The Horse Healer

by Gonzalo Giner

  The man was extraordinarily robust in appearance and stern in his expression. He accompanied them to a circular room lit by two skylights in the ceiling. In the center was a large round table with a symbol painted on it in black, two kestrels flying low over a Calatravan cross. Seated around the table were Otón de Frías, Tomás Ramírez, and Pinardo Márquez, as well as six other men, making twelve total. They greeted one another informally and then all sat.

  Bruno looked everyone in the face, making himself the center of attention. As if all were one man, they raised their hands to their breasts and shouted their motto at the same time: “Faith and blood; God and valor!”

  Bruno began to speak.

  “Before entering into a matter as grave as the one I shall bring before you today, I want to present to you someone I would like to add to our group.” All looked at Diego. “Though some of you already know him, his name is Diego de Malagón.”

  He greeted them without knowing well what he was doing there. Bruno went on talking.

  “As we know from our own experience, the boy has a long period of apprenticeship before him, and I trust in your aid to get him through it as fast as possible. We have important missions to take care of in the coming months and we will need all the assistance possible. Diego speaks Arabic with ease and has as many reasons to hate our enemy as we do.” He looked at Otón and pointed to him. “From now on, you will be in charge of his training.”

  “We will begin today,” he answered.

  “Good, then let’s move on to something else. As you know, some of us have gone to Provence in search of a better way to conceal our communications, and luckily, we have found it. It’s a set of machines; one makes messages with letters and symbols, and the others are necessary to decode them. I will show you.”

  He looked in his tunic and pulled out a bag of red cloth. Inside there was a small metal cylinder made of twelve discs that spun independently. Each disc had a series of letters and symbols that added up to seventy in total, Bruno said. The knights passed it around from hand to hand until it had made it back to Bruno.

  “It’s simple to use; I will give you an example.” He stood up to look for an inkpot and a white parchment. “First you must memorize a sequence of equivalencies that relates each symbol with a word. Then I will pass it to you. Keeping them in mind, to write a message you move the twelve wheels selecting the necessary symbols until you have a complete row.” He squeezed a lever that stopped the wheels from moving. “Once it is set, as it is now, you put ink on the surface and roll it on the parchment.” He passed it only once. “As you see, the result is a rectangle formed of twelve lines by five, seventy figures in total, completely illegible for anyone who doesn’t have a second device.”

  Bruno passed the parchment to his right for all to see.

  “If you receive a message like this, you have to order the discs on your machine according to the sequence in the first line. Afterward, when you print the message on your parchment, it will show you a box of symbols that you will be able to understand.”

  A murmur of approval moved through the room.

  Bruno didn’t want to give more details about that instrument and asked Diego to leave the room; later they would speak in private about one further issue that they needed to discuss.

  Diego took leave of them and climbed the stairs, anxious to be back outside. He had never liked enclosed spaces, and that room was terribly damp and dark.

  The siege of the fortress had stopped and he could walk across the broad courtyard and meditate with a certain calm about all that he had just lived through.

  He had always considered himself a simple son of the soil, a commoner who had made his way through hard work, overcoming all sorts of obstacles to reach an uncommon degree of knowledge and skill for a person of his position. He had the profession of albéitar, the most noble of all of them, and saw himself serving others by caring for their animals. Maybe for that reason, it seemed unbelievable that they would now propose that he become a spy.

  The incredible events that had happened during his last hours in Cuéllar had upset him, and he still wasn’t able to react logically. He felt insecure and weak willed and had begun to distrust people since he had been betrayed, first by Mencía, then by Marcos.

  Far from Diego’s thoughts, the meeting in the underground room followed its course.

  “Let us speak about a project that could become the most important one entrusted to us up to now.” Bruno paused and felt the tension in the air. He filled his lungs with air and continued. “The mission comes from the king himself and is part of a complex plan that we will all take part in.” He took a sip of water. “For the moment, I can only tell you that a grand battle is being planned, the most decisive one that has occurred to this date. We have been asked to prepare for it by stepping up our spying in Seville, where we unfortunately only have two men at present.”

  “The others have been arrested,” Otón reminded them. “We haven’t made any progress there since the Almohads have had their new man in charge of spying. We know nothing of him except that he has improved their information services and the efficiency of their people. We also believe he has managed to infiltrate our empire with a number of agents. If only I could get a hold of them …” Otón closed his hand around the imaginary neck of a Saracen.

  “I know we are talking about a very difficult task, but we have shown we can work in worse conditions. Remember that it is a direct order of the king, and we have no choice but to carry it out.”

  All, in unison, pledged their complete obedience to the mission.

  “From now on, we will work in groups on different tasks until we have managed to better our position in his territories. We have to be better trained and ready to go anywhere we are asked. I will bring you up to date on the rest of the plans as soon as the dates are confirmed.”

  Otón left the room first, as soon as the meeting was over, to look for Diego.

  “Do you want to meet some nice girls?”

  “There are women in Salvatierra?”

  “You can tell me when you meet them. … Now follow me, we’re going up into the tower.”

  Diego had thought it over several times and couldn’t bear not to ask it any longer.

  “Otón, I would like to be in charge of the stables. Do you think Bruno would let me?”

  “For that job, we already have a farrier and he’s very good at what he does. Regardless, I will mention it. I don’t think he’ll be opposed to it, given your profession as albéitar.”

  They rose to the final floor of the tower on a circular stairway that Diego thought would never end. Once they’d arrived, Otón placed a large key inside a lock, and before he opened, he told Diego to enter slowly and not to speak.

  He pushed the door little by little and suddenly they were inside an enormous cage with hundreds of doves. When they saw them, some flew noisily to the other side of the room. An infinity of black, vivacious eyes looked at them in fear.

  “Here you have our friends. … You thought it would be something else, right?” he cackled, placing both hands on his fat belly.

  “Why do you have so many?” Diego had never cared much for birds and even less for their strong odor.

  “They’re the best messengers. They are trained to fly to certain points where our men are hidden and then to return home, to this castle. Their instinct for orientation is incredible, they are never wrong.”

  “And to transport the message, do you tie it to their legs, the way I saw Tomás do?” A dove posted on his shoulder and looked at him with curiosity. Diego didn’t hesitate to scare it off.

  “That’s what we did until recently, but those damned Turkish archers are so good they manage to knock them out of the air and neutralize our sensitive messages.” He took a dove and lifted a wing, digging about underneath. Not satisfied, he looked for another and then a third, unt
il he’d found one to his liking. He showed it to him.

  The bird’s skin was tattooed, hidden under the feathers, with disordered, apparently meaningless letters.

  “Take every fifth one and then put them together.”

  Diego did it and suddenly a name, Jaén, appeared.

  “This one arrived today, first thing in the morning, just before our meeting. It brought this message for one of our men, telling him his next destination. So it’s no use to us anymore.” He twisted its neck until it snapped. “For now this system is more secure than parchment, but it’s costlier.” He lifted one finger, then another. “For now, each mission costs us a pigeon.”

  The sharp sound of a cornet reverberated in the dovecote. All at once, the birds began to fly madly around its interior, beating against the metallic mesh. Diego and Otón ran out and took a small flight of stairs until they arrived at a watch post. Otón peeked out from an embrasure to see what was happening.

  “One of our men is arriving.”

  He stepped back so that Diego could see the approach of a man on horseback, galloping furiously, chased by a group of Saracens. He calculated that he was less than half a league away from the entrance to the fortress.

  “Why doesn’t anyone go out to help him?” Diego turned to Otón, not understanding their passivity.

  “Did you not notice the catapults? We’re surrounded. To open the gates now and bring out the cavalry would be to put the fortress right into their hands. Unfortunately we can’t do anything today. We have to trust in fate and in the protection of God, of course.”

  Diego turned to look through the embrasure. The man was in the worst possible situation, with two of his pursuers about to catch him. He didn’t have much farther to reach the fortress, but a length of rope landed on his horse’s neck and stopped him. He defended himself as best he could, wounding one of his attackers, but he didn’t see the other coming at his back with a sharp sword.

  Diego turned away at the moment when the Saracen, after running him through and slicing off his head, stuck it on the tip of his lance to brandish it with pride before the onlookers in the castle.

  That night, the pressure from the Muslims would not let up, though they did change their munitions used. From their catapults, they launched nets full of sticks and stones covered in flaming pitch. When they reached the straw or wood roofs, the consequences were fatal. Their nonstop shooting and the ruinous effects turned that night into a living hell.

  Inside the fortress, they were working without respite. The walls had to be defended against the onslaught of those who tried to scale them, raining down stones, burning tar, and arrows upon them. Groups of men ran from one end to the other with water to put out the fires, and others carted up more arrows from the armory, lances, darts for the crossbows, so that no one on the battlements lacked for ammunition.

  Diego didn’t sleep the whole night through and helped in whatever was asked of him.

  Almost at dawn, when the attack had begun to die down, he was fortunate to find Bruno and take the opportunity to speak with him about those matters that were upsetting him.

  “There are still those who believe wars are won by those who possess the best means, horses, weapons, the greatest number of combatants,” Bruno explained. “And they don’t know how wrong they are.”

  The Calatravan tried personally to assess the damages suffered by the troops and the buildings and asked Diego to come with him while they spoke.

  “Wars are won by the side that has the best information about its opposition. The one capable of guessing the movements and tactics of the other, who can upset the enemy’s strategy and emerge triumphant. With information, the weakest can overthrow the strongest, disarming him. Diego, that is our work in Salvatierra: knowing what the enemy is planning, figuring out his movements, knowing where and when he plans to attack, and with what means. Our monarch, Alfonso, knows very well how battles are lost when no information about the enemy is at hand. That is what happened in Alarcos. It won’t happen to him again.”

  They were looking out over the battlements to the north, watching their assailants’ movements, far from the reach of their arrows. Bruno went on leading the conversation.

  “Before you asked me why you were among us. Do you feel ready to hear it? If so, listen to me now.”

  Diego swallowed and listened attentively.

  “Before all else, I want you to know I feel a great respect for you. Don’t expect to hear me say it again in the future, because that’s not my way.”

  Diego was stunned.

  “You are the very example of a kind of bravery that’s not easy to find in our day. I’m referring to your ability to rise above and the spirit of sacrifice you seem to have. Look, Diego, I’m a knight of noble origin. I come from an old family and my acts must continue to do honor to them. Many of the Calatravans you have met in this fortress are also sons of the nobility like me.” He stopped to give an order to some men who were transporting an enormous cauldron of boiling water to spill over the side of the walls. He told them to save it for another occasion. “Life has forced you to survive. An unexpected destiny separated you very early from your people, and yet that misfortune made you grow. Since then you’ve fought to be someone, you tried to learn more, to broaden your knowledge, to be a better man. And with that goal, you found a master who taught you a trade.”

  “I suppose anyone would do that in my situation …”

  “That is not so certain, no. When I listened to you in that cell, I recognized two clear virtues in you: great ability and a strong character. I saw you had a gift that not everyone has, I assure you. You learn faster than anyone else, and you can memorize any text you set your mind to quickly. You should feel proud of all that, Diego, because you have transcended your humble origins as the son of a poor innkeeper to become the greatest albéitar in Castile. And in addition, you’ve garnered a prestige very few could dream of, and the trust of very powerful people. Do you need me to go on?”

  “I’m overwhelmed by what you say. Now, pardon my boldness, but you still haven’t told me what you want me for.”

  Bruno sighed. He had decided to tell him everything.

  “There’s no one else in my command who has the talent you have. That’s why I want you here. I need you to put your intelligence at our service, for you to let us make use of your knowledge. I began by telling you that wars were won with the mind, not the arm or the sword. I saved your life when I took you down from the gallows, and now I need your mind, your knowledge. You will help me to make decisions, tactics, plans. That is why I need you! Do you understand now?”

  Diego was floored, but he no longer needed to know more. He would obey that man, whatever he asked.

  “You will have a period of initial training that may take six months. After, you will take part in a smaller mission with your colleagues; that will steel your bravery and put your apprenticeship into practice. We will teach you to live in hostile environments and we may charge you as well with some more difficult missions, when you are more ready. At all times, your abilities, your knowledge, your instincts, will be put to the test. If you work well and do everything that is asked of you, we can help you resolve those matters that are most worrisome to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rescuing your sisters. Your mission will become ours, all of ours, and we will go with you to look for them.”

  “Really?”

  “You have my word.”

  Diego became excited. For the first time in years, someone had proposed rescuing Estela and Blanca. Though it was still a long way away, he was filled with great joy and inner peace.

  “Where do I begin?”

  “You already have. From today forward, we will teach you the abilities you’ll need to become a good spy. You will learn the most refined techniques of observation, you will be taught how to master disguis
e, you will have to memorize writings, documents, maps, codes; and you will do it without making a single mistake. We will train you to exercise the mental discipline you’ll need to adopt different personalities and how to react when faced with extreme situations. You will have to improve your decision making, adapting it to situations where the tension is high. All that, with the help of your own virtues, will lead you to achieve any goal you set yourself in life.”

  “It sounds like an attractive and exciting challenge,” Diego interrupted.

  Bruno cut him off, adding a few last considerations.

  “Remember from today on that there exists between us a mandate that must reign over any other you might receive in the future; you will always help your comrades, when they ask you to and even when they don’t; you will give your life for them if it’s required and you will never betray them, and you will care for their wives and orphans should they ever die.”

  Diego felt the weight of an enormous responsibility, but also the praise of all that had been said about him.

  “Count on me. I will do whatever you ask,” he affirmed, fully aware of what that meant.

  “There is only one thing left to warn you. You have hard months ahead of you. You will sweat like you never have, you will ache to your very bones, and you will dream of being able to rest …”

  “I shall.”

  “You will need to strengthen your muscles to brandish a sword or a mace, and your physical training will include concentration techniques to withstand torture and stare death in the face.”

  “I have already done that. …”

  Bruno looked into his eyes.

  “Are you still interested in the job?”

  III.

  Another miscarriage left Mencía even more alone. Her husband, seeing how her pregnancies ended, decided to find another woman who would leave him descendants, even if they were bastards.

  For that reason, Mencía barely saw him, and the love that he had once pledged to her seemed to have been snuffed out.