The Horse Healer (38 page)

II.

S
ancha de Laredo was a woman of normal appearance, married, and a mother of two daughters. Her life seemed like that of any other woman in similar family circumstances: working at home, making her living from a small flock of sheep. But in her case, it wasn't that way. …

Diego met her by chance, during a thick snowstorm. He was coming back from a neighboring village were he had taken care of a sick cow.

The snow was more than three feet high, and Sabba could hardly walk over the arduous road. For some time, Diego had been looking for refuge to wait out the storm with a roof over his head, but since night had fallen, he had found nothing.

Between the thick curtain of snow, close to a frozen stream, he finally made out a house. He didn't remember ever seeing it before, but it didn't matter. He went there with the hope of getting in, not knowing the house belonged to Sancha.

“Look at that smoke, Sabba. Maybe they'll let us pass the night sheltered there.”

He called at the door a number of times without getting a response. He also looked through the window, between the curtains, without seeing anything.

There were some stables beside the house. He thought they wouldn't be closed and he rushed over to them against the vicious wind that was striking him like a lash. When he saw the owners, the next day, he would explain everything.

When he entered the stables, which were small but well cared for, he heard a clamorous chorus of bleats from a pen full of lambs. To one side of them, in another pen, Diego counted no fewer than three hundred sheep. They looked fat and well treated. He looked in his saddlebags for a wool blanket and tied Sabba close to another horse, well built and of an indeterminate breed. The presence of so much livestock would guarantee they would sleep warmly, as long as the sheep would quiet down.

Between the wall and the pen where the sheep were enclosed, there was a narrow passage that Diego walked down, looking for a place to lie down. Halfway along it, he heard a strange sound that came from one of the corners. It could have been a violent dog, so Diego armed himself with a long board he found at his feet.

“Who's there?”

He looked for the corner, step by step, squinting his eyes to see better. And then he discovered two little girls huddled down and holding each other.

“Who are you?” The older one spoke to him, her voice quavering. “This is our house, what are you doing here?”

The girl was around thirteen years old. She had straight hair and a frightened face, peeking up at him as she held on to a long stake.

“Don't be afraid, little girl. My name's Diego and I just want protection from the storm. What are your names?”

“Get out of here!” the younger one yelled. She couldn't have even been six.

“If you want, tell your parents. I'll speak to them so they'll let me spend the night here. Tell them I'll pay.”

They looked at each other and began to whisper. Diego couldn't hear them, but he knew they were arguing.

“Don't worry, I'll go to the house to talk to them.”

As soon as he turned, the girls screamed at him.

“No, don't go, please.”

Diego interrogated them with his stare.

“He's with her right now, and if you bother him, he's going to get mad and then we …”

“Are you talking about your father?”

“He's with Mama,” the smaller one responded.

“And why aren't you inside the house?” When he saw them from closer up, he was stunned by the fear he saw on their faces.

“So we don't have to hear Mama cry.”

“Be quiet, María,” the older one said.

“Do you know why she's crying?” Diego began to assume something.

“She does it every night,” the girl answered, though her older sister nudged her.

“And you, what did you say before, when you were talking about your father being angry?”

Though he meant his question for the older one, Diego looked at the younger sister. She rubbed her hands together without stopping, and her dress and hair as well. The poor girl was very nervous.

“Nothing. I didn't say anything,” said the older girl.

“It's not true. … Sometimes he hits us, very hard,” the other exclaimed.

“You don't have to explain anything to this man,” her sister shrieked. “You'll see; now Papa will find out.”

“I don't care.”

Diego imagined the father must be intransigent and authoritarian; the girls were probably being punished for some minor misbehavior. But still, with the terrible weather that night and the rough state of their lodgings, he felt bad for them. He heard the older girl call her sister María, and for some reason he remembered Estela. The girl had her same smile and a similar expression in her eyes, and her forehead was as broad as his sister's too.

“How long have you been out here?”

“Two days,” María answered innocently. “Papa said we couldn't come out till tomorrow.”

When he heard that, Diego was paralyzed. He couldn't understand. If this was some simple trick they'd pulled, it seemed excessive.

“You mean you've been out here for two days without your parents? And what do you eat?”

María rubbed her belly and pointed to a sheep that was suckling a little lamb. She ran to it and grabbed onto one of her free teats. To Diego's astonishment, she put it into her mouth and began to suck. The animal grunted, sniffed at her angrily a few times, but finally accepted it.

Diego looked at the older one, still unable to believe what he had just seen. Rosa confirmed it, nodding her head.

It seemed incredible to him that someone could treat two innocent beings that way, as if they were animals. How could their parents act that way?

In an instant, María ran to Sabba and he followed her. The mare sniffed at her with evident curiosity, and the girl scratched her muzzle.

“What's her name?”

“Sabba.”

“She's very pretty.” María hardly reached the animal's knee, but she caressed it so sweetly that Sabba snorted with pleasure.

Diego sat her on top of Sabba and the girl, shouting with joy, grabbed onto the mane and pulled, imagining herself galloping, bucking over and over in the saddle.

“Run … Fly!”

Diego held her arms tight to keep her from falling.

“Don't touch my sister again!”

That scream from the older sister left him shocked. There was fear, panic, rage in the girl's expression. Diego was disturbed, and a terrible thought came upon him.

“Get out of here, I beg you … Please.” The first tears sprouted from Rosa's eyes. “If my father finds out you've spent the night here, he'll kill us, and you too. He'll do it to me again … no …”

Diego got María down from the horse and stood in front of them, upset. On the one hand, he had no right to insert himself in these people's lives. But if he listened to them and left, he would hardly make it far, because of the force of the storm. He understood something strange was happening here and that it wasn't anything good.

María ran to his side and grabbed his leg with a force that was moving. He saw them so fragile and defenseless in those moments that he felt incapable of just doing nothing.

“I'm sorry, I'm not listening. I'm going to go talk to your parents.”

“No! Don't do it now.” Rosa grabbed his sleeve and pulled on it, begging him.

“But why?”

“Because Mama always says we need a father, and even if he hits her a lot, she can take it, and she's teaching us to do the same.”

Diego understood what was happening. That bastard was so wicked, he must be mistreating all of them.

“What is your father's name?”

“Basilio Merino.” For some reason, he seemed to recognize that name.

Then they heard a terrifying roar coming from the house. Diego ran out with the girls to see what was happening.

They pushed open the door and went into the house. Crawling along the floor in a nightdress, a young woman was covering her head with her hands.

“Filthy whore! You're a waste!” The man beside her made as if to kick her.

“What are you doing?” Diego ran toward him with clenched fists.

“And who are you?” With olive skin, the man's enormous eyebrows seemed to take up the whole of his face. His eyes showed incredulity and then fury. “You want to tell me what you're doing in my house?”

“It doesn't matter who I am.” Diego grabbed the man's shirt and twisted it. “You're a coward. I dare you to touch me and not those poor girls.”

The man stood still until, when Diego stopped paying attention, he grabbed a kitchen knife and threatened him.

“Don't butt into issues that don't concern you.” He aimed the sharp point at Diego's stomach. “Get out now if you don't want to get sliced from end to end.”

“You're not even a man. You should be ashamed of what you're doing with these poor girls.”

Basilio called them over with his free arm, as if he needed to protect them from Diego, but Rosa pushed him, escaping him.

“Don't touch me, Father! I hate you!” she shouted.

The man lifted a hand to strike her, and Diego charged him. He stopped, seeing the point of the knife, and then found himself pushed toward the door. The man's face reflected pure madness. Diego could do nothing. The man seemed bent on using the knife, and Diego didn't know how to respond. He looked at the woman. Her face was covered in bruises and her lip was split. She looked back at him, unable to express anything other than desperation.

“I'll tell the authorities about you. …” Diego threatened him from outside. “I'll leave, but you should know there will be punishment for this, I swear to you.”

“And who is it who's threatening me, if I may know?”

“You'll know when the time comes, and don't worry, it will be soon. And I'll warn you of another thing. You touch them again, and I promise you, I will chase you to the far edges of the world. And when I find you, you'll suffer just the same as they have.”

“Look how scared I am,” the man said, shaking his hands.

III.

M
arcos noticed Diego was furious, beside himself.

While he told him what had happened, he was so upset that he wanted nothing more than to return to that house and see what had happened with those three unfortunate girls.

“I'll go see them this very afternoon. Yesterday I couldn't do anything, but today I'll return better prepared.”

“He's not even worthy to be called a man. How can someone be so terrible?” Marcos was deeply disturbed by the story Diego had told.

“If you could have seen that poor woman. … She was so wretched! But in spite of that mask of suffering, she was beautiful.”

“And you think he hits the kids as well …”

“Yes, and I'm afraid he does even worse with the older one. I don't know, the girl's face expressed something more than terror when he grabbed her, while he was trying to throw me out of the house.”

Marcos clenched his fist, indignant. That wickedness, wherever it came from, deserved a severe punishment.

“His name is Basilio Merino and he has a good flock of sheep, maybe one of the best you can find in the whole community.”

Marcos's eyes widened and he sat there stunned.

“You know him?”

“Well, yes … Maybe I've heard of him …”

He took a mug of wine in his hand and drank slowly, taking his time and thinking.

Of course he knew Basilio. That man traded wool and meat with him, and he did a good job, too. Just a week ago they had spoken about a matter of mutual interest. Marcos had proposed buying his merchandise, since he had barely been able to fill the orders that were coming in from Valencia. The deal would benefit both of them; Marcos would be able to give a good deal to Abu Mizrain, and Basilio would be able to sell ten percent more than he had been to Marcos alone. And the offer had been accepted. For that reason, confronting that man would be a more delicate issue than simply informing the bailiff of his deplorable actions.

“What are you thinking?” Diego took the mug from Marcos's hands and looked into his eyes.

“About Basilio. I remembered a few things about him. … He's an influential man, Diego. Maybe too much for us and our reputations.”

“What are you saying?”

“He's a trader like me, and I happen to be doing business with him right now. And you know, a problem like this one could—”

“I understand,” Diego interrupted him. “When you said
us
, you meant you and your reputation. I get it.”

Diego stood up from his chair and began striding around the room, very upset. He tried to restrain his desire to smack Marcos for his pathetic attitude.

“I can guess what you're thinking, but I promise you that if you report him, you're the one who will end up being hurt.”

“I don't understand why. But if that was true, I would rather that happen than be responsible for the abuse of those girls, not to mention his wife.”

Marcos dried the sweat from his forehead. The situation was disagreeable, but he thought it would be better to talk it through till the end.

“You need to know that Basilio is related to the lord of the villa. That means you'll never get more credence than him if you do report him, unless you have real proof of his crime, and that's not easy. In these cases, the wife usually doesn't testify against her husband, since she depends on him for everything, or else from pure devotion or to keep her children from harm. The most likely thing is you won't have any success.”

Diego knew that wasn't the real reason Marcos was dissuading him, that it was his business he was worried about seeing endangered.

He sighed, disappointed, and took on the responsibility alone. He knew he was going to carry on with his plans.

“We'll see, Marcos. … We'll see.”

Basilio told his wife he would come back soon, just after he had finished with a job.

When they saw him disappear with his cart over the hill, the two girls ran into the house to look for their mother. They found her lying down and drowning in tears.

They got into bed with her and looked for her cheeks to caress and kiss them. They wanted to console her after the brutal beating she had received that morning. They hadn't seen anything, but they could hear their father screaming at Sancha with an unbelievable fury.

“Mother, you need a doctor. …” Her older daughter touched her ribs and felt that one was cracked under her fingers. Sancha had one eyebrow split open and her right cheek had an open cut from one of their father's punches.

“I don't need it, honey. It's not so bad,” Sancha replied. “You're going to upset her,” she said, pointing at María.

The little one had stayed in the stable during the brutal fight. Now, as if in a trance, she played with a long curl from her mother's hair, wrapping it around her fingers. Sancha's inflamed eye caught María's attention, and the girl asked her mother how it had happened.

“My little girl …” She stroked one of her cheeks. “Don't worry, dear, I accidentally hit myself on something.”

“Be more careful, Mama.”

“Of course, my dear. I'll pay attention and be more attentive.”

Sancha sat up, a sharp pain in her stomach. One of his kicks had hit her somewhere sensitive, and she had been feeling jabbing sensations for a while now.

“María, go get Mama a little bit of water.”

The girl obeyed and skipped away.

Once they were alone, Sancha looked into the eyes of her older daughter.

“Tell me the truth, and don't lie like you did other times to calm me down. Has something happened to you?”

“No, I promise. But if he tries again, I won't do like you. I won't put up with it again, Mother.”

“Who was that man you showed up with?”

“His name is Diego, and he told us he was an albéitar. He came to the stable to get protection from the snowstorm. He looked like a good man, but as you saw, he didn't do anything for us. He's just another coward. I hate all men; they're all trash.”

“Don't say that, my daughter. He tried, but your father got too violent and he had to flee.”

“If he had reacted better, maybe you wouldn't be here now.” The girl looked at her mother, so beautiful before, now full of bumps and bruises.

María returned with a pitcher and three glasses. She served the water carefully, but it spilled all over the bed.

“Father will beat me if he sees what I've done.” She began to cry.

“See how María reacts over something so unimportant? Imagine the fear she must be suffering inside to say that.” Hearing those words from her older daughter, Sancha felt her eyes dampen. “Why don't we leave, Mother?”

“We can't, honey, we can't. Where would we go? He would hunt us down, and it would be worse.”

“I've heard you say lots of times you have family in Laredo, close to the sea. Let's go there, Mother. Leave him for once! He's nothing more than a miserable dog. …”

“Where are you saying you want to go?” The unexpected voice caught them by surprise and filled all three with an immediate foreboding. He had just entered the bedroom without making a sound. He turned directly to Rosa and grabbed her arm, full of rage.

“You're hurting me,” she complained.

“I see how much my daughter loves me, calling me miserable, a dog. You'll learn your lesson now. Come outside with me!”

“Leave her in peace!” the mother screamed, trying to get out of bed. He pushed her violently. “Why are you doing this to us?” she cried, full of misery.

María felt something very bad was going to happen and without thinking twice, she leapt at her father's back, pounding on him with her little fists.

Basilio pushed her away without difficulty and threw her on the bed next to her mother. Rosa, furious, bit his arm with all her strength. Basilio howled, then grabbed her by the neck and lifted her off the floor. He dragged her to the kitchen. She kicked and scratched him amid tears of impotence. She wouldn't allow it, not this time, she thought.

Basilio sat her on the table and looked into her eyes.

“You think it's normal, what you're doing? I come home and I find you encouraging your mother to leave me … with all I've done for you …”

Rosa wanted to answer, but he squeezed her neck tighter and managed to choke her words.

“Now you'll shut up, little girl.”

“Don't touch her.” Sancha was at the door, ready to face off against her husband.

“She's my daughter … and I can do what I want.”

The man looked for her cheek to kiss her, but Rosa took advantage of his nearness to bite his ear. She clenched her teeth so furiously that she managed to pierce it. Basilio began to shriek like a mad dog, but the girl wouldn't let go. The man squeezed her neck harder to choke her and gave her a powerful punch in the chest. Rosa felt asphyxiated, began to cough with pain, and had to let go.

“You act like a beast and I'll treat you like a beast. I'll make you calm down today, you'll see.” Touching the wound on his ear, the man went to look for his leather riding crop. When he had gotten it, he brandished it in the air, making it whistle.

He grabbed his daughter by the waist and threw her on the table. Then he tore her shirt, and with her back exposed, he raised the leather to begin her punishment.

Rosa, between tears, waited for the first blow to come down, and when she felt it, it seemed like he was splitting her back in two. Her mother got there in time to stop the second with her hand, though a slap from Basilio made her fall down. When he saw her stretched out and defenseless on the ground, her husband kicked her in the stomach, making her writhe from pain.

Rosa tried to escape but he was holding her down on the table by the nape of her neck.

Then somebody knocked and called at the door.

Basilio told everyone to be quiet, threatening to choke Rosa to death. Whoever it was pounded more fiercely.

“Be quiet or it will be worse. …” he warned them

At that moment, little María came out from the bedroom, where she had stayed hidden under the covers. There was fear in her eyes.

Sancha looked at her at the very moment when the person knocked at the door again. The girl knew what she had to do and ran over, opening it.

Diego entered decisively and found the dreadful scene. He looked for his dagger and aimed it at the man.

“Drop that riding crop now!” he shouted, enraged. His gaze radiated dangerous intentions.

“You again?” Basilio replied contemptuously.

Diego looked at the woman, lain out on the floor, with signs of having passed through genuine humiliation, and then at the back of the girl, red and full of marks. He felt a deep hatred for that man, for his wickedness.

“You'll get out of this house right now or else …” Basilio flourished the riding crop, hitting at air. “I'm not going to repeat it again! Go!”

Basilio charged Diego like a madman, trying to grasp his dagger, and Diego stabbed him in the thigh in response. Basilio brought his hand to his leg and, before he could do anything, Diego struck him again in the arm.

“I told you to go. … Leave her in peace! Do you understand me?”

“You don't know who I am.”

“I do indeed. And I also know that if I explain to the abbot what you're doing with your wife and children, and if he knows the terrible sin you've engaged in with them, he will put you on trial, whether or not you have blood relations with the people who run this town. And even if you do get off, your name will be soiled forever. I'll make sure of it, I swear. So get out of here. Leave this place. This is the last chance I'm giving you.” Diego pointed the dagger at the man's heart.

“You'll pay for this. One day I'll avenge this insult.”

“Get out now.” Diego pushed Basilio through the door and followed him out to the stables.

The man saddled his horse and mounted it, shooting a last hateful glance at Diego.

For a few days, Diego stayed with the woman and her daughters in case Merino came back. But when that didn't happen, he returned to the house in Cuéllar, still visiting them every day and taking care of their needs. He felt partly responsible for their future, and he helped them with whatever they lacked. He took care of the sheep, treating their worms and kidney problems, and that spring, they had many new lambs.

After a few months had passed, a great deal changed in that house. The summer brought an abundant harvest of barley, enough to easily sustain their flock. Their income improved and Sancha was flush with money.

She, Rosa, and María worked hard to recoup their joy and peace, their will to live.

With the terrible beatings now nothing more than a memory, the real Sancha appeared, a beautiful woman. At twenty-six years old, she had an almost perfect body; tight hips; firm, large breasts; and very dark eyes. Her lips were fleshy and her voice sweet.

María and Rosa took the various flocks out to pasture in different fields, farther and farther away, and came back at midday. They would make supper with their mother and help her with the rest of the chores.

Sancha tried to carry on with her husband's business, but it was impossible; no one wanted to do business with a woman. Besides, Basilio's disappearance had been looked on suspiciously by nearly everyone, and soon there were voices that criticized Diego's presence in their house. Some even murmured that they had become lovers.

Diego didn't worry too much about those rumors, but Marcos did, since on more than one occasion he'd had to listen to reproaches from some of his clients blaming him for his friend's behavior.

During that time, Diego took care of all the assignments that came to him as an albéitar, though he noticed that they were becoming fewer in number. Marcos had been right. His relationship with Sancha had stirred up all sorts of comments and it was damaging his work. Many asked him about Basilio Merino, as if Diego should know where he was. And there were some who even blamed him for the man's disappearance. But if that wasn't enough, a strange competitor called Efraím had also appeared in the area. Until now, Diego had never seen him, but he knew he was an old Jew who had recently arrived from Granada, and he had a reputation as a talented healer.