The Horse Healer (6 page)

VIII.

S
ajjad was a strange and unpredictable creature.

He could be joyous and kind, and the next moment irascible and grumpy.

For the first three weeks, Diego worked hard to finish quickly all the tasks that were assigned to him; he worked with enthusiasm to make sure that all of them were done well and on time.

He washed down the floors, scraped the filth from the walls, scrubbed the tools. Soon he had to clean the enormous stables of the most famed albéitar in the city. The interior was divided into twelve stalls where the sick horses were housed. And in a wing off to the side, at an angle to the main structure, were another five where the owners' horses were kept. It was in one of these that Sabba stayed.

Sajjad showed up from time to time to look over his work. If Diego heard the words
Sajjad happy
, then the man approved of his labors, but it wasn't always so; at times there would be a chorus of grimaces, shrieking, and reproving phrases like “No obey Sajjad. Diego bad and Sajjad talk to Galib.”

The man was strange even when he was praying. He had a spot in the middle of his forehead, a bruise, actually, like a signal of his fervent religious identity. He recited his prayers on his knees, beating himself against the floor with incredible severity, and maybe for this reason, his prayers came out curt, the way that he spoke.

Sometimes Galib needed his help on some visit and Sajjad would go along happily. On his return, he would smile and repeat the same phrase over and over: “Sajjad serve good, help much.”

Even if his mind was rather limited, he didn't seem like a dangerous person; on the contrary, Galib appreciated his loyalty. The truth was that when he got to know him, Diego forgave him nearly everything. But Sajjad had two bad habits that Diego came to detest: hitting him with a cane every time he found the boy stalled or resting, and snooping into everything he did, all of which he was sure to repeat sooner or later to Galib.

When they finished their interminable workdays, Diego would sit by his mare and talk with her. In their particular form of communicating, both understood each other and though Sajjad couldn't understand what the boy and the horse were doing, Diego wanted nothing more than to caress Sabba and let time pass.

One night, Sajjad saw that Diego hadn't left the stables. He was watching him without the boy realizing it, and when he noticed that the boy was taking shelter in the warmth of his mare and getting ready to sleep, he entered the stall, fighting mad, and began to scream: “No, no. Sajjad no let … sleep here no.” He raised his voice so much that he alarmed everyone. “Be dangerous for master. …”

“It'll only be for tonight,” Diego begged him. “Until I find somewhere else.”

“Sajjad say no.”

“What's going on?” The figure of the albéitar was reflected ominously in the shadow of the night. While Sajjad and Diego were arguing, they hadn't recognized that he was there, posted at the entrance, listening to them.

When Sajjad saw him, he tried to explain in their strange language that Diego wanted to stay there to sleep, but Galib did not let him speak.

“Diego, quickly, I have an emergency, and this time I need you to come with me. Go saddle my horse and your mare and we will leave as soon as possible.”

Although Galib thanked him for his watchfulness, that was a tough blow for Sajjad, for he understood from that moment on, he would have to begin to share his work obligations and his master's favor with that mendicant who had sat begging in front of the door to the house only a few weeks before.

“If it's colic, like they've said, I'll need help, someone resolute and strong. My old Sajjad can't make those kinds of efforts anymore,” Galib said to Diego when they set off.

The narrow streets of Old Toledo followed one after the other, without any apparent order, along with the steps of the nocturnal visitors, amid mist and impenetrable shadow. To keep from getting lost, Diego made Sabba walk just beside the hindquarters of the other horse. They had to make it quickly to the edge of the Jewish quarter as the order had come from the estate of the
almojarife,
the treasurer in charge of the finances of King Alfonso VIII. They galloped along and were hardly able to talk, but Diego tried to beg pardon for what had happened back at the stables.

“I know I can't stay and sleep, but some men threw me out of the cave where I pass the nights, on the outskirts of the city, and I didn't know where to go.”

“You don't have a home? You don't have anyone to turn to?”

“No, master. My family and I lived in Malagón, but after the Battle of Alarcos, the Imesebelen killed my father and my older sister.” Diego lowered his head under the enormous weight of his memories. “And they kidnapped my two younger sisters, too.”

“What?”

“I had to flee my home and I don't know how to go back. My father … my father ordered me to escape with them, but I disobeyed him; I wanted to rescue him and it was then when those men showed up. … They spoke your language but they painted everything in blood: my house, my life, everything. Then, in Toledo, no one would help me go back, everyone said it was madness.” He looked at Galib and without a doubt saw an opportunity. “Maybe you could do something for me? I don't know how to find my sisters. … Maybe if some time you are traveling through those lands. … Could you find out what happened with them? I would be eternally thankful to you, I would work for you even if you paid me nothing.”

“Diego, that is impossible. I'm sorry, I can't. I'm Muslim, but I'm not one of them. Even if it sounds strange to you, and you think we all worship the same God, we're not the same. I can't travel through those regions without serious problems; they could recognize me. And you could travel there even less. Believe me, you shouldn't even think of it. The Almohads are dangerous.”

Diego felt lost; no one seemed to want to help him. Galib tried to explain his reasons better.

“I've never understood how someone could be pushed aside for their beliefs. It's precisely for that reason that I came to Toledo. Unlike what happens in the south, here the three religions live side by side. And if not, think of where we're going. … We don't have the same rights as Christians, that's true as well, but at least we can do business here, intermingle, and go to the religious festivals. Here I can pursue my trade and win a degree of prestige. For all that, I love this city.”

Diego didn't say anything to him, out of respect, but he couldn't clear from his head the idea that this man's religion had been responsible for his misfortune. Galib loved Toledo; Diego hated Islam.

IX.

A
boumán Abenxuxen was a wealthy Jew. In addition to collecting money for the crown, he had loaned enormous sums of money to the monarchs to aid them in their costly campaigns against Al-Andalus. The shadow of his power was long and his political influence enormous.

“Do you know what colic is?” Galib asked Diego before they arrived at the fort, his voice clipped and hurried.

“I saw it a few years back, in one of our mares. I remember she had a swollen, painful belly and that she sweated a lot.”

“What did you give her?”

“My father made a preparation of flowers, but it didn't work and the animal died.”

“Typical of a blacksmith. …”

Angered, Diego wanted to tell him all the things a blacksmith could do for a horse, but Galib interrupted him.

“The truth should never be offensive, young Diego.”

“What truth?”

“Blacksmiths can do some things, they can try to cure the animals, but they don't know the why and wherefore of their actions. Being a blacksmith doesn't give you wisdom. To be an albéitar, you have to read, to get hold of the books necessary to be able to cure the horse. There you find experiences based in centuries of close observations. That's why I am blaming the blacksmiths, for believing that they possess knowledge when in fact it's what I call luck. They have one remedy and it cures a certain illness and from that moment on, it becomes law. Then it's transmitted from father to son or from master to apprentice, like something unchanging, until someone else hits on another remedy with better results. And so the process goes, without anyone ever asking what the ultimate purpose of these things is. This is especially common in Christian lands, where my profession is reviled and very few practice it.”

“Do there really exist reasons for illnesses?”

“Good question. I have to recognize that it's difficult, if not impossible, to answer. We know little, very little still, too little, in fact. There's a need for more study, more time, and for the mind and the heart to be opened to science.”

They reached the gate of the Jewish quarter. It was closed. Without losing time, Galib called in a loud voice to the gatekeeper. The man, made aware of their arrival beforehand, rushed to let them through and guided them to the residence of Abenxuxen.

It was a beautiful palace. Two enormous torches illuminated the portico of the entryway. Their yellowish shadows danced on the wall and licked the polished copper of a doorknocker fashioned in the shape of the Star of David. Galib knocked only twice, for before the third time, the door opened and they passed into a majestic courtyard. There they dismounted and followed a rather old man.

They entered by a passageway that opened onto a large space where they found a well-lit stable. It seemed busy with people.

“The albéitar is here! Make way for him!” one shouted.

Galib identified the
almojarife
from among the group. His face showed enormous worry.

“Excuse me for passing over the customary courtesies with you, but I understand the situation requires the greatest urgency.” Aboumán invited him to enter the stables. On the way, he explained the problem. “I need this horse. Not another. This one.”

Galib's expression showed that he was utterly perplexed.

“I'll explain myself better; my apologies, I'm nervous. What I mean to say is that tomorrow, I have to make a long journey to Frías to resolve a matter of extreme importance for the king. And Andromedes is the only one I trust for this undertaking. There is no other as fast as him.”

“They have mentioned colic.”

“Since this afternoon … yes. It seems he's eaten more rye than permitted.” With anger, he looked at one of his stable keepers, who reacted by blushing red.

“How much?”

“I don't know. … A lot.”

They still hadn't finished talking when they heard an awful screech. They ran to see and found themselves faced with a wooden fence in wreckage. The animal had kicked against it in a rage.

“Let's see what's happening.”

Galib nodded his head at Diego, beckoning him to follow.

When they peeked in, they saw the animal nervous, moving from side to side, agitated. Immediately he began to dig at the soil and turned his head toward his flanks over and over. One side of his abdomen was more swollen than the other, and he had some slight wounds on his flanks. While they watched him, he fell to the floor and began to roll around on the straw. He had sweated so much that even the air seemed thicker.

“Look, Diego, to have a proper diagnosis of colic, you have to observe the mucus in the mouth.” Galib spoke to the boy patiently, wanting him to understand everything.

“And what am I looking for there?”

“Now he's too nervous, but if he sees we're calm, he won't hurt us. We have to go in and look at his gums, his upper incisors, and see what color they are.”

From the door of the stables, they observed the animal, now on his feet again. He looked more agitated than before and seemed dangerous. Diego had never seen anything like it. He swallowed his saliva.

“Are you scared to go in?”

Diego said nothing, opened the small door, and walked in cautiously. Galib followed him, nodding. The horse observed them irritably. He neighed twice and took refuge in a corner. Diego came close to him decisively and repeated once more something Galib had seen him do with Sabba. He breathed on his nostrils and the animal responded in kind. Galib passed Diego the bridle and he tried to put it on very slowly. The horse, responding to a jab of pain, pulled fiercely, escaping from them, and began to trot about madly. Galib stood by Diego's side and instructed him on how to approach the horse from the side.

“Don't worry,” Diego said. “I think I know how to calm him down.”

The
almojarife
gave Galib a nervous look. If that was his helper, he couldn't understand how the albéitar would leave him to work alone. He trusted the Muslim, but it was a matter of an irreplaceable horse for him.

Galib calmed the man down with a wave of the hand and stepped farther away to get a better sense of the difference in the volume of the horse's abdomen and its way of walking. From a small bag he withdrew two pinches of mallow, three of poppy, one of viola, and he passed them to a stable boy to prepare him a tincture.

“Bring a bit of oil, salt, and a big handful of wheat bran.”

Diego clicked his tongue a few times, making a sound that seemed to calm the animal, and approached the horse with caution. He managed to get a rope around its head and then tied it to a bar on the wall. He began to speak to it in whispers until he felt the horse was more relaxed, and without missing the opportunity, he pulled its lips apart to look inside.

“He has a kind of ring around his upper teeth, with an orange or almost red color.”

“Perfect, Diego, that is the definitive sign of colic. Get out of there. We'll figure out now how to treat it.”

“Will he be well by tomorrow?” The Jew was thinking about his journey.

“Impossible. Forget that idea.”

The
almojarife
raised his hands to his head and looked for a kerchief to wipe off his sweat.

“This is a terrible setback for my plans.” He looked for the stable master. “Can I take the black mare?”

“I fear not, master, she is too far pregnant.”

“Well then?”

Galib sent for a bundle of esparto and a long pole of wood coated with oil. He had another of the stable boys come with straw to create an elevation on one part of the floor.

“If you don't have another fast horse, I can lend you one of mine. Sometimes I think it can run on air.”

“Galib, I will accept it. You always know the solution to a problem. … I thank you for it.”

Galib paid the matter no mind and turned to Diego.

“Are you all right, are you frightened?”

“No, but you have to be very careful with his mouth. He looks like he wants to bite.”

“I hadn't noticed that, I'm surprised by your intuition. Tell me why you smell them and why you breathe on them.”

Diego found the question strange and tried to respond.

“I noticed that they do it that way, especially when they meet for the first time. Maybe it's their way of saying hello, I'm not sure, or maybe it makes them trust you, like when we shake hands.”

“I understand. … Did you detect any strange odor on his breath?”

“Maybe something acidic.”

“That's logical. The stomach of a horse is very small and that means they have to eat frequently and very little at any one time. When they eat a great deal of grain, like in this case, their digestion stops and they swell, as though the grain was fermenting inside them. Then come the terrible pains. The wounds on the flank indicate where the problem lies. Often they look to that area and they pound against anything nearby as if trying to rid themselves of the source of their illness. There are many other causes for it, not only food.”

At that moment, a girl entered with a large pot and the tincture Galib had asked for. Next he asked for a bottle with water and ordered Diego and another strong man to hold on to the horse for the treatment. He mixed the water with the brew to cool it down and refilled the first bottle. He ordered the horse to be positioned so that its back was against one of the walls, to avoid any kicking. He also had its rear legs placed over a pile of straw so they would be higher than the rest of its body and its bowels would lurch toward the front.

“You, Diego, keep him calm like you have shown you know how to do. I need to get him to drink two bottles.”

They all did as Galib had asked and he confirmed that the position of the horse was correct. With the determination that comes from experience, he opened its mouth and inserted the bottle of curative liquid, repeating the same maneuver twice more.

Then he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, he tightened his belt around his waist, and he asked Diego to take the other end of the greased pole. They passed it under the horse's stomach.

“Use all your strength. We have to push up and forward several times.”

Diego clenched his teeth and held his breath to try and lift the animal with the pole. They rubbed the wood against him for a long time with the idea of softening him up and getting him to feel better. It seemed to help the horse. Galib's tunic was soaked in sweat, and sweat poured down his face, which was as red from the effort as Diego's.

“He shouldn't eat anything solid for one day, at most a little hay and even then, only if it's of excellent quality,” he said to the stable boy.

They brought a basin with warm water and some cloths to clean off and afterward they stayed a while more with the owner observing the animal's behavior. They talked about legal matters, the political situation in Toledo, the Almohads. Diego listened without participating, surprised by the tight relations that Galib maintained with many of the persons whose names came up in the course of the conversation.

The horse was getting visibly better. Its expression was more serene. Little by little it began to pace around the yard without looking back at its flanks.

The
almojarife
observed the animal contentedly and made plans so that the horse Galib had promised him would be delivered that very night.

“You are incredible!” he proclaimed in a loud voice. “I don't want to bother you any more. Go home. … It's late. As you see, the horse is cured. And by the way, I would like very much to have you and your lovely wife for dinner. My wife adores her. Will you come?”

“I thank you. I will tell her.”

On the way home, Diego and Galib were so tired that they almost did not talk. For Diego, it had been a formidable experience, and he felt like he had participated in something important. It had been fascinating to see Galib in action He wanted to know everything that man knew, to accompany him everywhere, to learn, to read the hundreds of books he had read. He was lost in his own thoughts when he realized that they had arrived at Galib's house. The boy stopped and remained outside. He didn't know if Galib would let him spend the night in the stable or not.

Galib crossed the threshold without saying anything and the boy remained at the entrance. He felt as though again he had nothing but the sky over his head. He embraced Sabba and they set off, looking for somewhere to take shelter. He didn't know where, but they would find it. Suddenly, the creaking of the door of Galib's house made him turn around. There was his master. He had dismounted from his horse and was inviting him in.

“You can spend the night in the stable. You've earned it.”

Diego spurred Sabba with his heels and entered triumphantly through the gate of that house which would become the school where he would embark on an exciting future.