The Horse Healer (30 page)

II.

T
o arrive at Santa María de Albarracín, they climbed the Sierra de Balbanera at its easternmost point and then went on southward until they set foot in the first lands of the region. It took them four days.

Diego and Marcos had been invited to travel with the Castilian expedition. It was the thirtieth of May when they set eyes on the magical enclave of the city. High on a twisting rock cliff, it looked like a long tongue licking the riverbanks of the Guadalaviar.

Behind double walls, at one edge, there rose a small church situated a certain distance from the main part of the city. Between them, there was a solid fortress of limestone with a strange reddish cast, in common with the other buildings. Closing the city in and protecting it completely, the walls ascended notably toward the east, along a mountain pass.

A few leagues before arriving at his destination, Diego was overcome by a swell of feelings that affected his stomach as well. Though he longed to see Mencía, he wasn't sure if she would feel the same. Full of emotion, he had held on to the note inviting him to visit her in Albarracín, wanting to see more in it than what its three spare phrases had contained.

Almost at the city gates, Don Diego López de Haro began to converse with his son-in-law Álvaro Núñez de Lara, both close to Marcos and Diego de Malagón.

“As soon as we go in, I will present you to my sister-in-law, Doña Teresa Ibáñez. Since she is the mother and guardian of the young lord of Albarracín, she has become the apparent head of the territory. She is a Castilian to be on guard against, you will see.”

“There are lots of us. Will they be able to take us all in?”

“I sent an emissary shortly after leaving Estella and I am almost certain that they will have lodging prepared for all of us, but the first thing is to say our greetings to her.”

“How old is the young lord?”

“Only eleven. Until he reaches the age of majority, the territory will be governed by the Order of Santiago.”

The north gate of the walls was open, but only a few knights passed through it, and the rest of the carts and the heavy cavalry for war and transport were taken to an esplanade on the outskirts of the town.

The streets of Albarracín were precipitous, sinuous, and narrow, so much so that the travelers were relieved to have left the better part of their companions behind. Some paths were so tight that it was almost impossible for two people to travel side by side.

After a few shortcuts, leaving a busy square behind them, they reached a clear esplanade. To their right, on a great outcropping of stone, they contemplated the grand castle of the Azagras. Under an enormous barred portico they saw the proprietors.

Don Diego López de Haro, together with some of his most loyal knights, dismounted quickly and saluted the widow and her young son, Pedro. Beside them, there was a knight of the military Order of Santiago and two unruly young girls. Some distance away, Marcos and Diego looked at the scene and couldn't find Mencía anywhere.

“Welcome all to Albarracín.” Doña Teresa greeted Don Diego and embraced her sister-in-law, Doña Toda. Then she pushed her son by the shoulders to introduce him.

“This must be …” Don Diego studied the boy.

“Pedro Fernández de Azagra, third lord of Albarracín and your nephew,” the boy answered with a childish but unwavering voice.

At that moment, the two girls escaped running toward the castle's interior, laughing and shrieking, far from any social obligation. When she saw them, the mother adopted a face of utter desperation.

“And those two ragamuffins are Belén and Beatriz, your nieces.” She realized she still hadn't introduced Ordoño de Santa Cruz, the man dressed in the uniform of the Order of Santiago. “Forgive me, I forgot to present our administrator to you.”

The Castilians saluted stiffly.

“And my niece Mencía?” Doña Toda was surprised by her absence.

“Mencía is in Ayerbe, in Upper Aragon. An important nobleman from that kingdom, Don Fabián Pardo, has been courting her for months and at last has managed to meet her.” She winked and continued in a low voice. “I wouldn't mind if this ended up in marriage, but we will see where it goes.”

“Is that man not the justice to King Pedro II?” Don Álvaro recognized the name, but at that moment he was thinking of Diego and his impossible mission.

“You are right,” Doña Teresa answered. “That is why I am interested in seeing their relationship flower, because his influence in that court is incomparable. But let's go inside; I suppose you'll want to rest a bit before dinner. My servants will take care of your horses and the lodgings for the rest of your men in the city. If you are planning to stay in these lands awhile, the best thing is that you all be as comfortable as possible. I am happy to have you here, really, and don't worry, everything is taken care of.”

Diego and Marcos were considered as members of the expedition and therefore assigned a dwelling. It was rather far from the center, in terrible conditions, and completely filthy inside, but at least it had a stable and incomparable views of Santa María de Albarracín.

While they inspected it, Marcos felt disgusted, so much so that he felt in the bag where he had kept the money he saved in Fitero.

“This isn't a house. … Let's look for another place where we can breathe.” He took out a handful of golden
maravedíes
.

“Let's not waste them. We might need them later. I understand this is pretty bad, but others might have had even worse luck. Try to look at it in a good light; when it's cleaned, it will be better.”

They gave it a close looking over to see what the most urgent problems were, and that only made matters worse. The walls were crumbling and the clay floor reeked of dampness and rot. And if that wasn't enough, the house was pervaded by a stench so strong it almost turned their stomachs.

“It smells like a goat!” Marcos protested.

Diego tried to dismiss its importance. The possibility of seeing Mencía compensated for any of those setbacks. Marcos, who knew him well, guessed at what Diego was thinking, but he was still angry. Tired of talking, he kicked a stone against the wall. An enormous chunk flaked off onto the ground and broke into a thousand pieces. Diego had a resigned expression.

They piled up a bit of straw in one of the better-situated corners of the house to spend the first night. They didn't imagine that their harsh bed, besides allowing them a bit of rest, would also bring them unwanted company: dozens of fleas, thirsty for blood.

As soon as dawn came, Diego went into the city to look for Mencía. As soon as he'd crossed the eastern side, he found a large smithy with three forges and five men bending iron. It reminded him of Galib's forge in Toledo. That was where he first asked after her, but no one knew where she was.

He did the same in some of the more central streets, stopping at once place after another.

“She's a good girl,” an old woman told him.

He managed to gather a number of other testimonies, like that of the pastor who swore he didn't know of another woman as beautiful as Mencía, or of the fat old woman who assured him she was as sweet as honey pie. But the majority, before they said anything, directed him to the castle, saying he should ask there. En route he stopped a priest to ask him.

“She's not in the city.”

“Do you know where she went, or if she'll be back soon?”

“How should I know, if all I dedicate my life to is prayer and contemplation, my son?”

Depressed by the lack of results, Diego continued walking to the town square where he found a market. He bumped into a beaming young woman carrying a large basket, and with her he had more luck, since she was a servant of the Azagras.

“We don't know when she'll be back, but it will be at least a week.” The girl asked a hawker if he had pheasants.

“But where did she go?” Diego pressed her.

“Do you know her? I don't have to tell you. Who are you to be asking after her? Did you come with those Castilians?”

Diego replied to all her questions while he followed her from one stand to the other. The girl began to feel uncomfortable with his insistence and even more so when she turned her back on him to look at some lace and then bumped into him again.

“Could you leave me in peace?”

“Please, I beg you … I need to know more about her.” Diego grabbed her by her blouse so she wouldn't escape, and she tried indignantly to pull away.

“Let me go.”

“Until you tell me what I want to know, I won't.”

The girl's cheeks swelled, she looked at him with exasperation, and she shouted out for a guard. After a brief silence, people began to murmur and point at him, and some men, with an unfriendly mien, approached him. Before he got into more problems, he took a street onto the main road and got away from them.

Marcos began to look for work throughout the city, not wanting to wait another day, but he had no luck. Without a trade, nobody had much trust in him, and there didn't seem to be an excess of jobs in any case. He convinced Diego to try to work as an albéitar, not knowing it was necessary to have the approval of the Azagras before doing so. When he heard this, Diego looked for Don Álvaro Núñez de Lara to ask for his help, but luck wasn't on his side there, either. They told him Don Álvaro had left the city and no one knew when he was coming back.

“The widow wants to talk to you. Go immediately to the castle!” The man introduced himself as a servant of Doña Teresa. As soon as he'd obtained Diego's agreement, he left as fast as he'd come.

Diego went to the meeting immediately, alone, not knowing what Mencía's mother could want. He crossed the city on foot until he arrived at the entrance to the fortress, and there he presented himself to the guard. He was told to wait outside while his presence was announced. Both of them were surprised when Doña Teresa herself appeared in person to receive him.

“You are the albéitar Diego de Malagón, correct?” The woman, in her forties, looked splendid. “Last night they spoke very well of you to me. That is why I've had you come. I'd like you to look at something.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Diego was brief, but not from discourtesy; rather, he had discovered Mencía's eyes in her mother's and felt intimidated by them.

Doña Teresa had him follow her to the stables of the castle with a strange expression, as if something worried her. Don Álvaro had talked to her a great deal of Diego, but he had left out something important: his great physical attractiveness. She had thought she'd meet a rough and ordinary young man, as was normal with the commoners, and yet in him she'd seen nothing but a fine appearance and great courtesy.

“A little more than a month ago, our albéitar left us, a Jew with an excellent clinical eye and a great deal of wisdom. He was called by the Almohad governor of Valencia, supposedly for a mere consultation, but he never came back.” The woman pushed the stable doors firmly and walked softly down a long passage that opened onto a large and very luminous space. Once there, she continued her conversation. “And the fact of the matter is, it would mean a great deal to us to have a new albéitar to service the city.”

“If you are thinking of me, it would obviously be an honor. …”

At a certain point in their conversation, Doña Teresa fell quiet, her lips trembled slightly, and then she stood still, watching him. Those eyes … “Perhaps … Well, the reality is, at present I have a grave problem. … Or, better said, I don't have it, my mare does. If you were able to bring her back her joyousness, the job could be yours. What do you think?” A malicious glimmer blossomed in her eyes.

“I would be happy to, but to make a horse happy is not one of the things explained in books. I suppose the animal is suffering from some illness that is making it sad. With that, if I can, I will help you.”

“Of course, of course. … If she's in pain, it must be her back. It's been swollen with scabs on it for a week. Obviously I can't ride her. But what's hardest for me is seeing her sad, without appetite, without any cheer.”

Diego began to think. That was a trivial complaint. If the only test to be taken on as an albéitar was that, she was making it too easy for him. Something wasn't right.

The mare was a precious specimen with a dapple-gray coat and a long mane, and dark and very expressive eyes. But that wasn't what stood out the most; she also had an iron nerve. She shook her tail so hard she made it whistle. Diego knew that was a sign of great irritation.

When he came over to the animal, it snorted threateningly. He put out both his hands for her to smell, but unlike other horses, the mare showed no interest. To the contrary, she reared up aggressively as soon as he approached.

Doña Teresa stayed leaning against a fence waiting for Furia to buck and react. That was her most aggressive and dangerous mare, and everyone feared her. She didn't want to lose her.

Furia was the excuse she used to test anyone who wished to work for her, be it an albéitar or a stable master.

“Do you know if she kicks easy?”

Diego pulled away from the animal seven or eight feet so that she could see him directly in front of her. He had figured out that at close distances, horses didn't focus well unless they turned their heads.

“Well … she's a little nervous, but nothing serious,” Doña Teresa lied.

The mare didn't react to any of his tricks and soon began to stamp with her hoof, digging at the ground with a frustrated expression. Diego decided to attack without further delay, whispering to her; he pinched her back and then her flanks, avoiding, naturally, the wounded area. He did the same with the base of her tail as well.

That seemed to distract the animal and confused Diego, who didn't predict her next reaction. Furia waited until he was behind her rump to press him into the wall with extraordinary speed and skill.