When Cayetano got down, off the shoulders of Miguel, after photos got taken, the crowd hadn’t thinned at all. A reporter pushed forward, and Luna recognised him as Gilberto, who did the Beltrán Morales documentary back in 2010. He was short man, awed by Paco’s presence, and now Cayetano’s, too.
“El Valiente!” little Gilberto, now totally bald, his face wet with sweat, cried to the huge man. Cayetano hugged Gilberto, the blood on his suit sprinkled on the man. “Cayetano, you have dedicated these bulls to your father. Tell me, do you think the fights worthy of the man?”
“They were, as were the bulls,” Cayetano replied, to the cheer of the crowd. Luna felt stuck hard against Cayetano but kept looking for the children, laughing and chatting with Sofía away from the main fracas. “The kills were worthy of my father and worthy of me.”
As the crowd pulled away, it was time for the final act. Cayetano needed to have his coleta, his artificial ponytail, cut off, a symbol that his time in the ring had come. But he had wished Paco to be the one to cut it; Cayetano had cut Paco’s as a boy in 1984. “The boys,” Cayetano called to Luna. “I want the boys to cut my hair in place of Papá.”
“Are you sure?” Luna responded, and eyed the others, all keen to see who would get the honour.
“Adopted or not, Giacomo and Enzo are my sons. Let them take my coleta.”
The crowd parted for Luna as she fetched her children. She took Paquito and Scarlett by the hands and led their little feet in matching black shoes across the bloodied sand. Paquito wore a pale grey suit like his older brothers, Scarlett in a red dress like her mother. Giacomo and Enzo followed their siblings over to Cayetano who waited with patience. Huge scissors, those used to cut the tail from the bull, had their blood wiped away. Cayetano took a deep breath, and with his hands holding those of his youngest son and daughter, Giacomo and Enzo got hoisted onto the shoulders of Alonso and Eduardo. Together, the boys held the metal in small hands, unsteady and nervous. Enzo leaned forward and watched his father cry.
“Are you sure, Papá?” he whispered.
Cayetano nodded once, and Giacomo placed the hair between the steel blades, and the pair snipped just once. The thin black braid fell onto the sand to the cheers of all around, the sound enough to deafen people far from the bullring. Cayetano looked down at his hair on the bloodied stand, limp and broken. The formalities were done. Cayetano Beltrán was no longer a bullfighter. With tears of pain, he kissed Luna, a strong full kiss, and Luna felt his need for reassurance.
Gilberto pushed forward again, to be the first person to interview Cayetano after the performance. “El Valiente, what now?” Gilberto cried over the sound of well-wishers on the sand.
Cayetano picked up his youngest twins, safe in their father’s arms. “Now I own a ganadería. I will run Rebelión, raise bulls, and train new bullfighters in my father’s honour. I will also move to Valencia and have a whole new life!”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Cayetano glanced at Luna. He stood there, deep breaths filling his lungs. He had that ever-present stance of his, shoulders back, chest out, eyes forward. Sweat dripped from his brow past his ears, his skin shiny in the lights above them. His suit sparked like his smile. Cayetano kissed Luna again, everyone in the crowd forgotten. The torero stood tight against her, his heart able to beat against hers. “I love you,” he muttered in her ear. “I want to start my next adventure with you.”
“We’re family. I love you. This story is complete, but we have so much more to come.”
Epilogue
Valencia, España ~ Abril de 2015
Luna’s phone rang as she jumped out of her Audi and onto the rock of Escondrijo. Her assistant again. He would leave a message, he always did. She tucked her phone into the pocket of her dress and opened the back door for the children. Giacomo and Enzo pushed their way out, and Luna climbed in to unclip her little ones. Paquito chased his brothers in the distance, and as Luna lifted Scarlett from the car, her phone beeped. Yep, another message.
“The perils of being left in charge of a cycling team,” Cayetano said as he shut the driver’s door.
“It was a case of running the team here or going to the Tour of Flanders and missing Easter with my family,” Luna replied and put her daughter down to run after her brothers. Now that the cliffs near the house had a fence, the children had more freedom on the property. The almond trees near the house were in full bloom – radiant pink flowers sparkled as their dew caught the light. “It’s bad enough I need to be away for the Paris- Roubaix race next weekend.”
“You and your glamorous career,” Cayetano joked and kissed his wife’s cheek.
“Yeah,” Luna scoffed. “Darren is in front of the cameras for the Spring Classics ahead of the Grand Tours, and I’m organising flights, hotels, bike shipping. Super glamorous.”
“You love it.”
“I do. Though, with random bike checks by officials, and rumours of a team using suspension on their bikes, competition is tough. Not to mention the New Zealand cyclist who got hit by one of the neutral service cars the other day… Sorry, I’m getting picky.”
“Not picky, preciosa, just involved in the events.”
Luna paused and pulled off her sunglasses to sit them in her mess of back curls. The house of Escondrijo looked nigh complete. A builder stood at the second storey window, which would soon be a master bedroom. “Where is my illustrious project manager today?”
“Around the back having a cigarette, probably,” Cayetano joked.
“Sneaky bastard, I warned him if I find any more cigarette butts on my property…”
“I pick them up, I swear!” Miguel appeared from behind the car and kissed Luna hello on both cheeks. His tool belt rubbed dust on Luna’s dark blue dress. “Good morning, boss. Trust you to come and check on the build yet again.”
“You get nervous when we stay in Valencia, don’t you?” Luna said with a smile.
“She is one hell of a taskmaster,” Cayetano added. “You should have seen Luna helping out Sofía at the homeless shelter. I got caught in the middle of a vicious chat, with Luna and Sofía talking to others about these draconian new laws making it illegal to protest. Now the penalties for arguing with police and government are even stricter. It’s like living in the Franco era all over again.”
“Don’t get me started,” Luna muttered.
“Then rest assured, all is under control here, far from Spain’s troubles,” Miguel replied.
Luna watched her children playing – at eleven, Giacomo and Enzo were now as tall as their mother, but the image of their father. Paquito and Scarlett, now three, didn’t run as confidently between the rocks in the front yard of their future home as their big brothers. “Miguel, the build is already three months behind schedule.”
“You need to work on Spanish time, la chispa,” Cayetano said and placed an arm around his wife.
“Don’t worry, Escondrijo will be ready for you during the summer holidays,” Miguel assured her. “It will have to be – the interior designer starts in just over a month’s time.”
“While I’m in Italy for three weeks,” Luna mumbled.
“That’s why you have a house husband!”
“Hey!” Cayetano chided his cousin and shoved him with his elbow. “I run Rebelión!”
“Luis runs it, Caya. I’m not stupid.”
“He’s family, he helps.”
The three paused for a minute and listened to the children laughing and chatting, a mix of natural born and adopted Beltráns. Ten months on from Paco’s death and Jaime’s discovery of his biological heritage, Pedro and Luis still didn’t know the truth - the way it would stay.
“I am the principal sponsor of the Cuenca building,” Cayetano defended his title as family patriarch.
“Eduardo and Alonso living in Cuenca do that,” Miguel goaded his older cousin.
“I run the Paco Beltrán torero school. Our first students arrive soon.”
“That is not in do
ubt, my love,” Luna said and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Miguel is teasing you. We know you’re a busy man.”
“Posing for billboards,” Miguel chuckled.
“Get back to work or I’ll cut your salary,” Cayetano replied.
Miguel laughed and wandered off in the direction the stone house, bustling with workmen. Cayetano and Luna stood together and took in the view – their future home, their children wandering through the trees, now devoid of the bones of their ancestors. Giacomo had taken off his jacket and little Paquito pretended it was a cape while an imaginary bull passed him. The third generation of Beltrán fighter had already decided his future.
“We’ll never have this place ready before the end of the summer,” Luna commented as she looked at messages on her phone.
Cayetano took the phone from her fingers and held it behind his back. “Relax, preciosa, all will be okay.”
“You’re remarkably comfortable about moving away from La Moraleja part-time.”
“Hey, I can handle leaving Madrid’s greatest suburb and my kids leaving Spain’s best school, so we can live here in the wilderness.”
“The boys’ Valencian school is one of the finest in Europe. It’s just a 25-minute drive from here. Valencia is half an hour away. We can live here just fine. It will take a long time to make Escondrijo as beautiful as La Moraleja, that’s all. We should be grateful we can engineer a life, where we live mostly in Madrid, and sometimes in Valencia.”
“I know.”
“And we’ll still stay at Rebelión often. It’s the 21st century; I can work anywhere. Plus Rebelión is a great place for me to practice my archery.”
“Archery,” Cayetano repeated as they strolled closer to the children, their steps in sync. They passed the plaque, dedicated to all those lost on Rebalsadors mountain. Sofía Perez Herrera, Cayetano Ortega Medina, Alejandro Beltrán Caño, Paco Beltrán Caño, and baby Gorka Beltrán Montgomery, the only one left buried at Escondrijo. “You have four children, you are logistics manager for a pro-cycling team, you are building a home, moving cities, and care for me. Why would you need another interest?”
“Why not?” Luna shrugged.
“Plus you’ll have a lot more work to do when Darren has time off after Sofía gives birth.”
“And I’ll be ready, Caya. Stop fussing.”
“Never.”
Luna phone rang in Cayetano’s hand, but he didn’t hand it to her. “Come on, it might be Darren,” Luna said with a laugh and tried to reach around her husband’s muscular body.
Cayetano held it high over Luna’s head to check the caller’s identity. “Not Darren… It’s Jorge Arias.”
“Oh,” Luna said as she grabbed the phone from her husband. “I haven’t heard from the historical memory association in weeks. Go and help Paquito with his cape passes.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Jorge,” Luna said, an audible happiness in her voice, as Cayetano wandered into the almond trees with the kids. “¿Cómo estás?”
“Buenos días, Luna, estoy muy bien, ¿cómo estás?”
“I’m great, too. How is the recent dig?” With Jorge and the association digging on the banks of the River Ebro, the scene of some of the Spain’s most brutal battles in the civil war, it was all hands on deck.
“Luna, as expected, we have uncovered many bodies of the soldiers from the International Brigades. We are working our way through identifying the first remains. Your grandmother, Scarlett, she married Ulrich Hahn, a German soldier, ¿no?”
“Oh God,” Luna muttered and glanced up at Cayetano. She threw him a sarcastic grin and Cayetano’s shoulders slumped. “You found my grandmother’s husband?”
“Scarlett Montgomery buried her husband herself, is that correct?”
“Yes, she did, with her hands on a cold day, covered in Ulrich’s blood. Franco’s rebel forces shot him. Scarlett was injured but escaped. Instead of leaving the country with other International Brigades and medics, she went to Cuenca and worked there. Some of her last words, 35 years later, at her death, were about Ulrich, her secret husband.”
“It seems Scarlett buried Ulrich with his identity papers. She wanted him found one day. Sorry to be so blunt, but I need to go. I just wanted to let you know we found Ulrich Hahn. We will need help in finding any family for Ulrich. You might be the closest thing to a relative for the man. Do you know if Ulrich had a brother?”
“No idea, I’m sorry.”
‘We’ve found a man named Oskar Hahn, also with his identification in his pocket. They came from the same town and look similar in their photo identifications.”
“Well, there are never happy stories when these digs get done. Don’t worry, Jorge, help, money, whatever the association needs, I am here when you’re ready.”
Luna finished the call and poked her phone in her pocket. Cayetano’s expression spoke of a mixture of resignation and interest. “Well?” he asked.
“Here we go again.”
BOOK CLUB QUESTION IDEAS
Which character do you love/hate the most in Blood in the Valencian Soil and why?
What passage from Blood in the Valencian Soil stood out to you?
What point in the book did you decide if you liked Blood in the Valencian Soil or not and why?
Do you believe Scarlett Montgomery in Blood in the Valencian Soil, could have gone on to have a normal life? Or would she have lived in a struggle, like her real-life counterpart?
Do you think you could make the same choices as Luna Beltrán in Blood in the Valencian Soil?
Name your favourite thing overall about Blood in the Valencian Soil. Your least favourite?
Cayetano Ortega Medina – The bastard son of an exiled King, who found a home in anarchism, but killed in a war his side could never win. Do you think he and Luna Beltrán could have had a happily ever after, given the chance?
Have you had a life changing revelation from reading Vengeance in the Valencian Water? Does it make you look at adoption differently? The laws of Spain differently?
What major emotion did Vengeance in the Valencian Water evoke in you as a reader?
If you could change something in Vengeance in the Valencian Water what would it be and why?
Do any characters grow or change during the course of the novel? If so, in what way? Is there any point you can sympathise with José Morales in Vengeance in the Valencian Water?
What is the connection between Luna’s Montgomery’s surgeon, and the Guardia Civil officer who helps José Morales rescue a young girl from the river in Vengeance in the Valencian Water, and the Colonel who arrests Jaime Morales in Death in the Valencian Dust?
How did you experience Death in the Valencian Dust? Were you immediately drawn into the story--or did it take you a while? Did the book intrigue, amuse, disturb, alienate, irritate, or frighten you?
Do you find the characters in Death in the Valencian Dust convincing? Are they compelling? Are they complex, emotional human beings, or simply being driven by fear and panic?
Consider the ending of Death in the Valencian Dust. Is the book satisfying? Are all the questions of the Beltrán Morales/ Montgomery Ortega families answered?
Which characters do you particularly admire or dislike in Death in the Valencian Dust? What are their primary characteristics?
Is it easy or difficult to feel sympathy for Alazne in Death in the Valencian Dust? Is Jaime Morales too naïve or just too young for what he faces?
Are there situations and/or characters in the series you can identify with, if so how?
Did you learn something you didn’t know about Spain? Had you ever heard of the ‘pact of forgetting’ giving criminals immunity to create democracy? Did you know about the hundreds of thousands of people still missing?
Do you feel as if your views on a subject have changed by reading this text? Does the difficulty of the Spanish Civil War seem different to other conflicts?
Describe what you liked or disliked about the writer’s style?
> What motivates Luna Montgomery’s actions throughout the series? Do you think those actions are rational or emotional?
Who in the series would you like to meet? Is Luna Montgomery too cautious? Cayetano Beltrán too arrogant? Paco Beltrán too demanding? Is Darren James too clingy?
If you could insert yourself in the series, what role would you play? Which character would you most like to affect with your presence?
Was Luna Beltrán right not to tell Paco about his father’s identity?
Did Luna Montgomery do the right thing with those she discovered at Escondrijo?
Has your opinion on bullfighting changed, or do you feel more informed to make your choices regarding the subject? Did you understand the actual performances before now?
Which character of the series best sums the up the situations the families finds themselves in over 75 years?
Is Escondrijo a safe place to live, or are there too many ghosts of the past?
Do you feel as if Cayetano Beltrán Morales is the epitome of a bullfighter, or does his life and attitudes provide surprises?
Can you remember locations where all books visited –Plaza de la Virgen and Plaza del Angel, the Turia riverbed park in Valencia? Plaza de Emilio Castelar/Plaza del Caudillo/ Plaza del Ayuntamiento in central Valencia? Rebelión outside Madrid? How have these locations changed over time?
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