Masquerade (23 page)

The three of them walked down to Plaza Santo Domingo, following the throng who had donned the traditional costume of the festival, consisting of white trousers, red sashes and neckerchiefs. A stone’s throw away, the runners waited for the rockets to go off. On the way to the square, Luz bought a couple of postcards to send to her parents and Carmela.

‘
Siñorinas
, I think it’s time for something to eat, don’t you? I know just the place,’ suggested Carlos, his face breaking into an enthusiastic grin. Alba’s brother loved his food and already Luz had enjoyed a delicious plate of tapas the night before that he had cooked himself. They stopped at a café, well known to him, and ordered a quick breakfast of warm golden
churros
and thick hot chocolate flavoured
with cinnamon and topped with whipped cream. The place was full of smoke, some customers already singing and downing beers. A carefree festive atmosphere was king. Outside, the course was being swept and carefully looked over by the authorities. The whole town was now awake and humming.

They had managed to get a table at the front of the café, where the friendly owner had reserved some spaces at the edge of the pavement with a good view of the runners and the start of the
encierro
. At eight o’clock the whole spectacle would explode into life when the first rocket was let off to alert the town that the gates had been opened and the bulls released.

Suddenly, at five to eight, the runners started their chant, raising their rolled newspapers, which would be used to draw the bulls’ attention from them should the need arise. The words were a prayer to the statue of San Fermin, taken from an engraving in a niche in a wall of the Cuesta de Santo Domingo asking for the saint’s protection during the run.

By this time the sun had come out and the early-morning mists had dissipated. At three minutes to eight, the runners repeated their chant. The street was now lined on both sides with spectators closely pressed against each other and most shops were shuttered. The three friends joined the crowds on the pavement, jostling their way through the throng to find a place next to each other at the front of one of the barricades. Luz could feel the air about her vibrating with tense, mounting expectation amid the hubbub of the multitude. With one minute to go, the chant went up again, louder this time; and then a few seconds of hush fell over the crowd …

The clock of the Church of San Fermin struck eight and the first rocket was set off. It f lew into the air and the explosion was met with a great roar from the masses. Suddenly a red-and-white mob, the
mansos
, came swarming down the street, whizzing by at tremendous speed.

Just as the next batch of runners appeared and the second rocket exploded, an over-enthusiastic photographer pushed his way
between Carlos and Luz, propelling her against the barricade as he shoved his way to the front. She grasped the barrier to prevent herself falling and was almost pitched forward over it, pushed by the crowds. Luz struggled to straighten, raising her eyes as she did so.

Her heart lurched uncontrollably as she glimpsed Leandro. He was running at the edge of the route, a little apart from the others, looking down, completely engrossed in the race. Without seeing her, he brushed past. Behind him came the bulls and the sweep-up bullocks, slower and smaller, pounding at full speed, formidable thundering beasts tossing their heads up and down, the echo of their heavy hoofs resounding on the cobbled street as they pressed on. Close on their heels came the
pastores
, the bull herders, armed with long sticks to keep the herd in check.

Luz jumped back, breathing raggedly, her eyes dazed and incredulous, legs trembling. It was as if a volt of electricity had been injected right into her veins. How could it be? What was Leandro doing here, miles away from Cádiz?

‘Are you all right?’ enquired Alba, her face intent with concern. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ But Luz was not listening.

Another wave of
mansos
passed, their red sashes flying. Before her friends could stop her, Luz pushed through one of the gaps in the barricades and was off. Her heart was hammering in her ribcage as she tore down the street with the rest of the crowd who were headed for the arena, their final destination half a mile away. Buzzing with adrenaline, she ran at a steady pace, oblivious to the pushing and shoving and the extreme danger she was putting herself in, ignoring the din of the crowd urging them on, yelling:
‘Ahí va! Ahí va!
’ She had only one thought in her mind: Leandro. If someone had asked her what she hoped to achieve once she had caught up with him, she would have been incapable of answering. The shock of seeing him had made her act on sheer impulse.

At the Plaza del Ayuntamiento, following the mob, Luz turned left into Calles Mercaderes. The third rocket went off as she reached the crossing, signalling the bulls had entered the arena. She squeezed
through to the strait, pushing slightly uphill and along La Calle Estafeta alongside hordes of others, then right again in front of the telephone exchange. Now, at last, she dived into the narrow passageway leading to their final destination. Just as she erupted into the sunshine-bathed bullring, the fourth firecracker exploded, indicating the bulls were in the pens. The run had ended.

Here, the colourful human sea, the deafening music and the handful of loose calves capering around for the amusement of the crowd created total mayhem. Luz stood for a moment, looking around in a daze, not quite grasping what she was doing there.

Suddenly, strong arms pushed her behind the safety barriers lining the ring and Leandro swept her off her feet, carrying her up to the stand and out of danger. He was received with hurrahs of approval and great slaps on the back, and a drink was shoved into his hand. But he was distracted: his attention claimed by Luz.

‘What in God’s name did you think you were doing, you stupid girl?’ he growled in his strong
Caló
accent, glittering green eyes boring into hers with a terrifying air of menace. ‘Do I need this to torture my conscience and add to my remorse?’ His hands were clasping the side of her arms now, pulling her slightly towards him. She thought he was going to shake her, but instead he tossed his head and swore under his breath.

Shock finally took over and Luz swallowed painfully. ‘I saw you … in the crowd of runners … so I …’

A flame flickered in his translucent green eyes as they narrowed dangerously. ‘And so you what?’ he snapped. ‘Do you realize what could have happened to you out there?’ He glared at her, his hands still gripping her arms. ‘The
Encierro
is not a
game
, people get gored by the bulls every year.’ he rasped before releasing her and turning away in disgust.

Luz was trembling now, partly because Leandro was standing there in front of her, so obviously caring violently for her safety, but also because she realized what a fool she had been. He was right: she could have been badly hurt.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered shakily, longing to throw herself into his arms, every nerve in her body in a reckless burst of wanting. She could see his gypsy blood was still boiling, though; his whole demeanour reminded her of a wild animal in fury. No, she would not be kissed by him today, or any other day, she thought with a heavy heart.

‘I need to get back,’ she said suddenly. ‘My friends must be worried.’

He scowled. ‘Where are your friends? And what were they doing, letting you behave like a halfwit?’

‘They’re outside a small café on Calle Santo Domingo. I can’t recall its name now,’ she admitted sheepishly.

He pondered a moment. ‘I will accompany you half way,’ he declared finally. ‘Will you know how to get back to your friends? What if they’ve moved on?’

‘Don’t worry, I know where the café is. They won’t have gone anywhere. Some of Carlos’s friends are supposed to be joining us after the run.’ She let out a breath. ‘Thank you, Leandro, you mustn’t worry about me. I am an adult, you know.’ At this point she had the sense to look contrite as she met his fiercely unwavering gaze. ‘I admit I acted stupidly, I realize that now. I’m really sorry.’ Her deep-blue eyes looked up at him dejectedly.

‘You scared me half to death … when I saw you standing there … looking so lost.’ His voice was husky and a little shaky. She sensed the undertones of tenderness, registered the emotion in his eyes, and a wild hope surged in her. As she opened her mouth to say something he stiffened and pressed two fingers against her lips.

‘Shush,’ he murmured, ‘it’s no use. It would never work. The mountain between us is unscalable. Trust me, this way is the best. Come on, let’s go. Your friends will be looking for you.’

His fingers were warm and she thought she would melt under their touch. She looked up at him again, silently pleading, and met with his impassive features. Then she turned away so he could not see the tears stinging her eyes.

Pushing through the crowds, they made their way out of the bullring. Once or twice, Luz was painfully aware of his strong hand
in the small of her back, steering her, and the thrill of it f looded her whole body. Caught up in the crowds again, they reached the Plaza del Ayuntamiento once more and she felt his hand brush against hers. She turned around but before she could say anything, Leandro’s figure disappeared into the sea of people. Once again, desperation and frustration coursed through her. Would she ever see him again?

Carlos and Alba were still at the café when Luz got there. They were sitting at a large table with a number of young men and women who had joined them. The room buzzed with sound. They greeted her with enthusiastic shouts.

‘Luz,
de aquí!
, over here! We’ve been worried about you. What happened? Come and have a drink, you look like you need it.’ Alba poured a glass of wine while Carlos stood to let Luz through, pulling out a chair for her as he did so.

A wave of self-consciousness swept over Luz as she took her place at the table. Introductions were made and Carlos called a waiter to bring more drinks. To her relief, no one seemed very interested as to why she had gone off. Her friends had obviously been drinking solidly since the end of the run and although she herself had never been very fond of alcohol, she was feeling so dispirited that it seemed a very good idea. She swiftly drank a chilled glass of sangria and Carlos refilled it from the jug. Now, at last, she was beginning to relax and get into the spirit of the fiesta.

The moment didn’t last long, though, before she was aware of a great noise and commotion behind her. She turned in her chair to watch a crowd of people invading the café, singing loudly and dancing a conga, pushing their way through the throng to the table next to theirs. Luz recognized Lorenzo Herrera and his sister Adalia among the revellers and she gave an inward sigh, immediately on her mettle.

The short-haired brunette sitting next to Luz, who had introduced herself as Doña Lilliana Cortés, nudged her.

‘Do you know who that is?’ Her eyes were glittering as she trained her sights on the handsome blond young man. ‘Lorenzo Herrera, the
great
matador
. He’s going to be bullfighting this week. Have you ever seen him in the arena? He’s a god!’

‘I’ve met him briefly,’ Luz told her with a fixed smile. At this the young woman was beside herself with excitement. ‘Oh, you’re so lucky! Will you take me to meet him?’ She pushed her chair back and stood up, not waiting for Luz to answer.

‘Hey, wait a minute,’ Luz said, alarmed. ‘We were introduced
en passant
some time ago. I doubt he remembers me. Besides, I’m not used to barging uninvited into a party.’

‘Oh, come on, don’t be a wet blanket. He has millions of fans, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,’ said the other woman with a pout.

Luz was spared the unpleasantness of an argument when Doña Lilliana suddenly sat down again: Lorenzo Herrera was coming towards their table. He stopped a few paces from Luz as Carlos rose from his chair to greet him. ‘Carlos,
amigo
, how are you?’ she heard him say. She half looked the other way and pretended to be engrossed in the conversation at the other end of the table. ‘It’s been a long time!’ Carlos’s face was beaming and the two men embraced.

‘Yes, much too long,’ Carlos agreed, slapping the
torero
affectionately on the back. ‘I’m told that you’ve practically retired from bullfighting. Is it true that you’ve become a respected businessman?’

‘To a certain extent, but I still take part in quite a few
corridas
. With me, as you know, it’s a passion inherited from my dear
Papá
, may God rest his soul.’

‘Yes, yes, of course. He was the best,’ Carlos nodded solemnly. ‘So where is Adalia? I thought I saw you come in with her.’

‘Oh, doing what Adalia does best, flitting about and being charming with someone, no doubt. I think she spotted some other friends as we arrived.’

‘That sister of yours can charm the birds from the trees.’ Carlos grinned and took a gulp of his sangria. ‘So what brings you to our part of the world?’

‘You forget, my dear friend, that my mother is half from Castile and half from Navarre. We have a house here.’

Carlos laughed. ‘Ah, yes, that is where you get your wonderful pale complexion and those large blue eyes that make all the ladies swoon when you enter the arena.’ He nudged him playfully. ‘Not like the rest of us mortal Spanish men.’

‘You exaggerate,
amigo
.’ Lorenzo laughed, obviously delighted by his friend’s little crack. ‘Anyhow, I have never taken part in a
corrida
in Pamplona, so I thought I’d give it a go this year.’

‘An excellent idea. When is it happening?’

‘It’s scheduled for the last day of the fiesta. I’ll take part in the running in the morning and the
corrida
in the afternoon.’

‘Well, I for one wouldn’t miss it for the world, and nor would Alba. We also have her friend staying, Doña Luz de Rueda. If she’s still here, she’d love to come, too, I’m sure.’

Luz took a sip of her sangria, slanting a look at the two men.
I will be gone by then
, she thought. She had never enjoyed
corridas
. In that regard she was definitely not Spanish.