Chapter 63: Chapter 63

The ancient city of Dax lay some sixty kilometres to the north of Biarritz,

about half an hour by road on the N10, if Sophie respected the speed limit.

The city was famous for its spa first established by the Romans with its

thermal springs and mud baths. That was not however part of their programme, the

Feria was the main attraction, five days and nights centred on the theme of bull

fighting and drinking.

They were booked into the Splendid Hôtel, an art deco masterpiece. No sooner

than they were in the lobby Kennedy appeared with a broad grin on his face and

rigged out in the white uniform and red scarf of the festayre. Since his first visit to

Biarritz seven or eight years before he become a bull fighting aficionado and a

regular visitor to the Bayonne Festival and its corridas.

Bullfighting was a long tradition in the south-west of France, where in addition to

the Spanish corrida, when bulls were killed in mortal combat, were the courses

landaises an ancient form of bull running that involves specially raised cows and

bulls and does not involve bloodshed. It is a dangerous sport, where injuries are not

infrequent for the human protagonists. Like in Spain the animals, both the bulls

and cows, which take part in the courses landaises are breed for their fighting

spirit. The sport pits sauteurs and écarteurs against the animals, the former

executing flying leaps over the charging bulls head on, whilst the latter confronting

the charging animal by performing a series of passes, without cape, as close to the

horns as is reasonably possible. At the Dax Feria, the cows were replaced by bulls

every four years during the course landaises.

From Saturday until Wednesday five corridas were programmed and Sophie had

tickets for them all. Barton wondered if it was overkill, but he kept an open mind

as Sophie had not stopped talking about the finer points of the tradition since they

had left Biarritz. He had already seen bullfights in the South of Spain and was

curious to compare the two.

Kennedy kissed Sophie on the cheek and shook Barton’s hand before introducing

them to Clancy who had arrived the day before from Spain. He was excited and

raring to go with the thousands of visitors expected over the coming days.

‘All set?’ asked Kennedy. ‘You have your scarves and white clothes?’

‘Of course,’ said Sophie laughing at his excitement.

‘It’s at eight, the mayor hands over the keys to the festayres.’

‘We’ve got plenty of time Pat, just give us time to get our gear on.’

The previous day Sophie had got Barton the complete outfit in Biarritz: a couple

of white shirts, white pants, white shoes and a red scarf.

Liam was in a dream. His visit to San Sebastian had been a roaring success and

here he was with one of the UK’s most successfully bankers about to watch a

bullfight. Things must be looking up he thought, remembering a freight train he

had seen at the border crossing loaded with hundreds of up market BMWs and

Audis…heading south.