Juan Antonio Gaya Nuño said, always by the mouth of his faithful and unforgettable characters, of course, our immortal Santero de San Saturio, that the Sorian towns, villages and places captivate, first of all, and often without another lure, by their names. Far from the bloody spirit of the hunter - who hunts me, like military music, I never knew how to raise -, arrive to a town with a name as romantic as Villaciervitos, I produce a peculiar storm of sensations, able to lift in the soul small downpours of speculative imagination.

I think, then I have to suppose that I exist, that if only a few kilometers away, another town bears the no less expressive name of Villaciervos -which we will also pass shortly-, both places must have been for the cervid - whose slenderness, Agility and grace seemed to exert a powerful fascination over primitive man, judging from his representation in numerous rock engravings, including those of the nearby Valonsadero mountain - idyllic sanctuaries or at least ideal habitats, from time immemorial, before, during and after his well-known calves that, opportune to say it, acquire the character of imperious necessity above all now, in the autumn time, when the change of time, the fall of the leaf and the progressive farewell of the daylight invite to the recollection, to the afternoons of sofa and the lonely brandy of nostalgia.

Many are the autumns, on the other hand, that have made of that imaginary paradise, an Atlantis lost to the deer, flooded the sweet meadow by human tsunamis that, judging from the solitary church whose body, of unequivocal Romanesque and rural pedigree, It glimpses in the distance very close to the national highway 122 that connects Soria with Valladolid -destinated destination of many Numantine university students-, and that attests, at least, a presence with flavor to centuries XII or XIII, in which the Saint Iacobus -that for that Clavijo was invented, to replace the General Winter, who always constituted himself in the clutter of the invading armies - he became judge and part, signing his adhesion to the Christian armies to the famous cry of and closes Spain.

Fled and dismayed, then, the morito, with his tail between his legs and singing the miserere of Inshallah or God wants him on his way to Granada, would wait with resignation for the presentation of the credentials of the most Catholic of our kings. It is also probable, that History often disguises itself as an eternal ridicule, like our classic Don Juan, that long before that, when the Moorish spurs were still well established in the harsh Terroir of Soria, the artist of San Baudelio will pass around here and imagine some sublime theme for his mystical hunts, as anyone who has gone through his hermitage in Casillas de Berlanga will know.

Suppose to suppose, what seems certain is that the master builder who built the temple Villaverdevitos, he should not worry about Arabic at all, unlike the other who did represent it in which they suspect is the most dean of the Sorian Romanesque churches-that of San Miguel, in San Esteban de Gormaz-Arabisms sing by their absence, independently of anyone thinking, in view of the couple who, unusually located in the corbels of the main portico, could comparatively speak to refer to the becerreá promised to the dead warriors, that if in the West there were Valkyries, in the East there was no lack of houris.

Maybe so much eroticism influenced the anonymous magister's mood, because unlike the usual mythological sieges that seemed the tales of Calleja del Medievo, the eroticism here -yes, conveniently made up by the passage of time, which sometimes seems that also He shares the bishops-bishops, seems to have more carte blanche than in most similar temples spread throughout the length and breadth of the former frontier of the Douro. And that is a detail that, after all, does not stop attracting attention.

As it calls attention, also, for its repetitiveness, the representation of double heads and the practical absence of harpies, centaurs or sirens, whose vision ends up tiring in the Romanesque of the surrounding villages, such as Nódalo, Fuentelárbol or Nafría la Llana. And it is that perhaps, the good man was more passionate and human than his other co-religionists.

Somewhat further away, the houses of the town also call attention for their peculiar architecture of elongated, multi-family houses where in the bosom of the family the animal also had a place, with sloping roofs, mottled with tiles and the familiar Celtiberian chimneys, whose sharp peaks they were, at the same time, perfect malleus maleficarum for the buttocks of the impenitent witches.

That is all, with the utmost respect and with the sole and healthy intention to present a beautiful town near the capital, with an architecture worthy of admiration and a curious Romanesque church that is worth visiting.

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NOTICE: Originally published on my blog SORIA IS WAY PATH TO WALK, although unpublished in Steemit. Both the text, as the photographs, and the video (except music, reproduced under a YouTube license), are my exclusive intellectual property. The original entry, where you can verify the authorship of juancar347, can be found at the following link: https://juancar347.blogspot.com/2014/09/villaciervitos.html

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