Tom Foran Clark

Rita was already up and dressed at seven in the morning, raring to go on. Emery felt like he was in a cacoon, wrapped in silk, suspended in a deep, lovely lethargy. Rita poured cold water over him, got him on his feet, and steered him to the bathroom. She packed the car and drove them to Cadiz, beautifully located on a long narrow peninsula surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean on three sides. They walked through a big waterfront park, where Rita revealed the things for which Cadiz was famous -- fish, olives, figs, cereal, coffee, corks, timber, coal, and iron -- and told Emery more about the treasure digger of St. James:

"You remember how Benedict had told George Borrow of his being nearly strangled to death, and of how he'd set out for Coruna to find Borrow? Well, on the way there, somewhere between Saint James and Coruna, as he was walking along, thinking of the schatz, he saw two men on horseback riding directly toward him from across a field. 'Lieber Gott!' he cried. 'Thieves!' He flung down his staff, took off his hat, and saluted the robbers, who were finely dressed, and well armed. 'Good day, caballeros,' he said. 'I have been to Saint James to perform a religious vow, and am returning now to my own country.' He said nothing of the treasure, for he feared they would shoot him. 'Do you have any money?' they demanded. 'Gentlemen, he said, 'you see my shoes are torn to shreds. This would not be so if I had money. But I will not deceive you, I do have a peseta and a few cuartos.' He offered these to them. 'We are caballeros of Galicia,' they proclaimed, "and do not take pesetas -- much less cuartos.' They then nearly exploded Benedict's eardrums, not by shooting him with their rifles, but with blowing their bugles so hard. Exhausted and trembling, the treasure hunter arrived in Coruna only to learn that George Borrow had departed, heading for Oviedo.”

Rita and Emery explored the sand dunes on the Coast of Light, the Costa de la Luz, then went to the White Villages, the sparkling Pueblos Blancos, tumbling down the slopes of the Cadiz Sierra range. In Arcos de la Frontera, atop the Peña Nueva, a labyrinth of streets cascaded down the ridgeline. They got a room in an inn, a state-run Parador having a view out over the winding Guadelete River and its broad valley. Rita -- what a woman she was! -- a surprising person of delightful revelation. She knew many remarkable things and could not be judged like other people. It atonished Emery, how she revealed herself. There were moments he lost track of where he ended and she started -- her substance, scent, and warmth.

In the morning, they climbed up the Arcos church bell tower, passing through the home of the tower keeper, to enjoy the view of the winding village streets, white houses, and tiled rooftops just below, and the plains beyond, reaching far and wide. Then they drove to Ronda on a high plateau in the mountains, to the North of the Mercadillo gorge, cut by the River Guadalevín, spanned by the Puente Nuevo bridge. There they got a room at the Mirador hotel..

They must have driven in circles the whole of the next day, camping out that night somewhere on the Torcal de Antequera plateau, high in the Sierra de Chimenea mountains. In the morning, the two went on to Medina Lawsa, also called Loja..

In Loja, they visited the Alcazaba on a hill right in the middle of the town, inside of which the Christians had built a Renaissance church, the Caserón de los Alcaides Cristianos. Once again, Emery had my hands full. “Isn't this ridiculous?'' Rita asked, rolling over on him on the highly polished floor. Emery tried to laugh, but only a thin, airlesss wheeze emerged. Here was the sacred feminine -- human and divine. He could hardly breathe! Emery required all the air in the room -- there didn’t seem to be enough.

He now felt as claimed and haunted by the flame or aura of her -- the ancient, ghostly beauty of her hair and brilliant eyes -- as he had at first been awed and astonished by her body language, the physical education (crash course) -- her assertive calisthenics. She seemed less and less embodied now, and more and more an almost purely mystical being. In a sense, though not obliterated, Emery was really getting lost.