“But listen, more than silly, that’s dangerous, because it’s very vague, there aren’t any limits. If you take it literally, no one can talk to anyone from another caste.”
“There’s something of that, as I said. But as the Lords, who are very intelligent and very fair, act as judges, there are no abuses. What is happening is that from caste to caste, the language is becoming more and more different. I forgot to ask Medrano what language they spoke and if he understood it. Would it be some dialect of Hindi? In any case, with a little English one can make oneself understood anywhere in the world.”
“Trafalgar speaks excellent English. I expect he sold the jewelry.”
“To the Lords, of course. The store fronts, the shops, those are public places where anyone can go, except for the Vagabonds who can’t go anywhere, but when a Lord or a number of Lords enter, everyone else has to leave. Those that aren’t Lords, because those that are Lords can stay. In any case, a crowd of people paraded through to see what Medrano had brought.”
“I’d bet a year’s paychecks he sold it all.”
“I don’t know what you were going to live on because he didn’t sell everything. He had a pearl necklace left over.”
“I don’t believe you. No. Impossible. Never.”
“Seriously. Of course it was because of everything that happened and anyway he was the one who decided to leave it, but he didn’t sell it.”
“I don’t understand any of this, but it seems very unusual in Trafalgar.”
“Well, the Lord of Lords governing at that time, and who had been elected by the Lords less than a year before, was a man not at all well-suited to the office. Listen, he had been a Vagabond, how awful.”
“Why? Don’t they elect the inferior castes as king?”
“Yes, of course, but seldom Vagabonds, who are illiterate and don’t know how to eat or how to behave. But Medrano says they had elected him because he had the face and the poise of a king.”
“High-class liars, those Lords.”
“Sweetie, so vulgar.”
“Don’t tell me they aren’t a bunch of liars and something worse, too.”
“I don’t think so, because from what Medrano told me they are irreproachable people. And it seems to me very democratic to elect a Vagabond as king. Even a bit idealistic, like something out of a novel.”
“A cock-and-bull story.”
“The fact is, the poor Lords made a mistake. Of course, an ignorant person, without education—what could you expect?”
“He left them in a bad state.”
“He fell in love, can you believe, with a married woman.”
“A Vagabond?”
“No, I think the Vagabonds don’t even get married. Worse: he fell in love with the wife of a Scholar, and one of the best, the ones devoted to Knowledge and who for that reason was often at court. And Medrano found that out because he heard the Lords discussing what had to be done in the jewelry store he had opened. But as he didn’t know that one can’t repeat what members of a caste that isn’t your own have said, and he was—at least so long as he was there—a Warrior, he mentioned it to a Scholar in conversation. I don’t remember what category he belonged to, but Medrano says he had been looking at the jewels and that he was a very interesting man who knew a great deal about philosophy, mathematics, music, and it was worthwhile listening to him speak. He couldn’t buy anything: only the Lords had picked up a lot of things, because the prices were very high for those of other castes, but he stayed until quite late, and as the two were alone and they had talked about the cutting of stones and of goldsmithing and of music, they started to talk about other things, too, and Medrano praised the country and the city and the other asked if he had seen the gardens at the Palace and they talked about the Lord of Lords and there your friend committed an indiscretion.”
“He mentioned the Lord of Lords’ affair with the woman.”
“He said he had heard the Lords talk about that and he didn’t realize he had said something he should not: he was just surprised when the Scholar became very serious and stopped talking and said good-bye very coldly and left.”
“Trafalgar acts like a know-it-all but he never learns. He always sticks his foot in it.”
“My goodness, what a way to speak.”
“I promise to be more refined, or at least try to, but tell me what happened to him.”
“When you want to you can speak correctly. The thing would be for you to always want to. That day, nothing happened to him. The next day he sold what he had left, only to the Lords, save for a pearl necklace that must have been beautiful, truly beautiful: a very long string of pink pearls all the same size. Natural pearls, as you can imagine. It must have cost a fortune.”
“That was the one he left?”
“Yes, but wait. When he had nothing left but that necklace and was about to sell it to a Lord, the police came in and arrested him.”
“It looks like there are police on Serprabel.”
“Why not? They belong to the Servants caste. And they took him directly to the Palace of the Lord of Lords. There he had to wait, always under guard, with the necklace in his pocket, until they made him enter—shoved him, he says, how unpleasant—enter a courtroom. As repeating things said by someone from another caste is a serious crime, the judge wasn’t just any Lord but the Lord of Lords. Of course, assisted by two Lords. The one who acted as prosecutor was another Lord, who put forward the accusation.”
“And defender? Did he have a defender?”
“No, he had to defend himself. I will say it does not seem fair to me.”
“Not fair at all. A filthy trick, forgive the term.”
“It may be a little strong, but you’re right. They accused him and he defended himself as well as he could. But note, they had to say what it was about, what it was Medrano had repeated. And it was nothing less than the illicit affairs of the very king presiding over the tribunal.”
“Poor guy, my God.”
“That boy really had a bad time.”
“No, I mean the Lord of Lords.”
“He had it coming, and don’t think I don’t feel sorry for him. But a person of quality does not stoop to such things.”
“Oh, no, of course, why don’t you read Shakespeare and Sophocles?”
“That may be all very well for the theater, but in real life it is not suitable. And things got worse when, after the accusation and the defense, the prosecutor detailed Medrano’s crime and the Lord of Lords, who until then had been very much in his role, very serious and dignified and quiet on his throne, stood up and started to speak. It was not the conduct expected of a king, because everyone, and above all the Lords, Medrano explained to me, everyone was so scandalized that they couldn’t do anything. They were frozen with their mouths open, staring at him.”
“And what did he say?”
“A speech.”
“A speech?”
“A parody of a speech. Medrano says he didn’t even know how to speak, he stammered and pronounced the words wrong and repeated phrases.”
“And what did they expect? The Demosthenes of the underworld? But one could understand some of what he said, I imagine.”
“He said—there in front of everybody, because trials are public—he said it was all true, can you believe what poor taste, talking about things that are not only private, but illicit. He said he was in love with that girl and she with him and he didn’t see why they couldn’t love each other and he was going to stop being king and he was going to go away with her and walk naked and barefoot through the fields and eat fruit and drink water from the rivers, what a crazy idea. It must have been so unpleasant for the Lords to see the same king they had elected sniveling and drooling like a fussy child in front of the people he supposedly had to govern. How could it be that no one moved or said anything when the Lord of Lords got down from the throne and took off his shoes which were of an extremely fine leather with gold buckles, and took off the embroidered cloak and t
he crown and, wearing only in a tunic of white linen, walked over to the exit?”
“And no one did anything?”
“The Lords did something. The Lords reacted and gave the order to the police to seize him and they carried him back to the throne. But what a strange thing, no one obeyed and the Lord of Lords kept walking and left the courtroom and reached the gardens.”
“But, Trafalgar? What was Trafalgar doing that he didn’t take advantage of the chance to escape?”
“He didn’t? Sweetie, it’s as if you didn’t know him well. As soon as the Lord of Lords started to talk and everyone was watching him, Medrano backed up and put himself out of the guards’ reach and when the king left the room and some Warriors and the Lords yelled and ran out, he ran, too.”
“Well done, I like it.”
“But he didn’t go very far.”
“They caught him again?”
“No, luckily not. In the Palace gardens, where there were always a lot of people, there was a big stir when they saw him appear barefoot, wearing only his underclothes. And then, Medrano was able to see it all well, then a very young, very pretty woman embraced him, crying: it was the Scholar’s wife, she of the guilty passions.”
“Oh, Josefina, that’s a phrase out of a serial novel.”
“Is it that way or is it not? A married woman who has a love affair with a man who is not her husband is blameworthy, and don’t tell me no because that I will not accept.”
“We aren’t going to fight over it, especially now when you leave me hanging with everyone in such a foul predicament. Did Trafalgar do anything besides watch?”
“Quite a bit, poor boy, he was very generous. Mistaken, but generous. The Lords and the Warriors and the Scholars—not the Priests, because none of them were there, they lead quieter lives, as is proper—tried to get to the Lord of Lords and that woman, but all the people of the other castes who were in the garden and those who came in from outside or came out of the Palace to see, without knowing very well why—because many of them hadn’t been at the tribunal; just out of rebelliousness or resentment, I imagine—started to defend them. Of course, that turned into a plain of Agramante and there was a terrible fight. The Warriors and the Lords had weapons, but those of the inferior castes destroyed the gardens, such a shame, pulling out stones, taking iron from the benches, chunks of marble and crystal from the fountains, branches, railings from the gazebos, anything with which to attack and give the Lord of Lords and the woman time to escape.”
“And did they escape?”
“They escaped. And your friend Medrano after them. He says his private plane, he doesn’t call it private plane, what does he call it?”
“Clunker.”
“That’s it. He says his private plane wasn’t very far away and he wanted to get to it, very sensible it seems to me, and take off immediately. But meanwhile the Lords and Warriors got organized, they called in soldiers, who I think are from the Warriors caste, too, but are doing their apprenticeship, and they chased the Lord of Lords and the woman. That was when Medrano caught up with them and dragged them with him to the airplane.”
“Thank goodness. You were starting to scare me.”
“Go ahead and get scared, now comes the worst.”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me more.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you more.”
“No, yes, tell me.”
“Which is it?”
“Josefina, no, I promise I wasn’t serious.”
“I know, and anyway I can’t cut the story short now. They had almost reached the plane, with the Lords and Warriors and the Scholars and the soldiers chasing them and behind them all those from the inferior castes who were throwing stones but no longer tried to get close because the Warriors had killed several, they had almost reached it when the Lords realized where they were going and that they were about to escape and they gave the order to the soldiers to fire. They shot, and they killed the Lord of Lords.”
I said nothing. Josefina observed that it was getting dark, and I went inside and turned on the garden lights.
“Medrano,” said my Aunt Josefina, “saw that they had put a bullet through his head and he grabbed the woman and pulled her up into the plane. But she didn’t want to go, now that the Lord of Lords was dead, and she fought so hard that she managed to free herself and she threw herself out of the plane. Medrano tried to follow her and take her up again, but the Warriors and the Lords were already upon him and they kept firing and he had to close the door. They killed her, too. It was a horrible death, Medrano said, but he didn’t explain how and I didn’t ask. He remained locked in, on the ground but ready to take off, and saw they weren’t paying attention to him any longer. In the end, to them he was no more than a foreigner from whom they had bought jewels, who perhaps understood nothing of the country’s customs and so had done things that were not right. They went away and left the bodies. Those of the inferior castes had to be obliged to retreat at bayonet point because they wanted to come close at all costs although they were no longer throwing stones or anything else. And that was when Medrano left the pearl necklace. When he saw that he was alone, he got down from the plane, at great risk, it seems to me, but he was very brave and it’s very moving, he got down from the plane and he put the string of pearls on the woman, on what remained of her, he said. Afterward he climbed back up, locked himself in, washed his hands, lit a cigarette, and lifted off.”
“How awful.”
“Yes. So long as it’s true,” said my Aunt Josefina. “I don’t know what to think. Might it not be nothing more than a fairy tale for an old lady all alone drinking her tea?”
“Trafalgar doesn’t tell fairy tales. And you’re not old, Josefina, come on.”
End of the Interval
Mr. Chaos
“What do I know?” said Trafalgar. “I’ve been so many places, done so many things, I get confused. Ask Elvira, she has everything noted down.”
“Josefina was here the other day,” I said, “and we drank tea here in the garden and she sat in the same chair where you’re sitting and she said you had told her about Serprabel.”
“Don’t talk about it. It makes me sick to remember what they did to that poor girl.”
So he drank the coffee and, for a while, said nothing. And I asked no questions: one can hurry Trafalgar along, discreetly, in the middle of a story but never before a story begins because then he starts talking about any old thing, about tangos, let’s say, or he starts to make fun of himself and his adventures with women or in business and he goes on with the coffee and suddenly he leaves and one realizes one has been left without knowing what one wanted to know.
“That coffee must be cold,” he said.
“You’ve drunk three cups.”
“Go on, heat up what’s left, all right? And while you’re at it, make a little more.”
I left him alone for a while in the garden.
“But that was on the last trip,” he told me when I returned with the coffee pot. “On the other hand, nothing happened on this trip.”
“You lie like a moron.”
“Seriously. I made a lot of stops, all of them very short and in places I already knew from before except for two, so everything went very well and very quickly.”
“And in those two places you didn’t know from before, what happened?”
“Nothing,” he opened another pack of cigarettes. “That’s how I like coffee, good and hot. Although it’s a little weak; your husband doesn’t complain?”
“Don’t forget he had an ulcer and can’t drink strong coffee.”
“Poor Goro, how could he avoid having an ulcer after twenty-five years of marriage.”
“Go on, you defend bachelorhood. Some day you’re going to marry a harpy who sweet-talks you into it and you’re going to end up with ulcers, sciatica, and hives. You didn’t meet any candidates on this trip?”
“More or less as usual.”
“And on those two worlds that you hadn’
t been to?”
“Nothing worthwhile. A very pretty little blonde, crazier than a goat, on Akimaréz, but I got rid of her as soon as I could.”
“What’s that about Akimaréz? I don’t remembering hearing you mention it.”
“I must have told you something, because I knew it existed and that one could buy graphite and kaolin there. Cheaply, both of them. It’s quite pretty, no great wonder, but it’s not bad. Very big, lots of water and seven continents like enormous islands in the middle of the oceans. The islands have water and vegetation only at the edges and that’s where they’ve planted their cities, which you can tell Goro are the dream of any urban planner: small cities, low buildings, never more than three stories, with gardens; little traffic, none of your noise or smoke or odor. They like music, too. And in the middle of the islands, of the continents, the landscape is fantastic, black and white, dry, impossible to fertilize. But what do they care? They sell the black graphite and the white kaolin and feldspar and granite and I don’t know what else and they’re sitting pretty, strumming their lutes.”
“Cushy life.”
“Yes, but boring. They have a good time, but I’d had enough after two days. I made my purchases and I left.”
“And the other one you didn’t know?”
“Aleiçarga. Almost the complete opposite: little sea and lots of green. Two itty-bitty seas at the poles and another larger one close to the equator. It rains a lot, the rest is fertile ground, and the cities are disgusting.”
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