Raised from the Ground

a tree. He has a good life, this guard, with few duties, simply watching the days pass by, only occasionally are there a few more serious cases, although there will be more, otherwise, the months come and go, the latifundio is calm and peaceful, the barracks and his beat are calm and peaceful, apart from report writing and patrols, court proceedings and the kind of complaints bickering neighbors always have. Life goes by, and before you know it you’ve reached retirement age. These are the thoughts of a peace-loving man, you would never think he had a rifle and a cartridge belt at his side and was wearing seven-league boots, above his head a bird is singing, its name doesn’t matter, it hops from branch to branch, you can see its silhouette from here, just the fan of its tail and a wing. If we looked down at the ground, we would see the crawling fraternity of insects, the ant that raises its head like a dog, the other that always keeps it lowered, the tiny spider, wherever does it put its food, but we mustn’t let ourselves be distracted, we have to go and arrest a man, we’re simply letting him finish his lunch, well, just because we’re guards doesn’t mean we don’t have a heart, you know.

There are no great feasts on the latifundio. José Calmedo peers between the bushes, everyone has finished eating. He gets up, sighing perhaps at the effort made or about to be made, puts his rifle over his shoulder with measured gestures, not because these gestures are important, but because they are crutches, things a man can hold on to in order not to get lost amid the meaninglessness of his actions, and then he heads off down the hill toward the men. They see him coming from a distance, their hearts perhaps beat a little faster, the laws of the latifundio are strict, whether they’re to do with who owns the acorns or where you can collect firewood, or far worse misdemeanors. José Calmedo approaches, then stops and summons the foreman, he doesn’t want everyone to hear, men may not be girls, but they have their modesty, Tell João Mau-Tempo I want to have a word with him.

João Mau-Tempo’s heart beats as fast as that of a little bird. Not that he feels himself guilty of any heinous crime, of the kind that merits rather more than just a fine or a beating. He senses that he is the man the guard has come for, that from the moment the foreman says, João Mau-Tempo, go and talk to the guard, it will be like removing a layer of cork, you hear the creak and know that the efforts of both man and tree are working as one, all that’s lacking is the man’s grunt, Uh, and the scream of the bark as it comes away, craaack, So, Senhor José Calmedo, what can I do for you, asks João Mau-Tempo with the apparent calm of someone congratulating the guard on his appearance, fortunately our hearts are hidden, otherwise all men would be condemned sooner or later, either for their innocence or their crimes, because the heart is an impulsive, impatient thing, incapable of restraint. The person who made hearts clearly didn’t know what he was doing, but fortunately one can learn to be sly, otherwise how could José Calmedo say, without anyone having told him to, Oh, it’s nothing important, we just want to clear up a case involving two guys who stole a couple of sheaves of wheat, the owner swears it was them, but they say you’re a witness to the fact that it wasn’t, I don’t really understand the situation myself, to be honest. It’s always the same, however well intentioned, a man tends to get in a tangle when he shouldn’t and whatever he says becomes like the devil’s cape, which, being short, both covers and uncovers, but even when João Mau-Tempo, who is, in this case, completely innocent, even when he says, But what have I got to do with it, why should I get involved, the guard responds with the old argument, You have nothing to worry about, just come along with me, say your piece and leave.

So be it. João Mau-Tempo is about to go off and pick up his few tools and what’s left of his lunch, but José Calmedo, still carried along on the wave of his invention, says, Don’t bother doing that, you’ll be back soon, it won’t take long. And having fulfilled his quota of lies, he moves off, with an uneasy João Mau-Tempo following behind, clacking along in the clogs he wore when working. From there to Monte Lavre, José Calmedo’s face is a picture of rage, as befits a guard who has made an arrest and is escorting his prisoner, but that wasn’t the reason, rather, the sadness of having won such a pathetic victory, is this what two men were born for. And João Mau-Tempo, deep in his own thoughts and anxieties, was trying to convince himself that some sheaves of wheat really had been stolen and that his testimony really could save two innocent men.

João Mau-Tempo enters the same barracks where he had been held prisoner some four years before. Everything looks the same, as if time hadn’t passed. José Calmedo goes to tell the corporal that the arrested man is here, that there have been no hitches, mission completed, but please, keep the medals for another occasion, just leave me alone to get on with my life and my cloud-thoughts, one day, I will present a sheet of paper bearing an official stamp and addressed to the Commander General of the National Republican Guard, Sir, meanwhile, Corporal Tacabo orders João Mau-Tempo to come in and says, Sit down, Senhor Mau-Tempo, such politeness is not so very odd, guards don’t always behave like cruel executioners, Do you know why you’ve been summoned. João Mau-Tempo is about to say