The morning of the Alqueria’s big day dawned fine and bright. The early sun burnt off the residual mist warming the village after an unseasonally cold night. Alqueria suffered many cold nights due to temperature inversion in the valley. Today was to be the village’s annual feria. The Celebration remembers the exploits of El Raro, The Weird One. He was a hero of the Spanish War of Independence and the most famous son of the pueblo.

Today was La Feria del Corsé.

Manuela

In the summer of 1810 Guerrilla bands proliferated in Andalucía. This was in direct response to the French invasion of Southern Spain earlier in the year. Rogelio Jiminez, El Raro, had according to legend attacked a French column, although heavily outnumbered they had driven off the soldiers, killing and capturing many. Among the captives was none other than Joseph Napoleon Bonaparte himself, brother of Napoleon, along with his favourite mistress Fifi. Showing great humanity the guerillas allowed the French prisoners their freedom, but first stripping them and making them walk naked back to the French lines. Fifi’s corset was taken back as a trophy. A fine silk whalebone garment inscribed in golden thread, ‘for my big French Boney’.

There is little historical evidence to back up this claim, only a footnote in the histories of the partisan Vincente Moreno Romero. An attack on a French baggage convoy, although described in some detail only hints at El Raro's presence. A disorganised rabble seen in the distance plundering the French regimental baggage ties in well with a description of our hero. Having played no part in the attack they looted bags and trunks, especially those containing female clothing of the officer’s wives. The narrative suggests that several members of the rabble dressed in this clothing while dancing around a camp fire. A great deal of giggling accompanied these antics which lasted three days and nights.

The day’s events followed the same pattern every year. The teenagers amongst Los Gente del Cerro would man the castle tower with the corset in their possession. They would be the French, speaking in exaggerated accents and basically behave like 'bad guys'. The youngsters of los Recién Venido would elect a leader, El Raro and attack the tower. A brief water fight then ensues in which both sides try to soak the whole population of the village. The precious corset then returns in procession to the museum where it will reside until its next annual outing. A firework display follows, with liberal quantities of drink and food available from trestle tables erected in the plaza.

As José Ortega y Gassett had said “Every reality which is ignored prepares its vengeance”. Los Gente del Cerro were becoming weary of being on the losing side every year. The Hill People had decided to turn the tables. A council of war unanimously voted the girl known as La Comba as operational leader. Manuela Aguilera y Delapaz was tall, raven haired with large deep brown eyes that could tear your heart out at 20 paces. However nothing or nobody is perfect. Manuela’s imperfection was her soul warped as damp cardboard drying in the sun, hence her epithet La Comba.

Secretly provisioned under La Comba’s guidance the tower lay ready for the feria. Food, alcohol, stones, and water all that was necessary for a determined defence. Manuela was very thorough and it was with confidence that the Hill People gathered for the start of the Feria.

Amidst a barrage of insults and water bombs from the tower’s defenders and non-partisan bystanders, El Raro approached the tower. Thirty minutes is the usual time for the battle. A tigerish exchange of harmless projectiles takes place where none escape the attentions of the water bombers. Shouts of feigned pain and waves of laughter increased in volume proportional to the importance of the person being hit.

La Comba directed the fire from her vantage point on the battlements. Her hair and clothes now wet through while the contested corset clung to her in its dampness. El Raro raised himself in his saddle and demanded the corset.

“Al Infierno” Manuela replied.

The silence in the square was deafening.

“Viva las Gente del Cerro”, she shouted as a well directed rock hit El Raro on the temple dropping him from his horse. All eyes were on the girl. El Raro lay bloodied, dazed and shocked. He gazed questioningly at Manuela.

Isidro Cobre, the village's policeman came to the fore. “Manu…” a fusillade of water bombs and rocks forced the gallant law-man to retire into the crowd, his sentence unfinished. Next to try and diffuse the situation is Blyth Gruntmore the village’s Englishman. For some obscure reason he thought his nationality would carry some weight but being a Geordie, he was totally incoherent. “Manuela, Hoo ye gannin? Manuela pet, hoy the corset doon”. Manuela and the villagers stared open mouthed at Blyth. What did the gibberish mean? Most just shook their heads in pity as Bylth melted back into the throng. The stunned defenders directed their attention to an apparition of authority.

A brace of Guardia Civil officers stood hands on hips looking up at the defiant La Comba. Manuela lifted her chin and with a rebellious yell of “Viva Las Gente del Cerro” directed a volley of rocks at the two officers.

Matas sat crouched in his cave entrance, watching the proceedings through a dented pair of antiquated field glasses. He had seen the girl Manuela around the village especially in the early hours and assumed she was on some subversive errand against the state. Here she was attacking the two policemen. Matas concluded that La Comba must be protecting her honour from the attentions of the Nationalists Civil Guard. Whether or not Manuela protected her honour with such vigour, is a matter of some debate in the village. Matas raised his ancient Mauser, aiming at his supposed enemy and with a cry of “Muerte a los nacionalistas” he fired. Neither the rifle’s report nor the war cry could be heard above the din in the plaza. His wayward aim sent the bullet harmlessly into the gable wall of the church. The bullet´s impact causing a puff of whitewashed dust to rise momentarily.

Ximen, the senior of the two Civil Guardsmen fired his pistol in the air, the crack reverberating in the valley. The firing sent Matas scuttling back into his cave with an agility which defied his years. Silence again fell in the plaza. The villagers, enthralled by these unexpected but enjoyable turn of events.

Ximen walked slowly forward to the base of the tower looking directly up at Manuela. “We know what you do in the early hours. We know where you do it. We even have an inkling why you do it. It´s how you do it which raises legal questions, we can discuss it with you or our Comandante”. La Comba, alias Manuela Aguilera y Delapaz realised that her position was hopeless. A negotiated settlement allowed no action to be taken against the tower’s defenders and left Manuela militarily undefeated. She would return the corset personally to the town’s museum.

With peace restored the remainder of the evening´s festivities passed off as envisaged. The youth elected to be El Raro nursed a sore head and an even sorer pride while Matas cowered in his cave. Manuela returned to the tower. From her lofty position she kept a vigil on the celebrations in the Plaza. Her brow furrowed in thought.