Marianela’s voice shakes with trepidation, “Pedro, you must listen to Raul. You are in danger, your friends —”
Being told what to do by a woman is a step too far for him and he cuts her off before she can finish her sentence, “My friends are dead because of you and your kind. You killed innocents, the boys in the church. You force my sick and ageing mother to work like a common —”
Feeling his temper rising, Raul consciously manages his tone of voice as he talks across the other man, “A common what? A common worker? How quickly you forget your own ancestry when you have the money for maids, and houses, and horses and whores. How soon you turn your back on your father and grandfather, both common peasants. No, you with your money and the ear of the duke and your friends in the Civil Guard can fuck and beat and bury workers if you choose.” Feeling increasingly nervous, Pedro’s lips tighten as if to act as the final barrier to stopping his bravado from involuntarily condemning him.
Raul stares at the top of his head for a second and then closes his eyes, mustering his strength to control his anger. Marianela watches and waits. Eventually, Raul breaks the silence, “You and I both know you’ve never been part of their world, much as you tried. You perform for them like a circus freak; you play the role and then when the curtain falls, you run to the gypsy whores in the city. These are not your people; we are your people. The duke’s whipping boy would cut your throat if he thought it would put him in the good graces of the duke. And what of your other friend, the Civil Guard officer shot by his own men? The same man who ordered your workers brutalised because you were too much of a coward to take responsibility for your own actions. You should be ashamed.” Pedro looks up through his eyebrows. He feels the muscles across his ribcage tighten and adrenalin start flooding his body.
Marianela puts her hand on Raul’s forearm. “No. Not now. Now is not the time,” she pleads. Raul looks down at the woman’s hands and sees the calloused and broken working life’s memorial. He puts his hand on hers. Pedro looks across the table at their hands, then quickly back down at the food. He closes his eyes and pushes the plate to the side.
“You weren’t here. You don’t know what happened,” he says, barely loudly enough to be heard, the anger and sadness at once vying for control of his voice.
Raul lifts her hand off his forearm. “Out of respect I will not continue. But know this, I will stay here tonight to watch you and tomorrow you are going to see what me and my so-called animals have done to your duke’s precious village. So finish your meal and say what you have to say to your mother. Remember, if you choose this road then you are guests in the workers’ village and you should act with the appropriate respect towards your so far gracious hosts. We are still at war and I will not have you undermine the revolution.”
Chapter 21
Pedro spends the night tossing and turning, unable to get any significant, uninterrupted sleep. The close humidity makes the sheet cling to his damp skin. Lying awake, he finds it next to impossible to filter out the sound of the metronomic breathing coming from the man in the corner of the room. Eventually, the early rising summer sun makes its way through the gaps in the shutters, and unable to bear the restlessness any longer, he pulls himself up to a seated position.
Raul is sitting in the chair, his head hanging and only his chest rising and falling. Pedro waits a few seconds to see if the other man will stir. He doesn’t, and so he pulls himself off the bed and up into a standing position, grimacing and sharply drawing in his breath as he does so. The wound in his thigh grips painfully along the muscle. Raul opens his eyes and lifts his head to see the man holding himself up between the bed and the table. “Good, you are awake. Clean yourself up, you have much to see today,” he tells the other man as he pulls himself out of the chair and stretches his arms to the ceiling. The muscles running down his back stretch with a reassuring ease.
Pedro walks tentatively across the room towards the door, his head pulsing and his tongue dry. “You don’t need to watch me,” he says as he opens the door onto the hallway.
Raul smiles, “Of course I don’t. Just get ready, I will wait for you downstairs and then we shall get some breakfast.”
After cleaning himself in the sink and putting on a clean shirt and trousers, Pedro makes his way down the stairs. Raul waits for him silently by the door. The hall is still closed off from the rising sun. “I’ve got your stick,” Raul says, passing it to him as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. He opens the door and the fresh morning air breaks through the darkness, chasing out the stale air. Pedro enjoys the freshness of the breeze rolling down the valley and across the village.
The two men walk down the street side by side. “Where are you taking me?” Pedro asks.
“First, we have breakfast with the workers,” the other man replies. Walking through the streets that he has known since he was born, Pedro becomes strangely aware of the workers. More so than ever before. There is an energy in their gaits that is unusual. The normally emotionless glances have been replaced by warmer, more open faces. When they reach the square he notices that many of the workers are walking in the same direction, towards the far end of the square where the casino is. Nearly everyone he sees has the black and red neckerchiefs of the CNT around their necks. For the first time in many years they are able to openly celebrate their affiliations.
As they get closer to the casino Pedro can see the black and red flag hanging from the first floor window; written across it in large white paint are the words ‘dining hall’. He guesses that the national flag that had once hung from the flag post had been torn down. Pedro notices how many of the workers are staring at him. He feels uncomfortable and slows his stride. “This isn’t a good idea,” he supplicates.
Raul turns to him and replies, “It might not be a good idea; there are a lot of people with good cause to hate you for who you aligned yourself with. But while you’re with me no harm will come to you. I promise. You have to see what we have achieved.” Noticing Pedro is struggling up the steps, Raul steadies his arm with a gentle grip at his elbow.
From inside the casino the raucous din of workers clamouring to be heard over one another emanates through the doors. Pedro enters the main room and is greeted with the sight of over a hundred and fifty workers breakfasting at long trestle tables. The bar and the billiards tables are hidden under sheets and metal troughs of food. A long line of workers with plates and bowls steadily passes in front of the food, piling it onto their plates and then making their way to empty seats.
Raul guides him to two empty seats. Sitting beside them are a group of field workers wolfing down their breakfasts and slurping noisily at the cups of coffee. Pedro sits in silence at the table, nervously trying to avoid catching anyone’s eye while he waits for Raul to return. Across the room, Raul stands in the queue watching his guest. After what feels like an eternity to Pedro, Raul finally returns. He places the plate and an empty cup in front of Pedro. Looking down at the plate of bread and tortilla he doesn’t hear the question being asked of him by the man beside him.
The man repeats his question, waving the jug slightly threateningly in his eyeline, “Do you want coffee?” Raul taps the table in front of Pedro to get his attention and points towards the coffee jug.
Pedro looks up and sees a begrudging look in the man’s eyes. He holds up the empty cup and says, “Yes please, sir.”
The man pours the steaming, brown fluid into the cup. “There is no need for those kinds of greetings, Comrade. That is a thing of the past, Pedro,” he tells him. Shocked by the familiarity, Pedro looks into the man’s face to discover that he doesn’t recall ever seeing him before.
The two men sit in silence for several minutes. As Pedro starts to recognise that he is in no immediate danger he starts to feel calmer. He allows himself a surreptitious glance around the room. He is unable to pin down what feels so strange about what he is seeing. Raul studies the sl
ightest movements in the other’s face to try to discern what he is thinking. Eventually, he breaches their silence. “It is strange, no? What is missing is the weight of fear on their shoulders. Fear that they will lose the little work they have and will be unable to feed their families. Perhaps the greatest fear that has unburdened itself from them is the fear that they were lesser men and women. In only a few short days they have put roofs over their own heads, food in their own stomachs, their children are now attending lessons and they are once again free men and women, free to determine their own futures. They no longer fear the batons of the guards or the ransoming of their hard earned wages. What you see before you is a community working, living and growing stronger together with only courage for the future.”
Pedro stops looking around the room and settles his gaze on Raul. The man’s eyes glisten and exude an energy as he speaks. Knowing he has his full attention, Raul continues, “We are already managing the work groups in the fields far more effectively than before; we are doing more work in less time. By eating most of our meals communally we are eating better and more efficiently. The seamstresses and tailors and some of the women are repairing clothes. Already many of our comrades have had their first change of clothes in over ten years. What your duke failed to do in a century we have achieved in a matter of days. The workers are clothed, fed, tended by the doctor and have roofs over their heads and beds under their backs. We are already more efficient in the fields and next comes the factories. Once we have a surplus we will arrange trades with the cities and the other villages. The mechanics have started working on the cars and lorries. Within a few weeks we will have farming equipment to increase our production and decrease the amount of time we spend breaking our backs in the fields.”
The men sitting beside them at the table have been listening to Raul speak. One of them takes his pause as the opportunity to join in, “We always knew that we could do it better than them. We always knew that there was enough food, water and homes for all of us. It was they that insisted on taking more than they needed.”
One of the other men raises his voice so as to talk across his compatriot, “From all according to their ability, to all according to their need.”
The first man nods his head and replies to his friend, “Neither gods nor masters.” The woman sitting further down the table just nods her head as she continues eating.
Raul smiles and puts his hand on the shoulder of the man sitting closest to him. “Comrade, none are free until we are all free, the revolution goes on until every man, woman and child is free from the tyranny of kings and priests, politicians and generals. Am I wrong?”
As he finishes his words the two men at the table suddenly stand up, pushing their chairs back into the next row of diners. Pedro pulls back from the table, expecting to be hit. Both men start chanting almost simultaneously, ‘Black storms shake the sky, Dark clouds blind us’. As they begin the second line men and women around the room start standing up and joining in like ripples in a pond. The voices of the many drive the song into the corners of the dining hall as more and more stand up, their left fists clenched and raised to the tobacco-stained ceiling.
Eventually, their voices fill the hall, ‘The most precious good is freedom, And we have to defend it, With faith and courage’.
The emotion in the room fills the spaces and chases away any voiceless memories hiding in the shadows. ‘Raise the revolutionary flag which leads us unceasingly to triumph’. Raul doesn’t stand up or sing, he simply looks around the room with his eyes filling with tears. His gaze eventually settles back on Pedro who is staring in awe as waves of emotion flow around him. Pedro is unable to stop his own eyes from welling up as the rawness of belief engulfs him. The song finishes and the workers retake their seats. Raul clutches the man next to him on the shoulder and with a broad grin says to the three in front of him, “How can the bourgeoisie do anything but lose when faced with the collective will of the workers, no?” The two workers restart their breakfasts while nodding and grunting affirmatively.
They finish their breakfast, take the plates and cups to the kitchen and make their way out into the square. Coming down the steps, Pedro can see a constant flow of people coming in and out of the casino. Sensing his question, Raul answers it before it is asked, “We stagger the meal times. With the decrease in working hours needed, we can run shifts, so more work is done in less time. It really isn’t that complicated. Everyone is more rested and better fed and works harder.” He smiles to himself as he finishes his comment, “It really begs the question why the landowners and factory bosses hadn’t thought of it sooner. Of course, once you take away their excess and greed there is more to go around. And, of course, a solution arrived at collectively by those closest to it is likely to get closer to the truth. It is really very simple.”
Pedro looks down at the ground as he listens. Inside, he is wrestling with the conflict between what he is seeing and hearing and what he has always been taught and believed. Uncomfortable with his own inner turmoil, he tries to bring the situation to a conclusion, “I have seen enough. I know what you want me to do and —”
Raul’s smile disappears. “Finally, the bourgeois ego struggles up through the drunken clouds. So you have seen enough and you know my thoughts, do you? I don’t think so.”
Pedro stops and rests against the walking cane. He pauses for a moment before looking up from the sunbaked clay beneath his sandals. “I did not mean—”
Raul cuts him off again, “You don’t know what you mean because you have spent too long deluding yourself. These bastards that, as we speak, are beating in the skulls of babies in their cots, locking workers into shacks and burning them alive. Our brothers and sisters, your brothers and sisters, are being driven out to fields and executed in unmarked graves as we speak. For what? For asking to be free, to be fed, for a roof over their heads. Don’t you dare think you know what I am thinking because you betrayed our comrades. Those sons of bitches you chose to align yourself with covered up each other’s crimes for generations; the sadistic brutality of the guards, the priests raping children, the duke working our sons and daughters into their graves. These are your allies; these are your friends. How dare you presume to know what I think. In forgetting your parents and grandparents you have forgotten who you are, you are a traitor to your family and community. Know my mind? It is more likely you have lost yours.”
Feeling his rage getting away from him, Raul takes off his glasses and tries to compose himself. He rubs the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, holding his eyes tightly shut. Pedro looks back down at the ground, overwhelmed by the barrage. Raul puts his glasses back on, “I do this because Marianela assures me that somewhere deep inside of you there is still a man. I do this because she assures me that at your heart you’re a good man. But let me warn you now, Pedro, if you choose to side with your old friends I will not hesitate in killing you myself. I will put a bullet in your head, walk away and never think of you again.” He waits for the man to respond. He doesn’t, he just continues looking around the square, avoiding eye contact. Raul continues, “I want you to see something else.” Raul starts walking and Pedro reluctantly follows a few steps behind him in silence.
Once they get closer to the train station Pedro sees what it is that he has been brought to witness. About half a mile from the station a team of workers are erecting telephone posts and wires projecting out like spokes on a wheel from the train station. Raul stops walking and holds his hand out flat across the other’s chest to stop him. “First, we set lines to the main buildings. Then we set lines to the secondary buildings. Eventually, everyone in the village will have free access to a telephone.”
Pedro watches the man at the top of the post carefully coiling the wire. Without looking at Raul he replies, “I have no one outside of the village to talk to. This is my life and always has been.”
Raul turns to face the other man and replies,
“I know what you did for Antonio and Esteban and their family, I saw it with my own eyes. And Marianela told me what happened to the workers before them.” He pauses for a moment. Pedro looks down to the floor and starts fumbling in his trouser pocket for his tobacco. Raul continues, “You have never been one of these bastards in your heart. If you work with us you will see. The whole of Spain is your family.”
Pedro finishes rolling the cigarette and as he lifts it to his mouth he quietly replies, “Do you know what they will do to me if I help your revolution? Do you know what they will do to my mother and son?”
Raul lifts the match to the other’s cigarette, shielding the flame with his other hand. “Do you know what they did to my mother and son? We are taking our country back. They will do nothing to your mother and child. As we speak, we control Madrid and Barcelona; Valencia is as good as ours. And it is only a matter of time before we have Zaragoza and Pamplona.”
Pedro draws on the cigarette and as he exhales he looks Raul directly in the eyes. He waits a moment before replying and as he does, his face takes on an air of sanguine rationality, “These people you are so quick to judge as vanquished have controlled our country for centuries. They have done as they pleased since they got rid of the moors. Do you not realise the lengths they will go to hold this land, to hold the people? They will burn us all alive if they must. These people have not controlled our country for —”
Raul cuts him off; his voice is gentle but steadfast, “It was us that gave our lives to drive out the moors, it is us that cook their food, we drive their cars, we build the roofs over their heads. They cannot win now that we know that. Across Spain, bootblacks, toilet attendants, dockworkers, chefs, barbers, the workers, your brothers and sisters are taking up arms and taking back their freedom. Are you to stand with them and win your freedom or are you going to lie down and wait for it to be taken away from you again?”
A Most Uncivil War Page 30