Raised from the Ground (30 page)

Sigismundo Canastro said no more and sat down. No one else spoke a word, no one laughed, not even the younger people, who belong to a less credulous generation, and then António Mau-Tempo said, They’re still there, the dog and the partridge, I dreamt about them once, what more proof could you want, and having said that, everyone cried out together, They’re still there, they’re still there, and then they believed the story and burst out laughing. And after they had laughed, they carried on talking, and they talked all afternoon, about this and that, come on, have another drink, at this same hour, the parade ground at the barracks will be deserted, while the empty sockets of Constante the dog stare at the empty sockets of the partridge, both equally determined. When night fell, they said their goodbyes, some accompanied Gracinda Mau-Tempo and Manuel Espada to the door of their house, tomorrow there’s work to be done, we’re lucky to have it, Don’t be long, Gracinda, Just coming, Manuel. In the next yard a dog barks, surprised to have new neighbors.

J
OSÉ CALMEDO IS JUST
one guard among many. You wouldn’t notice him on parade, he’s no more striking than any of his colleagues, and when he’s not on parade, but on patrol or otherwise on duty, he’s a quiet, easygoing fellow who always seems to have his mind on other things. One day, quite unexpectedly, perhaps even to himself, he will hand in his application for discharge to the commander of the Monte Lavre barracks, who will then begin the necessary procedures, and he will take his wife and two children far from there, learn to live the life of a civilian and spend his remaining years forgetting that he was once a guard. He is, however, a man with a history, which we do not, alas, have time to go into here, except to mention his family name, a story that is both brief and charming, and illustrative of the beauty of names and their unusual origins, for it is the fault of our feeble memory and our lack of curiosity that makes us ignore or forget, for example, that the name Sousa
^*
means wild dove, isn’t that lovely, and is not just the very ordinary name set down in the register of births, which immediately clips its wings, that’s the trouble with writing things down. But best of all are the names born out of the distortion of other names or of words that never had any intention of becoming names, for example, Pantaleão became Espanta Leões, pity the poor family who has to go through life with a duty to drive away lions in city and country. But we were talking about the guard José Calmedo and the brief and charming history of his name, born, or so the story goes, from the unintentional bravado of an ancestor of his, who, unaware of the very real danger he was in, was not as frightened as he ought to have been, and responded to the person asking about his lack of fear,
Qual medo,
what fear, and people were so amazed by the spontaneous effrontery of that question that this unintentional hero and his descendants, including this guard and his children, were known ever after as Calmedo, although later, another version was born, because Calmedo means very hot, windless weather, which is what it’s like as he leaves the barracks now, carrying his secret orders.

It’s three kilometers there and three kilometers back on foot, but that’s what a guard’s life is like, although not, of course, for the mounted guard, anyway, there’s José Calmedo heading down the hill in Monte Lavre to the valley, he skirts around a village toward the west, then heads north along the road, with ricefields to his left, it’s a beautiful July morning and hot, as we said before, but it will be even hotter later. There’s a little stream down below, much thirst and little water, his boots strike the surface of the road, and he feels very much a man as he strides it out, while his head is full of stray clouds, words that once had meaning but have lost it, well, we were walking along the road, but now we’ve gone down the bank to the right, into the cool shade beneath the viaduct, and are now sitting beneath the whispering branches of the poplars, the place is deserted, who would have thought it, the empty pool, the ruined water wheel and, beyond it, the brick kiln with the broken roof, it seems that the latifundio corrodes everything that gets in its way. José Calmedo rests his rifle on his shoulder, takes off his cap and uses his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow, where the dark and the light skin show the effect of the sun or the lack of it, it’s almost as if the top part of his head belonged not to him but to his cap, although these, of course, are pure imaginings.

It’s not much farther, he’s going to Cabeço do Desgarro and should arrive there in time for lunch. He will return with João Mau-Tempo, on the pretext of some insignificant matter that has nothing whatever to do with João Mau-Tempo, it doesn’t need to be a complicated story, the simpler the better, the more credible. He can see the hut among the trees and the men, who stand around the fire, removing the pot before it boils over or burns, it won’t take long, he just has to go over to him and say, Come with me to the barracks, but José Calmedo doesn’t take the few steps that would place him where he could be seen by everyone, should they look. He hides behind some high bushes and stays there, allowing time for João Mau-Tempo to finish his sparse lunch, while in the sky occasional clouds continue to pass, so few that they don’t cast a shadow. José Calmedo is sitting on the ground smoking a cigarette, he has propped his rifle against the trunk of a tree. He has a good life, this guard, with few duties, simply watching the days pass by, only occasionally are there a few more serious cases, although there will be more, otherwise, the months come and go, the latifundio is calm and peaceful, the barracks and his beat are calm and peaceful, apart from report writing and patrols, court proceedings and the kind of complaints bickering neighbors always have. Life goes by, and before you know it you’ve reached retirement age. These are the thoughts of a peace-loving man, you would never think he had a rifle and a cartridge belt at his side and was wearing seven-league boots, above his head a bird is singing, its name doesn’t matter, it hops from branch to branch, you can see its silhouette from here, just the fan of its tail and a wing. If we looked down at the ground, we would see the crawling fraternity of insects, the ant that raises its head like a dog, the other that always keeps it lowered, the tiny spider, wherever does it put its food, but we mustn’t let ourselves be distracted, we have to go and arrest a man, we’re simply letting him finish his lunch, well, just because we’re guards doesn’t mean we don’t have a heart, you know.

There are no great feasts on the latifundio. José Calmedo peers between the bushes, everyone has finished eating. He gets up, sighing perhaps at the effort made or about to be made, puts his rifle over his shoulder with measured gestures, not because these gestures are important, but because they are crutches, things a man can hold on to in order not to get lost amid the meaninglessness of his actions, and then he heads off down the hill toward the men. They see him coming from a distance, their hearts perhaps beat a little faster, the laws of the latifundio are strict, whether they’re to do with who owns the acorns or where you can collect firewood, or far worse misdemeanors. José Calmedo approaches, then stops and summons the foreman, he doesn’t want everyone to hear, men may not be girls, but they have their modesty, Tell João Mau-Tempo I want to have a word with him.

João Mau-Tempo’s heart beats as fast as that of a little bird. Not that he feels himself guilty of any heinous crime, of the kind that merits rather more than just a fine or a beating. He senses that he is the man the guard has come for, that from the moment the foreman says, João Mau-Tempo, go and talk to the guard, it will be like removing a layer of cork, you hear the creak and know that the efforts of both man and tree are working as one, all that’s lacking is the man’s grunt, Uh, and the scream of the bark as it comes away, craaack, So, Senhor José Calmedo, what can I do for you, asks João Mau-Tempo with the apparent calm of someone congratulating the guard on his appearance, fortunately our hearts are hidden, otherwise all men would be condemned sooner or later, either for their innocence or their crimes, because the heart is an impulsive, impatient thing, incapable of restraint. The person who made hearts clearly didn’t know what he was doing, but fortunately one can learn to be sly, otherwise how could José Calmedo say, without anyone having told him to, Oh, it’s nothing important, we just want to clear up a case involving two guys who stole a couple of sheaves of wheat, the owner swears it was them, but they say you’re a witness to the fact that it wasn’t, I don’t really understand the situation myself, to be honest. It’s always the same, however well intentioned, a man tends to get in a tangle when he shouldn’t and whatever he says becomes like the devil’s cape, which, being short, both covers and uncovers, but even when João Mau-Tempo, who is, in this case, completely innocent, even when he says, But what have I got to do with it, why should I get involved, the guard responds with the old argument, You have nothing to worry about, just come along with me, say your piece and leave.

So be it. João Mau-Tempo is about to go off and pick up his few tools and what’s left of his lunch, but José Calmedo, still carried along on the wave of his invention, says, Don’t bother doing that, you’ll be back soon, it won’t take long. And having fulfilled his quota of lies, he moves off, with an uneasy João Mau-Tempo following behind, clacking along in the clogs he wore when working. From there to Monte Lavre, José Calmedo’s face is a picture of rage, as befits a guard who has made an arrest and is escorting his prisoner, but that wasn’t the reason, rather, the sadness of having won such a pathetic victory, is this what two men were born for. And João Mau-Tempo, deep in his own thoughts and anxieties, was trying to convince himself that some sheaves of wheat really had been stolen and that his testimony really could save two innocent men.

João Mau-Tempo enters the same barracks where he had been held prisoner some four years before. Everything looks the same, as if time hadn’t passed. José Calmedo goes to tell the corporal that the arrested man is here, that there have been no hitches, mission completed, but please, keep the medals for another occasion, just leave me alone to get on with my life and my cloud-thoughts, one day, I will present a sheet of paper bearing an official stamp and addressed to the Commander General of the National Republican Guard, Sir, meanwhile, Corporal Tacabo orders João Mau-Tempo to come in and says, Sit down, Senhor Mau-Tempo, such politeness is not so very odd, guards don’t always behave like cruel executioners, Do you know why you’ve been summoned. João Mau-Tempo is about to say that if it’s about some sheaves of wheat, he has nothing to tell, but he doesn’t have time to open his mouth, and it’s just as well, because if he had, José Calmedo would have been found to be a liar, fortunately, Corporal Tacabo went on, well, it’s best to get this over with quickly, What were you doing in Vendas Novas, You must be mistaken, I wasn’t doing anything, Well, I have an order from the Vendas Novas barracks to arrest you as a communist.

Here is an example of simple, straightforward dialogue, with no harmonies and no arpeggios, unaccompanied and unadorned by thoughts and subtleties, it’s as if they weren’t dealing with serious matters, but were saying, So, how have you been, Very well, thank you, and yourself, A friend of yours in Vendas Novas sends you his regards, Do give him mine when you next see him. A bell has just rung inside João Mau-Tempo’s head, there is a great clanging sound like that of castle doors being slammed shut, no one enters here. But the owner of the castle is trembling, his hands and voice are trembling, Defend yourself, my soul, but this lasted only a second, time enough to feign horror, surprise, offended, outraged innocence, How can you say that, sir, I haven’t been involved in anything like that for four years, not since I was arrested and taken to Montemor, there must be some mistake, and Corporal Tacabo says, Well, I certainly hope so, if you know nothing about it, the authorities will release you immediately. Perhaps it will be all right, perhaps it was a false alarm, perhaps no one is drowning, perhaps the fire will die down without him burning his hands, Could you send for my wife so that I can speak to her, Corporal. A perfectly natural request, but Monte Lavre, you see, is such an unimportant place, just a tiny village in the latifundio, that here the corporal is the commander, and he responds as firmly as the commander in Lisbon who gives him his orders, No, your wife can’t speak to you, nor can anyone else, regardless of what you may say, you have been judged to be a dangerous element, a soldier will go and fetch anything you need from your house.

João Mau-Tempo, a dangerous element. He was taken to the room that served as a cell, again it was José Calmedo who took him, there didn’t seem to be anyone else on duty, and João Mau-Tempo, before he was locked up, says, So you tricked me, and José Calmedo doesn’t respond at first, he feels offended, he was only doing his job and this is his reward, but he can’t remain silent as if he really had committed some crime, and so he replies, I didn’t want to worry you, José Calmedo really shouldn’t be wearing the uniform of the national guard, which is why he will take it off one day and go and live in a place where no one knows he was a guard, and that is all we will ever learn about his life.