Alexander Trocchi

Thongs

Introduction

On a cold morning in February 1922, some Gypsies moving across country between Madrid and Escorial came upon the naked body of a woman. In this fact alone there is nothing remarkable. Spain, perhaps more than any other country in the world, is the land of passion and of death. And in Spain death is cheap, from that glittering death in the bull ring to the quick thrust of the stiletto in a narrow street in a Barcelona slum. No, this death would have called for no further comment had it not been for one striking fact. The naked woman had been crucified.

Thus the Gypsies saw her first from a long way off, struck like a scarecrow against the pale horizon, and as there was in that arid part of the country no crop to be protected, they approached to find out what it was.

The body was covered with thin red lacerations as though before death the woman had been whipped mercilessly with fine rods. Across the belly on a fine silver chain was slung a small metal plate which bore the inscription: Carmencita de las Lunas, por amor.

For love…

The Gypsies set the cross with the corpse still nailed to it on the back of a donkey and took it to the nearest village. There they were arrested and thrown into the local jail to await judgment. The magistrate set them at liberty without hesitation when he arrived and directed that the body should be buried at once in unconsecrated ground.

This was done. And if it had not been for a chance find of mine in a Madrid bookshop three years later, the amazing story of this woman's violent and passionate life might have been buried with her bleeding corpse.

It was early spring in the year 1925 when I arrived in Madrid. I had gone there not only for the bullfights but also to look at the Prado, which I had not seen before. In a little street near the museum I came upon a bookshop and spent half an hour browsing amongst the old books. In a dusty pile of books in one corner I came upon the personal notebook of Gertrude Gault, alias Carmencita de las Lunas. It was an old notebook with stiff covers which in one way or another had been subjected to damp; the writing was faded and in places the ink had run. I would not have given it a second glance had it not been for the fact that it was written in English.