I stand up two meters from the staircase of the gallows nodding my head.
I lift my eyes slowly, while I count idly the steps up to the stage: 11.
They seem a little higher than normal … I figure when I reach the top I’ll be a little more than two meters off the ground. Adding to the 1.80, the sight will be to almost four meters of height; I will stare to the square over the heads of the people.
What will the view look like from that perspective? Will it be crowded? Right now, the silence surrounds my thoughts, letting them flow.
Gutierre de Vargas Carvajal, a friend in family times and my father’s buddy in amorous adventures during his youth, has interceded as bishop of Plasencia, so that my last will could be met facing the Sun and exhausting my last sighs of lif
The gallows stands in the southern part of the Mayor square, right on the diagonal of Sol Street.
I stand next to the ladder ready to go upstairs, it is back to the Sun.
The first beams come in and my shadow lengths sharply, rising more than half the staircase that I notice it will be the last one of my life.
I’m calm. I find myself in this situation because of lovesickness. Two in particular.
One of them changed the course of my life roughly and the another has brought me to this end of the road situation.
The two were short time lovers, much shorter the second, which may be the most decisive because of the outcome of the same, but without the first, I would not have met the second, so I do not know which one is the most decisive.
Within my vast experience with other men, these two men stand out because of their passion and intensity.
I notice that someone is approaching behind of my right ear: “It’s Isabel’s time,” a soft voice that corresponds to a shadow of a right arm indicating the road, which has not signs.
I wear the hood of my burlap cloak-coat, which I made myself two winters ago.
I climb slowly, but decisively, the 11 steps. When I get up, the first thing I see is the trapdoor just below the rope in front of me.
I glance at the rope until I see it flip the crossed stick that is supported in two forks one on each side of the platform. When the ring of the rope hits my forehead, I turn slowly at the same time I put back the hood, raising my head and leaving free my long hair that falls below my waist. The sun blinds me and I put instinctively up my hands that tied by my wrists protect my sight.
Shortly, I put down the hands and the sight, looking at the square totally crowded by people of all kinds. I try to look for a known face, but I do not know why. Father and mother, I have no idea where they might be for a long time and I have not been in touch with someone, except for my last love. Maybe I hoped to find him.
The executioner whispers in my ear “it’s time” and puts the rope around my neck, the he tries to put a black hood on my head.
“No,” I say firmly. “I have lived a long time in a cave; I want to die looking at the sun. ”
He shrugs and steps back a few steps; I hear a dry sound, the floor opens and I feel a strong tug of the neck, while an exclamation runs all over the square.
I’m short of breath.
– “Isabel, Isabel, have they brought us a boar, do you know who it was?”
– IT was me mother, I have gone out to hunt it this morning.
Scenes of my life run across my mind …
It follows part II, which is published on August 5, 2017
Discover the places of the unique legends from Comarca de la Vera, located in Sierra de Gredos (Spain). Link in Conyegar