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YET CONTENTED FAMILIES are still to be found. The Royal Family of Spain is one of them. That of Portugal is another. The offspring of the one marry the offspring of the other, from the Spanish dynasty comes Mariana Vitoria, from that of Portugal, Maria Barbara, their bridegrooms Jose from Portugal and Fernando from Spain respectively, as one would say. These unions are the fruit of careful planning, and negotiations have been under way since the year seventeen hundred and twenty-five. Innumerable discussions have taken place, there has been much shuttling of ambassadors, much haggling, much coming and going of plenipotentiaries, many arguments about the various clauses in the wedding contracts, about their respective prerogatives and the dowries of the Princesses, for these royal marriages cannot be entered into lightly or quickly settled at the butcher's shop, as the lower orders quip when referring to some illicit affair, only now after almost five years of protracted negotiations has an agreement been reached about a formal exchange of Princesses, one for you and one for me.
Maria Barbara has just turned seventeen, her face is as round as a full moon, pockmarked, as we already mentioned, but she has a sweet nature and as good an ear for music as anyone has a right to expect of a royal princess, the lessons she received from Maestro Domenico Scarlatti have borne fruit, and soon he will follow her to Madrid, whence he will not return. The bridegroom who awaits her is two years younger, the said Fernando, who will be the sixth descendant of the Spanish dynasty to bear that name, but he will merely be king in name, a detail we mention in passing lest we are accused of interfering in the internal affairs of a neighbouring country. A country from which, once historical links have been established with Portugal, Mariana Vitoria will come, an eleven-year-old girl who, despite her tender years, has already experienced great sorrow, suffice it to say that she was about to marry Louis XV of France when he repudiated her, a word that may seem excessive and lacking in diplomacy, but how else can one describe it if a child at the age of four is sent to reside at the French court in order to be prepared for the aforesaid marriage, only to be sent back home two years later because her betrothed suddenly decided he wanted an heir to the crown, or it suited the interests of whoever was advising him, a demand that would have been physiologically impossible for another eight years. So the poor child, delicate and undernourished, was sent back to Spain on the feeble pretext that she was visiting her parents, King Felipe and Queen Isabel, and there she remained in Madrid, waiting for a bridegroom to be found who would be in less of a hurry to beget heirs, perhaps even our own Infante Jose, who will soon be fifteen. There is not much to say about the things that afford pleasure to Mariana Vitoria, she is fond of dolls and adores sweetmeats, which is not surprising since she is still a mere child, she already shows considerable aptitude for hunting, and as she grows older she will develop a taste for music and literature. When all is said and done, there are those who govern with fewer accomplishments.
Stories about nuptials often relate how some people are treated as outsiders, therefore, to avoid any disappointment, never go to a wedding or a baptism without being invited. Someone who most certainly was not invited was Joao Elvas, who had befriended Sete-Sois during the years he spent in Lisbon before he met Blimunda and came to live with her, Joao Elvas had offered him shelter in the hut where he slept along with other tramps and vagabonds close to the Convent of Hope, as you will remember. Even then Joao Elvas was getting on in years, and he is now in his sixties, weary and filled with nostalgia for the land of his birth, from which he took his name, certain longings take possession of the elderly, while there are other things they no longer crave. He hesitated about starting out on the journey, not because of his weak legs, which were still remarkably strong for a man of his age, but because of those vast barren plains of the Alentejo, no one is safe from some evil encounter, such as that experienced by Baltasar Sete-Sois in the pine forests of Pegoes, although on that occasion it was the brigand killed by Baltasar who encountered evil, and his corpse would have lain there exposed to vultures and stray dogs if his companion had not returned to the spot in order to bury him. For a man never really knows what fate awaits him, what good or evil is likely to befall him. Who could ever have told Joao Elvas when he was still a soldier, or even now that he has become a harmless vagabond, that the day would come when he would accompany the King of Portugal on his journey up the river Caia to deliver one royal princess and bring back another, who would have believed it. No one ever told him, no one ever predicted such a thing, fate alone knew that this would happen, as it began to select and weave the threads of destiny, diplomatic and dynastic intrigues in both courts and a lasting sense of nostalgia and destitution for the veteran soldier. If we ever succeed in unravelling those threads, we shall finally solve the mystery of existence and attain supreme wisdom, if such a thing exists.
Needless to say, Joao Elvas does not travel by coach or mounted on a horse. We have already mentioned those sturdy legs of his, and he puts them to good use. But, whether farther ahead or farther behind in the procession, Dom Joao V will continue to keep him company, as will the Queen and the Infantes, the Prince and the Princess and all the powerful nobles who are making the journey. It will never occur to these mighty lords that they are escorting a vagabond, and that their supreme authority is protecting his life and worldly possessions, which will soon be at an end. But lest they should come to an end too quickly, especially his life, which Joao Elvas cherishes, he carefully avoids getting too close to the main procession, for everyone knows how readily soldiers, God bless them, may strike and with what dire consequences, if they should suspect that the safety of their precious sovereign is at risk.
Ever cautious, Joao Elvas left Lisbon and made for Aldegalega at the beginning of January in the year seventeen hundred and twenty-nine, and there he lingered, watching coaches and horses disembark that would be used for the journey. Anxious to know what was happening, he began to make inquiries, What is that, where did it come from, who made it, who will use it, these may sound like foolish indiscretions, but, confronted by this venerable old man, however unwashed and dishevelled, any stable hand felt obliged to offer some reply, which encouraged Joao Elvas to pluck up enough courage to start questioning the head steward himself, he only needs to put on that pious air to achieve what he wants, for if he knows little about prayers, he knows more than enough about the art of deception. And even when his questions are answered with some rebuff, abuse, or cuff on the ear, that in itself allows him to guess what information has been withheld, for one day, the errors on which history is based will finally be clarified. And so, when Dom Joao V crossed the river on the eighth of January to embark on his great journey, there awaited him in Aldegalega more than two hundred carriages, including coaches, barouches, chaises, wagons, trailers, and litters, some had been brought from Paris, others had been specially made in Lisbon for the journey, not to mention the royal coaches, with their fresh gilding and refurbished velvet upholstery, their tassels and hand-painted drapes. The household cavalry boasted almost two thousand horses, without counting those of the mounted soldiers who accompanied the royal progress. Aldegalega, because of its strategic location for traffic en route to Alentejo, has seen many expeditions in its time, but never on such a scale, one need only consider the small roster of domestic staff, two hundred and twenty-two cooks, two hundred halberdiers, seventy porters, one hundred and three valets to look after the silver, over a thousand men to attend to the horses, and innumerable other servants and dusky slaves in every shade and hue. Aldegalega is aswarm with people, and the crowds would be even greater if the nobles and other dignitaries had not travelled on ahead in the direction of Elvas and the river Caia, nor was there any other solution, for if they had all set out at the same time, the royal princes would have married before the last of the invited guests entered Vendas Novas.
The King sailed past in his brigantine, having first worshipped at the shrine of Our Lady, Mother of God, and he disembarked accompanied by Prince Dom Jose and the Infante Dom Antonio and their respective attendants, namely, the Duke of Cadaval, the Marquis of Marialva, and the Marquis of Alegrete, who acted as equerry to the Infante along with other members of the nobility, that they should have fulfilled such a role need cause no surprise, for it is ever an honour to serve the Royal Family. Joao Elvas was among the crowd that broke ranks and shouted, Long live the King, as Dom Joao V, sovereign of all Portugal, went past, and if that was not what they were shouting, it sounded very much like it, for one can always tell the difference between acclaim and derision, besides, who would dare to voice resentment in public by shouting insults, it is unthinkable that anyone should show lack of respect for the King, even if he does happen to be the King of Portugal. Dom Joao V took up residence in the apartments of the Clerk of Council, Joao Elvas suffered his first disappointment when he discovered there was a horde of beggars and tramps accompanying the procession, on the lookout for scraps of food and alms. Wherever they found something to eat, he would find something, too, but whatever their reasons for making the journey, his were the most worthy of all.
It was about five-thirty and still dark when the King set out for Vendas Novas, but Joao Elvas had left before him, because he was determined to see the procession pass in full array, in preference to seeing the chaotic preparations for departure while the various carriages took up their positions as dictated by the master of ceremonies amid the cries of outriders and coachmen, who are notorious for their loud behaviour. Joao Elvas was
