Queen's abode by imposing guards and big, black wrought-iron fences.

Now, barely five months later, I was inside those gates. My floral scarf whipped in the wind, so I nervously tucked it into my beige cashmere jacket to sop up the trickle of perspiration dripping down my chest. I hurried to keep up with the quick stride of the captain of these barracks, the assistant adjutant. It was a cool, crisp May day in London, a far cry from the 100 degree plus temperatures I weathered in my native Los Angeles, but the last time I'd sweated like this, I'd been in a Beverly Hills spa, inhaling eucalyptus. I tried to remember to breathe. As I strode across the palace yards, flanked on both sides by British military officials, the cheerful sun beamed down on my flushed cheeks and lit the castle walls in pink pastel hues, like a watercolor painting. Every ounce of my courage and talent was about to be tested.

As a "corporate enabler" and international translator with a growing reputation for solving problems in management and for creating cooperative teamwork, I'd been brought in as a troubleshooter on "official royal business." The military was having problems with a few of its personnel. Some of the older employees were growing discontented, and a few of the new foreign recruits were having difficulties adjusting to their environment and workload. None of these employees spoke English.

I was met by many more men in brass-buttoned uniforms who saluted me and clicked the heels of their shiny black boots as I passed. The assistant adjutant ushered me inside the building and down a long corridor, lined with cubicles where employees worked. The adjutant said, "I'm not sure we picked the best time for you to talk to them. We just served them lunch."

"It's okay," I said nervously. "Maybe they'll speak to me while they're eating."

"This is Captain Harris," the adjutant said. "His performance has been excellent for years, but lately he's been quite argumentative. He's seems to have lost his spirit. He's not nearly old enough to consider retirement, but he seems a bit discontented with this job. Ask him what the trouble is."

As I walked into Captain Harris's cubicle, he was facing the other way, eating a bowl of oatmeal. When he saw me, he did a double take, and then went back to his lunch.

"Oh, I thought you were a carrot," he said.

I was utterly bewildered. I'd worked with a number of mentally challenged employees in the past, but no one had ever mistaken me for a carrot before.

"What?" I asked.

"Your sweater," he said. "It's my favorite color." I looked down to find I was wearing a bright orange sweater under my jacket and the hot coral color did actually form the elongated triangle-shape of a carrot.

"Well, his peripheral vision is not very good," I said, jotting notes in my notebook, "especially not on his right side."

"Did you bring me any carrots?" he asked.

"No. I'm sorry, I didn't. I understand you haven't been feeling yourself lately. Are you having problems with your diet?"

"It's very boring," he said moving over to a plate of dry-looking salad.

"And your digestion?" I asked.

"Not very good since my coworker left. Have you seen the cat?"

"No, not yet. What color is it?"

"She's gray and white striped. She visits my cubicle at night. She's been cheering me up since my friend got transferred."

"Do you know there's a gray and white cat in this building?" I asked the assistant adjutant.

"Oh, yes. That's Emma. I didn't know he liked her."

"Tell him everyone likes Emma. She does wonders for morale," Captain Harris told me.

"Ask him if he wants to retire," the assistant adjutant urged me.

"Of course not!" Captain Harris answered indignantly. "I'm one of the Queen's favorites! I've won many awards! I could never retire. It would disappoint her. We have to practice marching in the parade this Saturday, and the entire team is counting on me to be in charge."

When I relayed the message, the assistant adjutant's eyes bulged.

"Yes!" he confirmed. "They have a practice on Saturday. Well, if he enjoys his work, and he's looking forward to the big event, ask him why he hasn't been able to concentrate lately."

"Your boss has been concerned about your performance," I prodded. "Are you not happy working here anymore?"

"I miss my friend. Bernard. They moved him from the cubicle on my left. We enjoyed working side by side and talking after work. The little cocky whippersnapper was so full of himself. He made me laugh and feel young again. I was just beginning to show him the ropes when they shipped him out. He got transferred up north to work in the beautiful countryside while I got stuck down here. I want to go up there, too. Or I want him to come back. I miss him terribly. We need to be together."

When I relayed this message, the assistant adjutant was visibly shaken.

"Please tell him to bring Bernard back," Captain Harris said.

"He's lonely," I said to the adjutant. "He misses his friend who used to stand on his left. He gives me the name Bernard. He says Bernard has been shipped up north to the beautiful countryside to work, while the Captain has to stay down here all alone." The adjutant was speechless. When he found his voice, he said excitedly:

"Yes, it's true! There was a boy standing on his left named Bernard! I never knew he meant that much to the Captain. Bernard got transferred up to Prince Charles's hunting facility in the midlands a couple of weeks ago. It's true! The countryside is green and beautiful, and all these boys have more fun up there hunting in the woods. We ship them back and forth so they get a change of scenery. We thought the Captain was too old to want to do that anymore. Bernard! That's astonishing! How could he possibly tell you his name! Whoever would dream he could call his friend by name!?"

What's wrong with Captain Harris? Why wouldn't he know his best friend's name? Is he senile? Is he deaf?

No. He's a horse. Captain Harris is one of the royal procession horses of Queen Elizabeth II. I was invited to Buckingham Palace in May of 2002 to work with the Queen's household cavalry just as the horses were training for Her Majesty's Royal Jubilee. A few days later, I was further honored by an invitation to Prince Charles's hunting facility, where I got to meet Bernard in person and give him a kiss on the nose. Animal lovers, have no fear. Both boys were joyfully reunited shortly after my visit.

© Amelia Kinkade, 2006

"The Queen's Horses" is excerpted from the book The Language of Miracles.
Copyright© 2006 by Amelia Kinkade. Reprinted with permission of New World Library, Novato, CA.
www.newworldlibrary.com or toll-free 800-972-6657 ext. 52.

Recently, Library Journal offered this review:

Many animal communication books reveal that you can chat with Fluffy by developing your intuition through a series of exercises and meditations meant to help you let go of your inner judge and skeptic. Kinkade (Straight from the Horse's Mouth: How To Talk to Animals and Get Answers) concurs but expands the lesson by taking us on a voyage through quantum theory and its application to psychic phenomena of all kinds. Explaining the zero-point field, she details how our intentionality converts our thoughts from particles held discretely in our own minds to waves that connect to the field, thereby expanding our consciousness to receive animal thoughts and feelings. Still with me? Well, never mind, the book is also filled with heartwarming animal anecdotes. As with Straight from the Horse's Mouth, readers here have to wade through all the stories to get to the actual mind-melding techniques, which would be annoying if the writing weren't so engaging. Recommended for public and open-minded veterinary science libraries. (© Library Journal)

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amelia Kinkade has been listed in The 100 Top Psychics in America. A full-time animal communicator, she is sought by veterinarians, animal rescue organizations, and animal lovers all over the world. She lives and practices in California. Her work has been featured in a multitude of magazines and newspapers world-wide including The New York Times, The Chicago Tribune, ABC News Online, The London Sunday News of the World, Cat Fancy, Dog Fancy, Bild de Frau in Germany and the cover of the Freitseit Kurier in Vienna. She has appeared on television programs such as The View with Barbara Walters, The Other Half with Dick Clark, Extra, VH1, Jenny Jones, Leeza, Mike and Maty, The BBC News, Beyond with James Van Praagh, The Ellen Degeneres Show, over a dozen talk shows in England, and numerous news broadcasts in the US, the UK, and Australia. She regularly conducts workshops, teaching people to communicate with animals, throughout North America and Europe. Her website is www.ameliakinkade.com