The Collected Novels of José Saramago

by José Saramago

  Among the women only Mary is in an advanced state of pregnancy, and such is the strain on her that, had providence not endowed donkeys with infinite patience and stamina to match, she would long since have given up and begged the others to abandon her at the roadside to await her hour, which we know is near, but who can say when or where, for this is not a race given to making bets or predictions about when or where Joseph's son will be born, and what a sensible religion to have prohibited gambling. Until that hour comes and for as long as this anxious waiting lasts, the pregnant woman will rely less on the distracted attentions of Joseph, who is lost in conversation with the other men, than on the reliable support of the donkey, who must be wondering, if beasts of burden are sensitive to such things, why the whip has not been much in use and why it is allowed to go at its own easy pace, the pace of its species. The women often lag behind, forcing the men, who are far ahead of them, to call a halt until the women get closer but not too close. The men prefer to give the impression that they have only paused for a rest because, although it is true that everyone may use the road, where cocks crow hens must not squawk, at most they may cackle when they lay an egg, for such are the laws of nature that govern the world in which we live. And so Mary journeys on, swaying with the gentle rhythm of her mount, a queen among women, for she alone is permitted to ride, while the other donkeys carry pack loads. To make things easier, she takes the three infants in the party onto her lap in turn, giving their mothers some relief and at the same time preparing herself for motherhood.

  On the first day, they soon tired and covered only a short distance. Their legs were unaccustomed to walking for hours on end, we must not forget the number of old people and small children making this journey. The former, after a long life, have spent all their energy and can no longer pretend otherwise, the latter have not yet learned how to conserve their growing strength and wear themselves out after a brief spurt of wild activity, as if life were coming to an end and had to be enjoyed to the full while it lasted. On reaching a large village called Isreel, they stopped at the local caravansary, which they found in a state of chaos and uproar because of the heavy traffic. To tell the truth, there was more uproar than chaos here, because as one's eyes and ears adjusted, some order emerged from that multitude of people and animals within four walls, like a disturbed anthill trying to find its bearings and regroup. Despite the overcrowding, the three families had the good fortune to find shelter under an archway, where the men could huddle together on one side and the women on the other as darkness fell and all in the caravansary, people and animals, settled down for the night. But first the women had to prepare food and fill the water skins at the well, and the men had to unload the donkeys and water them after the camels finished drinking. For in two great gulps a camel can empty a trough, which must be refilled again and again to slake its thirst. After watering and feeding the donkeys, the travelers finally sat down to eat, the men first, of course. How often we need to remind ourselves that Eve was created after Adam and taken from his rib. Will we ever learn that certain things can be understood only if we take the trouble to trace them to their origins.

  The men had eaten and were back in their own corner, the women were finishing off the leftovers, when Simeon, one of the most senior of the elders, who lived in Bethlehem but was obliged to register in Ramah, took advantage of the authority conferred by age and the wisdom believed to come thereof by asking Joseph what he would do if Mary, although Simeon did not mention her by name, should still be waiting to give birth when the last day of the census passed. The question was clearly academic, if such a word is apt for the time and place, insofar as only the census officials, skilled in the finer points of Roman law, would know how to deal with a pregnant woman who turned up for registration and said, We've come to register, no one having any idea whether she carried a boy or a girl, not to mention the possibility of twins. Exemplary Jew as he was, the carpenter would never have dreamt of pointing out with simple Western logic that it was not up to those who obeyed laws to defend the defects in them, and if Rome was incapable of foreseeing certain difficulties, then she was ill served by her legislators and her interpreters of Holy Scripture. Faced with this thorny problem, then, Joseph thought long and hard, searching in his mind for a subtle argument that would convince those gathered around the bonfire of his skill in debate. After much reflection, the carpenter raised his eyes from the flickering flames and told them, If by the last day of the census my child has not yet been born, this will be a sign from God that He does not wish the Romans to know of the child's existence. Simeon replied, Such presumption, to claim to know what God does or does not wish. Joseph asked, Does God not see my ways and count all my steps. These words, which we can find in the Book of Job, implied, within the context of this discussion, that before all present or absent Joseph was protesting his humility and submission to the Lord, a sentiment wholly opposed to the diabolic presumption of which Simeon accused him when Joseph had tried to probe the inscrutable will of God. This is how the elder must have interpreted his answer, for he fell silent, waiting for Joseph to continue. The days of each man's birth and death, said Joseph, have been put under seal and guarded by angels ever since the world began, and only the Lord can break those seals, first the one and then the other, although often together, with His right and left hand, and there are times when He is so slow in breaking the seal of death that He seems almost to have forgotten the existence of certain living souls. Joseph paused for breath, then, smiling mischievously, told Simeon, Let us hope this conversation does not remind the Lord of your existence. Those present laughed into their beards, for the carpenter was not showing the respect due to an old man. Simeon, tugging nervously at his sleeve, made no attempt to hide his anger as he told Joseph, Perhaps the Lord was hasty in breaking the seal of your birth and you were born before your time, if this is how you treat your elders, who have seen more of life than you have and gained more wisdom. Whereupon Joseph replied, Listen, Simeon, you asked me what I would do if my child was not born by the last day of the census, and I couldn't answer, I'm not familiar with Roman law, and I suspect neither are you. No, I am not. Then I said. I know what you said, you don't need to repeat it. It was you who started it, accusing me of presuming to know God's will, so forgive me if I hurt your pride, but you were the first to cause offense, and as my elder and better you ought to set an example. There was a murmur of approval around the fire. The carpenter Joseph had clearly won the argument, and the others waited to see how Simeon would respond. Lacking in spirit and imagination, he peevishly said, All you had to do was answer my question respectfully, and Joseph replied, Had I given you the answer you wanted, the foolishness of your question would have been evident to all, therefore you must admit, however much it rankles, that I showed the greater respect by providing you with an opportunity to debate a thing we'd all like to know, namely, whether the Lord would ever choose to conceal His people from the eyes of the enemy. Now you speak about God's people as if they were your unborn child. Don't put words in my mouth, Simeon, words I haven't spoken and will never speak, listen instead to what should be understood in one sense and not in another. Simeon made no attempt to reply to this, he got to his feet and took himself off to a corner along with the other men of his household, who felt obliged to accompany him because of ties of blood and kinship, although they were disappointed in the patriarch's poor showing in this verbal exchange.

  The silence that followed the murmurings and whisperings of travelers settling down for the night was broken now and then by muffled conversations in the caravansary, by a shrill cry, the panting and snorting of animals, and the occasional awful bellow of a camel in heat. Then the party from Nazareth, all discord forgotten, could be heard muttering in unison the last and longest of the prayers of thanksgiving offered to the Lord at the end of the day, Praise be to You, O God, King of the Universe, who shuts our eyes without robbing them of light. Grant, O Lord, that we may sleep in peace and awaken tomorrow to a happ
y and tranquil life, help us to obey Your commandments. Lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil. Lead us along the path of virtue and protect us from bad dreams, wicked thoughts, and mortal sickness. Spare us visions of death. Within minutes, the more just if not the more weary members of the party were fast asleep, some of them snoring unspiritually. And soon the others joined them, most with nothing more than their tunics to cover them, for only the elderly and the very young, both delicate in their own way, enjoyed the warmth and protection of a coarse blanket or threadbare mantle. Deprived of wood, the fire began to die, only a few weak flames continuing to flicker. Under the archway, the party from Nazareth slept soundly. Everyone except Mary. Unable to stretch out because of her belly, which could have been harboring a giant, she lay against some saddlebags in an effort to rest her aching back. Like the others, she had listened to Joseph arguing with old Simeon, and rejoiced in her husband's victory, as befits any wife no matter how harmless or unimportant the conflict. But she could no longer remember what the argument was about, her recollection of it already submerged in the throbbing of her body, which came and went like the tide of the sea, which she had never seen but had heard others describe, the restless ebb and flow as her child stirred in her womb. The strangest sensation, as if that living creature inside her were trying to hoist her onto its shoulders. Only Mary lay with her eyes open, shining in the shadows, still shining after the last flame had died away. No cause for wonder, for this happens to all mothers, and the wife of the carpenter Joseph was no exception, after the angel appeared to her disguised as a beggar.

  Even in the caravansary there were cocks to greet the morning, but the travelers, merchants, drovers, and cameleers had to make an early start and begin preparing, before dawn, for the next leg of their journey. They loaded the animals with baggage and merchandise and made even more noise than on the previous evening. Once they have departed, the caravansary will settle down to a few hours of peace and quiet, like a brown lizard stretched out in the sun. The only remaining guests are those who have decided to rest all day, but by evening another group of travelers will start arriving, some more bedraggled than others but all of them weary, not that this has any effect on their vocal cords, because the moment they arrive, they start shouting their heads off as if possessed by a thousand demons. Back on the road, the party from Nazareth has grown bigger, ten people have joined them, so anyone who imagines this place to be deserted is much mistaken, especially when the feast of Passover and the census coincide.

  No one needed to tell Joseph to make his peace with old Simeon, not because he was in the wrong but because he had been taught to respect his elders, especially those who were paying the price for long life by losing both their brains and their influence over a younger generation. So Joseph went up to him and said, I've come to apologize for my insolence last night, I didn't mean to be disrespectful but you know what human nature is, one word leads to another, tempers are lost, and caution is thrown to the winds. Without raising his eyes, Simeon heard him out in silence, then finally spoke, You are forgiven. Hoping his friendly overture would win more from the stubborn old man, Joseph remained at his side for a fair stretch of the road. But Simeon, eyes fixed on the dust at his feet, continued to ignore him, until Joseph in exasperation decided to give up. At that very moment, seemingly roused from his thoughts, the old man placed a hand on Joseph's shoulder and said, Wait. Surprised, Joseph turned, and Simeon stopped and repeated, Wait. The others walked on, leaving the two men standing in the middle of the road, a no-man's-land between the group of men ahead and the group of women behind, which was gradually approaching. Above the women's heads, Mary could be seen swaying with the rhythm of the donkey.

  They had left the valley of Isreel. Skirting great rocks, the road curved awkwardly up the first slope before penetrating the mountains of Samaria to the east, then along arid ridges before descending on the other side to the Jordan, where the burning plain stretched southward and the desert of Judaea fired and scorched the ancient scars of a land promised to the chosen few but forever uncertain to whom it should surrender. Wait, said Simeon, and the carpenter obeyed, suddenly uneasy. The women were drawing nearer. Then the old man clutched Joseph by the sleeve, and he confided, When I lay down to rest last night I had a vision. A vision. Yes, a vision, but no ordinary vision, for I could see the hidden meaning of words you yourself spoke, that if your child was still not born by the last day of the census, it would be because the Lord did not wish the Romans to learn of its existence and add its name to their list. Yes, that is what I said, but what did you see. I didn't see anything but suddenly felt that it would be better if the Romans did not learn of your child's existence, that no one should be told of it, and that if the child must be born into this world, at least let it live without torment or glory, like those men up there in front and those women bringing up the rear, let it be as anonymous as the rest of us until the hour of death and forever after. Humble carpenter as I am from Nazareth, what fate could my child possibly hope for other than the one you have just described. Alas, you are not the only one to dispose of your child's life. True, everything is in the hands of the Lord and He knows best. And so say I. But tell me about my child, what have you discovered. Nothing beyond the words you yourself uttered and which took on for me another meaning, as if on seeing an egg I could sense the chick inside. God wills what He creates and has created what He willed, my child is in His hands and there is nothing I can do. That is indeed true, but these are days when God still shares the child with its mother. But should it turn out to be a son, it will belong to me and to God. Or to God alone. All of us belong to God. Not quite all of us, some are divided between God and Satan. How can one tell. If the law had not silenced women forever, perhaps they could reveal what we need to know, for it was woman who invented the first sin from which all the rest came. What do we need to know. Which part of woman's nature is demonic and which divine and what kind of humanity they have. I don't understand, I thought you were referring to my child. No, I was not referring to your child, I was talking about women, who generate beings such as ourselves and who may be responsible, perhaps unknowingly, for this duality in our nature, which is base and yet so noble, virtuous and yet so wicked, tranquil and yet so troubled, meek and yet so rebellious.

  Joseph looked back. Mary was advancing on her donkey, a young boy in front of her and astride the saddle like a grown-up, and for a second Joseph thought he was seeing his own son and seeing Mary for the first time, at the head of this group of women. Simeon's strange words still filled his ears, but he found it hard to believe that any woman could wield so much power, especially this unassuming wife of his, who had never shown any sign of being different from other women. Turning to look at the road ahead, he suddenly remembered the episode of the beggar and the luminous earth. He began to tremble, his hair stood on end, he got goose flesh, and when he turned back to take another look at Mary, he saw, saw clearly, a tall stranger walking by her side, so tall that the man was head and shoulders above the women, this had to be the beggar whom he had missed seeing last time. Joseph looked again, and there he was, a sinister presence among those women that defied explanation. Joseph was about to ask Simeon to look, to make sure he was not imagining things, but the old man had moved on, having spoken his mind, and was now rejoining his companions to resume his position as head of his clan, a role he cannot hope to play much longer. Deprived of a witness, the carpenter looked again in his wife's direction. This time the beggar was gone.

  HEADING SOUTH, THEY CROSSED THE WHOLE OF SAMARIA at great speed, with one eye on the road and the other nervously scanning their surroundings. They expected some act of hostility, of hatred, from the people living in these parts, descendants of the ancient Assyrians, renowned for their wicked deeds and heretical beliefs, who settled here during the reign of Shalmaneser, king of Nineveh, after the expulsion and dispersion of the twelve tribes. More pagan than Jewish, these people barely acknowledge the five books of Moses
as sacred law, and they dare to suggest that the place chosen by God for His temple was not Jerusalem but Mount Gerizim, which lies within their domain. The expedition from Galilee traveled at a brisk pace but could not avoid spending two nights in the open in this enemy territory, with guards and patrols for fear of ambush. The treachery of the villains knew no bounds, and they were capable of refusing water even to someone of pure Hebrew stock who might be dying of thirst. Such was the anxiety of the travelers during this stretch of the journey that, contrary to custom, the men divided into two groups, one in front of the women and children and one behind, to protect them from taunts and insults, or worse. The inhabitants of Samaria, however, must have been going through a peaceful phase, because apart from resentful looks and snide remarks the party from Galilee met with no aggression, no gang of robbers descended from the nearby hills and attacked them with stones.

  Shortly before reaching Ramah, those who believed with greatest fervor or who possessed a keener sense of smell swore they were inhaling the sanctified odor of Jerusalem. Here old Simeon and his companions went their separate way, for, as we mentioned earlier, they had to register in a village in this region. Giving profuse thanks to God there in the middle of the road, the travelers made their farewells. The married women filled Mary's head with a thousand and one pieces of advice, the fruits of their experience. Then they parted, some descending into the valley, where they would soon rest after four days on foot, the others making for Ramah, where they would seek shelter in a caravansary, for it would soon be dusk. At Jerusalem, the group that set out from Nazareth will also separate, most of them heading for Beersheba, which they should reach in two days, while the carpenter and his wife will go to nearby Bethlehem. Amid the confusion of embraces and farewells, Joseph called Simeon aside and, with all humility, asked him if he could remember anything more about his vision. I've already told you, it wasn't a vision. Whatever it was, I must know the destiny that awaits my child. If you don't even know your own destiny as you stand here before me asking questions, how can you expect to know the destiny of an unborn child. The eyes of the soul see further, and since yours have been opened by the Lord to certain manifestations reserved for the chosen, I thought you might have seen something where I see only darkness. You may never live to learn your son's destiny, you may, who knows, meet your own fate very shortly, but no more questions, please, stop all this probing and live for the present. And with these words Simeon placed his right hand on Joseph's head, murmured a blessing no one could hear, and rejoined his relatives and friends, who were waiting for him. In single file they made their way down a winding path to the valley, where Simeon's village nestled at the foot of the opposite slope, the houses almost merging with the boulders that stuck out of the ground like bones. Much later, Joseph would learn that the old man died before he could register.