Raised from the Ground (34 page)

There will be other visits, different, less rushed, his daughters will come, his brother Anselmo will come, and António Mau-Tempo will come, only to leave feeling angry, no one made him angry, but that is how he feels when he leaves, he will stand some way off, a picture of rage, staring at the prison, he is not the António Mau-Tempo we know, Manuel Espada will come, he will enter looking grave-faced and leave lit up by a serene light, and cousins and uncles will come too, some of whom live in Lisbon, but they will only be allowed in the corridors, peering in through a screen so fine that it’s hard to see the people on the other side, and with a policeman patrolling up and down, listening for any complaints from the prisoners. And the months will pass, the long days and the even longer prison nights, the summer will end, the autumn will go and winter will arrive, João Mau-Tempo is still there, he is no longer summoned for interrogation, they have forgotten he exists, perhaps he’ll stay there for good. Sigismundo Canastro had also been arrested, as João Mau-Tempo will find out later, when he is back in Monte Lavre and hears that Sigismundo has been freed, and then there he is, they embrace with free hearts, I didn’t talk, Neither did I, It was Albuquerque. Sigismundo has had a much harder time, and yet he laughs, while João Mau-Tempo cannot help but feel a certain melancholy about the injustice done to them. There is much talk in room six, they discuss politics and other matters, some men study, others teach, there are lessons in reading, arithmetic, some do drawings, it’s a people’s university, about which we will say no more, because eternity would not be long enough.

Today he is to be freed. Six months have passed, it’s January. Only last week, João Mau-Tempo was working on the access road along with other residents of room six, working in rain so cold it was like melted snow, and now he is sitting wondering what life holds in store for him, many men have been tried, but he has not, and some say this is a good sign, then the door opens and a guard says in his usual arrogant tone, João Mau-Tempo, and João Mau-Tempo stands at attention as the prison rules dictate, and the guard says, You’re leaving prison, get your things ready and be quick about it. Those who are staying are so delighted, it’s extraordinary, it’s as if they themselves were being freed, and one says, The sooner they empty the prisons, the better, we’re not achieving anything here, it’s as logical as saying, The sooner they give me the tools, the sooner I can get down to work, and then everyone joins in, it’s like a mother dressing her child, someone is putting on his shoes for him and another is pulling on his shirt or shaking out his jacket, anyone would think João Mau-Tempo was going to meet the Pope, it’s amazing, they’re like children, any moment now they’ll all burst out crying, well, if they don’t, João Mau-Tempo soon will when they ask, Now, Mau-Tempo, have you enough money to get home, and he replies, I have a little, comrades, but I’ll be all right, and they start collecting money, five escudos here, ten there, and they manage to scrape together enough for the journey with a little left over, and then, when he sees that a little money can also be great love, João Mau-Tempo will no longer be able to hold back his tears, and he will say, Thank you, comrades, and goodbye, I wish you all the best, and thank you again for everything you’ve done for me. This party atmosphere is repeated each time someone is released, ah, the joys of prison life.

It was dark when the van dropped João Mau-Tempo at the door of Aljube prison, it seems that this devilish Black Maria knows no other roads, and when João Mau-Tempo steps out, a free man this time, the policeman says to him, Go on, get lost, he seems almost sorry to see him leave, but that’s what they’re like, they grow fond of the prisoners and find it hard to lose them. João Mau-Tempo runs down the road as if the devil were after him, so much so that he glances over his shoulder to see if anyone is following him, perhaps the police indulge in such amusements, pretending to set a prisoner free and then mounting a hunt for him, and however hard the poor man runs, there’ll be a net waiting for him down some passageway, and he’ll be caught again, shoved into the police car, with all the policemen laughing and clutching their bellies, God, it was funny, oh, I haven’t laughed so much in ages, not even at the circus. They’re perfectly capable of such tricks.

The street is completely deserted, it’s black night, it’s not raining, which is fortunate, but the wind whips in between these tall buildings like the blunt razor of a barber in a hurry, it keeps cutting through João Mau-Tempo’s thin clothes, the wind is as naked as he is, or so it seems. He has stopped running, his legs feel awkward and he’s out of breath, he’s forgotten how to walk, he leans against a wall with his bag and a suitcase tied up with string, and although both are quite light, his arms can barely carry them, which is why he puts them down on the ground, who would think it, this same man who once carried such enormous weights couldn’t swing a cat by its tail, and if it weren’t so cold, he would lie down, he has too much suffering on his shoulders to remain standing, and yet he does. People pass him, there’s always someone out and about, but they don’t look at him, each thinking about his own life, I’ve got quite enough problems of my own, thank you, they have no idea that the man standing at the corner has just been let out of Caxias prison, where he has spent the past six months, and where he was beaten and made to play the statue for seventy-two hours, they wouldn’t believe that such things could happen in our lovely country, such stories are doubtless greatly exaggerated. What will João Mau-Tempo do in a city he doesn’t know, there is no door he can knock on, Comrades, give me shelter for the night, I’ve just got out of prison, that would be an unusual conversation, and he has no idea whose houses these are, he was arrested in Monte Lavre by the guard José Calmedo, and that is where he must return, not now, because it’s dark, but tomorrow, with the money given him by men who needed it themselves, he knows he has comrades there, but he can hardly go to Caxias now, knock on the door of room six, assuming he would be allowed back into the prison, and, when they opened, say, Comrades, give me shelter for the night, he is clearly mad, or perhaps he fell asleep despite the cold, yes, he must have fallen asleep, for he’s no longer standing up as he thought, but sitting on his suitcase, and now it occurs to him, well, it had occurred to him before but now it occurs to him again, to go and knock on the door of the house where his sister works as a maid and say, Maria da Conceição, do you think your employers would let me sleep here tonight, but he won’t do this, although in other circumstances he might have, they would have told Maria da Conceição to put a mattress down in the kitchen, you can’t leave a fellow Christian to sleep out in the street like a stray dog, but given that he has just come out of prison, out of that prison and for those particular reasons, even if they agreed, they might view his sister differently afterward, poor thing, she never married and has always worked for the same boss, it’s as if that’s what she was born for, who knows what they will have told her already, it’s not hard to imagine, The ungrateful wretches, they would starve to death if it wasn’t for us, your brother will pay dearly for those ideas of his, they’re against us, you see, they’re all against us, but we’re your friends and we won’t punish you for his crazy ideas, but from now on, it would be best if he didn’t come to the house, so you be careful now, you’ve been warned.

This is the domestic litany repeated by the mistress of the house, the master of the house is more categorical and more to the point, He’s never to set foot in this house again, and I’m going to tell our estates in Monte Lavre that he is to be given no more work, let him go to Moscow. It seems that João Mau-Tempo went back to sleep, he must be very tired indeed to be able to sleep in this bitter cold, he stamps his feet on the ground, and the noise echoes and re-echoes in the icy air, a policeman might come along and arrest him for disturbing the peace, then João Mau-Tempo picks up his bag and his suitcase and heads back down the road, he can barely walk, he’s limping, he seems to recall that the station is off to the left, but he’s afraid he might get lost, that’s why he asks a passerby, who tells him, Yes, you’re going in the right direction, and adds a few more details, João Mau-Tempo, holding his suitcase and his bag in numb hands, is about to carry on, but the passerby asks, Do you want some help, here we all tremble, what if this man is a thief and has decided to rob this poor farm laborer, what could be easier, even in the dark it’s clear he can barely walk, No, sir, thank you, says João Mau-Tempo politely, and the man does not insist, he isn’t a ruffian after all, he says only, You look like you’ve been in prison, and we, who know João Mau-Tempo and how sensitive he is to kind words, can hear him telling his whole story, how he was in Caxias for six months and has just arrived in Lisbon, how they dumped him there, and how he has to get back to his village, to Monte Lavre, in the parish of Montemor, yes, I’m from the Alentejo, he doesn’t know if there’s a boat at this hour or a train, I’m going to the station to see, no, he has nowhere to sleep, although a sister of his works as a housemaid, But I don’t want to bother her, her employers might not like it, and the other man asks, he’s a very inquisitive fellow, And what if there isn’t a boat and a train, and João Mau-Tempo says simply, Then I’ll spend the night in the station, there’s sure to be a bench there, it’s a shame it’s so cold, but I’m used to that, thanks very much for your help, and having said this, he moves off, but the other man says, I’ll come with you, let me carry that bag for you, and João Mau-Tempo hesitates, but having spent six months with humane and generous men, who looked after him, taught him, gave him tobacco and money for the journey, it seems churlish to distrust this man, so he hands him the bag, the city can be full of surprises, and off they go, down the remaining streets, as far as the big square, under the arcade and into the station, João Mau-Tempo has difficulty reading the timetable, all those tiny figures, and the man helps him, running his finger down the columns, No, there’s no train, the earliest one is tomorrow morning, and when he hears this, João Mau-Tempo immediately starts looking for a place where he can curl up, but the man says, You’re tired, and you’re obviously hungry too, come and sleep at my house, have a bowl of soup and rest, you’ll die of cold if you stay here, that’s what he said, no one believes such things can happen, and yet it’s true, João Mau-Tempo can only answer, Thank you very much, it’s a real act of charity, Father Agamedes would cry hosanna were he here, he would praise the kindness of man to man, and he’s quite right, this man carrying the bag on his back deserves to be praised, though he’s not a churchgoer, not that he’s said as much, but the narrator knows these things, as well as others that have nothing to do with the story, because this is a story about the latifundio, not about the city. The man is older than João Mau-Tempo, but stronger and quicker on his feet, indeed, he has to slow down to accommodate the painful pace of this man raised from the dead, and to cheer him up, he says, I live near here, in Alfama, and he turns onto Rua da Alfândega, and João Mau-Tempo is already feeling better, and they set off down damp, steep-sided alleyways, well, in this weather it’s hardly surprising they’re damp, a door, the narrowest of stairways, an attic room, Hi, Ermelinda, this gentleman is sleeping here tonight, he’s going home tomorrow and has nowhere to stay, Ermelinda is a plump woman who opens the door to them as if she were opening her arms, Come in, and João Mau-Tempo, and sensitive readers, forgive me, and those who only appreciate large, dramatic events, but the first thing he notices is the smell of food, a bean and vegetable soup bubbling on the stove, and the man says, Make yourself at home, and then, What’s your name, and João Mau-Tempo, who is already sitting down, overcome by a sudden weariness, tells him his name, Well, I’m Ricardo Reis,
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and this is my wife Ermelinda, these are ordinary enough names, and that’s pretty much all we know about them, that and these bowls of soup on the kitchen table, Eat up, the cold is easing now, Lisbon has turned out to be a kindly place, this window at the back looks out over the river, there are a few small lights on boats, but fewer on the farther shore, who would have thought that one day, seen from here, they would be a feast for the eyes. Have another glass of wine, and perhaps that’s why, after a second glass of strong wine, João Mau-Tempo is smiling so broadly, even when he tells them what happened to him in prison, by the time he’s finished it’s getting late, and he can barely keep his eyes open, Ricardo Reis is looking serious, and Ermelinda is drying her tears, and then they say, It’s time you went to bed, you need to rest, and João Mau-Tempo doesn’t notice that it’s a double bed they’ve given him, he hears footsteps in the corridor, but they’re not the guard’s footsteps, not the guard, not the guard, and, free at last, he falls asleep.

T
HERE HAVE BEEN
six months of changes, which sometimes seem too few and sometimes too many. They are barely noticeable in the landscape, apart from the usual seasonal variations, but it’s frightening to see how people have aged, both the men just let out of prison and those who never left Monte Lavre, and how the children have grown, only João Mau-Tempo and Sigismundo Canastro seem unchanged in each other’s eyes. Sigismundo Canastro arrived yesterday and has already said that they must meet and talk, he’s as stubborn and determined as ever, you see, but that’s the way he is. Some people, however, are a pleasure to look at, as is the case with Gracinda Mau-Tempo, who has grown into a beautiful young woman, marriage clearly suits her, or so say the gossips, both the kindly and the cruel, but that’s as far as the latter will go, and there are other changes too, for example, Father Agamedes has gone from being tall and thin to being short and fat, and the amount of money owed at the shop has grown enormously, as is to be expected when the man of the house has been away. That’s why, when the time came, João Mau-Tempo set off with his daughter Amélia for the ricefields near Elvas, and to give you an idea of the geographical sensibilities of these rustic inhabitants, it’s said in Monte Lavre that beyond Elvas lies Spanish Extremadura, heaven knows how they stumbled upon this knowledge of a larger universe, which pays no heed to frontiers or borders, and if we want to know what lies behind João Mau-Tempo’s excursion to Évora, it’s largely to do with the latifundio’s suspicions about the ways and wiles of João Mau-Tempo, political prisoner. It’s true that he was never tried, but that’s the fault of the police, who are not as efficient as they ought to be. After a few months, things will get back to normal, but meanwhile, it’s best if he keeps his distance, then he won’t contaminate our beloved land, and as for Sigismundo Canastro, they tell him there’s no work and that he’ll have to find it elsewhere.