A cautioning hand came toward her muzzle and Estrella took a ferocious snap at it. She heard an Iber curse and someone punched her hard in her muzzle.
The scent of the sweet grass vanished and the stall walls on the ship loomed in her mind. She could almost feel the chafe of the sling. How could it all end so quickly? Perlina’s dream — the scent of sweet grass, the scent of home, and the scent of freedom — all fraying now. The dream was dying.
Hold On was still on his feet, his powerful body pulling against the lasso that had him tight. His shrill screams were laced with curses, and his eyes had rolled back in his head until they appeared like two white moons glaring at the sky.
“Estrella!” came a cry, and the young groom raced out from the scrub with the blacksmith limping behind him. One of the Seeker’s men walked over to Centello and stroked his muzzle, pressing some sweet to his mouth. “¡Bueno! Bueno, amigo.”
Hold On cut his eyes toward Centello and bellowed, “Some god who betrays his own!”
But Centello ignored him and lapped up the sugary treat.
The next moments were confusing to Estrella and Sky. Hold On continued to rear and shriek, but a quiet resignation seemed to envelop the mares, and they stood still as halters were fitted over their heads.
Estrella had felt a halter only when she had been lifted from the hold to be cast overboard. They had flung her away and now they were reeling her back into their world. The world of the bit, the saddle, and the rope. She whinnied shrilly as the halter descended.
“No! No!” she screamed. The smell of men was all around her, pulling her to her feet. Men and their sweat. Men and their rancid dreams. The masters were back. She was choking on the stink of it. Her eyes slid back in her head as the rope tightened around her neck.
The little groom stroked her. “Don’t worry, little one,” he said as he tried to fit the harness to her shaking head. “Everything will be all right. We’ll lead you to a palace now. I prayed that you would make it. It is a sign of God.”
Estrella had been gone so long from the language of the Iber men that it seemed unfamiliar and strange. She tossed her head again, but the groom tightened a strap connected to the halter and soon she could hardly move. The halter and strap had an odd smell, animal-like but slightly salty. Was it possible that it was made from the hide of some animal?
The idea unnerved Estrella, and she began heaving and panting, then tried to give a buck with bound legs. A whip lashed through the air and slapped down on her hindquarters. She screamed and reared, dragging the little groom up into the air. Another rope dropped around her neck.
“She’s a wild one,” someone yelled. “Twitch her, then hobble her hind foot! Like we did for Gordo.”
Someone grabbed Estrella’s upper lip and slipped something over her nose. She felt a cold hard thing pressing against her gums. She was so focused on her mouth and nose that she hardly noticed that someone had looped a strap on her hind leg. She hopped and almost fell. How was she to walk? Then it burst upon her — that was the point. She couldn’t walk, could only make pathetic little hops. She felt a darkness begin to fill her. They are breaking me. Breaking me!
The men were grabbing, twisting, destroying her freedom, and with it came a feeling new to her — utter and complete humiliation. She thought of the fleeting figure of that tiny horse against the windswept sea of sweet grass and felt shamed and disgraced.
Something hardened within her. Let them punch her, whip her. Let them kill her, but they would not break her. No matter how many ropes they tied her with, no matter how many halters they put on her head, or bits they shoved into her mouth, she would never allow herself to feel this humiliation and shame again.
She and Hold On were the only ones to be hobbled. The twitch twisted their muzzles so they couldn’t whinny. The only sound they could make was the most pitiful little windy squeak.
The men walked the horses until they came to a long causeway that cut across the vast lake. Ahead, looming in the growing darkness, was a massive mound that appeared to have steps carved into it. Other lesser structures melted out of the evening. Estrella had never seen anything like this. They were being led into a vast place — no mere village but a place where hundreds of villages had been brought together. The huge pyramid dominated everything.
Estrella could not turn her head, but she slid her eyes to the side and saw hundreds of Chitzen gathered to watch the procession of horses. Some fell to their knees.
“See how they bow to us, Gordo?” Centello called. Twenty Chitzen, some just children, bowed deeply and pressed their hands to their hearts, muttering softly in a language none of the horses had heard before. Centello nodded to them as if receiving their worship. “I have been in many battles, many wars,” said Centello, “but this conquest was the easiest. And it was because of us! Horses. We won almost without fighting because they think we are gods.”
Estrella flattened her ears. Did everyone think the horses were gods? Estrella and Hold On hobbled forward in the clumsy gait, their legs tied and their noses twisted up. Was this any way to treat a god? Estrella noticed that not all the Chitzen bowed. Some of them watched with eyes that betrayed a glimpse of skepticism, anger, or pain. Not all were worshipping.
Angela picked up her pace and lifted her head proudly, as if enjoying her new status as a god.
She thinks she’s a god now. She really does, Hold On thought to himself. Since when are gods hobbled like Estrella and me? Tell me that, foolish mare!
“I can hardly believe it,” Angela neighed softly as she strutted down the causeway, picking up her hooves high in a paso alta. “I feel as if I am in a dream!”
“This is a place of too many dreams and too many gods,” Grullo muttered, breaking his long silence.
They came to the end of the causeway, to the base of the steps of what Centello said was the palace of the king, the Golden One. Near the base were several smaller structures, and from one came the distinct smell of animals — goats, pigs, and more horses.
Hold On grew even more agitated as a groom he recognized stepped forward with a saddle. The stallion whinnied shrilly and tried to rear on his hind legs, but it was impossible to hold his weight on only one leg. He collapsed in an enormous crash. Angela and Corazón gasped, and Estrella whipped her head around. He’s broken a leg! she thought, horror shooting through her withers. But his leg was undamaged. He lashed out with it and managed to kick the groom, who shrieked in pain, dropped the saddle, and ran.
The Seeker stepped forward and shouted at Hold On. The war dogs from the ship — the huge mastiffs and the wolfhounds — surrounded their master. The Seeker drew out a long whip and cracked it in the air. The other horses froze, but Hold On rose up and hopped around on his three legs as the groom repeatedly made attempts to approach him with the saddle.
The Chitzen were enthralled. The gods were fighting! They had never seen such a display. The horses had never seen it, either. The bond between the horses and their grooms and riders had mostly been close.
It took three grooms and the blacksmith pitching in to subdue Hold On. They managed to get a second twist on the gray stallion’s muzzle, and it brought him to his knees.
Estrella gasped. Hold On was utterly powerless now. He could do nothing as they put the saddle on him and fixed more ropes to his halter.
He’s done, Estrella thought. She could tell by the dull light in his eyes. The old stallion had been brought down.
There were seventeen horses in the newly constructed stables beneath the pyramid. Each horse had its own stall, and Hold On was placed next to Estrella. The grooms had left the saddle on him, and he’d stopped trying to shake it off. The old stallion had gone completely silent. His eyes were clamped shut and he was shivering hard.
“Why did they leave the saddle on you?” Estrella whinnied softly. Her restraints had been removed.
She hoped Hold On would answer. He had stood completely silent since they had put him in the stall.
Af
ter what seemed countless minutes, he answered, “To get me used to it. I’ll pretend. What other choice do I have?”
“We’ve lost everything, haven’t we?” Estrella said.
“Everything but our wits,” Hold On replied. He was quiet for what seemed a long time. “Understand this, Estrella. We are safe only as long as we pretend.”
The humiliation was creeping back. “Pretend we’re not wild, not free? Pretend to like being caged and — and —”
“Enslaved?” Hold On said.
“How long do we have to pretend?” Estrella asked softly.
“I hope not long.” He paused. “They are going to think they’ve broken me.”
“But they haven’t?”
“Wait and see.”
Estrella sniffed and a drop of blood fell on the straw. “My muzzle is bleeding.”
“That’s good,” Hold On said almost cheerfully.
Estrella sent him a sharp glance. “Good? What are you talking about?”
“I saw how some of the Chitzen looked at you as we crossed the causeway. There is not much blood on your muzzle, but they saw it. They were … how shall I put it? Surprised. And maybe relieved.”
“Why?”
“Gods don’t bleed,” Hold On said quietly.
As the evening darkened into night, the old stallion seemed oblivious to his stall. In his mind, he was back on the beach where he had pounded down the hard sand, reliving the freedom of a back without a saddle, the feeling of his barrel chest free from a cinch. He marveled at the swiftness with which he had forgotten the gaits.
“¡Hola!” A cheery voice cut the night. The Seeker had come back into the stables and stood in front of Hold On’s stall.
“He is calmer?” asked the Seeker.
“I think so,” the young groom replied.
“Let’s try him, then,” the Seeker said.
Hold On flashed Estrella a look. He did not have to say a word. The light in his eyes said it all. I am pretending. Be patient. Hold on.
The stable was thick with tension as the little groom led Hold On from his stall. The stallion walked calmly toward the small plaza outside.
He is pretending, Estrella reminded herself. Pretending.
“Can you see what’s happening?” Sky whispered from a few stalls down. Estrella craned her neck for a better view through the stable door.
“They’re removing the hobble,” Estrella said.
“What’s he doing?” Angela asked.
“Just standing there.”
“Oh, I hope he behaves himself,” Angela sighed.
Behaves himself! The words enraged Estrella.
“What’s he doing now?” Centello asked.
“Just … just sort of drooping his head.” She felt her voice break. She had to keep reminding herself that Hold On was just pretending and that this was part of using his wits. “The Seeker is climbing onto a block.”
“Mounting up,” Grullo offered.
“You know,” Angela began, “the royal infanta had a mounting block that was carved by one of the finest artists and inlaid with —”
“Oh, shut up!” Grullo said.
The Seeker swung one leg over the saddle horn. He gave Hold On a kick. But Hold On didn’t move.
“What’s happening?” Sky asked.
“Um — Hold On’s not moving. The Seeker’s kicking him hard. Wait! Now he’s taking a step forward.”
Hold On dragged himself languidly into a shambling trot. The Seeker dug spurs into Hold On’s flank and thwacked him with the crop. Estrella spotted a trickle of blood on Hold On’s soft flank. “I … I … don’t know what’s happening. I can’t watch!” she said. Even though she knew this was part of a pretense, she couldn’t bear to see it. Hold On’s eyes had a dull glaze, as if a flame had been extinguished.
On the plaza, Hold On shambled in an odd gait. He could feel the Seeker unbalanced, gripping hard with his knees and trying to appear like the man-creature god they were supposed to be. Instead, the Seeker looked like a bobbling fool. Hold On was breathing heavily, wincing each time the Seeker dug in his spurs. Letting the Seeker ride him was part of Hold On’s plan, but fear and shame were licking at him. The shame of the powerless. Like them! he thought as he glanced at the Chitzen looking on.
Hold On saw a small boy pointing at his flanks, where he could feel a thin trickle of blood. He sees I am bleeding! He sees I am no god. This was the moment.
Hold On reared straight up and broke into a wild gallop. He stopped short, the Seeker lurching on his back, then reared again. He bucked, kicking out with his hind legs as violently as he could. The Seeker flew off his back and sprawled on the plaza. He couldn’t move for several seconds, and when he staggered to his feet, blood streamed down his face from a deep gash in his forehead.
Hold On trotted around the plaza, his head held high and his eyes flashing. Had enough blood been spilled? Was this enough to convince the new men that the Seeker was no god? The Chitzen watching began to whisper and talk. Soldiers came out to break up the crowd.
Hold On galloped around the plaza wildly. A dozen grooms and soldiers rushed him, lashing out with whips. The ropes flew at him — ropes everywhere. On his head, slapped around his belly, his legs. And then he was down. Tied in the way they fastened a pig to carry him to the slaughter. The grooms quickly hobbled Hold On and they forced him, limping, back into the stable. “What did you do?” Centello yelled. “We heard yelling and, and — what did you do?”
“I threw the Seeker,” said Hold On. “He is bleeding on the plaza.”
“What?” Centello gasped.
“Why? Why would you do such a thing?” Angela screamed.
Hold On turned to her with a sly glint in his eye. “Because I’m a god?”
And now, thought Hold On, we just have to wait.
It did not happen quite the way Hold On thought it might. There was a sudden dank smell, the smell of the lake, and two shadows slipped into the stables. Hold On detected them immediately. They must have swum to the end of the causeway so as to sneak into the city unseen. This meant they were Chitzen and not Ibers, Hold On reasoned. The other horses smelled them as well, and stirred restlessly. The little groom was asleep and there were no other men about.
Looking out over the edge of her stall, Estrella saw the glint of a knife. The shadows sprinted to the nearest stall, Centello’s stall. They slipped a rope over Centello’s head and he began to rear, but one of the shadows gave a vicious lunge. There was an agonizing cry and then a gush of blood filled the stables with the familiar smell of metallic rot.
The horses shrieked wildly. The shadows clambered over the edge of the stall, a machete flashed, then flashed again, and soon the shadows were fleeing with the head of Centello between them. The dark stallion’s eyes were locked in a terrible glare, as if he couldn’t believe his own death.
Hold On reared in panic. The Ibers were the ones enslaving the Chitzen, stealing their gold and smashing their gods. Not the horses. He’d shown the new men that the horses were not gods, but the horses were not their enemies. “It’s the Seeker!” he whinnied. “He’s the one you’re after! That is the god you want to kill.” That was the god that Hold On had smashed. How had it gone so wrong?
Cries swelled from the city below, the roar of cheering new men. The young groom and the blacksmith gripped each other as they stood over the pool of blood by Centello’s headless body. They were straining to make out the Chitzen’s words, but they knew very little of the language. Then a light seemed to dawn in the smith’s eyes.
“Yo sé,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know. The same for us. Quick! Release them. ¡Rápido, rápido!”
Hold On blinked as the blacksmith approached to unstrap his halter. The young groom scrambled into Estrella’s stall. The two worked fast and left the stall doors open when they were done. As they worked their way down the stable, one after another they swatted the horses on their rumps. “¡Vaya! ¡Vaya!”
Free! They are freein
g us! Estrella thought as she tore out of the stall. Hold On was right by her side.
“Which way?” Sky yelled.
“Straight. Straight down the causeway!” Estrella whinnied.
The causeway was not far, but by the time the horses reached it, it was already slick with blood. Armed and screaming, Chitzen poured out of the thatched huts that lined the way. The clang of swords and the slash of daggers ripped the night. A rope spun through the air, its loop just missing Estrella’s head. She veered left to dodge it and slammed into a man who was raising his machete as if to cut her down. Hold On reared and struck him with sharp hooves. The man’s sword arm dangled loosely by his side and he collapsed, screeching in pain.
“This way! This way!” Hold On yelled.
The horses raced forward, but a knot of soldiers and Chitzen blocked their path. Behind them, crowds of men were fast approaching. We’re trapped! Estrella thought frantically. She cried out as she saw soldiers with torches igniting something on the ground.
The water! It was their only chance. They had to make it to the edge of the causeway.
“To the water, follow me!” Estrella cried. But the horses were scattered. Sky skidded on the blood-slick paving stones. A man lifted up a huge cudgel to slam down on Sky’s head. Estrella hurled herself into the man, knocking him sideways. “Get up, Sky! Follow me! To the water! Come on!” she screamed.
Angela raced forward.
“Where? Where?” The mare wheeled around.
“To the water! Get Corazón.”
One of the war dogs tore through the throngs of people, his muzzle bloody. He caught sight of Estrella and charged. Hot rage rushed through Estrella. These were the dogs who had nipped at her as she swung above the deck on the ship. She wheeled and kicked and her hooves connected. She hated these dogs. The dog fell to the ground with a thud, his head bashed in on one side.