On The Other Side of the Mirror

He had always wanted to travel to Spain, driven by a powerful attraction he couldn’t explain, but he had never had enough money to cross the Atlantic.

He lived and worked as a store clerk in Miami, a modern city founded just over a hundred years ago, a metropolis with large and luxurious shopping centers recently built, and skyscrapers rising along the coast, dominating the vast neighborhoods of one- or two-story houses with gardens, and, if there was money, with a pool, neighborhoods that extended all the way to the swamps, many kilometers away from the beaches.

Most of his neighbors enjoyed the modernity in which they lived. But Alfonso, since childhood, felt a special affinity for all things ancient. History fascinated him, especially that of the Middle Ages, and above all, that of medieval Spain. He devoured books on the subject and daydreamed about exploring the landscapes where Christians and Muslims had fought an eight-century war; visiting castles built with the hard work of serfs, fortresses rising in high places to detect the enemy’s advance in time; getting lost in the narrow streets and markets of old cities where history surfaced in every stone of the ancient walls; kneeling before the altar in churches where medieval knights had also knelt before going into battle.

Finally, he gathered the money to travel to Spain for a few days and took the plane, full of illusions. He landed at Barajas airport in the morning and took a taxi to the hostel in the center of Madrid where he had booked a room. The hostel was austere, and the room tiny, but Alfonso felt in glory. It was a dream come true; a promise fulfilled.

After exploring the Spanish capital on foot and by subway, without giving himself a break, he went on a day tour with a group of tourists to an ancient city near Madrid. They entered a castle that stood on a promontory above the Tagus River, the first castle they visited. But while the others listened to the guide’s explanations, some without paying much attention, and passed through hall after hall observing curtains, armchairs, decorations, ancient objects, Alfonso experienced a strange sensation. Everything seemed familiar, as if he had already been there. He knew what each thing was intended for, and the guide was amazed when, in front of a panoply of arms, Alfonso accurately mentioned the name of each weapon in old Spanish.

As the group moved through the interior of the castle, Alfonso stayed behind, observing an old painting, a curtain of fine brocade, a dark wooden chair with legs ending in lion heads.

Suddenly, he saw a staircase descending into shadows to a dark place. The group of tourists and the guide had already moved on to the next hall, and Alfonso hesitated only a second before making his decision.

After descending the steps, he found himself in a windowless room, immersed in darkness, with only a little light coming from the top of the stairs. The room was empty, without furniture. There was only a huge mirror, with golden edges, on the opposite wall.

Alfonso approached. The mirror seemed fogged, partially covered by a mist, and Alfonso could see his image reflected blurredly in the glass.

As he got closer, he couldn’t help but exclaim in astonishment. The face in the mirror was his, without a doubt, but the person reflected had longer hair, seemed dressed in medieval attire, and his movements did not correspond to those Alfonso made to see if the image repeated them.

Curiosity overcame fear, and Alfonso reached out to touch the mirror. Surprise invaded him when his fingers did not collide with glass but sank into a dense liquid. On the other side of the liquid mirror, the image of his own face looked at him. Moved by a force he couldn’t explain, Alfonso took a step forward and crossed the mirror.

On the other side, he found himself in the courtyard of the same castle he was visiting with the tourists, but now he was in the midst of a commotion that overwhelmed him. Warriors covered in metal armor ran everywhere, shouting and wielding swords and axes. The image that Alfonso had seen in the mirror was nowhere to be found, but suddenly, he realized that he was dressed exactly like the image.

The mist of the mirror seemed to take over his mind. He knew he was Alfonso, the young man who had come from Miami to visit Spain, but in a mysterious duality he couldn’t understand, he knew that he was also another person, a man from the Middle Ages. Agitated and surprised, he remembered his childhood in that same castle, his tough training to become a warrior, for the glory of his family, his people, and his father, the count.

He looked towards the walls. Up above, audacious attackers had climbed, placing ladders against the walls and launching an assault. The images of his future life faded away; now he was a young warrior from the 11th century, standing in the middle of the courtyard of a castle attacked by numerous and determined enemies.

“Ruy! Where were you?” he heard someone shouting from a distance.

He turned. The one calling him was an old man, with long grayish hair, but still strong and agile, wielding a sharp sword and protecting himself with an oblong shield, surrounded by several soldiers armed with spears. It was his father.

“Here I am, father!” announced Ruy.

“We need you, son! We have to repel them now or they will take the castle!”

“No!” Ruy replied. “They won’t win!”

A thunderous noise drowned out his words. Fiercely striking the large gate at the entrance with a ram, the besiegers knocked it down and burst into the courtyard.

“My sword!” Ruy roared.

A squire handed him a huge broadsword that Ruy wielded with both hands and spun over his head, while ordering with a strong voice, “Shield formation!”

In unison, the warriors formed a tight line in front of the invaders, raising their shields as if they were a wall, letting their swords and spears protrude on top.

The clash between the two forces was horrifying, but the line of defenders held, and the attackers retreated a few steps. Taking advantage of the enemy’s confusion, Ruy emerged among the shields with the fierceness of a bull. His formidable sword fell like a devastating lightning on the assailants, piercing armors, severing hands, crushing heads.

Terrified by Ruy’s deadly skill with his broadsword, the invaders fell back. Their decimated ranks opened, and while the besieged launched an attack, led by the count, Ruy distinguished the enemy leader, standing near the entrance gate.

Without thinking twice, Ruy lunged at him. The chieftain was strong and brave, and he faced Ruy with determination, but Ruy’s sword was more powerful. In the brief and brutal duel, Ruy managed to deliver a devastating blow to his opponent that disarmed him, and immediately cleaved his chest with a mortal slash.

“I killed him!” Ruy shouted. “I killed the chieftain!”

Dismayed by the loss of their leader and filled with fear, the attackers escaped through the gate, pursued by the castle defenders. The few survivors fled in a rout to the nearby woods on the plateau, to tell their people days later about the terrible defeat they had suffered in the fortress.

That night, the count gathered all his vassals, their women, and children at a banquet in the great hall, to celebrate the victory and pay tribute to those who fell in battle. Ruy and his wife, Inés, sat to the right of the count. They prayed for the deceased, asked God for strength and courage to face future challenges, and then toasted with exquisite wine stored in barrels in the castle’s cellar. A troubadour sang poems that narrated feats of arms in the centuries-long struggle to reconquer Spain from Arab rule.

Despite the constant displays of affection from his wife and congratulations from his father and guests for his courage in battle, Ruy spent much of the evening in thoughtful silence.

“Ruy, are you well?” Inés asked. “You look very serious and quiet. Is something bothering you?”

She was a beautiful young woman, with dark eyes of profound gaze and a copious, black hair that fell to her slender waist. Ruy took her hand and kissed it. He had liked her since they were children and played with other kids in the castle courtyard, and later, in adolescence, they felt another kind of mutual attraction, more powerful, that shook them every time their bodies brushed against each other. When Ruy left on his first military campaign, before turning twenty, Inés tied a perfumed handkerchief to the hilt of his sword.

“So you won’t forget me when you’re away,” she said.

Their lips met in a long kiss, and they looked at each other with pounding hearts, fearing that by a caprice of fate, they might never see each other again. But Ruy returned with the victorious troops, a few months later, and the wedding took place soon after.

At the banquet after the triumphant defense of the castle, Ruy recalled those experiences and tried to reassure his wife.

“It is nothing. I’m fine.”

But the memories of his other life in the future did not completely fade away, and they assaulted him several times during dinner. Yes, he was Ruy, but also Alfonso, in two existences separated by centuries, and the certainty of being at the same time two different but also so similar people overwhelmed him. Then he remembered the mirror in the dark room and mentioned it.

“I think they want to seal it,” Inés told him. “Strange things have happened in that room. They have seen apparitions, heard mysterious voices. Don’t you remember?”

Suddenly, Ruy remembered the rumors about the room at the foot of the stairs. And yes, it was true; he had heard his own father, the count, saying that they should seal the room.

Later, well past midnight, when the diners had retired after the banquet and Inés slept peacefully, Ruy got up from the wide bed they shared, left the room, and climbed to the top of the wall. The guards in the towers greeted him, waving their hands.

He contemplated the Castilian plain, dimly illuminated by the moon, and thought about his future. If they sealed the room with the mirror, he wouldn’t be able to return to his future life in Miami. The enigma of his two existences bewildered him until he thought of Inés and told himself that he would not give up her love. Then he decided that he would spend his entire life in the Middle Ages with her.

The mirror room was sealed, and it was reopened many centuries later when the castle was prepared to receive tourists. Ruy stayed with Inés. They were happy, had several children, and inherited the castle.

Sometimes the memory of his life in Miami haunted him, but he got used to those memories as visions of a distant future. A future in which he would find himself again in the same castle, a thousand years later, and the tourists he had accompanied would ask him the same thing as his father, the count, had asked him: Where were you? For the tourists, Alfonso’s absence would have lasted only a few minutes. For Alfonso, however, it would have lasted a whole life as Ruy, on the other side of the mirror.