The Horse Healer (2 page)

III.

W
hen he arrived at the inn, Diego tied Sabba up in the stable and ran toward the house. When he entered the bedroom, Don Marcelo broke into recriminations, accusing him of betraying his word.

He sat up, very angrily, trying to see his daughters through one of the windows, but his body was dead weight, and he couldn't reach it.

“Go back with them now! If they die, it will be your fault,” the man yelled hotly, in a way Diego had never seen before.

Abashed by his mistake, the boy decided to go back and look for them, but he stopped when he heard voices outside and cast a questioning glance at his father.

“There's a crossbow in the trunk; bring it to me! You take the sword, and when you can, go back for them. Understand me: I don't need you. …”

When Diego went for the weapons, he was able to make out the carriage and the four horseman riding alongside it, on the verge of reaching it. They were far, very far, but he could see how one of them was trying to take the reins and how Belinda was striking back at him bravely. Then the girl struck the horses, to make them run faster, but her pursuers did the same and quickly covered the distance between them.

One of them was brandishing a terrifying sword and was very close to catching them. And it was then when he saw the glimmer of steel falling hellishly over his sister's arms and saw how the man hacked away at them.

Diego was breathless. He couldn't react. He listened to his father scream at him, but the sound was distant from him. His attention was hypnotized by the scene that his eyes could never again unsee. He never imagined he could witness something so terrible. But still, seconds later, he had to watch as the horseman stopped the two horses and brought the cart quickly to a halt. Diego felt his muscles stiffen and lose sensation. He felt the absence of air when his father asked him what was happening. He couldn't talk.

At that moment, more soldiers had reached the roadway and held down his two younger sisters, covering their mouths to silence their screams. Belinda was shoved brutally from the cart and lay there outstretched on the ground. One of the black-skinned horsemen grabbed her by her hair, so forcefully it twisted her neck, and screamed something at the other sisters that Diego couldn't make out. In a mere instant, Diego saw the shimmer of a dagger that sliced through the air and plunged into Belinda's body with devilish coldness. His sister, his beloved older sister, collapsed over the earth. She fell like a dead body while he could do nothing but look on.

The killer jumped into the driver's seat and took the reins. Blanca and Estela were thrown over the haunches of the two horses and landed at their captors' feet. They turned the cart around and headed toward the south. Just three-quarters of a league afterward, they overtook the hill, shrouded in a cloud of dust.

He was going to speak when he heard steps once again, this time on the stairs. He threw the crossbow to his father and hid, sword in hand, behind the door. He felt his heart pounding, and a cold sweat dripped down his neck. He asked himself if he would be brave enough to face them.

By the sound of the steps, it was clear there were two of them.

Diego nudged the door with his right arm to surprise the first person who came in with his sword. He squeezed it with all his might, preparing himself to pierce a coat of chain mail if necessary. He heard one of them breathing and poised for attack.

He looked at his father.

He had the crossbow aimed in the same direction. And when Diego saw the first shadow cross the door, and his sword began to travel through the air, a shout stopped him.

“Hold back, son! They're from our side.”

Two knights of Calatrava appeared in the doorway bearing two heavy blades. The tension of the past few hours was legible on their faces.

“Are you the innkeeper?”

“Yes, I am.”

“We've come with orders to help you flee, just as our brothers are doing in all the other villages. We have to get away immediately,” he continued, his voice faltering. “They're close on our heels.”

The one who looked older tried to help Don Marcelo get out of the bed, but he refused.

“You saw your sisters in danger, right, Diego?”

The boy nodded, full of anguish, without daring to recount what had happened.

The knights were watching but didn't understand what lay behind those words.

“Run and help my daughters,” he said to the Calatravans. “Something has happened to them and they've tried to get away. They need you more than I do. Go fast, before it's too late.”

The men looked at each other without being able to hide an expression of absolute disagreement. That was going to complicate their task. They were knights, and they couldn't abandon a defenseless man, but they also did not wish to leave women in danger.

They decided to split up and help both the father and the girls, but at that moment they heard a great rejoicing on the lower floor. They heard voices, crystal-clear, speaking in Arabic.

“They're already here!” One of the Calatravans looked out the window to see the location of the stables. He confirmed there was no danger in going to them. “We can hold off the first attack and maybe even the second, depending on the number of our enemies, but we won't hold out for much more.”

“Tell me how I can help,” Diego interrupted.

One of the knights gave him a severe look.

“When they get here, you jump out of this window,” he said, pointing to it. “And then I want to see you run to the stables and get on a horse. Once you do it, ride off, and don't let it stop until you're far away from here. You should head north.”

“I won't obey you!” he responded.

“My son …” Don Marcelo struggled, enraged amid the sheets, and pierced the boy with his gaze. “You've already made one mistake! Don't do it again.”

“But, Father, how can I abandon you?” Diego ran up to the bed.

“You disobeyed me and now your three sisters are in danger. It's time you do what you're told for once! Listen to the man!”

“They're coming up!” The Calatravans stood one on each side of the door.

“Run, now!”

One last look full of pain, full of love, between the boy and his father before madness struck. Three men with black complexions, turbans, and flamboyant uniforms gave off loud cries, shaking Diego from his stupor. The first clashes of the swords, the enraged faces of the Christians, his father's entreaties—maybe all of it together filled him with confusion as he stood beside the window. He jumped and rolled over the earth. Then he ran and ran. The stables seemed farther away than normal. He found his mare, who was nervous and trying to tear herself loose. To save time, he jumped on her without saddling her and grabbed hold of her mane, weaving it between his fingers.

“Get me out of here, Sabba,” he whispered in her ear. “Fly … and don't stop until I tell you.”

The mare headed toward the wooden doorway and when she'd stepped out of the stable, she flew into a gallop, leaving behind twenty soldiers who were snooping around the area of the inn, looking for more Christian victims. Just as quickly, three of them hopped on their horses to pursue him. Diego, almost falling over his mare's neck, spoke to her gently, encouraging her to show the power her breed was known for, the strength of her noble blood. He needed her to outrun his enemies.

Going over a low promontory, in shock, he found his sister Belinda's body. He saw it from afar and felt the sting of powerlessness. He knew he couldn't stop. When he looked back, he saw a thirst for death that infused the faces of those who stalked him, the fury of their horses, and the danger in their intentions.

He came within a few feet of her. Her face showed a terrible, bottomless fear. Her body was covered in blood and her nails were digging into the earth, as though by holding on to it, she could hold on to life as well.

Still at a gallop, without ceasing to look at her, Diego understood what his obligation was, remembering the promises he'd made his father, and he decided to go help his other sisters. Sabba, disciplined, noticed the slight pressure of his knee in her left ribs and changed direction.

Hundreds of pebbles flew up from her hooves, even more so when she understood her master's wishes. In fact, he scarcely had to guide her; she herself chose the route. She stayed clear of the rockier areas that would slow her down and sped up over the smooth, sandy plains.

On reaching an elevation, Diego looked back, thinking he had put some distance between himself and his attackers. But it wasn't so. One of the men, perhaps with a stronger horse, was coming up on him with hellish speed.

Diego spoke to Sabba again, asking her to run harder, to give it everything she had. And she did it, without knowing where such energy came from. She galloped tirelessly southward, ignoring the strain of it, measuring neither time nor distance.

After making sure he'd been able to leave his attackers behind, he came up to a tortuous mountain pass. There, in the deepest part of a narrow gulch, he found the cart, but not his sisters.

A large group of soldiers, black skinned like the others, were seated on blankets, passing around a variety of objects. It seemed they had stopped to gloat over the spoils of war.

The camp consisted of a single, fairly small tent, round and vivid red in color.

Diego dismounted from Sabba, told her to keep quiet, and crouched behind an enormous boulder, studying how to make his approach.

He spied ten women tied together close to a fire. His sisters weren't there.

When twilight fell, white-faced men began to leave from the tent, dressed in their battle clothes with shields, turbans, and leather helmets. One of them was dragging Blanca by her hair while she kicked and screamed. Behind her, in the hands of a taller man, was her sister Estela. Her skirt was shredded and her shirt torn and hanging open. The scoundrel was dragging her by the wrist as if she were an animal he had hunted and killed.

Diego breathed rapidly, imagining with dread what must have happened to them. When he saw the man with Estela, he noticed an unmistakable particularity in his face. A scar ran across his forehead, from one end to the other. But something else called his attention as well: both in his dress and in other aspects, he seemed to be a Christian soldier and not a Saracen.

He sat up to see him better, and it was then that the man, turning his head and looking in the same direction, revealed his face in full. Diego memorized it. He saw how Estela hit him and how her captor, enraged, slapped her face. And suddenly the black guard looked up to where Diego was. There was no chance to hide. Had he seen him? Diego doubted it.

He heard horses approaching and realized he couldn't risk waiting if they were coming from those who had chased him before. Aware that alone, he could do nothing, he thought of the Calatravans; they could help him.

He mounted Sabba and decided to turn back toward the inn. At his orders, the mare flew off, pushed ahead by the fury of the deserts that coursed through her veins. The wind blew away her sweat and the earth seemed to press her ahead. The animal was compressing all the strength of her breed in that dazzling getaway. And in that way, they distanced themselves from the area, so much so that she began to gain confidence and to slow down to a soft trot. A little later, once again close to the inn, Diego studied the situation with extreme care, making sure that nobody was lurking around.

Soon he found Belinda's stretched-out body, but she was not alone. Vultures were tearing at her clothing and her flesh. He prodded Sabba to frighten them off, holding back his urge to vomit. It took various attempts before he managed to run them off, and afterward, he got off the horse to embrace her. He squeezed her in his arms, telling her he loved her, screaming into the air so all the world would know of her misfortune. But he refused to look at her; what he held in his arms was not his sister anymore.

He raised up and hopped back onto Sabba's flanks. With Belinda's mutilated cadaver, he headed toward the inn with no idea of what else he would find there. When he arrived, he left the mare tied to a tree and looked for the entrance. He crossed through the dining room. Everything was quiet and disordered. Nothing indicated the presence of another soul. He climbed up to the second floor and found the two dead Calatravans. The bed was empty and the sheets scattered on the floor, blotched with blood. Diego looked for his father among the three other bodies lying on the floor, but none of them was him. Unsettled, he couldn't figure out what had happened.

He went downstairs to look for some clue but could find nothing inside the house. He went outside, and when he turned toward the stables, he stopped short.

There he was, in a horrendous pose. Diego's pulse began racing and he ran over to his father. They had thrown him out the window, and his head was cocked at an impossible angle.

Diego wept for him, bit his lips, felt a hate inside himself he'd never known before. And there, crouching down at the side of his father's body, he remained, without knowing how many hours might have passed. Drowning in agony and fear, his mind had fogged over, as though he was living in an all-encompassing nightmare with no exit.

The coolness of the afternoon finally pulled him from his delirium. He had to think of what to do with those dead bodies. He grabbed his father by the ankles and pulled, dragging him over the ground, unable to look at him and horrified by what he was doing.

He looked for Sabba. The mare recoiled nervously on seeing them appear and Belinda's body tumbled to the ground. Diego, panting, laid his father beside Belinda while he cried disconsolately. He thought of where to bury them and looked around. He remembered the two knights. He knew he couldn't dig four graves and he thought of burying them in the same pit. But when he saw the lake, another idea occurred to him.

With Sabba's help he took them all to the edge of the shore and tied heavy stones to them. Afterward, out in the water, he sank the two brave men, saying prayers for them.