Jockeys come to know individual horses for only the merest fraction of time. During a lifespan of up to thirty years a racehorse might spend only two years in a racing stable. But during that short time a partnership can be forged, of trust and devotion; of friendship and understanding. And then the lives of the jockey and his horse become intertwined; their fortunes shared, their hearts linked, whether filled with joy... or broken. Just such a partnership was that between Philippe Paquet and Nureyev.

Nureyev was a sensation from the moment he first stepped into the public eye. By the world's leading stallion Northern Dancer, he was out of the aptly named Special, a daughter of Forli and a sister to champion Thatch. In 1978 he entered the record books as the first yearling to break the million-dollar barrier at auction. A decade later, when the racing industry had turned into big business rather than an exclusive hobby, multi-million yearlings became commonplace. But back in 1978, the average price of a yearling had only just crept up into six figures. Nureyev's extraordinary price tag of $1.3 million was an accurate assessment of his impeccable pedigree and outstanding physique. Only time would tell if he had the ability to match.

Purchased by Greek shipping magnate Stavros Niarchos, who, together with Robert Sangster, was among the first of racing's owners to manage their stable as a business, Nureyev was sent into training with Peter Walwyn in England. But the high VAT levied on imported horses, plus an outbreak of coughing among the Walwyn horses, led to Niarchos removing his horse and sending him instead to Francois Boutin in France. There, the imposing bay colt with the distinctive white blaze made an immediate impact. Boutin, who had trained so many of Europe's 'greats', was quick to declare the unraced Nureyev as his best yet. Stable jockey Philippe Paquet, who had ridden the Boutin champions for over ten years, was in full agreement. Not only did Nureyev win the jockey's admiration; he won his heart.

Philippe Paquet had not only grown up in arguably the best stable in Europe, but had married into a family who certainly knew a champion racehorse when they saw one. His wife, Michelle, was a daughter of the legendary Australian jockey George Moore, a champion both at home and in Britain and now successfully topping the trainer's table in Hong Kong. Her younger brother Gary had been champion jockey in Hong Kong before moving to France and subsequently landing that coveted title there as well. Michelle was no stranger to playing second fiddle to a horse, but none of her family had previously encountered a horse quite like Nureyev. She admitted to expecting to find the colt sleeping at the bottom of their bed, such was his place within their hearts. Francois Boutin told the ever-present journalists that Philippe was "Nureyev's personal slave - and we all envy him the position."

The press, who had doggedly followed the colt's every move, dubbed him "The Flying Nureyev" and "The Talking Horse Of Europe". Based purely upon the opinion of his stable and his performances on the gallops, Nureyev became one of the ante-post favourites for the following year's Derby - despite the fact that he had not yet stepped foot on a racecourse.

In an unprecedented move, British cameras were present to record his first race, the Prix Thomas Bryon at Saint-Cloud in October of 1979. He sauntered to an effortless victory - and a ridiculously short price for the following season's Classic races. Paquet showered him with kisses; the press showered him with accolades. With just one Group Three race to his credit, Nureyev retired for the winter with a higher valuation than either Troy, that year's Derby winner; Three Troikas the Prix de L'Arc de Triomphe heroine; or Monteverdi, that season's official highest rated two-year-old. The value was set by prospective buyers, looking to acquire the colt from Niarchos. But Nureyev was not for sale, at any price.

Again, the British cameras reappeared with Nureyev for his debut at three, when he lined up for the Prix Djebel at Maison-Laffitte in April 1980. The scenario was little different to the previous autumn, with the exception of just a few extra kisses for Nureyev from his jockey in the winners' enclosure, as the photographers begged for more. By now the tag of "Talking Horse" had been dropped. Nureyev was now known in print simply as "The Super Horse".

On the first Saturday of May he travelled to Newmarket for the first of the British Classics for colts, the Two Thousand Guineas. Lining up against him was a large and impressive field of proven stars: Known Fact, Posse, Star Way, Tyrnavos, Final Straw and Night Alert, to name only the better of the twelve colts opposing him. But on paper the result was a foregone conclusion. No one could visualise defeat for the striking French colt.

Nureyev had been seemingly 'gifted' with the number one draw, giving him the apparent advantage of a run up the rails on the straight one mile course. That, at least, had been the plan laid down by Boutin in the paddock. But as Paquet took the colt gently to post, he must have been all too aware of his mount's immaturity in comparison to those cantering down with him. To onlookers, the 'Super Horse' looked much like a two-year-old, both in size, build and demeanour. To Paquet, it was plain that his beloved colt was not going to react favourably to the intimidation of a large field.

The notion was borne out the moment the runners broke from the stalls. Nureyev broke swiftly, but after less than a furlong showed his resentment as his opponents attempted to crowd him out. He threw up his head and fought for the bit, hoping to take command and make the best of his way home with still more than seven furlongs left to run. Paquet struggled momentarily, the colt's head flung back repeatedly, until once again the jockey was in full control. But the fight had cost them precious lengths and as Paquet settled Nureyev, the pair was in last place, two lengths adrift of the next horse. Paquet remained composed, content that the colt had settled for him and that he possessed enough speed and power to make up the deficit.

Just before the halfway point of the race, Paquet asked Nureyev for an effort. It was vital that Nureyev was within the first six as the course dipped, two furlongs from home. The effort of meeting rising ground so near to the winning post made a late run impossible. Paquet had little option, therefore, but to move up through the centre of the field to improve his position, the gift of his draw long since sacrificed. He chose a suitable gap; Nureyev chose not to quite go through with the run, perhaps unnerved by the close proximity of so many horses in this, only his third run. And so Paquet found himself in the less than ideal position of midfield going in to The Dip.

If he was unhappy with his position, it didn't show. Throughout the entire nightmare run - a duration of no more than sixty seconds up to that point - Paquet's confidence and composure were all that was visible from the stands. He handled the horse throughout as the certain victor, never panicking or switching to the outside, a move that would have won daylight, but at a high cost of vital lengths. Instead, he sat still and moved the colt steadily up toward the leaders, trusting that a gap would open as soon as the first of those in front showed tiredness and dropped back.

Predictably, the gap came. Pat Eddery, on Posse, was also on the lookout for just such an opening, but Paquet found it first. Nureyev, still showing the immaturity and lack of experience that now waned with every stride, momentarily balked at the request, going for the gap but taking Posse's ground in the process. Eddery was forced to snatch up sharply and await a fresh gap, but by then Nureyev was home and dry. Moving with blistering pace up through the leaders, the little French colt hit the front and held on tenaciously, as Known Fact and Posse fought back on the inside. Nureyev had won the Two Thousand Guineas, perhaps not quite as predicted, by half a length.

The joyous scenes in the winners' enclosure were short-lived. Even as Paquet kissed the colt full on the lips for yet another photographer, so Eddery passed by to weigh in, vowing that they would not keep the race. The resulting forty minute stewards' enquiry found in Eddery's favour and Nureyev was disqualified. Paquet, who had sat through the enquiry with his eyes closed, was found guilty of reckless riding and received the minimum suspension.

A less pleasant result of the lengthy deliberation of the stewards was to allow Niarchos and the press time to simmer their anger. A great deal of money had been lost with Nureyev's enforced defeat and a target was required for the frustrated rage of punters and pundits. Nureyev having achieved all that had been asked of him by crossing the winning post first, left only Paquet in the firing line. His tactics were questioned and he was verbally abused by an irate Stavros Niarchos in an all-too-public outburst.

Nureyev never raced again. While being trained for The Derby he contracted a virus and failed to fully recover. By the autumn, the decision was made to retire him to his owner's stud in Normandy. He left the Lamorlaye yard of Francois Boutin without ever realising his full potential as a racehorse, leaving behind a void in the lives of his trainer and jockey that would remain unfilled until Nureyev's own daughter, Miesque, joined the stable five years later. By that time the repercussions of her sire's Two Thousand Guineas disqualification had reverberated through the stable, leaving Paquet to greet the new heroine not as her jockey, but as Boutin's wheelchair-bound assistant.

And in America, Nureyev himself was fighting his greatest battle - not for a racecourse trophy, but for his life.

Back in 1980, during the heated outbursts that ensued immediately after the Two Thousand Guineas, harsh words had been exchanged between Niarchos and Paquet, evoked by the bitterness of an unfair defeat, but neither forgotten nor forgiven. The working relationship gradually collapsed, until Niarchos finally sacked Paquet at the end of the following season. The dismissal brought to a close a Golden Era in French racing.

Back home in France, Nureyev had been catapulted to fresh stardom in his new career as a stallion. Among his first crop of runners was the Royal Ascot Group winner, Magic Mirror. The outstanding success of his offspring resulted in his sale to America, where he quickly established himself as one of the world's most sought after stallions and a worthy successor to his ageing sire.

During Paquet's first season in Hong Kong a horse by the name of White Star had fallen in a race at Happy Valley, resulting in the death of his jockey, Brian Taylor. In May 1993, Paquet rode White Star at morning exercise on Happy Valley racecourse. As they cantered out to begin work, White Star stumbled. Paquet was thrown from the saddle, striking his head on the concrete upright of the running rail, which split his skull cap in two and left him with a fractured skull.

Without regaining consciousness, Paquet was taken to the Royal Hong Kong Sanatorium, where he remained in a coma for three months. His condition was critical throughout the first two weeks and doctors held little hope for his recovery. During that crucial fortnight, he underwent emergency surgery for the removal of fluid on the lungs. Less than eight hours later he was rushed back to the theatre for the removal of fluid on the brain. Though the situation looked hopeless, Paquet clung to life and as the weeks progressed, so his chances improved. But it was almost certain that he had sustained severe and irreparable brain damage.

After more than three months in a coma, Paquet awoke. He was paralysed; his speech slurred; his memory impaired. But, to the amazement of his doctors, he regained the movement in his left side within three days and his speech improved. His former colleague and close friend, Alain Lequeux, phoned him daily from France and they were even able to joke together. Paquet's young son vowed that he no longer wanted to be a jockey, but to be a doctor, instead.

Within a month of regaining consciousness, Paquet had regained most of his movement and most of his memory. He was transferred to a rehabilitation centre in Queensland, Australia, close to the Moore's family home, enabling him to spend weekends at home with his family. The speed of his recovery, though never total, was as remarkable as his career had been. Eventually he was able to walk, without the aid of sticks, and even to ride once more, though only for pleasure.

Although managing his own stud in Australia seemed a tempting prospect, Paquet finally opted to return to Chantilly, where he rejoined Francois Boutin as assistant trainer. Nureyev continued to sire champion after champion, the very best of which were trained by Boutin. As the team of Paquet and Boutin welcomed home their One Thousand Guineas heroine Miesque, the latest Nureyev Classic winner, so the racing world received its greatest blow. Nureyev had shattered a hind leg in a fall in his paddock and was fighting for his life.

Linked, as always, in spirit, Paquet and Nureyev entered their third battle - and it was to prove the hardest one yet.

Internationally renowned vets were flown in to Walmac Farm, where Nureyev had stood as a stallion since his departure from France, but the complications of a shattered hind leg were, at times, too great. The medication caused heart strain, so that it was necessary to leave Nureyev with as little pain-killing drugs as possible. His reaction to such discomfort was vital; any thrashing around would cause irreparable damage. But Nureyev showed the courage and resolution that had been passed on so successfully to his offspring. He refused to give up, refused to concede to the pain, and battled on for almost a year of life-threatening illness.

As soon as the leg began to mend, so it was necessary to suspend him in a sling, to keep the weight from the healing bone. This in itself was life-threatening and among the many complications setting in as a result was a debilitating muscle-wasting disorder. The lengthy confinement could also have led to mental problems, but Nureyev again displayed the immense strength of character and courage that marked him a champion. After months in a sling, his stable was fully padded and he was allowed short spells of being lowered to the floor. The muscle wastage was appalling and recovery went on long after the broken bone had healed. Staff and vets at Walmac often expressed their doubts that the stallion would survive; and as his survival grew more hopeful, so too did their admiration. Again and again the world's top vets were forced to admit to the press that no other horse but Nureyev could have survived such an ordeal.