Raised from the Ground (9 page)

What with work and romance, the weeks flew past, and then a girl from Monte Lavre joined them, a girl he knew well from having danced and sung with her countless times. But they had never been in love. Half serious, half joking, they addressed each other as Friend João and Friend Faustina, for that was her name. There would seem to be nothing more to say about them. However, this turned out not to be the case. Whether it was because of the freedom they enjoyed or because the time had come to tie that particular knot, João fell in love with Faustina, and Faustina with João. In matters of love, it can as easily bloom in diamond rings in shop windows as grow wild among the castor-oil plants, only the language differs. This love began to put down roots, and João Mau-Tempo forgot all about his other girlfriend, but since this new love was serious, they agreed to say nothing for the moment to Faustina’s family, because although João Mau-Tempo himself had done nothing to be ashamed of, he had inherited his father’s bad name, and these things stick, for as the saying goes, He who is born of a cat will run after mice. The secret nonetheless reached the ears of Faustina’s family, and they made her life a misery. He can’t be any good, he looks shifty with those strange blue eyes, and then there was that father of his, a loose-living, drunken fellow who only ever did one good thing, which was to hang himself. That is how some village evenings are spent, beneath the starry sky, while the male genet pursues the female genet and copulates with her amid the bracken. The lives of human beings are far more complicated, for we are, after all, human.

It was January and very cold, the sky was one solid sheet of cloud, the laborers were walking along the road toward Monte Lavre for their fortnightly rest, and as befitted a courting couple, João was talking to Faustina, and she, fearing the domestic storm awaiting her, was telling him her problems. Then suddenly they were assailed by the angry shouts and violent gestures of one of Faustina’s sisters, who, given their mother’s advanced age, had taken over as family spokesperson, and it was her treacherous ambush that so startled the couple. Natividade, for that was her name, said, Have you no shame, Faustina, you stubborn creature, it seems that no amount of good advice and beatings has any effect, Lord knows what will become of you. She said other things too, but Faustina did not leave João’s side. Natividade stood in front of them, intending to block their path and their destiny, if it is in a sister’s power to do such a thing, and it was then, so to speak, that João Mau-Tempo took hold of the world and felt its weight, because from then on, it would be a matter of world and man, house, children, the shared life. He placed one hand on Faustina’s shoulder, for she would be his world, and said, trembling at his own daring, We can’t go on like this, we either finish right here and now so that you don’t suffer anymore, or you come and live with me in my mother’s house, until I can get us a house of our own, and from now on I will do all I can to protect you. As we said earlier, the sky was one solid sheet of cloud, and it stayed like that, thus providing natural proof that the heavens care nothing about us, if they did, the clouds would have opened in glory. Because Faustina, a brave, trusting lass, the color of whose eyes and the expression of whose face we haven’t described yet, said in a firm, loud voice, João, where you go, I go, if you will promise to love me and care for me always. And Natividade said, You ungrateful wretch, and with that, she turned abruptly and shot off home like an arrow to announce this latest catastrophe. The two lovers were left alone, evening was coming on, and João Mau-Tempo took her hands in his and said, I will care for you for as long as we live, in sickness and in health, but now let us go our separate ways, and when we reach the village, we’ll set a time for our escape.

João Mau-Tempo’s brother Anselmo and his sister Maria da Conceição were with him and had witnessed some of what had happened. He went over to them and said in a firm voice, Go to the village and tell our mother that I’m bringing my girl home with me, that I count on having her permission to do so, and that I’ll explain everything later. Anselmo said, Think carefully before you act, don’t get into something you can’t get out of. And Maria da Conceição said, I hate to think what our mother and our uncle will say. And João Mau-Tempo said, I’m a grown man now, I’ve been turned down for the army, and if my future is to take a new direction, then why wait, better sooner than later. And Anselmo said, One day, Uncle Joaquim Carranca could get an idea in his head and simply go off, you know what he’s like, and you’re needed at home. And Maria da Conceição said, You might be doing the wrong thing. But João Mau-Tempo said, Be patient, these things happen. When they left him, Maria da Conceição had a tear in her eye.

During this time of weekly comings and goings between Pendão das Mulheres and Monte de Berra Portas, the Mau-Tempo children had lodgings in the house of Aunt Cipriana, who was the woman we saw weeping by the river after the waters of Pego da Carriça had swept her husband away. She is dressed in mourning and will remain so until she dies, many years later, lost from our sight. Her nephew’s bold move, however, gave her a taste for acting as go-between, an honest one, of course, not a procuress, and as a protector of star-crossed lovers, and she never regretted this or suffered public censure for her actions. But that is another story. When João Mau-Tempo arrived, he said to his aunt, Aunt, will you please let Faustina come and meet me here until we can leave for my mother’s house in Monte de Berra Portas. And Cipriana answered, Think about what you’re doing, João, I don’t want any problems, and I don’t want to besmirch your late uncle’s memory either. And João replied, Don’t worry, we’ll only be here until it gets dark.

This was what João agreed with Faustina afterward, when he went to meet her, and she had deliberately dawdled, well, that’s only normal when you’re in love, but he can’t dissuade her from seeing her mother before they run away together, even if she doesn’t tell her where she’s going. João Mau-Tempo, not wanting to start his new life with a fortnight’s growth of beard, decided to visit the barber’s, where he got himself done up like a bridegroom, that is, with a clean-shaven face. Whenever such usually thickly bearded faces are shaven, they look somehow innocent, defenseless, their very fragility touches the heart. When he returned to Aunt Cipriana’s house, Faustina was there waiting for him, still tearful from her sister’s angry words, her father’s terrible rage and her mother’s grief. She had crept away unnoticed, but since her family would doubtless be scouring Monte Lavre to find out where the couple had gone, João and Faustina decided they had better make their escape as soon as possible. Cipriana said, It’s going to be a very tiring journey, and we’re in for a wet, dark night, take this umbrella and some bread and sausage to eat on the way, now that you’ve played this very unfunny joke on everyone, be sure to behave yourselves in future, that was what Cipriana said, but in her heart she was blessing them, vicariously enjoying this youthful transgression, ah, to be young again.

It was two and a half leagues from there to Monte de Berra Portas, the night had closed in completely, and rain was threatening. Walking two and a half leagues along paths that are all shadows and alarming shapes and noises, your thoughts inevitably turn to stories about werewolves, what’s more, because there is no other way, they have to cross the plank bridge at Pego da Carriça. Let’s say a prayer for my uncle, he was a good man and did not deserve such a sad death. The ash tree rustled gently, the water flowed like dark, whispering silk, and to think that in this very place, who would believe it. João Mau-Tempo was holding Faustina’s hand, his calloused fingers trembled, he guided her beneath the trees and through the dense undergrowth and the wet grass, and suddenly, quite how they didn’t know, perhaps it was due to exhaustion after so many weeks of work, perhaps to an unbearable shaking, they found themselves lying down. Faustina soon lost her maidenhood, and when they had finished, João remembered the bread and sausage, and it was as man and wife that they shared the food.

A
S WE HAVE SEEN
, Lamberto, regardless of whether he’s German or Portuguese, is not a man to work his vast estate with his own hands. When he inherited it or bought it from the friars or, since justice is blind, stole it, he found, clinging to the estate like a tree trunk to its roots, a few creatures with arms and legs who were created for precisely such a fate, by producing children and bringing them up to be useful. Even so, whether out of pragmatism, custom, etiquette or pure self-interested prudence, Adalberto has no direct contact with those who will work his land. And that is a good thing. Just as the king in his day, or the president of the republic in his, did not and does not go about bandying words and gestures with the common people in an overly familiar manner, it would seem quite wrong on a large estate, where the owner has more power than either president or king, were Floriberto to be too forward. However, this intentional reserve did allow for certain deliberate exceptions, intended as a more refined way of bending wills and attracting perfect vassals, namely, the subservient creatures who, receiving as they do both caresses and beatings, enjoy the former and respect the latter. This matter of relations between employer and employee is a very subtle thing which cannot be determined or explained in a few words, you have to be there and eavesdrop like a fly on the wall. Add to this, brute force, ignorance, presumption and hypocrisy, a taste for suffering, a large dollop of envy, guile and a taste for intrigue, and you have a perfect training in diplomacy, for anyone who cares to learn. However, a few empirical rules, tried and tested over the centuries, will help us understand such cases better.

As well as land, the first thing Lamberto needs is a foreman, the foreman being the whip that keeps order in the pack of dogs. He is a dog chosen from among the others to bite his fellow dogs. He needs to be a dog because he knows all a dog’s wiles and defenses. You wouldn’t go looking for a foreman among the children of Norberto, Alberto or Humberto. A foreman is, first and foremost, a servant, who receives privileges and payments in proportion to the amount of work he can get out of the pack. He is, nonetheless, a servant. He is placed among the first and the last, a kind of human mule, an aberration, a Judas, who betrays his fellows in exchange for more power and a slightly larger chunk of bread.

The biggest and most decisive weapon is ignorance. At his birthday supper, Sigisberto said, It’s just as well that they know nothing, that they can’t read or write or count or think, that they assume and accept that, as Father Agamedes will explain, the world cannot be changed, that this is the only possible world, exactly as it is, that they will find paradise only after death, and that work alone brings dignity and money, but they mustn’t go thinking that I earn more than they do, the land, after all, is mine and when the time comes to pay taxes and contributions, I don’t go to them asking for a loan, it’s always been like that and always will be, if I didn’t give them work, who would, it’s them and me, I’m the land and they are the work, what’s good for me is good for them, that is how God wanted it, as Father Agamedes will explain in simple terms, we don’t want to make them even more confused than they are already, and if Father Agamedes doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll ask the guards to ride around the villages on their horses, just as a reminder that they exist, a message they’re sure to understand. But tell me, Mama, do the guards beat the estate owners as well, You’re clearly not quite right in the head, my boy, the national guard was created and is maintained in order to beat the people, But how is that possible, Mama, do you mean that the guard was made simply in order to beat the people, but what do the people do, They don’t have anyone who can, in turn, beat the estate owner when he sends out the guards to beat them, Well, I think the people should ask the guards to beat the estate owner, If you want my advice, Maria, the child is slightly mad, don’t let him go around saying such things, we have our work cut out as it is, keeping the guards in check.

The people were made to be hungry and dirty. People who wash regularly are people who don’t work, well, maybe it’s different in the cities, I don’t deny that, but here on the estate they’re hired to work away from home for three or four weeks, sometimes months, if that’s what Alberto wants, and during that time it’s a point of honor and of manhood with them to wash neither face nor hands and to remain unshaven. If they did wash and shave, if such a hypothesis were not so laughably improbable, they would be the butt of jokes from bosses and fellow workers alike. That’s the great thing about this day and age, the sufferers glory in their suffering, the slaves in their servitude. This beast of the earth must remain a beast who never rubs the sleep from his eyes from morning to night, indeed the dirt on his hands, face, armpits, groin, feet, arsehole must be for him the glorious aura surrounding work on the latifundio, man must be lower than the beasts of the field, for they, at least, lick themselves clean, man, however, must degrade himself so that he respects neither himself nor his fellows.