Chapter 169

Francisco's heart would thump as he faced off against his adversary. When his clenched fists connected with flesh, he was a lad absorbed, his fists lashing out in a blur, his heart roaring with anger as noses and cheekbones crunched under his blows and bodies doubled over to take a fist driven into the gut. Only when his enemy lay sobbing and bleeding on the ground was his resentment quenched. No kid had ever been courageous enough to challenge him twice. He was the one who was forced to walk on the cobblestones.

Although most of these fights occurred in villages, he was not entirely spared in the country. He had defended himself against lads from neighbouring farms and even the sons of the farms where he worked, who had taken exception to the presence of this orphan. Then there had been the times when a farmer, in one instance, and a farmer's son, in the other, had taken him to task with their fists for kissing his daughter or sister.