He had lived in the cave since 1939 when he and his Father took refuge there from the marauding Nationalists. They entered the village with a list of arrestees, and the Matas family was on it. That at least was the story that Rodriquez senior spun to Matas senior. “They never forget” he would say. Rodriquez senior relieved Matas of his olive mill in return for the cave and the cave´s secret. Rodriquez senior took the secret to his grave. He left his son the olive mill and Matas completely forgotten, dodging imaginary Nationalists. “They never forget” he would mutter as he furtively moved through the Sierra.

Of the cave´s three chambers, one was a living area, one a bedroom and the third a library, arsenal and laboratory.

The books he had collected included translations from Roman tablets. One script dealt with the properties of Remitus Radix. A plant which luxuriated in southern Hispania Ulterior in the eastern region of Baetica. It grew on the banks of algae rich rivers. The Roman herbalist Intoxius Maximus describes the products produced from the plant and its varying effects. When distilled or fermented it produced a strong liquor or wine. When crushed and made into a paste it produced the strongest aphrodisiac in the known world. The Emperor Caligula apparently had some of his best nights on Remitroot, to give it its modern name. Boiled then drawn out in lengths it can also be used to grout between tiles.

Matas had successfully found examples of the plant growing on the banks of the Rio Verde de Alqueria. Quite close and within an easy climb below his cave entrance. He now set about processing the root. The wine fermentation was simple enough using yeast and sugar bought in disguise from a nearby village. From the depths of his cave came the sound of massed fermentation traps. The rhythmic gurgling gave the impression that some gigantic digestive process was under way. Distillation proved trickier. With perseverance and after three explosions Matas watched the precious liquid drip from the copper cooling coil.

He tentatively tasted the colourless liquid. It was at once addictive. Mouthful followed mouthful. The taste became more acute with each swallow and Matas became more unsteady with each swallow. He had a feeling of extreme well-being, a feeling in his loins, long remembered from his youth. He was young again able to take on anyone or anything. He could rule the world, solve all of its many problems. He then lost consciousness.

It was two days later that Matas opened his eyes again. He was three kilometres north of the village in a goatherd´s shelter. The ramshackle structure was halfway up the sheer face of the tallest peak in the Sierra Subbética. Surrounding Matas were the remains of Lean Cuisine meal for two, a copy of Goats and Goat-herding Monthly and a 25 kilogram tub of industrial degreaser.

Matas was in high glee. It was indeed wonderful stuff. He only wished he could remember the events of the last two days. He wondered about the debris that surrounded him, he had never liked those ´ready meals´. Being an opportunist, Matas decided to use Remitroot to his advantage.

A two pronged attack. First, his old enemy the Olive Mill owner Señor Fernando Rodriguiz who represented the establishment and the second target the Women’s Church Guild of Alqueria.

Matas with face blacked, a two litre bottle of distilled Remitroot liquor and a backpack filled with breaking and entering tools he set out for the Olive Mill offices. He moved with an agility which defied his years. Keeping on the outskirts of town he flitted from olive tree to olive tree. It was three in the morning, the only person he was likely to meet would be Manuela. What did she do in the cemetery at that hour? He couldn't think what, perhaps he shouldn't try.

The decaying window frame yielded to his jemmy and Matas crawled into the office. It was an easy task to drain some water from the cooler and top-up with Remitroot. He made his escape then headed for the Calle Horno and the bakers. This was in the centre of town along deserted streets. Tomorrow was a meeting of the Women’s Church Guild of Alqueria and they always had Ensaimada pastries especially made. It was a simple matter for Matas to mix the Remitroot paste in with the saim. This would form the fat used to make the delicacies in an hour or twos time. What the powerful aphrodisiac would do to a group of middle aged to eighty year old women was an interesting prospect.

He returned to the safety of his cave and with a bottle of Remitroot wine waited for the excitement to begin. What did occur wasn't seen by Matas in its entirety, but pieced together from observations, gossip and police reports.

Rodriguez had become addicted to the contents of his water cooler which he drank in the space of a single morning. He then left his office and the village giggling insanely and dragging the water cooler behind him by its power cord. A week went by with no sighting nor word of him. Then a communication from Germany to say that the Schutzpolizei had arrested him driving a refrigerated lorry to DĂĽsseldorf. When stopped he had no license, no insurance and no clothes.

Of the gentle ladies of the Church Guild. Isidro Cobre, the village policeman attended a disturbance at the church and immediately vanished. For 24 hours the church remained closed with only the geriatric giggling from the ladies within. Isidro finally

emerged a broken man, pale and gaunt. It took two months of convalescence before he could resume his duties. They never did find his truncheon. It took a further month for the Women of Guild to regain their poise and lose their lascivious grins.

Matas, overjoyed with his handiwork fired a shot at the church's gable-end in celebration. The local women prayed as the new pockmark became apparent.