The Violent Land (33 page)

Dr. Jessé had to go away in the middle of the performance, leaving the amateurs of the Tabocas Group without a stage director or a prompter. This somewhat spoiled the show, as a number of the actors were not letter-perfect in their parts and had to rely on the prompter. It did not make a great deal of difference, however, for the townspeople had little time to spend in commenting on
Social Vampires
. The man who had come in search of Dr. Jessé had brought with him a piece of news that created a commotion: Horacio was ill, laid low with fever. And so it was that the doctor had to leave in the middle of things. Stowing the various remedies in his bag, he mounted his horse at once and was off, accompanied by the messenger. The news none the less flew from mouth to mouth down the aisles; and when at eleven o'clock the next morning Ester got off the train and, without stopping for lunch, mounted the horse waiting at the station and rode away surrounded by
cabras,
the whole of Tabocas by that time knew that Horacio had caught the fever while helping to care for Silvio, who had died three days before.

Silvio's widow had already begun a novena for Horacio, “such a good man,” as she said. Indifferent to gossip, Virgilio had accompanied Ester as far as Tabocas, but he did not go to the plantation that day. He would come out if the colonel took a turn for the worse. He, too, now carried a revolver, ever since he had learned of Juca Badaró's escape from ambush. The town, meanwhile, lived in expectation of the next messenger who should come for medicine. Dr. Jessé's office was closed, and his wife was informing patients that the doctor would not be back until Colonel Horacio had “passed the crisis,” a statement that was interpreted by the local residents to mean that Dr. Jessé would come back accompanied by Horacio's corpse, for none ever recovered from that fever. Innumerable cases of plantation hands, colonels, professional men, merchants, were cited to bear this out. And once again among the pious old ladies the story began circulating about the Devil in a bottle, who one day would come out to carry off Horacio's soul. It was said that Friar Bento was already on his way from Tabocas to the plantation to give the colonel extreme unction and to confess him and absolve him of his sins.

But Horacio did not die. A week later his fever began going down, until it had left him completely. It was in all likelihood his rugged frame rather than Dr. Jessé's medicines that had saved him, for he was a man without vices or physical weaknesses and with perfect organs. And no sooner had his fever begun subsiding than he ordered his men to start the felling of the forest of Sequeiro Grande. Virgilio was summoned out to the plantation, for the colonel wished to consult him regarding certain legal fine points. He had been out once before, but Horacio at that time was delirious and was raving of cacao, of forests being felled, groves planted, and crops harvested, as he shouted orders to his men. Ester, a thin little wraith of a figure, would not leave the sick man's bed, but exhibited a boundless devotion. When Virgilio had come the first time, she had merely asked him for news of her child in Ilhéos, and he had scarcely had an opportunity to see her alone. When he did see her and kiss her, it was but for a moment, as she was returning from the kitchen to the bedroom with a basin of hot water. They had exchanged but a few words, and Virgilio felt hurt, as if he had been betrayed. There was, further, a look of veiled uneasiness in his eyes, as if he felt that he was to blame for Horacio's illness and for his death, which he regarded as inevitable—as if the colonel had fallen ill in fulfilment of the young attorney's hidden wishes. He realized that Ester shared this feeling; but all the same, her attitude hurt him, as if she had been unfaithful to him.

When Horacio, out of danger now, summoned him for the consultation, Virgilio endeavoured to put on an aggrieved look with Ester, whose own face wore a tired and downcast expression. Clad in his nightgown, the colonel was lying between the white sheets, and his wife was seated on the bed, one of her husband's hands in hers. Never had Horacio felt so happy, now that Ester's devotion had been put to the test. His high spirits made him want to be active, and he began giving orders not only to the workmen, but also to Maneca Dantas and Braz, who had come to visit him that day. Virgilio, as he came into the room, bent down and embraced the colonel, gave Ester a cold hand-clasp, embraced Maneca Dantas also, and proffered his congratulations to Dr. Jessé “on the miracle he had performed.” Horacio laughed at this.

“Next to God,” he said, “the one that saved me, doctor, was this girl here,” and he pointed to Ester. Then he apologized to Dr. Jessé: “Of course, my friend, you did all you could—medicines, treatment, what the devil. But if it hadn't been for her, who didn't sleep a wink all this time, I don't even know—”

Ester rose and left the room, and Virgilio, without noticing, took the place on the bed that she had left vacant. Beneath him he could feel the body-warmth of his beloved, and a sudden anger at Horacio came over him. Horacio had not died. For an instant Virgilio permitted his most deeply hidden thoughts to come into his heart. He had not died. Ah, if he could only send out and have him killed!

For some time he paid no attention to the conversation, being wholly absorbed in his thoughts. It was a question put to him by Maneca Dantas: “And what do
you
think about it, doctor?” that brought him back to his surroundings.

Afterwards he met Ester down near the troughs. She clung to him, sobbing. “You don't think I ought to have done that, do you? I couldn't do anything else.”

He was deeply moved by this, and caressed her loved body underneath her clothing. He kissed her eyes, her face—then broke off suddenly. “Why, you've got fever!”

She assured him that it was not that; she was just tired. Kissing him again and again, she begged him to stay at the plantation that night; she would be able to visit his room as she came and went about the house, caring for the sick man. He promised, touched by her entreaties and being anxious for her caresses. It was only when they saw a group of labourers coming down the road that he let her go.

At dinner, however, Ester was unable to eat or to remain seated at the table. Complaining of cold chills and seized by a fit of vomiting, she left the room. Virgilio turned very pale. “She's caught the fever!” he said to Dr. Jessé. The doctor rose and went in search of Ester, who was locked in the toilet. Virgilio also rose, paying little regard to the presence of Maneca Dantas and Braz. He stood at the doctor's side in the hallway until Ester opened the door, her eyes glowing strangely.

“Do you feel bad?” he asked, taking her by the arm. She gave him an affectionate smile and pressed his hand lightly.

“No, it's nothing. It's just that I can't stand on my feet. I'm going to lie down for a while. I'll be back.”

Then, giving directions to Felicia, she went into the room where Virgilio had slept that night long ago, on his first visit to the plantation. He stood in the hall and watched her as she lay stretched out on the bed. Dr. Jessé came in after her and, begging Virgilio's pardon, closed the door behind him. From the front room Horacio called, to know what was going on. Virgilio now went into the colonel's bedroom.

“She's caught the fever,” he announced in a shaken voice. He wanted to say something more and could not, but stood there staring at Horacio. The colonel's eyes opened wide, his mouth gaped; he, too, wanted to speak, but could not get the words out. He was like a man hurtling through the air with nothing to which to cling. Virgilio felt like embracing him, like mourning and weeping with him, the two of them together, two poor wretches.

It was the unanimous opinion in Ilhéos that the Badarós obviously had the advantage in the struggle for the possession of Sequeiro Grande. It was not merely what the pious old ladies said in the church sacristies; the knowing ones were saying it in the wine-shops as well, and even the lawyers at court; all were agreed that the Badaró brothers had practically won the victory, thanks in no small part to Horacio's illness. The court proceedings were at a standstill, having been brought to a stop by the opposing petitions of Lawyer Genaro, which the judge had granted. And Juca Badaró had already gone into the forest, was clearing that portion of it which bordered on the Sant' Ana Plantation, and had begun burning over the land.

It was true the shooting affrays still kept up, with Maneca Dantas, Jarde, Braz, Firmo, Zé da Ribeira, and the other small planters of the vicinity doing all in their power to impede the efforts of the Badarós' men. Maneca Dantas had laid an ambush for the workmen as they were going out to cut down the trees in one part of the forest, and this had led to a big gun-battle. And Braz with a few men had invaded the workers' camp on a night when Juca was not there. But in spite of all this the work went forward and the Badarós had won a foothold in the tract.

The attacks by Horacio's followers then flared with greater violence than ever. And so, while Juca was accompanying and guarding the workers, Teodoro das Baraúnas took the offensive. Appearing one night at José da Ribeira's plantation, he set fire to the latter's store of dried cacao, causing the loss of two hundred and fifty hundredweight which had already been sold. He also fired the manihot plantations, and Zé da Ribeira had great difficulty in putting out the blaze.

In Ilhéos people were saying that, after having set fire to Venancio's registry office, Teodoro das Baraúnas had become a pyromaniac. In
A
Folha de Ilhéos
he was never otherwise referred to than as “the incendiary.” Lawyer Ruy even wrote a famous article in which he compared Teodoro to Nero, fiddling while Rome burned, José da Ribeira and his workmen being compared to the “early Christians, victims of the criminal and bloodthirsty madness of this modern Nero, more monstrous even than the degenerate Roman Emperor.” Of all the articles published during the Sequeiro Grand fracases, this was the one that achieved the widest renown, being reprinted by the opposition daily in Bahia under the heading:
“Crimes of the Government Party in Ilhéos.”
Criminal proceedings were started against Teodoro.

But what definitely turned the tide of opinion in favour of the Badarós was the fact that Horacio, even after he had recovered, had not been able to begin felling the forest on the side that bordered his own plantation. This lack of energy on his part was attributed to Ester's illness; but be that as it might, the fact was that the workers and
jagunços
sent out by the colonel had returned once or twice without having been able to start the clearing and burning. This time it was Sinhô Badaró himself who for two nights in succession led the attacking party against Jarde's camp; and Horacio's men had ended by abandoning the undertaking. Braz alone, with a few of his followers, had been able to burn over a small plot, but it was as nothing compared to the Badaró clearings.

Even so, there were those who were betting on Horacio. They based their opinion chiefly on the colonel's larger fortune; for he was a man with much money in the bank and was capable of carrying on the struggle for a long time. Not only did the felling and planting eat up money, but above all there was the tremendous cost of maintaining an army of ruffians. In addition to all this, Sinhô Badaró was getting ready to marry off his daughter, and he wanted to do it in grand style. He had sent to Rio de Janeiro for a multitude of things and was completely remodeling his house in Ilhéos, adding to it a whole new wing in which the young married couple were to live. He was even giving the Big House at the plantation a coat of paint; and meanwhile, dressmakers and lace-makers were busily at work on the bride's wardrobe; for the marriage of a colonel's daughter was an event. The bride-to-be had to have enough linen to last her for many years, and it would afterwards serve for her children and grandchildren: counterpanes, sheets, coverlets, pillowcases, table napkins, all of them richly embroidered. Messengers were sent out into the backlands to buy up the finest of lace. All in all, what with paying the
jagunços
who were hired to kill, and paying the dressmakers, shoemakers, and others who clothed and shod the bride, money was freely spent. In Ilhéos there was almost as much talk of this marriage as there was of the Sequeiro Grande frays. João Magalhães had left the city and gone out to the plantation to aid Juca with the clearing; but from time to time he would come back to Ilhéos for his game at the café, to pick up a little money at poker. At the Big House he had no expenses and was able to economize.

However, various persons were aware that Sinhô Badaró had already spent practically all the income from this year's crop. Maximiliano told his intimate friends that Sinhô had even proposed selling, at a sufficiently low price, his next year's crop in advance, whereas Horacio had not as yet disposed of half the cacao he had gathered this year. Nevertheless, those who were putting their wagers on him were few in number. The majority were for the Badarós; they could see no possibility of the latter's losing; and for this reason they sent out to have new clothes made for Don' Ana's wedding. The pious old ladies and the married women would gather of an afternoon at Juca Badaró's house, where Olga would show them the expensive apparel that had just arrived from Rio: under-garments of embroidered cambric, nightgowns that were a dream, the most fashionable of corsets, and fine lacework from Ceará. Mouths would open wide with “Oh's” of admiration, for these were things Ilhéos had never seen before, denoting a luxury that bespoke the power of the Badaró family.

And as Sinhô, his melancholy face framed in his black beard, went down the narrow streets of the city, merchants would bow low to him in greeting and, pointing him out to travelling salesmen from Bahia or from Rio, would say:

“There goes the squire of this region, Sinhô Badaró!”