The Collected Novels of José Saramago (150 page)

They have spoken about stones and starlings, now they are speaking about decisions taken. They are in the yard behind the house, José Anaiço is seated on the doorstep, Joaquim Sassa in a chair since he is a visitor, and because José Anaiço is sitting with his back to the kitchen where the light is coming from, we still do not know what he looks like, this man appears to be hiding himself, but this is not the case, how often have we shown ourselves as we really are, and yet we need not have bothered, there was no one there to notice. José Anaiço poured a little more white wine into their glasses, they are drinking it at room temperature, which is how it should be drunk, in the opinion of experts, rather than this modern fad of chilling the wine, something in any case out of the question here, because there is no refrigerator in the teacher’s house. That’s enough for me, said Joaquim Sassa, after the red wine I had with dinner, I’ve already passed my limit. Let’s drink to the trip, replied José Anaiço, and he smiled, showing the whitest of teeth, a detail worth noting. It makes good sense to go off in search of Pedro Orce, since I’m still on vacation, no commitments, Me too, and for much longer, until the schools reopen at the beginning of October, I’m on my own, So am I, It wasn’t my intention to come here to persuade you to accompany me, I didn’t even know you, I’m the one who’s asking you to take me along, if there’s room in your car, but you’ve already agreed and you can’t go back on your word now. Just imagine all the excitement there’ll be when they discover you’ve gone, most likely they’ll call the police at once, start thinking you’re already dead and buried, hanging from some tree, or lying at the bottom of the river, obviously they’ll suspect me, the stranger with superhuman strength who turned up from nowhere, asked some questions, and disappeared, it’s like something out of a book, I’ll leave a note on the door of the town hall saying that I had to leave unexpectedly for Lisbon, I hope no one remembers to go and ask at the station if anyone saw me buy a ticket.

For several moments they remained silent, then José Anaiço rose to his feet, took a few steps in the direction of the fig tree as he drank the rest of his wine, the starlings kept on screeching and began to stir uneasily, some had awakened as the men spoke, others, perhaps, were dreaming aloud, that terrible nightmare of the species, in which they feel themselves to be flying alone, disoriented and separated from the flock, moving through an atmosphere that resists and hinders the flapping of their wings as if it were made of water, the same thing happens to men when they are dreaming and their will tells them to run and they cannot. So we’ll leave an hour before sunrise, José Anaiço said, and now we must get some sleep. Joaquim Sassa rose from his chair, I’ll sleep in the car and come to get you before dawn, Why don’t you sleep here, I’ve only one bed but it’s wide, there’s plenty of room for both of us. It was a clear night, the vast expanse of the sky dotted with stars, so close, it seemed, that they might have been magically suspended motes of glass dust, or a snow-white veil, and the great constellations shone dramatically, the morning star, the two Bears, the Pleiades, a fine shower of tiny crystals of light fell on the two men’s upturned faces and clung to their skin, got caught in their hair, it was not the first time this phenomenon had occurred, but suddenly all the murmurings of the night fell silent, above the trees the first light of the moon appeared, now the stars must go out. Then Joaquim Sassa said, On a night like this, I might even sleep under the fig tree, if you can lend me a blanket, I’ll keep you company. They gathered and then spread enough straw for their beds, as one does for cattle, each one spread out his blanket, lying down on one half and covering himself with the other. The starlings watched their shadowy forms from the branches, Who can that be, beneath the tree, among the branches everything is wide awake, and with a moon like this, getting to sleep is going to be very difficult. The moon is rising swiftly, the squat, rotund crown of the fig tree transforms itself into a black and white labyrinth, and José Anaiço remarks, These shadows are not what they were, The peninsula has moved so little, a few meters, it can’t have had much effect, Joaquim Sassa observed, pleased at having understood the remark, It has moved, and that was enough for all the shadows to change, there are branches there that the moonlight is touching for the first time at this hour. Some minutes passed, the starlings began to settle down, and José Anaiço murmured, in a voice that sleep finally interrupted, each word waiting or searching for the next one, Once upon a time, our King, Dom Joào II, known as the Perfect King and in my opinion the perfect wit, made a certain nobleman a gift of an imaginary island, now tell me, do you know of any other nation where such a thing could happen, and the nobleman, what did the nobleman do, he set out to look for it, now, what I’d like to know is how you can find an imaginary island, That’s something I can’t tell you, but this other island, the Iberian one, which was once a peninsula but is no longer, I find just as amusing, as if it had set out to sea in search of imaginary men. Nicely phrased, couldn’t be more poetic. Well, let me assure you that I’ve never written a line of verse in my life, Don’t worry, if all men were to become poets, none would write verses. That phrase also has a certain charm, We’ve had too much to drink, I agree. Silence, calm, infinite harmony, and Joaquim Sassa murmured, as if he were dreaming, What will the starlings do tomorrow, will they stay or will they accompany us, When we leave we’ll find out, it’s always the same, José Anaiço said, the moon is lost among the branches of the fig tree and will spend all night searching for a way out.

It was still dark when Joaquim Sassa rose from his bed of straw to go and look for Deux Chevaux, which had been parked under the plane trees in the square, right beside the fountain. To avoid being seen together by some early riser, of whom there are many in farming communities, they had agreed to meet on the outskirts of the village, at some distance from the last houses. José Anaiço would turn off the main road, take side roads and short cuts, keeping well out of sight, Joaquim Sassa, however, would discreetly take the main road used by everyone, he was one of those travelers who go neither in debt nor in fear, he set out early to enjoy the fresh morning air and to make the most of the day, tourists who are out and about early are like this, at heart troubled and restless, unable to accept life’s inescapable brevity, late to bed and early to rise does not make one healthy, but it does prolong life. Deux Chevaux has a quiet engine, the ignition is as smooth as silk, only the few inhabitants who could not sleep heard anything, and these thought they had finally fallen asleep and were dreaming, in the stillness of dawn even the steady noise of a water pump can scarcely be heard. Joaquim Sassa left the village, passed the first bend, then the second, then brought Deux Chevaux to a halt and waited.

In the silvery depths of the olive grove the trunks started to become visible, there was already a touch of humidity in the air, the faintest hint of a breeze, as if the morning were emerging from a well of clouded water, and now a bird sang, or were his ears deceiving him, for not even the larks sing at this early hour. Time passed and Joaquim Sassa began muttering to himself, Perhaps he’s thought it over and decided not to come, but he didn’t strike me as being like that, or perhaps he had to take a much more roundabout way than he imagined, that must be the explanation, and then he’s carrying a heavy suitcase, that’s something I overlooked, I could have carried it to the car myself. Then, from amid the olive trees, emerged José Anaiço, surrounded by starlings, a frenzy of wings ruffling continuously, strident cries, whoever mentioned two hundred is unable to count, this reminds me more of a swarm of big black bees, but what Joaquim Sassa obviously had in mind were the birds in Hitchcock’s classic film, although those were wicked assassins. José Anaiço approaches the car with his garland of winged creatures, he comes smiling, which makes him look younger than Joaquim Sassa, for, as everyone knows, a serious expression makes one look older, he has the whitest of teeth, as we discovered last night, and while there is nothing remarkable about any individual feature, there is a certain harmony in those sunken cheeks, besides, no one is obliged to be good-looking. He put his suitcase into the car, climbed in beside Joaquim Sassa, and before closing the door looked out to see the starlings, Let’s go, I wondered what they would do, but you can see for yourself, If we had a rifle here and fired a few shots, two cartridges of buckshot would finish them off, Are you a hunting man, No, I’m only repeating what I’ve heard others say, We don’t have a rifle, Perhaps there might be another solution, I’ll get Deux Chevaux moving, and the starlings will be left behind, they’re a species with short wings and little stamina, Try. Deux Cheveaux changed gear, accelerated on a long stretch of straight road, and, taking advantage of the flat terrain, soon left the starlings behind. The morning light became tinged with contrasting shades of pale and bright pink, colors fallen from the sky, and the air turned blue, we repeat, the air and not the sky, as we also observed yesterday evening, these hours are much the same, the one beginning the day, the other ending it. Joaquim Sassa switched off the headlights and reduced speed, he knows that Deux Chevaux was not destined for such bold exploits, its ancestry is undistinguished, anyway, the car has seen better days and the engine’s tameness is nothing more than stoic resignation, Good, that’s the end of the starlings, these were the words of José Anaiço, but there was a note of regret in his voice.

Two hours later, in the Province of Alentejo, they stopped for a bite to eat, coffee with milk, cinnamon-flavored sponge cakes, then they returned to the car, chewing over the same old worries, The worst thing that could happen wouldn’t be to find myself barred from Spain, it would be much worse if they were to keep me there, You haven’t been accused of anything, They can invent some pretext, detain me for questioning. Don’t worry, before we reach the frontier we’re sure to find some means of getting across, this was their dialogue, which adds nothing to our understanding of the story, perhaps it was only put here so that we would understand that Joaquim Sassa and José Anaiço are already on familiar terms, something they must have decided during the journey. Let’s not stand on ceremony, one of them said, and the other replied, I was just about to make the same suggestion. Joaquim Sassa was on the point of opening the car door when the starlings reappeared, that enormous cloud, resembling more than ever some great swarm whirling overhead and making a deafening noise, one could see that they were angry, people standing beneath them stopped and looked up, pointed to the sky, someone declared, I’ve never seen so many birds together in my whole life, and to judge from his appearance he was old enough to have had this experience and many others, There are more than a thousand of them, he added, and he was right, at least twelve hundred and fifty birds had gathered on this occasion, They’ve finally caught up with us, said Joaquim Sassa, let them wear themselves out and we’ll be rid of them for good. José Anaiço watched the starlings as they flew triumphantly in a great circle, he stood there transfixed, staring at them intently, Let’s drive slowly, from now on we’ll go slowly, Why, I don’t know, it’s just a premonition, for some reason these birds won’t leave us alone, You could be right, so do me a favor and go slowly, and we’ll see what happens.

How they crossed the Alentejo in this blazing heat, under a sky more white than blue, amid shining stubble with the occasional holm oak on the bare land and bundles of straw waiting to be gathered, beneath the incessant chirping of the cicadas, would make a whole story in itself, perhaps even harder to tell than that other one I re-counted on an earlier occasion. It’s true that for kilometer after kilometer along this road there is not a living soul to be seen, but the corn has been cut, the grain threshed, and all these tasks required men and women, but on this occasion we shall learn nothing about all this, all too true is the proverb that warns us, Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. The heat is oppressive, suffocating, but Deux Chevaux is in no hurry, is only too pleased to stop wherever there is a little shade, then José Anaiço and Joaquim Sassa get out to scan the horizon, they wait as long as they have to, finally it comes, the only cloud in the sky, these stops wouldn’t be necessary if the starlings knew how to fly in a straight line, but because there are so many of them, each with its own disposition despite its attachment to the flock, dispersions and distractions are inevitable, some would prefer to rest, others to drink water or to peck at berries, and until their desires coincide, the flock will be scattered and its itinerary upset. Along the route, in addition to the kites, solitary raptors, and members of less gregarious species, other birds of the starling family had been sighted, but they didn’t join the flock, perhaps because they were not black but speckled, or perhaps because they had some other destiny in life. José Anaiço and Joaquim Sassa got into the car, Deux Chevaux resumed its journey, and so, starting and stopping, stopping and starting, they arrived at the frontier. Then Joaquim Sassa said, And now let’s see if they’ll allow me to pass, you follow, perhaps the starlings will help.

Just as in those tales about fairies and enchantments, knights and damsels, or in those no less admirable Homeric epics in which, thanks to the bounty of the tree of fables or through some caprice of the gods or other superhuman beings, anything might happen, however contrary to custom or opposed to nature, it came about that Joaquim Sassa and José Anaiço had stopped at the police lookout, or frontier post in technical jargon, and God alone knows how anxious they must have felt as they presented their papers, when the next moment, like a sudden downpour of lashing rain or cyclone sweeping all before it, the flock of starlings swooped down from the heavens like a black meteor, bird bodies transformed into flashes of lightning, hissing, screeching, finally scattering in all directions when they reached the low roofs of the lookout, just like a whirlwind out of control. The terrified policemen waved their arms about, ran to take shelter, Joaquim Sassa saw his chance, got out of the car and retrieved the documents one of the policemen had dropped, there was no one to observe this infringement of customs regulations, and that was that, secret crossings had been made by many routes, but never before like this. Hitchcock is applauding from the wings, the applause of someone who is a master of the genre. The excellence of this method was soon confirmed, showing that the Spanish police, like their Portuguese counterparts, take these avian omens, these black starlings, in all seriousness. The travelers passed with no difficulty, but dozens of birds stayed behind, for there was a loaded shotgun at the customs post across the border, even a blind man would have been able to hit the target, all you had to do was to shoot into the air, and this was needless slaughter, because in Spain, as we know, no one was looking for Joaquim Sassa. Nor is it certain that this is the action the Andalusian guards would have taken, for the starlings were Portuguese by nationality, born and bred in the lands of Ribatejo, and they had come a long way only to die, let us hope that these cruel guards will at least have the decency to invite their colleagues from Alentejo to share the feast of fried starlings in an atmosphere of wholesome conviviality and comradeship.