Matatora: matatora, #1

By r cane

They say a life, our bodies, our cells, the cosmos, even our karma, cycle every 7 years.

 

Is it possible that how we come into the world colors every other day of it? Born of tragedy, what might  the twins expect of life.

 

Living in the confines of a hacienda in New Spain in the 1700s, with a driven, broken father whose hopes of restoring his family's good name rest on his son's shoulders, things are not easy to begin with.

 

Once the young Matea steps in for her reluctant matator brother to save them from the father's wrath, their lives will never be the same, especially as the secret stretches on, deepens.

 

The weight of their truth mixed with the matatora's growing attachment to her temporary role, while also juggling the interest of a charming, curious Marquise, is almost most than they and their squire Arturo can hope to manage.

 

Still, they are clever all.

 

Only by joining Matea, her twin, and their beloved Arturo, on her role swapping adventure, might you learn how they fair.

 

NOTE: Contains minimally necessary references to bullfighting, and the consequences for the bull.

• Language: English
• Publisher: r cane
• Release date: Nov 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223781981

r cane

Life is endlessly fascinating, why not write about it? + Hope you like the story, characters. If you like it, say it, please review! :) Send comments or questions to [e-mail]. If you don’t like something it’s ok to say so, but please be constructive if criticism. Check out my other work! Mostly queer wlw character-driven stories, almost always with a healthy dose of humor, always with wonder ;) Follow on Insta Twitter FB  @rcanewrites  https://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=r.+cane You can also search for R. Cane at most of your favorite ebook retailers. Or even better, ‘subscribe for author alerts’! Thank you :) + Things that sadly need to be said: License Notes - This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and not intended to be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of authors. If you enjoy this, please encourage your friends to download their own copy. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. Your support is appreciated :) + Disclaimer This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, incidents, etc., are the products of the author’s imagination. In most cases, resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, or circumstances is unintended. Where there are references to real people or events, details of the story/fiction surrounding same should not be presumed to be factual, or accurate. Credit to others’ words always implied! I love to mix real people, places, events, into the stories but please understand that does not mean every single thing is ‘real’ or ‘accurate’ or reflects ‘truth’ – this is fiction after all – made up things spun together for the purpose of entertainment (hopefully). If you have any questions, or want to know what’s ‘real’, get in touch. Or search the ole interwebs. :) Thank you so much for choosing my story ;)

Book preview

Matatora

They say a life, our bodies, our cells, the cosmos, even our karma, cycle every 7 years. Here are the first two cycles of a young woman named Matea. She is a twin with her brother Mateo, the crux of her story. When we meet her in the 1700s she lives in a vast estate, hacienda, of a very infamous and wealthy Condesa in New Spain (now Mexico).

Is it possible that how we come into the world colors every other day of it?

Her life will not be ordinary, because she is not. Her life will not be simple, because she will never choose the easy path. The rest of her extraordinary story you will learn along the way.

So begins Book I, ages 0 – 14 (2 cycles of 7 years each), and bit of 15.

Note: Contains minimally necessary references to bullfighting, and the consequences for the bull.

Matatora

Ayoung boy of five stands in the middle of an arena. A round ring filled with sand, there are benches, seats, set in a circle pattern, several rows high, around the outside. At one side, most advantageous to the sun, is the special area for the Condesa and her guests, when there are any. Extremely wealthy, some would say eccentric, the woman rules all the eye can see in all directions, as her vast hacienda in central New Spain, and much more beyond that.

Mateo!, a handsome gentleman yells, pay attention! There is a wooden box on roughly carved wheels being moved through the sand behind the boy, squeaking closer.

The child, for that is all he is, stops thinking about how hot the sun is, to look around. Finally turning enough to spot the man pushing the box his way, steps far to one side to avoid it. Si, Arturo!

No, no, no!, the man calls out, moving quickly toward the boy. Do not move so far away! You must let the bull near, yet lean away from it!

Watching from nearby, the little one’s twin sister Matea, rushes to reach her brother first, thinking she will be a bit kinder than his trainer.  Planting her toes close to the wheel marks, arches her back, leaning away. Like this, showing him. You can be near and away at the same time.

But why would I stand anywhere near an angry bull? This is week one of his official training, and he is not at all enjoying it.

Mateo, she whispers, you know it’s all our father ever talks about! This will be your life, let’s learn it well!

Pouting from his farther-away position. If it’s so important, you learn it!

Oh no!, says Arturo, closer now, this is not a world for girls! This is a man’s pursuit!

While Matea does not appreciate this explanation, is already smart enough to keep quiet.

The days roll by much like this. Mateo in the arena, boxes being rolled, mud being thrown, any number of training tricks used to get him to move, dodge, lean, arch, keep out of the way of whatever is standing in for a bull. Even Matea, some days. Arturo developed this idea as he realized she would not budge from her brother’s side no matter what the lure or penalty. Besides, he tends to listen to her.

Low to the ground, index fingers for horns, the small girl grinds and steps toward her identical brother, their only obvious difference at this age, her longer hair. I am toro, move aside!, the earnest challenge. She is quite flexible, lithe, curving this way and that, in pursuit of the laughing, squealing mirror of a little human.

Nine times out of ten, she trips, tips, topples him as Arturo slowly shakes his head, wishing their skills and interest were reversed. Do you not care that your sister knocks you nearly every time? The boy shrugs, happy to play, have attention, laugh with his twin every day. The object, the trainer reminds, side of one hand slicing down on the palm of the other, is for you to avoid her!

Never! the boy giggles, only gently kicking away the ‘bull’, she is my sister!

Wriggling her fingers, making a snorting noise, not when I am toro! the adorable substitute challenges, lunging forward to land him on the sand covered hard earth once again.

Arturo sighs. She is very good. He is less so. It is not coordination or accuracy, but more concentration he lacks. Which will have to change. The trick, and his charge, is to find what will motivate young Mateo. In this there is no choice. The expectations are so large, they must be accomplished.

There was no such trouble with the family’s previous student, the twins’ father Luis. He was beyond motivated. If anything, the challenge involved how to train someone with great heart, but only minimal talent.

Young Luis was determined. All his life he lived with the pointless comparison – him to his grandfather. Firstly, Don Luis, the elder, was a direct male heir to the long toro tradition in his blood line – where the later Luis was born of a break in that line, a daughter. Everyone who encountered him saw only who was not THE one. This ate away at him, even as a boy. No one was more determined to change history than this child, then man. Quite convinced that reclaiming his family’s former glory would heal the gaping void, quell the anger inside of him, he plunged forward, day after day. Fate, it turned out, had a different outlook.

Arturo trained and worked him. Even though he was only slightly older, he had the pedigree and skills to make a great matator. With a blood line almost as dramatic as his student’s, generations of horsemen, squires, torero trainers, he suffered his own pressure, as his grandfather figured into the original calamity.

In the case of poor Luis, he was determined to mend his family’s shame, the previous generation’s horror of lacking a male heir to carry on their greatest traditions. Thoroughly convinced, as was his mother, that a successful new matator in the line could erase the cloud over them, he practiced every day, worked until he bled, toward that end. And it was up to Arturo to make their dreams reality.

While he did become very good, he was not entirely a natural talent. It was the endless work he put in that helped to balance his only adequate skills. Gravitas made up the rest of what was needed to stand and face the beasts, defy his family’s curse, set things right.

Beginning with his debut at fifteen, Luis built a bit of a reputation with Arturo’s help. Things were well on the upswing when it happened.

Alas, he did not even get the glory of a public goring or injury. No. He was just unlucky, injured in an unfortunate accident.

Arturo knew the young man was going to try to fight again. He also knew, having seen the break in the leg, that it would never be.

When the invitation from the Condesa in New Spain arrived a few months later, he hoped and prayed they would go. While he did not wish to move from his family, at least there would be less pressure. The invitation to help build a range, train animals, and a whole team of torero, was a distinct honor (that he had begged his family to arrange). While providing something young Luis could dedicate himself to, and hopefully let go of some of the anger and disappointment.

As predicted, the healed leg was never quite the same, a bit shorter than the other, leaving Luis with a slightly awkward gait. Along with the stiffness, lack of flexibility, it was too dangerous for him to stare down an angry bull and hope to get out with his life.

For all the hope and determination, his career was over almost as soon as it started, along with his great project to overturn the family curse.

Off to New Spain they went.

THERE WERE ADJUSTMENTS in the strange place.  The land was different, the heat was different, the people were surely different. Especially the owner of it all, the Condesa. The air from their very first moments was rife with rumors of her, and possibly questionable behavior.

Pay no attention, Arturo suggested, people are always like this, jealous.

Soon they settled in. There was much to do, which kept them too busy to wonder or worry after strange stories.

A few years in, at 22, Luis met a young woman, there to teach English. The Condesa was