João Mau-Tempo is in the barracks at Vendas Novas now, the journey was all a dream, and this PIDE agent, there’s no mistaking him, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all, and João Mau-Tempo has more than enough experience of them, this agent says, while the barracks commander is picking at his teeth, Yep, this is the gentleman who’ll be coming on a little trip to Lisbon with me, what is it with these people, they all talk about going on trips, let’s go on a little trip, they say, and sometimes these are trips from which you don’t return, that’s what you hear anyway, but meanwhile, the agent turns to a guard and gives an order, the commander is here to obey, he’s a stooge, a toady. Take this man to the recreation room so he can rest until tomorrow, and João Mau-Tempo feels someone grab his arm roughly and take him out the back, into a garden, the guards love gardens, perhaps their many sins will be forgiven them because of their love of flowers, which means that not everything is lost in their hardened souls, a moment of beauty and grace redeems the worst of crimes in the eyes of the supreme judge, like this crime of taking João Mau-Tempo from Monte Lavre and throwing him into a temporary dungeon and into other, more permanent ones, not to mention what will happen later. For now, it’s a provincial cell, and over there is a truckle bed with a mat and a bundle of foul blankets, and here’s a jug of water, he’s so thirsty, he raises it to his lips and finds that the water is warm, but he drinks only after the guard has left, and now I can cry, don’t laugh at me, I’m forty-four, but forty-four is nothing, you’re still a lad, in the prime of life, don’t say that on the latifundio and to my face, when I feel so tired and when there’s this pain in my side that never leaves me and these lines and wrinkles that the mirror can still, for the time being, show me, if this is the prime of life, then allow me to weep.
We will pass over the night during which João Mau-Tempo did not sleep but merely paced up and down, not wanting to rest his body on the bed. Day dawns, he is weary and anxious, what will become of me, and when nine o’clock struck, the door opens and the guard says, Come out where I can see you, that’s how he speaks, he hasn’t been taught any other way, and the PIDE agent says, It’s time to catch the train and set off on our little trip. And they leave, accompanied to the door by the commander of the barracks, who is very scrupulous and polite in such matters, See you, then, he says, and although João Mau-Tempo may be innocent, he is not so innocent as to think that this farewell is intended for him, but on the way to the station, he says, Sir, I swear I’m innocent. If the train wasn’t about to leave, we could sit here and debate what it means to be innocent, and whether João Mau-Tempo truly believes in that oath and how he can believe in what appears to be a perjury, and we would discover, if we had time and intelligence enough, the difference between being innocently blameless and blamelessly innocent, although such subtleties are lost on João Mau-Tempo’s companion, who responds angrily, Stop your bellyaching, they’ll straighten you out in Lisbon.
Let us pass over the journey too, since it does not appear in the history of railways in Portugal. Such is the body’s sovereign power over us that João Mau-Tempo even dozed a little, lulled to sleep by the swaying carriage and the clatter of the wheels over the rails, clackety-clack, but each time, he started awake, terrified to discover that he wasn’t dreaming. Then there was the boat to Terreiro do Paço, what if I threw myself into the water, these are black thoughts, I want to die and not heroically either, what is unusual about João Mau-Tempo is that he has never seen a film and therefore doesn’t know how easy and much applauded is that leap from the side of the boat, the impeccable dive and the swim American-style that carries the fugitive to the mysterious chartered yacht that waits at a distance, along with the veiled countess who, in order to be there, has broken the sacred bonds of family and the rules of her aristocratic heritage. But João Mau-Tempo will only learn later that he is the son of the king and sole heir to the throne, three cheers for King João Mau-Tempo, king of Portugal, the boat moors at the pontoon, and the man who was asleep wakes up, and by the time he does so, there are two men standing over him, Is he the only one, they ask, and the man who came with João Mau-Tempo answers, Yes, he’s the only one this time.
Let us also pass over without much comment the journey through the city, the trams, the many cars, the passersby, the statue of Dom José on his horse,* now which one is the horse’s right leg, João Mau-Tempo recognizes the various places, how could one forget such a big square and the arches, bigger than those in Giraldo square in Évora, but then suddenly everything is new to him, these steep, narrow streets, and just when he is finding the journey long, it becomes all too short, this half-door opening
