From one day to the next, these slogans spread throughout Europe. What probably started as little more than the futile gesture of an idealist gradually spread until it became an outcry, a protest, a mass demonstration. Initially, these manifestations were dismissed with contempt, the words themselves treated with derision. But it wasn't long before the authorities became concerned about this course of events, which could not be blamed on interference from abroad, also a source of much subversive activity, at least the homegrown nature of the graffiti campaign saved the authorities the trouble of investigating and naming the foreign power they had in mind. It had become the fashion for subversives to parade through the streets with stickers in their lapels or, more daringly, stuck on their front or back, on their legs, on every part of their body and in every conceivable language, even in regional dialects, in various forms of slang, finally in Esperanto, but this was difficult to understand. A joint strategy of counterattack adopted by the European governments consisted of organizing debates and roundtable discussions on television, mainly with the participation of people who had fled the peninsula when the rupture was complete and irreversible, not the unfortunate people who had been there as tourists and who, poor things, still had not recovered from the fright, but the so-called natives, more precisely those who, despite close ties of tradition and culture, of property and power, had turned their backs on this geological madness and opted for the physical stability of the continent. Speaking with deep compassion and knowledge of the facts, these people painted a black picture of the Iberian situation, they offered advice to those restless spirits who were unwisely about to put Europe's identity at risk, and each of them ended his turn in the debate with a definitive phrase, staring the spectator in the eye and assuming an attitude of utter sincerity, Follow my example, opt for Europe.
The result was not particularly productive, save for the protests of the partisans of the peninsula, who claimed that they had been the victims of discrimination, and who, if neutrality and democratic pluralism were not just empty words, should have been invited to appear on television to express their views, if they had any to express. An understandable precaution. Armed with reasons, which any discussion about reason always supplies, these youths, for it was chiefly youths who were carrying out the most spectacular deeds, could have made their protests with greater conviction, whether in the classroom or in the street, not to mention in the home. It is even debatable whether these youths, once armed with reasons, would have dispensed with direct action, thus allowing the calming effect of their intelligence to prevail, contrary to what people have believed since the beginning of time. The question is debatable but scarcely worthwhile, for in the meantime the television studios were stoned, shops selling television sets were ransacked in the presence of the dealers, who cried out in despair, But I'm not to blame, their comparative innocence did not help them, picture tubes exploded like firecrackers, packing cases were piled up on the street, set alight, reduced to ashes. The police arrived and charged, the rebels dispersed, and this standoff has lasted for the past week, right up until today, when our travelers leave Figueira da Foz led by a dog, three men, and the lover of one of them, who was his lover without yet being his lover, or who, not yet being his lover, was already his lover, anyone with experience of the affairs and intrigues of the heart will understand this muddle. As the latter are heading north, and Joaquim Sassa has already suggested, If we pass through Oporto we can all stay at my house, hundreds of thousands, millions of youths throughout the continent have taken to the streets, armed not with reasons but with clubs, bicycle chains, grappling irons, knives, awls, scissors, as if driven insane with rage, as well as with frustration and the sorrow of things to come, they are shouting, We too are Iberians, with that same despair that has caused the shopkeepers to cry out, But we're not to blame.
When tempers have subsided, days and weeks from now, the psychologists and sociologists will come forward to prove that, deep down, these youths didn't really want to be Iberian, what they were doing, taking advantage of a pretext afforded by the circumstances, was giving vent to that irrepressible dream that lasts as long as life itself, but which usually erupts for the first time in one's youth with an outburst of sentiment or violence, either the one or the other. Meanwhile, battles were fought in the field, or in the streets and squares to be more precise, hundreds of people were injured, there were several deaths, although the authorities tried to suppress reports about serious casualties by issuing confusing and contradictory bulletins, the mothers of August never got to know for certain how many of their sons had disappeared, for the simple reason that they didn't know how to organize themselves, there are some who always remain outsiders, absorbed in their grief, or caring for the son who survived, or busy gratifying their menfolk in their efforts to conceive another son, which explains why mothers always lose out. Tear gas, water cannon, batons, shields, and visors, stones dislodged from the pavements, crossbars from the roadblocks, spikes from park railings, these are just some of the weapons used by both sides, while certain new strategies of persuasion with more painful effects are tried out by the various police forces, wars are like disasters, they never come singly, the first is a trial run to test the ground, the second to improve performance, the third to secure victory, each of them being, according to where you start counting, third, second, and first. For the catalogs of memoirs and reminiscences there remained those dying words of the handsome young Dutchman hit by a rubber bullet, which because of a manufacturing fault turned out to be more deadly than steel, but legend will soon take this episode in hand and every nation will swear that the youth was theirs, on the other hand no one will be anxious to lay claim to the bullet, unlike those dying words, not so much for their meaning, but because they are beautiful, romantic, incredibly youthful, and nations relish such phrases, especially when they are dealing with a lost cause like this one, At last, I'm Iberian, and with these words he expired. The boy knew what he wanted, or thought he knew, which for want of anything better is just as good, he was not like Joaquim Sassa, who does not know whom he should love, but then he is still alive, perhaps his day will come if he watches out for the right moment.
Day turned to evening, evening will turn to night, along this winding road barely skirting the sea the guide dog trots at a steady pace, but it's no greyhound, even Deux Chevaux, decrepit as the car is, could travel more quickly, as has been proved quite recently. And this pace does not suit it at all, Joaquim Sassa is at the wheel and feeling uneasy, if there should be engine trouble, better that the car should be in his hands. The radio, its batteries renewed, reported the disastrous events in Europe, and referred to well-informed sources confirming that international pressure would be put on the Portuguese and Spanish governments to bring the situation to an end, as if it were in their power to achieve this desirable objective, as if controlling a peninsula adrift at sea were the same thing as driving Deux Chevaux. These representations were firmly rejected, with manly pride on the part of the Spanish and feminine haughtiness on the part of the Portuguese, we have no intention of shaming or exalting either sex, with the announcement that the Prime Ministers would speak that same night, each addressing his own country, of course, by mutual agreement. What has caused a certain bewilderment is the cautious attitude of the White House, usually so ready to intervene in world affairs, whenever the Americans sense it might be to their advantage, there are those who argue, however, that the Americans are not prepared to comment before seeing, literally speaking, where all this is going to end. Meanwhile, supplies of fuel have been coming in from the United States, with some irregularity, it is true, but we should be grateful that it is still possible to find the odd gas pump in remote areas. Were it not for the Americans, these travelers would have to go on foot, if they were determined to follow the dog.
When they stopped at a restaurant for lunch, the animal resigned itself to being left outside, it must have understood that its human companions needed to nourish themselve
s. As they finished their meal, Pedro Orce went out before the others, carrying some leftovers, but the dog refused to eat, and then the reason became clear, there were traces of fresh blood on its hair and around its mouth. The dog has been hunting, José Anaiço said, But it still has the blue thread in its mouth, Joana Carda pointed out, a much more interesting obser vation than the previous one, after all, our dog, if that's how we are to think of it, has been leading this vagabond existence for nearly two weeks and has crossed the entire peninsula on foot all the way from the Pyrenees to here, and who knows where else, and there couldn't have been anyone to fill his bowl regularly with water or to console him with a bone. As for the blue thread, it can be dropped on the ground and picked up again, like the hunter who holds his breath to take aim and then starts breathing naturally again. Joaquim Sassa, who after all was a kind man, said, Good dog, if you're as capable of looking after us as you are of looking after yourself, you'll do a good job of protecting us. The dog shook its head, a gesture we have not learned to interpret. It then went down to the road and started walking again without once looking back. The afternoon turns out to be better than the morning, there is sunshine, and this devil of a dog, or dog of the devil, resumes its indefatigable trot, head lowered, its nose protruding, its tail straight, its coat tawny. What breed can it be, asked José Anaiço, Were it not for the tail, it could be a cross between a setter and a sheepdog, Pedro Orce remarked, It's going faster, Joaquim Sassa observed with satisfaction, and Joana Carda, perhaps for the sake of saying something, asked, What shall we call it, sooner or later we inevitably come to the question of names.
The Prime Minister addressed the Portuguese and said, Citizens of Portugal, during recent days and most noticeably during the last twenty-four hours, our country has been subjected to pressures, which without exaggeration I consider unacceptable, from nearly all those European countries that have suffered, as we know, severe disruptions of the public order, but through no fault of ours, with vast numbers of demonstrators pouring into the streets with great enthusiasm, anxious to show their solidarity with the nations and peoples of the peninsula. These developments have exposed the serious internal contradiction in the debates among the governments of Europe, to which we no longer belong. Confronted with the profound social and cultural developments in these countries, they see in this historic adventure on which we find ourselves launched the promise of a happier future or, to put it in a nutshell, the hope of regenerating humanity. But instead of supporting us and showing their true humanity and genuine awareness of European culture, those governments decided to make us the scapegoats for their internal problems, with their absurd demands that we arrest the drifting peninsula, although it would have been more fitting and accurate to speak of navigating. Their attitude is all the more deplorable since everyone knows that with each passing hour we move an additional seven hundred and fifty meters away from what are at present the western shores of Europe, and those very European governments that in the past never showed any desire to have us with them are now trying to force us into doing what they don't really want and, moreover, know is beyond our powers. Unquestionably a place of history and culture, Europe in these troubled times has shown itself in the end to be lacking in common sense. It is up to us as the legitimate and constitutional government, entrusted with preserving the peace of the strong and just, forcefully to reject pressures and interventions of every kind and from any quarter by declaring before the world that we shall allow ourselves to be guided by the national interest alone, or, in a wider context, by the interests of the peoples and nations of the peninsula, and this I here solemnly affirm with the utmost conviction, now that the governments of Portugal and Spain have begun coordinating their efforts, as they will continue to do in order to examine and discuss the measures required to ensure a happy outcome to the chain of events set in motion by the historic separation of the Pyrenees. A word of acknowledgment is due the humanitarian spirit and political realism of the United States of America, thanks to whom reasonable levels of fuel supplies and also of foodstuffs have been maintained, which, within the framework of community relations, we previously imported from Europe. Under normal conditions, such matters would obviously be dealt with through the competent diplomatic channels, but in a situation of such gravity, the government over which I preside has decided to present the situation to the people without delay, thereby expressing its confidence in the dignity of the Portuguese, who will respond, as on other historic occasions, by closing ranks around their legitimate representatives and the sacred symbol of the Fatherland, presenting the world with the image of a united and determined people, at a particularly difficult and delicate moment in the nation's history, Long live Portugal.
The four travelers were already on the outskirts of Oporto when they heard this speech, they had gone into a café that served light refreshments and they lingered there long enough to see television coverage of the mass demonstrations and the counterattacks launched by the police, shivers ran up their spines when they saw those noble youths holding up posters and banners bearing that formidable phrase written in their own language. Why, asked Pedro Orce, should they be so concerned with us, and José Anaiço, echoing unknowingly but more directly the Prime Minister's sentiments, replied, All they're concerned about is themselves, and he probably couldn't have explained any better what he was thinking. They finished eating and left, this time the dog accepted the leftovers Pedro Orce brought him, and, having set Deux Chevaux in motion, now more slowly because the guide can scarcely be seen ahead, Joaquim Sassa said, Before crossing the bridge, let's try to coax the dog into the car, it can travel in the back on Joana and Jose's laps, we can't go around the city as we've been doing so far, and the dog certainly won't want to go on traveling through the night.
The forecast turned out to be correct and Joaquim Sassa's wish was gratified, as soon as it understood what was required of it, the dog got into the car, slow and ponderous, it stretched out on the laps of the passengers in the back seat, rested its head on Joana Carda's forearm, but the dog did not fall asleep, it traveled with its eyes open, the lights of the city danced over them as if over a surface of black crystal. Let's stay at my house, Joaquim Sassa suggested, I've got a wide bed and a sofa that opens out to sleep two people if they're not too fat. One of us, he was referring to the three men, of course, will have to sleep in a chair, but that's no problem, since it's my house, I'll use the chair or spend the night in a boardinghouse nearby. The others made no reply, their respectful silence indicating that they agreed, or perhaps preferred to settle this delicate matter discreetly later on, the atmosphere had suddenly become tense, there was an awkward feeling of embarrassment, almost as if Joaquim Sassa had done it on purpose, and he was perfectly capable of doing such a thing simply to amuse himself. But within minutes Joana Carda spoke up and announced, We two are sticking together. Really, what is the world coming to when women start taking this kind of initiative, in the past there were rules, one always started at the beginning, a few warm, encouraging looks from the man, a subtle lowering of the woman's eyes, a furtive glance darting from under her eyelashes, and then, until that first touching of hands, the courtship proceeded slowly, there were letters, lovers' tiffs, reconciliations, the waving of handkerchiefs, discreet coughs, naturally the final outcome was always the same, in bed with her on her back, him on top of her, in or out of wedlock, but never for a moment this outrageous behavior, this lack of respect in the presence of an old man, and if anyone thinks the women of Andalusia are hot-blooded, they should take a look at this woman from Portugal, no woman has ever dared to say in Pedro Orce's presence, We two are sticking together. But times have changed, and not for the better if Joaquim Sassa was trying to tease them, the conversation had turned sour, unless Pedro Orce had misunderstood, perhaps the words, sticking together, do not mean the same thing in Castilian as in Portuguese. José Anaiço did not open his mouth, what could he say, he would look ridiculous if he were to play the lover, even mo
re so if he were to appear scandalized, best to keep his mouth shut, it does not take much to realize that only Joana Carda could have uttered those compromising words, imagine the bad impression he would have made if he had said those words without first consulting her, and even so, even if he had asked her if she was willing, there are certain attitudes that only a woman can adopt, depending on the circumstances and the moment, that's it, the moment, that precise second poised between two others that would result in confusion and disaster. Joana Carda and José Anaiço rest their clasped hands on the dog's back, Joaquim Sassa furtively watches the lovers through the rearview mirror, they are smiling, the joke has been well received after all. This Joana is quite a girl, Joaquim Sassa feels another twinge of jealousy, but he admits he is to blame because he can never decide whom he should love.
The house is no palace, it has a tiny interior bedroom, and an even tinier living room where there is a sofa bed, a kitchen, a bathroom, clearly a house for someone on his own, but he considers himself fortunate and at least he does not have to keep moving from one furnished room to another. The larder is empty, but they had satisfied their hunger at their last stop before arriving here. They watch television in the hope of catching up on the news, so far there have been no reactions from the European embassies, but just to remind them the Prime Minister has given another interview on the late news program, Citizens of Portugal, he said, the rest we have already heard. Before they went to bed there was a council of war, not that there was any immediate need for decisions, those were left to the dog who was snoozing at Pedro Orce's feet, but they speculated in turn, Perhaps our journey ends here, Joaquim Sassa said hopefully, Or farther north, José Anaiço suggested, thinking of something else, I think it will be further north, added Joana Carda, who was thinking of the same thing, but Pedro Orce was right when he told them, The dog is the only one who knows, whereupon he yawned and said, I feel sleepy.
The Collected Novels of José Saramago Page 136