The Horse Healer by Gonzalo Giner Read Free Book Online Page A

Diego went on. “She has two white spots, one between her ears and one at the base of her breast.”
    The man cleared his throat three times in a row, and his daughter did not overlook it. Diego hushed in the vague hope that he had told the man enough.
    â€œI’ve heard you and I don’t have anything to say.”
    Diego had the sense he was hiding something.
    â€œYou haven’t seen her?”
    â€œGet out!” he growled, enraged.
    Diego pulled away, afraid of getting hit again, and walked off with a bowed head.
    He meandered through the rest of the stalls and asked at every one. The ones who didn’t insult him sent him away disrespectfully. He wandered for hours through that madhouse. He looked everywhere but never saw anything. He stumbled between the people, running into them, pushed by one after the other until he fell on the ground a number of times. He looked like a drunk, but it wasn’t wine, but rather the enormity of his despair that made him act that way. Almost at dusk, he looked at his feet. Several of his toes were poking out from his shoes and they hurt from so much walking. He had nowhere to go and no reason to live.
    â€œCome with me.” A hand grabbed his shirt and pulled on it. Turning around, he saw the girl’s face, the daughter of the man from Jerez.
    â€œWhere?” Diego looked disconcerted. His chin and legs shook from pure weakness. His need to eat had grown to ravenous proportions.
    â€œI’m taking you to Galib’s house.”
    â€œGalib?”
    â€œHe’s the most famous albéitar in the city,” the girl explained. “He’s the one who bought your horse.”
    Diego’s face lit up, and his eyes, and his smile.
    â€œDon’t think ill of my father. He has a harsh character, but he’s a good man. Some men sold him your horse a few days back, and of course he had no idea it was stolen.”
    â€œDoes he know what you’re doing now?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy are you helping me?”
    She didn’t answer. A chance bump from an old woman helped her to avoid doing so. In fact she didn’t have any logical reason to help him. Maybe she felt regret, she wasn’t sure, or maybe she was just letting herself go, acting on impulse. Feeling his gaze upon her, she only shrugged her shoulders.
    â€œAn albéitar …” * Diego said, thinking out loud. “I thought they only had those in Al-Andalus.”
    â€œThe profession of albéitar is an old one in this city. It was practiced when this was still a Muslim realm, before it was conquered by the Christians. I believe that Galib escaped from Seville fleeing from the mad Almohads, and he had to start here from nothing and almost without means. Now it’s said there exist no hands better than his when it comes to treating a sick horse. He’s so wise that many doctors are envious of his knowledge of science, even if they don’t share the same kind of patients.”
    â€œIs he Muslim as well?”
    â€œLike me,” the girl answered while she decided which street to take. “Around here they call us mudéjars, tolerated Muslims.”
    Diego again felt a deep rage, having to be faced with more Moors, but above all, he needed to get Sabba back.
    The two youngsters headed south, toward the Muslim quarter. Before leaving the market square, the girl stopped at a stand where they were selling a kind of sweet called marzipan. She bought a half dozen and offered them to him, taking pity on him for his extreme gauntness. Diego barely stopped for a breath as he ate them and she explained to him that they were made with a paste of ground almonds, glazed with egg yolk, and then baked.
    They crossed through a number of side streets full of luxurious shops selling silks, jewels, and marble from the Orient, objects of silver, fine hand-worked cordovan leather, and many weapons, particularly swords. These were adorned with beautiful