The Horse Healer (17 page)

He paid the rent for his room, assuming Toledo would no longer be his residence, and said good-bye to the proprietors, who were frightened at the battered state of his face after Galib's blows.

Furtively, without saying good-bye to anyone else, he left behind Master Galib's stables and house, his school, the place where he had learned almost everything, where he had received the love that others had stolen from him back in Malagón. In the shelter of their walls, he had also grown inside, becoming a man. That house felt like his second home, there he had learned to love an albéitar whom he would never be able to forget.

He left Toledo depressed, tears rolling down his face, carrying on his back the deep disappointment of his master.

He left behind five beautiful years at his side, vanished because of a fleeting instant of sin with a woman he had lusted for too much, and whom he had sworn he respected.

He remembered poor Fatima, strange Sajjad with his false smile, full of triumph, when he saw him enter.

He relived in a mere moment so many of the events that had composed the most gratifying experience of his life. He memorized everyone's face, their voices, and some of their conversations, like the greatest of treasures.

All those names, with their memories, now formed part of his past.

Diego caressed Sabba. She knew they wouldn't return. She turned her neck and nibbled at his cheek, conveying her understanding.

“Good old Sabba, You'll always be with me. …”

He scratched the base of her ears and they headed north, to a place still without a name, to a new and unknown future.

Part II

Christian Lands

In the absence of the king of Navarre, Sancho VII, lost in African lands, the city of Vitoria falls to the troops of Alfonso VIII of Castile after a long siege.

Other towns, like San Sebastián and Fuenterrabía, ask to be incorporated into the crown of Castile.

In León, Berenguela, the daughter of the king, recently married with the monarch Alfonso IX, her second uncle, attends the annulment of her marriage by Pope Innocent III, on the grounds of an excessively close blood relation.

The always delicate relations between the neighboring kingdoms of Castile and León suffer yet another crisis.

Meanwhile, the new caliph, al-Nasir, studies how to break the ties among the different Christian kingdoms to the north and also rearms to prepare for their conquest.

Blind to his intentions, they continue to fight among themselves.

I.

D
iego was almost frozen.

The snow whirled around him and buffeted his face as he began the descent to the pass of Somosierra on the north face.

The old Roman road that united Toledo with Burgos had disappeared under the intense snow, and a frozen gale hid whatever other reference point might help one trust the route.

He was traveling alone, sunken in deep sadness and repenting everything that had happened in Galib's home. Owing to his rapid flight, he hadn't taken the necessary precautions to face a harsh winter storm. For that reason, faced with that infinite blanket of whiteness stretching out on all sides, he felt doomed, with no other answer than to trust in Sabba's instincts.

He barely opened his eyes to keep them from freezing.

He tried to avoid the effects of the frozen wind on his cheeks, because the water drops it carried were flying like frozen daggers into his skin. He could hardly feel his ears; they hurt like he was going to lose them. And it was only thanks to the heat of his mare that the tips of his fingers stopped throbbing when he wedged them between the saddle and the animal's back.

Diego had left Toledo four days ago without imagining what a difficult journey it would be. He had hardly any warm clothes, a rather thin blanket, and a leather bag with all his savings, just over thirty
sueldos
. Those scant possessions were all he had to face a new life.

He made the decision that would shape his destiny when he was crossing the city walls and had to decide to take one of the two roads that emerged from them.

In that sea of uncertainty there was only one thing clear: He wanted to be an albéitar, but to do it, he had much left to learn. He needed more education, more practice, more study, maybe someone like Galib who could teach him. And it was thus that he remembered that Cistercian monastery that Friar Benito had mentioned so many times, and he came to the conclusion that it could be the best place to learn what he had to know. The idea encouraged him.

He would read in the library, would help to shoe or cure the horses if they let him, and maybe he would find that horse healer among the friars who could be his next master. Together with him, he could learn everything that he still did not know; it wasn't a bad idea.

Absorbed in those thoughts, a steely wind from the north brought back to him the horrible reality of the mountain.

He was entering into a pine forest when Sabba lost her step and fell to the ground, taking him with her. The damp and icy contact with the snow made him fear an unfortunate wound. He inspected Sabba from head to toe, frozen from the cold. Luckily she was unscathed.

Looking around, Diego could identify nothing farther away than two or three feet. From that moment, he thought it would be better to go on foot, so that Sabba could rest until they had made the precarious ascent. But when he stepped onto the soft hill, he saw to his horror that his legs sunk in up to his knees. He continued as best he could, until he began to despair, because of the little distance they had covered and a dreadful weariness that showed itself in sharp shocks all over his body.

He paused and recovered a bit of strength after rubbing his frozen legs together vigorously, but then he looked into the ugly panorama that awaited them.

Even worse for them, the sun had begun to disappear and a thick haze was rising up the hillside and would reach them at the moment that they were approaching a perilous gorge. Almost unable to see, they were obliged to turn back to look for another road, and at that moment, a savage wind burst began to thrash them mercilessly.

Between the sharp sound of the wind and the cracking of the frozen snow, they heard something. Sabba turned her sharp ear to where the source of the noise appeared to be and soon understood what it was. Terrified, she stretched her neck, opened her eyes wide, and began to push at Diego's back.

“What is it, Sabba?”

The mare heard it again. She heard the echo of footsteps on the snow and began to detect a worrisome scent. She filled her lungs and whinnied with incredible energy, trying to drag Diego back to separate him from the danger. She was very upset.

“Something's scaring you, but I don't know what it is. …” Without finishing his phrase, Diego looked in the same direction as Sabba and there he saw them. First there was a bluish shimmer, their eyes, then the reflection of fangs, many fangs.

“Wolves!” he shouted in fright.

He heard a pack of barks coming toward them at a hellish speed. Diego mounted Sabba so quickly that he lost the bag that held his money and his three valuable books. He saw them fall heavily on the snow, and when he tried to dismount to grab them, it was too late; he felt a hard and painful bite sinking into his leg. He beat the animal's head with his fists until it let go. The nearness of the other four made him give up any further thought of getting hold of his things.

Two of the beasts leapt at Sabba's neck, trying to reach her jugular, though she escaped from them. She kicked one so forcefully that she launched it into the trunk of a tree.

Diego looked at the ground again and saw his books and savings disappear into the snow under the feet of those animals. With pain and grief he saw there was nothing to do but flee as soon as possible if they didn't want to end up dead.

“Run, Sabba!”

The mare obeyed the order and rushed downhill without knowing where she was even stepping. One of the wolves seemed to fly at her rump and sank his teeth into her. Diego managed to tear off a piece of a tree branch and beat him in the muzzle and the eyes. The animal howled, wounded, and let go. Six more ran very close, not wanting to lose that tasty prey.

“Don't look back. Run. Run faster …”

Diego grasped Sabba's neck and felt the warmth of his own blood flowing over his ankle. They crossed a small stand of trees quickly and dangerously, because there was no time to try and avoid the branches that stood in their path. Many scratched Diego or Sabba; others broke off as they passed through.

In a clearing in the forest, the wolves seemed to guess where they were going and two sped up until they were just in front of them. Sabba saw them without time to change direction; to avoid them, she turned her body so fast that she lost balance and tumbled to the ground. Diego was trapped beneath her, frightened at how little time they had before the canines reached them. He saw them arrive with absolute impotence and closed his eyes, waiting to feel their fangs, but to his surprise they remained still, very close, but still. They seemed to smile. They surrounded them, salivating with rage, as though looking for the best spot to attack from. Sabba tried to stand, but the abundant quantity of snow under her kept her from finding soil to support herself.

The wolves panted with agitation and clouds of steam bellowed from their mouths. One of them, darker than the rest, came up to Diego's face, sniffing his nose and then showing its fangs in a menacing growl. Diego smelled its awful breath and shook from pure panic.

He thought it was all over, but soon Sabba had recovered her strength and stood up with incredible speed. Still atop his horse, Diego felt a sharp pain in his leg. He didn't know if it was broken, but it didn't matter; there was hope again.

The wolves, even more furious, if that was possible, leapt at them, looking for a place to bite, but Sabba left them behind, galloping at a spectacular velocity until she lost them from view half a league later.

After a final hill, less precipitous, they reached the flatlands and continued walking until they found a small town. Diego pinched Sabba's neck and scratched her ears in gratitude.

“I remember Galib one time told me your name meant the East Wind, and also that the other horses of your race were made from it. …”

Diego recalled that night, when he was returning from the home of Kabirma and Fatima, when Galib recited to him that beautiful poem that spoke of the creation of the horse.

“‘Virtue will suffuse your mane and your haunches. You will be my favorite among all the animals because I have made you master and friend. I have conferred upon you the power to fly without wings, whether attacking or retreating. I will sit men upon your haunches and they shall pray, they shall honor me and sing alleluias to my name.'

“Today you've made that poem come true, Sabba.”

To the right of the first houses, once they were inside the town, they saw an inn that seemed well heated and comfortable. A pain in his stomach reminded Diego that he hadn't eaten anything since the day before, but he immediately realized that he hardly had money, only a few coins that he had kept in his vest. He thought of his savings lost on the snow and decided to spend as little as possible from that moment on.

He looked for a discreet place to take refuge, and at the end of the frozen village he found a half-ruined stable. They entered and quickly looked around to find the best insulated corner to rest. He found straw and a handful of hay and offered them to Sabba. At least one of them could eat.

“I don't know what we're going to do. … What a disaster!” he whispered in the animal's ear. Sabba turned with an understanding expression.

Diego explored the wound in his leg. There were only two small holes that attested to the bite from the first attack. They looked too swollen and he didn't like their color. When he squeezed them with his fingers, he managed to clean them a bit. He immediately knew he would need to open them completely if he didn't want further complications. He took out a small dagger, the only keepsake he had from Galib, and cut his skin with determination. Immediately there flowed out a yellowish liquid and afterward a bit of blood. With a shred of his shirt, he wrapped the wound so that it would close better and felt it without sensing as much pain as before. That seemed like enough. Then he examined Sabba. Except for the bite on her haunches, he found nothing but minor scratches without any apparent importance.

That night Diego ate nothing, nor the second day on the way to Burgos. On the third day, he found a dead hare on the roadside about to be eaten by a wild dog. He threw stones at the beast and jumped down, devouring the animal in mouthfuls. Another traveler whom he shared the route with for a few leagues exchanged him a piece of dried mule meat for a stirrup. It was a bad deal, but that's how hungry he was, and Diego was happy to trade. He ate part with fervor and kept the other part in reserve.

Very poor, thirsty and tired, they finally reached the city of Burgos. Without entering, they walked around it to head toward Nájera, the former capital of the kingdom of Navarre. That was where they had been told to go if they wanted to arrive at Fitero.

Some leagues to the east, they began to ascend another mountain that reminded Diego of the difficult moment with the wolves. It was cold there too, very cold. They had been told that the pass was open and that it wouldn't cost much to cross it.

When they reached the highest point, it was nighttime, and they decided to find shelter. Not far from the road, they found a small cabin for sheepherders protected from the freezing wind by a dense neighboring poplar grove. Since the wood they could find was damp, Diego couldn't manage to make a fire and he had to cover up with the clothes he was carrying. He tried to sleep another night without eating anything. Curled up in a corner of the hut, against its north face, in the silence of the night, shivering and gnashing his teeth, he finally fell into a deep sleep.

Hours later, in the still of the night, a light crunching awoke him. He opened his eyes slightly and saw someone rifling through his things. The person appeared weak. He made sure he was alone. Diego waited to see his back to leap onto him and knock him down by surprise. He did it, and when he had the person on the floor, he looked for his neck, grabbed it with both hands, and managed to completely immobilize him.

The person didn't put up much resistance.

“If you stay still, I'll let you live,” Diego threatened him.

He felt around in his leather pouch and took out Galib's dagger. Pressing it into his adversary's throat, he promised to use it if he tried to escape.

“Now you're going to tell me who you are and what you're after.”

“My name is Marcos …” The light of the moon illuminated his face and Diego tried to see it more clearly. He was somewhat younger than Diego. “I was just looking for a little money, you know … to eat with. I wasn't trying to take anything else, I swear.”

Diego looked disbelieving.

“Sir, believe me … please.”

“I'm not a sir, so you can save the good manners. And even if I was, I wouldn't believe you.”

The boy begged his pardon and tried to pull away from the steel at his neck, promising he wouldn't try to leave. Diego agreed but kept his eye out for any strange movements.

“All right, I'll be honest. If I could have, I would have fleeced you bare.” He kept talking without giving Diego time to respond. “Wouldn't you do the same if hunger was eating away your stomach, or if you didn't remember what the last thing you ate was, or when?”

Diego could see that he was extremely thin. He didn't seem like a bad person. His desolate aspect, almost childlike wrinkles under the filth on his face, and a certain goodness in his gaze inspired an immediate understanding on Diego's part. He wasn't the only person who was hungry.

He looked for that bit of dried meat that he had preserved and gave it to him. The intruder pounced on it, bit it, savored it as though there didn't exist a finer repast in the world.

“You wouldn't have a piece of bread to go with it, no?”

Diego relaxed, seeing him as harmless.

“No, that's everything I have.”

Without losing a minute, he finished the meat in silence, and felt around on his clothes in case any scraps of it had fallen and he could eat them.

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You seem like a good man. If there's anything I can do for you …”