The Collected Novels of José Saramago

by José Saramago

  Later that night, João Elvas could not tell if he was awake or dreaming, he heard a crackling sound as if hay were being trampled, someone was approaching and carrying an oil lamp in one hand. From the appearance and quality of the stranger's hose and breeches, from the rich material of his cloak and the lacing of his shoes, João Elvas could see that the newcomer was an aristocrat, and soon recognised him as the nobleman who had given him such a detailed description of the King's entourage when they conversed together by the roadside. Breathless and irritated, the nobleman sat down and complained, I've worn myself out chasing after you. I've been all over Vendas Novas asking, Where is João Elvas, where can I find him, no one could give me an answer, why is it that the poor never tell one another of their whereabouts, now I've found you, at long last, I have come to tell you about the palace the King has ordered to be built for this expedition, the work has been carried out day and night for almost ten months, more than ten thousand torches were needed for the night shift alone, and more than two thousand men were engaged, between painters, blacksmiths, masons, cabinetmakers, apprentices, foot soldiers, and cavalry troops, and I must tell you that the stone was transported for more than three leagues, it took over five hundred wagons and smaller carts to carry all the necessary materials, lime, joists, timber, stone slabs, bricks, tiles, pegs, and metal fittings, more than two hundred yokes of oxen were used to draw the carts, a number exceeded only for the convent at Mafra, I don't know if you have seen it, but it was worth all the labour and expense, I can tell you in confidence, but don't repeat this to anyone, a million cruzados has been spent on the palace and on the house you saw in Pegões, yes, sir, one million cruzados, obviously, you can't imagine what a million cruzados means, João Elvas, but don't be miserly, for though you wouldn't know what to do with all that money, the King has no such difficulty for he has known all his life what it means to be wealthy, the poor may not know how to spend money, but the rich certainly do, just think of all those expensive paintings and sumptuous decorations, and those lavish apartments for the Cardinal and Patriarch, the audience chamber, study, and stateroom for Dom José, and the equally luxurious apartments for Dona Maria Bárbara when she makes her journey here, as well as the private suites for the King and Queen so that they may enjoy some privacy and be spared the discomfort of sleeping in cramped conditions, for, let's be frank, the spacious bed you occupy is a rare privilege indeed, you have the entire universe at your disposal, as you lie there snoring like a pig, if you'll pardon the expression, sprawled out on the hay and wrapped up in your cloak, and you smell terrible, João Elvas, but never mind, for if we should meet up again, I'll bring you a bottle of lavender water, and this is all the news I have to give you, don't forget that His Majesty will leave for Montemor at three o'clock in the morning, so if you want to travel with the King, don't oversleep.

  But João Elvas did oversleep and when he awoke it was already after five and raining cats and dogs. The daylight was such that he realised that, if the King had set out on time, he should already be well on his way. João Elvas wrapped his cloak tightly around him, tucked up his legs as if he were still in his mother's womb, and snoozed in the warmth of the hay, which gave off a pleasant odour generated by the heat of his body. There are refined men and women, and sometimes not all that refined, who cannot bear such odours and who take great pains to cover any traces of their natural smell, and the day will come when artificial roses will be sprayed with the artificial scent of roses, and these refined souls will exclaim, How lovely they smell. João Elvas was at a loss as to why such thoughts came into his head, and he feared that he might be dreaming or suffering from hallucinations. He finally opened his eyes and emerged from his slumber. The rain was falling heavily, vertical and sonorous, pity Their Royal Majesties being forced to travel in such foul weather, their children will never be able to thank them enough for the sacrifices they are making on their behalf. Dom João V was on his way to Montemor, and God alone knows with what courage, as he coped with so many obstacles, with floods, swamps, and rivers that overflowed their banks, it grieves one to think of the fear that gripped those nobles, chamberlains, confessors, chaplains, and aristocrats, I bet the trumpeters put their instruments away in their sacks, and that no drumsticks were needed to hear the ruffling of the drums, as the rain beat down on them. And what about the Queen, whatever became of Her Majesty, she has already made her departure from Aldegalega, accompanied by the Infanta Dona Maria Bárbara and the Infante Dom Pedro, who bears the same name as the child who died, a delicate woman and a delicate child, exposed to the horrors of this inclement weather, yet people continue to insist that heaven is on the side of the rich and mighty, yet it is clear for all to see that when there is a heavy downpour of rain, it falls on everyone alike.

  João Elvas spent the entire day in the warmth of the taverns, where he seasoned the scraps of food generously provided by His Majesty's pantry with a bowl of wine. Most of the beggars had decided to remain in the town until the rain stopped before joining the tail of the procession. But the rain did not stop. It was already growing dark when the first coaches of Dona Maria Ana's entourage arrived at Vendas Novas, looking more like an army in retreat than a royal procession. The horses were so tired that they could scarcely pull the coaches and carriages, some even collapsed and died on the spot, still strapped in the harnesses. The grooms and stable hands waved their torches frantically and created the most deafening uproar, and there was such a commotion that it proved impossible to direct all the members of the Queen's party to their respective lodgings, so that many were obliged to return to Pegões, where they somehow managed to secure accommodation in the most wretched conditions. It was a disastrous night. Next day the damage was assessed and it became clear that scores of beasts had perished, without counting those that had been abandoned on the road with severe injuries and broken limbs. The ladies had the vapours or swooned, the gentlemen shrugged off their exhaustion as they swirled their cloaks and preened themselves at social gatherings, while the rain continued to inundate everything, as if God, because of some deep resentment concealed from mankind, had perversely decided to unleash another great deluge, which this time would be conclusive.

  The Queen would have preferred to travel on to Évora that same morning, but she was dissuaded from making such a risky journey, besides, many of the coaches had been delayed along the route, which would seriously undermine the prestige of her retinue, and they warned her, Your Majesty should know that the roads are impassable, when the King travelled through he faced terrible problems, so things are now likely to be much worse after all this perpetual rain, day and night, night and day, but orders have already been dispatched to the acting magistrate of Montemor to enlist men to repair the roads, drain the swamps, and level out the ravines, Your Majesty would be wise to rest on this eleventh day in Vendas Novas, in the magnificent palace the King has commissioned, it has every conceivable amenity, amuse yourself in the company of the Princess, and take advantage of these few days together to impart some final words of maternal advice, Remember, my child, that all men are brutes, not only on the first night but on all the other nights, too, although the first night is always the worst, they promise to be extremely gentle, that it will not hurt in the slightest, and then, good gracious, I don't know what gets into them, but without any warning they start to snarl and howl like wild beasts, if you will pardon the expression, and we poor women have no choice save to put up with their vicious assault, either until they have had their way with us, or, as sometimes happens, till they go limp and when this occurs, we must never laugh, for nothing could offend them more, better to pretend that we do not mind, for if he does not succeed on the first night, he will certainly make it on the second or third night, and no one can save us from this torture, and now I'm going to send for Signor Scarlatti so that he may take our minds off these painful facts of life, music is wonderfully consoling, my child, prayer, too, indeed, I find that everything is music, even though prayer is not qui
te everything.

  While these words of advice were being given and the keyboard of the harpsichord was being fingered, João Elvas was busily engaged in repairing the roads, these are adversities from which one cannot always escape, a man runs from one shelter to another to escape the rain, and suddenly he hears a voice crying, Halt, it is one of the magistrate's henchmen, the tone of that voice was unmistakable, and the challenge so sudden that João Elvas did not even have time to pretend that he was a frail old man on his last legs, the henchman hesitated when he saw more white hairs than he had expected, but what proved decisive in the end was the agility with which the old man fled, anyone capable of running as fast as that was obviously quite capable of wielding a pick and shovel. When João Elvas, along with the others who had been rounded up, arrived at the wilderness where the road disappeared amid bogs and swamps, they found that there were large numbers of men already there, carrying earth and stones from the low hills nearby, which had been less affected by the rain, it was a chore that meant transporting earth and stones from over there and dumping them here, and sometimes canals had to be dug to drain away the water, each man resembled a spectre cast in clay, a puppet or a scarecrow, and it was not long before João Elvas took on much the same appearance, he would have fared better had he chosen to stay in Lisbon, for no matter how hard a man may try, he cannot recapture his youth. The men toiled relentlessly throughout the day, and the rain eased up, which was a great blessing, because the holes they were filling in now had a better chance of gaining some consistency, unless another storm were to break out and ruin everything. Dona Maria Ana slept soundly under her luxurious feather quilt, which she takes with her everywhere, lulled into peaceful slumber by the sound of falling rain, but because the same causes do not always produce the same effects, much depends on the individuals, the circumstances and the cares they take to bed, it came about that Her Royal Highness Dona Maria Bárbara continued to hear the echoes of those heavy raindrops well into the night, or perhaps they were the distressing words spoken by her mother. Among the men who had marched along that road, some slept well and others badly, much depended on how tired they were, as for shelter and food, they could not complain, for His Majesty did not stint on lodgings and hot food if the workers earned his approval.

  Before dawn the Queen's party finally left Vendas Novas, now with all the carriages that had been delayed, although some were lost forever and others needed extensive repairs, the entourage presented a sorry sight, the draperies and hangings saturated, the gilding and paintwork discoloured, and unless a little sunshine should filter through, these are likely to be the most dismal nuptials ever witnessed. The rain has stopped at long last, but the biting cold scorches the skin, and covers one's hands with chilblains despite the use of muffs and cloaks, we are referring to the ladies, of course, who look so cold and feverish that they arouse pity. The procession is headed by a gang of road repairers who travel in ox-drawn carts, and where they come across a hole or a ditch that has been flooded or has caved in, they jump down and set to work, meanwhile, the convoy is delayed in this desolate landscape. Yokes of oxen have been brought from Vendas Novas and other towns in the vicinity, scores of them, to help rescue the chaises, berlins, wagons, and other carriages, which keep getting trapped in the mud, this operation took considerable time as they unharnessed the horses and mules, then harnessed the oxen, then heaved, only to reverse the process by unharnessing the oxen and harnessing the horses and mules once more, amid much shouting and lashing of whips, and when the Queen's coach sank right up to the hubs of the wheels, and it took six yokes of oxen to drag it out of the mud, one of the men there, who had left his home under orders from the district magistrate, observed, as if speaking to himself, One would think we were here to heave that enormous stone destined for Mafra. This being the moment when the oxen were being put to work and the men were allowed to relax, João Elvas asked, What stone was that, my friend, and the other replied, A stone as large as a house that was brought from Pêro Pinheiro for the construction of the convent at Mafra, I only saw it when it arrived, but I also lent a hand, for it was at a time when I used to frequent the place, And was it big, it was the mother of all stones, in the words of a friend of mine who helped transport it from the quarry and then went back to his province, I myself left shortly after that, for I had had enough. The oxen, submerged to their bellies, pulled without any apparent effort, as if they were trying to coax the mud to release them. The wheels of the coach finally settled on firm ground and the enormous vehicle was pulled from the swamp to the sound of applause, while the Queen smiled graciously, the Princesses nodded, and the young Infante Dom Pedro concealed his annoyance at being denied the pleasure of splashing about in the mud.

  It was like this all the way to Montemor, a journey of less than five leagues took almost eight hours of continuous effort and strain by men and beasts as they plied their respective skills. The Princess Dona Maria Bárbara tried to sleep, anxious to overcome her persistent insomnia, but the jostling of the coach, the shouting of those burly road repairers, and the stamping of the horses as they went back and forth obeying orders made her poor little head feel quite dizzy and caused her unspeakable torment, so much effort, dear God, so much disturbance to marry off a young woman, but, then, she is a princess. The Queen goes on muttering her prayers, not so much to ward off any unlikely perils as to while away the hours, for the Queen has lived long enough in this world to have come to terms with life, now and then she dozes off, only to wake up again and continue her prayers as if they had never been interrupted. About the Infante Dom Pedro, for the time being, there is nothing more to be said.

  The conversation, however, between João Elvas and the man who had mentioned the stone was resumed as the journey got under way, the old man told him, A fellow I befriended many years ago hailed from Mafra, I never found out what happened to him, he lived in Lisbon, and one day he suddenly disappeared, these things happen, perhaps he went back to his native parts, If he went back to Mafra, it's possible that I might have met him, what was his name, His name was Baltasar Sete-Sóis, and he lost his left hand in the war, Sete-Sóis, Baltasar Sete-Sóis that's the one person I got to know, for we worked together, Well, I never, what a small world this is when all is said and done, we two meet each other by chance only to discover that we have a mutual friend, Sete-Sóis was a fine fellow, Do you think he may be dead, I cannot say, but I doubt it, with a wife such as his, a certain Blimunda, whose eyes were a colour that defied description, when a man has a wife like that, he clings to life and does not let go even if he does only possess his right hand, I never met his wife, sometimes Sete-Sóis would come out with the most incredible statements, one day he even claimed to have been within reach of the sun, It must have been the effect of the wine, We had all been drinking when he said it, yet none of us was drunk, as far as I can remember, what he was trying to say in his own odd way was that he had flown, Flown, Sete-Sóis, I've never heard of such a thing.

  Their conversation was interrupted when they reached the bank of the river Canha, which was swollen and turbulent, on the other side, the population of Montemor had assembled outside the gates to await the Queen's arrival, and with the combined efforts of everyone and the assistance of some barrels, which made it possible to float the carriages across the river, within the hour they were sitting down to supper in the town, the nobility seated at specially reserved tables in accordance with their rank, and their aides and servants wherever they could find a place, some eating in silence while others conversed, such as João Elvas who said, in the tone of someone holding two conversations simultaneously, one with his interlocutor, the other with himself, It now comes back to me that when Sete-Sóis lived in Lisbon he was on friendly terms with the Flying Man, and it was I myself who pointed him out to Sete-Sóis one day when we were together in the Palace Square, I can remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday, who was this Flying Man, The Flying Man was a priest, a certain Padre Bartolomeu Lourenço, who ended
his days in Spain, where he died four years ago, the case caused quite a stir, and it was investigated by the Holy Office of the Inquisition, it's possible that even Sete-Sóis was involved in this strange affair, But did the Flying Man actually fly, Some said that he did, while others said that he did not, there's no way now of ever knowing the truth, What is certain is that Sete-Sóis claimed that he had been within reach of the sun, for I myself heard him say so, There must be some mystery here, Of course there is, and with this reply, which begged the question, the man who had reminisced about the stone at Mafra fell silent and they finished their meal.

  The clouds lifted, hovered high overhead, and it looked as if the rain might be over. The men who had come from the towns and villages between Vendas Novas and Montemor proceeded no farther. They were paid for their labours, and because of the Queen's kind intervention the day's wages were doubled, there is always some recompense for carrying the burden of the rich and mighty. João Elvas continued his journey, perhaps now with greater ease since he had become friendly with outriders and coachmen who might offer him a lift on one of the wagons, where he could ride with his legs dangling clear of the mud and dung. The man who spoke about the stone stood at the edge of the road, watching with his blue eyes the old man who settled down between two large trunks. They will never see each other again, at least that is what one assumes, for God Himself does not know what the future holds, and as the wagon set off, João Elvas said, If you should ever meet Sete-Sóis again, tell him that you were speaking to João Elvas, for he is sure to remember me, and remember to give him my regards, I shall pass on your message, but I doubt whether I shall ever see him again, By the way, what's your name, I'm called Julião Mau-Tempo, Farewell, then, Julião Mau-Tempo, Farewell, João Elvas.