The sound of steel when a sword hits the enemy's helmet resonates in the room like the bells of Constantinople that warned of the Ottoman troops' attack. However, shielded and clad in their shining armor, the knights are already fighting. They are not fighting for God, country, or honor in distant lands. They do it for fun, as a hobby, and as a sport, every Tuesday and Thursday for an hour and a half in an unconventional gym in Madrid, where Spanish, Chinese, and Italian knights: men and women, gather to share their passion for weapons under the careful instruction of their master, Rodrigo González, alias Roro, who, with a methodology halfway between boxing coaches and a passion for history, trains his students in medieval combat.
GRAN MADRID delves into the heart of Sala Carranza, located at number 27 Virgen de Lluc Street. After passing through the gate that to an inattentive passerby looks like a garage, a long hallway opens up with hundreds of armor pieces stored in boxes. There, every Tuesday and Thursday from eight-thirty to ten at night, students, professionals, or workers don a complete (and historically accurate) armor to spend the next hour and a half transformed into medieval knights to laugh - there is a relaxed atmosphere where jokes, good humor, and the principles of safety first prevail - exercise, and release adrenaline.
"Guys, I don't want any recklessness, we are in pre-tournament. I don't want anyone to get hurt or injure a finger or something like that," exhales González with a commanding voice to his students. "Be conservative," he insists, "especially those [the novices] who are going to fight with steel for the first time: feel the touch of the weapon and don't go all out, we are five days away from the tournament," he addresses his fighters before some head to France and others to Portugal to practice in international competitions.
Despite the master-at-arms' warnings and how spectacular this sport is to watch live - the sound of the armor running, the impacts of steel against steel, sword against body, the sparks and the burnt smell that fills the room after a while due to the violent collision of metals - it is a safe sport thanks to the "20 or 25 kilos" of armor that each contender carries, causing a sword strike (unless by bad luck it lands in a gap or an uncovered area) to "hurt less than a boxing punch," explains Borja, a thirty-something with Viking tattoos on his arms who, like many of his peers, came to medieval combat after practicing more traditional martial arts for many years.
One of the keys (and main charms) of this sport lies in the custom-made armor faithful to the medieval era, designed to withstand intense blows without compromising the fighter's safety... with one exception: "We don't wear anything on the rear end here because in duels - with sword and shield, buckler, or long weapons - you don't strike there, but in melee fights [where dozens of people fight each other and the last man standing wins instead of points], they do wear them," explains González, a pioneer in our country of this sport that originated in Eastern Europe, to which his passion for sword and sorcery stories or movies like The Lord of the Rings led him from oriental martial arts to historical fencing and from there to medieval combat.
An enthusiasm for fantasy and history that is evident when speaking passionately about his Persian armor or when discussing the greave, the poleyn, and the cuisse (the pieces that protect the knee while standing) with the same ease as a watchmaker mentions the escapement, the barrel, or the balance wheel.
"This is not a cheap sport," explains Rodrigo, who estimates that "the cost of an armor is around 2,000 euros, although there is a second-hand market and some loaner armors for beginners, although some are as old as those found in the trolls' cave in The Hobbit," he jokes. "It's a bit like riding a motorcycle. It's like saying, 'I want to ride a motorcycle, but I don't have money for one. Can you lend me a motorcycle?'" he summarizes.
The preparation session attended by this newspaper is also a festive day, as Alberto has finally received his custom-made armor that has just arrived from Ukraine.
—I'd rather not tell you, my parents might read this and disinherit me, he says with a laugh.
His case has been particularly challenging because his over two meters in height have required the pieces to be custom-made. After a few one-minute rounds, he pants and needs to rest. He compares the protections to training with weights: "The body is not very used to the weight, and maybe you give your all in three or four attacks. You have to ration the oxygen."
As the fight continues, Roro guides GRAN MADRID upstairs to Sala Carranza, where there is a small forge installed (including an anvil) to repair the pieces that have been damaged during the bouts.
"In tournaments, there is something called a weapons check, where they check you in various aspects before fighting," he explains while repairing a plate. "First, the safety condition of the armor; second, the aesthetic condition, so you don't look like an orc and third, that your armor is historically correct."
In this sense, it is an aesthetically demanding sport that allows for a temporal gap of about 100 years between pieces. "If you wear pieces from the 15th century and the 12th century at the same time, the tournament organizers can tell you that you can't participate," he warns.
However, the master mentions that what can stand out the most when competing in armor is the footwear - which is not visible because the instep is covered by a piece of armor - which according to standards should be heel-less and made of leather.
"You can't fight wearing sneakers or those mountain boots from Valverde del Camino because they stand out immediately," he explains. "Nikes with gaiters don't provide the correct historical look," he reasons.
However, there is some flexibility in choosing materials since, along with steel, titanium is also used to make some armors, like the one that has arrived for Alberto from Ukraine. A material that also makes up some pieces of Roro's own armor, making the set somewhat lighter (around 20 kilos instead of 25) although aesthetically "it may look suspicious." To illustrate, the master picks up a piece and plays with the light's reflection, "See? Look how it has a shine that resembles more of a saucepan," he reflects with a laugh.