that with this long, drawn-out history of the siege, I've scarcely done any proof-reading, and since you're responsible for the precarious state of my finances, it's only right that you should pay and in recompense, I'll make you some toast for breakfast tomorrow, You're going to leave me with a terrible debt on my hands.
Maria Sara had parked her car in the Largo dos Loios and they both fancied the idea of a walk on such a mild evening. Before descending the Limoeiro, they lingered on the belvedere to watch the Tagus, this wide, mysterious inland sea. Raimundo Silva had put his arm round Maria Sara's shoulder, he knew this body, he knew it, and from knowing it came this feeling of infinite strength, and, on the other hand, a feeling of infinite emptiness, of indolent weariness, like a great bird hovering over the world and postponing the moment to settle. Now they were returning home, slowly, the night seemed interminable, there was no need to run in order to arrest the hours, or hasten them on, for this is all time permits. Maria Sara said, I'm curious to read what you've written, you could be right when you say you're on the way to becoming an author, Surely you didn't take me seriously, One can never tell, one can never tell, our best clothes are not simply there to attract stains, If I'm already condemned to the punishments of hell, just think what my fate would be as an author, Worse than hell, I suppose there is only limbo, Agreed, but I'm rather too old for limbo, and, since I'm baptised, should I escape the punishments, I won't escape the rewards, for it is said there are no alternatives, here stood the Porta de Ferro, they demolished it some two hundred years ago, what was left of it, of course, as for the Moorish gate, no one knows what it was like, Don't change the conversation, the idea is a good one, What idea, That your history of the siege should be published, By our publishing house, Why not, You'd make a hopeless Editorial Director, allowing feelings to cloud your judgment, But starting from the principle that the book was good enough, And do you think that our bosses would agree after seeing themselves ridiculed, If they have any sense of humour, I've never given it a thought, which could be my fault for being slow on the uptake, Finish the book then we'll see, there's nothing to be lost in trying, What I have there at home is not a book, only a few dozen pages with separate episodes, It's a start, Very well, but on one condition, Such as, That I should proof-read my own book, But why, when everyone knows that the author is the last person to be trusted with checking his own work, So that I don't find someone inserting a yes where I've written not. Maria Sara laughed and said, I really do like you. And Raimundo Silva replied, I'm doing my utmost to make sure you go on liking me. They were climbing the Canada do Correio Velho, that very same route he always tried to avoid, but today he felt elated and relaxed, and any fatigue he felt was somehow different, demanding not so much rest as further exertions. At this hour the street was deserted, the place and circumstances were propitious, Raimundo Silva kissed Maria Sara, there is nothing more common nowadays than kissing in public, but we must bear in mind that Raimundo Silva belongs to a much more circumspect generation that was not given to showing its feelings, let alone its desires. His boldness, after all, would go no further, the street was empty and badly lit, but it's a start. They went on climbing, paused at the foot of the Escadinhas de'Sao Crispim, there are a hundred and thirty-four steps, said Raimundo Silva, and as steep as those of the Aztec temples, but once we get to the top we're almost home, Who's complaining, let's go, If you look up there, under those large windows there are still traces of the wall built by the Goths, at least, according to the experts, And you're now one of them, Nonsense, I've simply done a little reading, I've amused or educated myself little by little, discovering the difference between looking and seeing, between seeing and observing, Sounds interesting, It's elementary, I even imagine true knowledge depends on our awareness of the change from one level of perception, as it were, to another, Barbarian, more Goth than anyone, the person moving from one level to another is me ever since we started clambering up this mountain, let's rest for a moment on this step until I get my breath back. These words and what followed suddenly reminded Raimundo Silva of that day, when terrified of being confronted by an indignant and threatening Costa, he had rushed down the Escadinhas and sat on one of these steps, hiding from those accusing eyes he imagined, not only his cowardice but also the shame it would cause him. One day, when he feels more confident about this love affair springing up between them, he will tell Maria Sara about these base traits in his nature, although, on the other hand, he might decide to say nothing rather than tarnish any positive image he might one day give of himself, and preserve. But even at this moment, when he still has not taken any decision about what he will finally do, he can sense the discomfort of a neglected scruple, the remorse that anticipates failure, a mental thorn. He promises that he will not forget this premonitary warning of his conscience, and suddenly becomes aware of the silence that has come between them, perhaps a constraint, but no, Maria Sara's expression is tranquil, serene, touched by the light of a waning moon that somehow dilutes the shadows in this place where they find themselves and where there are no street-lamps, a constraint inside him, for no other reason than knowing that he is hiding something, let us say not so much the shame of fear, but fear of shame. If Maria Sara does not speak it is because she feels that she should remain silent, if Raimundo Silva is about to speak it is because he does not wish to explain the real reason for his being silent, Some time ago there was a dog here, a mastiff, that disappeared, and departing from this statement, he began telling the tale of his encounter with the animal, adding enough imaginative detail to make it sound more real and authentic. It refused to leave this spot, on two or three occasions I fed it and I believe some neighbours were also giving it food but not all that much, because the poor beast always looked famished, I don't know what became of it, whether it found the courage to go wandering off in search of life, or perished right here for want of nourishment, I now feel I should have done something more, after all, it wouldn't have cost me anything to feed it some scraps every day or buy it some of this dog-food you find on sale everywhere nowadays, at no great expense. For several more minutes, Raimundo Silva repeated his responsibilities and omissions, conscious, in the meantime, that he was covering up with false remorse his real remorse, the latter suspect, the one to come uncertain, then suddenly, he fell silent, he felt ridiculous, childish, all these scruples because of a stray dog, all it needed now was for Maria Sara to make some off-hand comment, for example, Poor beast, and that is precisely what she said, Poor beast, before getting to her feet and saying, Let's go.
Seated at the little table where he has written The History of the Siege of Lisbon, looking at the last page as he awaits that providential word that by means of attraction or repulsion will reactivate the interrupted flow, Raimundo Silva was no doubt saying to himself, like Maria Sara on the Escadinhas de'Sao Crispim last night, Let's go, write, push ahead, develop, abbreviate, annotate, perfect, but without any of the gentle modulation of that other Let's go, which, incapable of remaining suspended in space, went on reverberating inside them like an echo slowly becoming louder until transformed into glorious song when the bedclothes were drawn back once more to receive them. The memory of that splendid night distracts Raimundo Silva, the surprise of awakening in the morning and seeing and feeling a naked body beside him, the ineffable pleasure of touching it, here, there, softly, as it were one great rose, saying to himself, Slowly, don't awaken her, let me come to know you, rose, body, flower, then those eager hands, that prolonged, insistent caress, until Maria Sara opens her eyes and smiles, when they said together, My love, and embraced. Raimundo Silva searches for the word, on any other occasion these same words would have served, My love, but it is doubtful whether Mogueime and Ouroana would have used them, not to mention that at this stage, they still had not met, let alone declared such sudden feelings whose expression seems beyond their understanding.
Meanwhile, the unwitting instrument of destiny, knight Heinrich debates in his intimate forum, whether he should take Ouroana with him to Mem Ramires's quarters, or leave her behind in the royal encampment, under the care and vigilance of his trusted squire. But he is so accustomed to having this squire with him that he does not feel inclined to dispense with his services, so after giving the matter careful consideration, he summoned him and told him to prepare their baggage and arms because early next morning they will descend from these sheltered heights in order to join the troops gathered at the Porta de Ferro, where, under his command and authority, they will build an assault tower, Let's see who finishes first, us, or the French, or the Normans, at the Portas do Sol and the Porta de Alfama. And what about your concubine, Ouroana, what will you do with her, asked the squire, She will come with me, There are many dangers, down there the Moors and Christians are directly facing each other, Later we'll see what's to be done, since I'm certain that these infidels have not dared to engage in battle outside the walls. Having thus agreed, the squire went to warn Ouroana and to organise the move, five of his armed bodyguards would also accompany knight Heinrich, because this German was not such a great lord as to have a private army at his disposal, his speciality was more in the line of engineering, which nearly always depends on having a large number of men to build the machines, and always on the engineer's knowledge, skill and imagination. Early next morning, as stated before, after attending holy mass, knight Heinrich went to kiss the king's hands, Farewell, Your Majesty, I'm going to build the tower. Standing a little way off, were his squire and armed bodyguards who were not entitled to speak with the king, and Ouroana in her litter, more to satisfy her master's vanity than to display the fairness of her complexion, for in the fields of Galicia where she had been abducted, she was the daughter of peasants and like them she laboured, tilling the soil. Dom Afonso Henriques embraced the knight, May the Holy
