Conversation in the Cathedral (24 page)

“I had no reason to be,” Ambrosio says. “I didn’t know that Don Cayo was going to treat your papa so bad. Because they were such good friends at the time, son.”

When they reached the ranch house and he got out of the van,
Trifulcio
didn’t go to get something to eat, but went to the creek to wet his head, his face and his arms. Then he stretched out in the backyard under the eaves by the cotton gin. His hands and throat were burning, he was tired and content. He fell right off to sleep.

“That fellow, Mr. Lozano, that Trinidad López,” Ludovico said. “Yes, all of a sudden he went crazy on us.”

“You ran into her in the street?” Queta asked. “The one who’d been Gold Ball’s maid, the one who went to bed with you? Was that the one you fell in love with?”

“I’m glad you got Montagne released, Don Cayo,” Don Fermín said. “The enemies of the government were using that as a pretext to say the elections were a farce.”

“What do you mean, went crazy?” Mr. Lozano asked. “Did he talk or didn’t he?”

“They were, as a matter of fact, and just between you and me, we can see that,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “Jailing the only opposition candidate wasn’t the best solution, but there was nothing else we could do. The General had to be elected, didn’t he?”

“Did she tell you that her husband had died, that her son had died?” Queta asked. “That she was looking for work?”

He was awakened by the voices of the foreman, Urondo and Téllez. They sat down beside him, offered him a cigarette, chatted. The rally in Grocio Prado had turned out pretty good, hadn’t it? Yes, it had turned out pretty good. There’d been more people at the one in Chincha, hadn’t there? Yes, more people. Would Don Emilio win the election? Of course he’d win. And Trifulcio: if Don Emilio went to Lima as a senator, would they let him go? No, man, they’d keep him on, the foreman said. And Urondo: you’ll stay with us, you’ll see. It was still hot, the late-afternoon sun was tinting the cotton fields, the ranch house, the stones.

“He talked, but he said crazy things, Mr. Lozano,” Ludovico said. “That he was the second in command, that he was the headman. That the Apristas were coming to rescue him with cannons. He went crazy, I swear.”

“And you told her there’s a house in San Miguel where they’re looking for a maid?” Queta asked. “And you took her to Hortensia’s?”

“Do you really think Odría would have been defeated by Montagne?” Don Fermín asked.

“I’d say, rather, that he made fools of you,” Mr. Lozano said. “Oh, what a useless pair. And on top of it, stupid.”

“So it’s Amalia, the girl who started work last Monday,” Queta said. “Maybe you’re dumber than you look. Do you think nobody’s going to find out about it?”

“Montagne or any other opposition candidate would have won,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “Don’t you know Peruvians, Don Fermín? We’re a complex bunch, we like to support the underdog, the one who’s out of power.”

“Nothing of the sort, Mr. Lozano,” Hipólito said. “We’re not useless and we’re not stupid. Come take a look at how we left him and you’ll see.”

“That you made her swear she wouldn’t tell Hortensia you were the one who told her about it?” Queta said. “That you made her think Cayo Shithead would kick her out if he found out she knew you?”

At that moment the door of the ranch house opened and out came the man who gave the orders. He crossed the courtyard, stopped in front of them, pointed his finger at Trifulcio: Don Emilio’s wallet, you son of a bitch.

“It’s too bad you didn’t accept the senate seat,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “The President had hoped you’d be the majority leader in parliament, Don Fermín.”

“The wallet, that I took it?” Trifulcio stood up, pounded his chest. “Me, sir, me?”

“You pair of fools,” Mr. Lozano said. “Why didn’t you take him to the infirmary, you pair of fools?”

“Do you steal from the one who feeds you?” said the man who gave the orders. “From the one who gives you work and you a known thief?”

“You don’t know women,” Queta said. “One of these days she’ll tell Hortensia that she knows you, that you brought her to San Miguel. One of these days Hortensia will tell Cayo Shithead, one of these days he’ll tell Gold Ball. And that’s the day they’ll kill you, Ambrosio.”

Trifulcio had knelt down, had begun to swear and whimper. But the man who gave the orders wasn’t moved: he was ordering him arrested again, a criminal, a known hoodlum, the wallet, right now. And at that moment the door of the ranch house opened and Don Emilio came out: what was going on there.

“We took him but they wouldn’t take him in, Mr. Lozano,” Ludovico said. “They wouldn’t accept the responsibility, only if you gave the order in writing.”

“We’ve already talked about that, Don Cayo,” Don Fermín said. “I’d be more than pleased to serve the President. But a senate seat is getting into politics full time and I can’t do it.”

“I’m not going to say anything, I never say anything,” Queta said. “Nothing in the world is any business of mine. You’re going to fuck yourself up, but not because of me.”

“Wouldn’t you accept an ambassadorship either?” Cayo Bermúdez asked. “The General is very thankful for all the help you’ve given him and he wants to show it. Wouldn’t you be interested in that, Don
Fermín
?”

“Look how he’s insulting me, Don Emilio,” Trifulcio said. “Look at the terrible thing he’s accusing me of. He even made me cry, Don Emilio.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it,” Don Fermín said, laughing. “I’m not cut out for a legislator or a diplomat either, Don Cayo.”

“I didn’t do it, sir,” Hipólito said. “He went crazy all by himself, he fell on his face all by himself, sir. We barely touched him, believe me, Mr. Lozano.”

“It wasn’t him, man,” Don Emilio said to the man who gave the orders. “It must have been some peasant at the rally. You’d never stoop so low as to rob me, would you now, Trifulcio?”

“The General is going to be hurt by your being so stand-offish, Don Fermín,” Cayo Bermúdez said.

“I’d let them cut off my hand first, Don Emilio,” Trifulcio said.

“You people complicated this whole thing,” Mr. Lozano said, “and you’re going to uncomplicate it all by yourselves, you bastards.”

“Not stand-offish, you’re wrong,” Don Fermín said. “The time will come when Odría can pay me back for my services. You see, since you’re so frank with me, I can be the same with you, Don Cayo.”

“You’re going to take him out nice and quiet, you’re going to take him nice and carefully,” Mr. Lozano said, “you’re going to leave him
somewhere
. And if anyone sees you, fuck you, and I’ll fuck you besides. Understood?”

Oh, you black scoundrel, Don Emilio said. And he went into the ranch house with the man who gave the orders, and Urondo and the foreman also left after a while. You let them insult you all they wanted, Trifulcio, Téllez laughed.

“You’re always inviting me out and I’d like to return it,” Cayo
Bermúdez
said. “I’d like to invite you to have dinner at my house one of these nights, Don Fermín.”

“The man who insulted me didn’t know what he was leaving himself open to,” Trifulcio said.

“It’s all set, sir,” Ludovico said. “We took him out, carried him away, left him, and nobody saw us.”

“Did you lift the wallet?” Téllez asked. “You can’t fool me, Trifulcio.”

“Whenever you say,” Don Fermín said. “It would be my pleasure, Don Cayo.”

“I lifted it but he didn’t know it,” Trifulcio said. “Do you want to go to town tonight?”

“At the door of San Juan de Dios Hospital, Mr. Lozano,” Hipólito said. “Nobody saw us.”

“I’ve taken a house in San Miguel, near the Bertoloto Hotel,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “And besides, well, I don’t know whether you heard, Don Fermín.”

“Who, what are you talking about?” Mr. Lozano said. “Haven’t you forgotten about it yet, you bastards?”

“How much money was there in the wallet, Trifulcio?” Téllez asked.

“Well, I’d heard something, yes,” Don Fermín said. “You know what parrots people in Lima are, Don Cayo.”

“Don’t be so nosy,” Trifulcio said. “Be happy that I’ll be buying the drinks tonight.”

“Oh, yes, oh, of course,” Ludovico said. “Nobody, nothing, we’ve forgotten all about it, sir.”

“I’m a country boy, in spite of a year and a half in Lima, I’m still not sure of the customs here,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “Frankly, I felt a little hesitant. I was afraid you’d refuse to come to my house, Don Fermín.”

“Me too, Mr. Lozano, word of honor, I forgot,” Hipólito said. “Who was Trinidad López? I never saw him, he never existed. You see, sir? I’ve forgotten already.”

Téllez and Urondo, drunk now, were nodding on the wooden bench in the cheap bar, but in spite of all the beers and the heat, Trifulcio was still awake. Through the holes in the wall the sandy little square turned white by the sun could be seen, the shack where the voters were going in. Trifulcio was looking at the policemen standing in front of the shack. During the course of the morning they had come over a couple of times to have a beer and now there they were in their green uniforms. Over the heads of Téllez and Urondo a strip of beach could be seen, a sea with splotches of shining algae. They’d seen the boats leave, they’d seen them dissolve into the horizon. They’d eaten marinated fish and fried fish and potatoes and had drunk beer, lots of beer.

“Do you take me for a monk, a boob?” Don Fermín said. “Come on, Don Cayo. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve made a conquest like that. I’d be delighted to dine with you two, as many times as you want.”

Trifulcio saw the cloud of dust, the red van. It crossed the small square through the barking dogs, stopped in front of the bar, the man who gave the orders got out. Had a lot of people voted already? An awful lot, they’d been going in and coming out all morning. He was wearing boots, riding breeches, a pullover shirt: he didn’t want to see them drunk, they shouldn’t have any more. And Trifulcio: but there were a couple of cops there, sir. Don’t worry about it, said the man who gave the orders. He got into the van and it disappeared in the midst of barking and a cloud of dust.

“After all, you’re partly to blame,” Cayo Bermúdez said. “Remember that night at the Embassy Club?”

The ones who were coming out after voting approached the bar, the woman who owned it barred their entry: closed because of elections, they weren’t serving. And why wasn’t it closed for those guys? The old woman gave no explanations: out, or she’d call the cops. The people went away, grumbling.

“Of course I remember.” Don Fermín laughed. “But I never imagined that you were going to end up being shot through by an arrow from the Muse, Don Cayo.”

The shadow of the shacks around the square was already longer than the strips of sunlight when the red van appeared again, loaded with men now. Trifulcio looked toward the shack: a group of voters was watching the van with curiosity, the two policemen were also looking in that direction. Let’s go, the man who gave the orders hurried the men, who jumped to the ground. The voting would be over soon, pretty soon they’d be sealing up the ballot boxes.

“I know why you did it, you poor devil,” Don Fermín said. “Not because she was getting money out of me, not because she was
blackmailing
me.”

Trifulcio, Téllez and Urondo came out of the bar and placed
themselves
at the head of the men from the truck. There weren’t more than fifteen and Trifulcio recognized them: men from the cotton gin,
farmhands
, the two houseboys. Sunday shoes, cotton pants, big straw hats. Their eyes were burning, they smelled of alcohol.

“What do you think of this fellow Cayo?” Colonel Espina said. “I thought that all he did was work night and day, and look what he got for himself. A beautiful female, right, Don Fermín?”

They advanced as a platoon across the square and the people in the shack began to elbow each other aside. The two guards came out to meet them.

“But because of the anonymous note she sent me telling me about your woman,” Don Fermín said. “Not to get vengeance for me. To get
vengeance
for yourself, you poor devil.”

“There’s been cheating here,” the man who gave the orders said. “We’ve come to protest.”

“I was flabbergasted,” Colonel Espina said. “I’ll be damned, quiet old Cayo with a woman like that. Unbelievable, isn’t it, Don Fermín?”

“We won’t stand for any fraud,” Téllez said. “Long live General Odría, long live Don Emilio Arévalo!”

“We’re here to maintain order,” said one of the policemen. “We’ve got nothing to do with the voting. Make your protests to the people at the tables.”

“Hurray!” the men shouted. “Arévalo-Odría!”

“The funny thing is that I gave him advice,” Colonel Espina said. “Don’t work so hard, enjoy life a little. And look what he came up with, Don Fermín.”

The people had come closer, mingling with them, and they looked at them, looked at the policemen, and laughed. And then, out of the door of the shack came a little man who looked at Trifulcio, startled: what was that noise all about? He was wearing a jacket and tie, eyeglasses, and he had a sweaty little mustache.

“Break it up, break it up,” he said with a tremulous voice. “The polls are closed, it’s already six o’clock. Guards, make these people go away.”

“You thought I was going to fire you because of what I found out about that business with your woman,” Don Fermín said. “You thought that by doing that you’d have me by the neck. Even you wanted to blackmail me, you poor devil.”

“They say there’s been cheating, sir,” one of the policemen said.

“They say they’ve come to protest, doctor,” the other one said.

“And I asked him when are you going to bring your wife down from Chincha,” Colonel Espina said. “Never, she can stay in Chincha, that’s all. Look how Cayo the country boy has livened up, Don Fermín.”

“It’s true that they’re trying to cheat,” said a man who came out of the shack. “They’re trying to steal the election from Don Emilio Arévalo.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with you.” The little man had opened his eyes as wide as saucers. “Didn’t you oversee the voting as a representative of the Arévalo ticket? What cheating are you talking about? We haven’t even counted the ballots yet.”