Javier Rojo, as the senior matador, was walking in the middle. He would fight the first and fourth bulls of the corrida. All of the men, grouped together in their colorful costumes, made a spectacular vignette on the field.
After the procession, the field was rapidly brushed by men wielding rastrillos, the wooden brooms used to smooth the dirt.
Bond felt a twinge of anxiety as he watched Javier prepare for the entrance of the first bull. One never knew if a matador would live or die in the ring. It is a far more dangerous “sport” than most people realize, although it is no sport to the Spanish. Javier assumed his position near one of the shields in front of the fence. The music ceased and the crowd grew quiet. The moment at which the bull entered the ring was among the most dramatic in a bullfight. It was then that a matador could see exactly how brave and strong the bull was.
The gate swung open and a huge, black beast thundered into the ring. The first act, the tercio de varas, had begun. With the help of his banderilleros, the bullfighter would now test the bull by having him charge at the capes. One of the banderilleros called to him, waving a cape. The bull immediately charged the target, but the man stepped inside a shield in the nick of time. The bull’s horns slammed into the wood. The crowd cried, “Olé!”
Another banderillero called to the bull and waved the bright red cape. The bull turned, snorted, and rushed toward him. Again, the man stepped inside a shield, barely escaping injury.
At last, it was Javier’s turn. He stepped out into the ring and called to the bull. Much of the appeal of a bullfighter was the way he carried himself. The more arrogant and egotistical he was, the more popular he would be. There was a great deal of posing and grimacing involved in being a matador, but even that required skill. Javier did it well, simultaneously displaying pride, honor, and a demand for respect.
Somehow, the bull knew that this was the man who was his true enemy. The bull pawed the dirt in front of him, then charged. Javier performed a neat verónica and sidestepped the bull. The crowd went wild.
“This matador is one of the best,” Margareta said. “Have you seen him before?”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” Bond said.
The picadors entered the ring on horseback. It was their job to wound the bull with lances called varas without causing injury to the horses, even though coverings made of cotton and steel mesh protected the animals to some extent.
At this point, Domingo Espada and two men entered the stands and sat down in their seats not far away from Bond and the girl.
“He’s also quite an orator,” Bond said.
“And very popular with the people,” Margareta agreed. “At one time he was a great matador. Now he is a great politician.”
“It sounds as if you admire him,” Bond said.
“I have to. I work for him.”
“Do you? Why, I’d really like to meet him. As an interested expat, of course.”
“Of course,” she said. “I can arrange that. After the bullfight.”
“I’m beginning to believe that our rendezvous was no coincidence,” Bond said.
“You might be right,” she said seductively, as she rubbed her leg against his.
Out in the ring, the bull had been stabbed twice with lances. A good deal of blood was streaming down the animal’s side.
Before the third lance, Javier spent several minutes in the middle of the ring, taunting the bull. The bull would rush him, but the matador deftly countered with the cape in a series of maneuvers. His movements were pure and smooth as he stood, feet together and back arched. Bond could appreciate that a matador’s dance with the bull was very sexual; it was no wonder that bullfighters were considered sex symbols. It was almost as if the matador was seducing the bull. As Javier had said, the two living things—man and beast—had become one in the ring. With the cape, the matador had molded the animal’s wild charges into something of beauty.
Javier gave way so that the picador could gallop his horse around the ring, leading the bull into a charge. The horse turned sharply, heading off the bull so that the picador could thrust the lance into the bull’s withers, the hump on its back that was the gateway to its vital organs.
The signal was given for the change in acts, to the tercio de banderillas. The banderilleros were older men, usually matadors who never made it to the top. They strutted out into the field, each holding a pair of the colorful spikes called banderillas. Again, each man had to taunt the bull to charge and, as it came within inches of his body, accurately thrust both spikes into the bull’s withers. It was one of the most dangerous parts of the bullfight, since the bull, at this point, was in pain, angry, and ready to gore anything that moved.
The bull charged Javier’s first banderillero, who was standing alone and unprotected near the center of the ring, the sticks held high above his head, back arched, and raised on tiptoes. He neatly sidestepped the animal and stabbed it with the spikes. The crowd cried out in approval. After the second pair of spikes was delivered, Javier motioned to the corrida president that he would opt to administer the third pair.
Javier moved to the center of the ring and beckoned to the bull. The animal was now wary of the men in the colorful costumes. He was learning and adapting his strategy for attack. Without warning, the bull charged and brushed against Javier, knocking him to the ground. Javier dropped the spikes and rolled to avoid being gored. The spectators gasped loudly. Javier jumped to his feet before the bull could turn and charge again. Forced to retreat to the fence, Javier brushed off the accident and picked up two more spikes.
This time, Javier boldly moved to the center of the ring and called to the bull. He arched his back and held the sticks high. It charged and the matador perfectly administered the spikes. The spectators roared.
It was time for the third and final act, the tercio de la muerte. The president gave his permission for the bull to be killed, something that was always traditionally asked for by the matador. Javier then looked around the bullring for someone to dedicate the bull to. Matadors would often pay tribute to a woman, a visiting dignitary, a friend or relative, by offering his hat to that person. If he wished to dedicate the fight to the entire crowd, he would throw the hat into the ring.
Javier strode toward the section where Bond was sitting. Their eyes met, and Javier flung the hat up and over the heads of the people in the first rows. Bond reached and caught the hat as the audience applauded. Javier smiled at Bond, then took his cape and sword from his assistant.
The matador has a time limit in which to kill the bull in the third act. It has to be done with precision, for no one likes to see the bull suffer. Aimed correctly, the estoque would sever the bull’s spinal cord and other vital organs, killing it quickly. If it were still alive after falling to the ground, a member of the team would stab it in the back of the head with a short knife. Death was then instantaneous.
Javier stood in the middle of the ring, daring the bull to come closer and closer with each charge. He expertly twirled the cape, holding back the sword so that the bull would not expect it. This is the point at which a matador indulges in his most risky maneuvers, allowing the bull to get as near to his body as possible. With each pass, the crowd cried, “Olé!” and cheered. The music started up again and the first bullfight was quickly approaching its climax.
The dance of the matador and the bull became a ballet as Javier created beautiful flourishes with the cape, sometimes dropping to one knee to accept the animal’s charge. He enthralled the crowd by performing a kneeling pinwheel maneuver. In this vulnerable position the matador moved the cape to one side, crossing his body with his arm. Then, once the horns passed, he spun in the opposite direction to the bull’s charge, wrapping the cape around his hips. It was a decorative pass, but it was necessary with a quick-turning bull such as this one.