CHAPTER 34

Thefascistsheldthecrestsofthehillshere.Thentherewasavalleythatnooneheldexceptforafascistpostinafarmhousewithitsoutbuildingsanditsbarnthattheyhadfortified.Andrés,onhiswaytoGolzwiththemessagefromRobertJordan,madeawidecirclearoundthispostinthedark.Heknewwheretherewasatripwirelaidthatfiredaset-gunandhelocateditinthedark,steppedoverit,andstartedalongthesmallstreamborderedwithpoplarswhoseleavesweremovingwiththenightwind.Acockcrowedatthefarmhousethatwasthefascistpostandashewalkedalongthestreamhelookedbackandsaw,throughthetrunksofthepoplars,alightshowingattheloweredgeofoneofthewindowsofthefarmhouse.ThenightwasquietandclearandAndrésleftthestreamandstruckacrossthemeadow.

TherewerefourhaycocksinthemeadowthathadstoodthereeversincethefightinginJulyoftheyearbefore.Noonehadevercarriedthehayawayandthefourseasonsthathadpassedhadflattenedthecocksandmadethehayworthless.

Andrésthoughtwhatawasteitwasashesteppedoveratripwirethatranbetweentwoofthehaycocks.ButtheRepublicanswouldhavehadtocarrythehayupthesteepGuadarramaslopethatrosebeyondthemeadowandthefascistsdidnotneedit,Isuppose,hethought.

Theyhaveallthehaytheyneedandallthegrain.Theyhavemuch,hethought.Butwewillgivethemablowtomorrowmorning.TomorrowmorningwewillgivethemsomethingforSordo.Whatbarbarianstheyare!Butinthemorningtherewillbedustontheroad.

Hewantedtogetthismessage-takingoverandbebackfortheattackonthepostsinthemorning.Didhereallywanttogetbackthoughordidheonlypretendhewantedtobeback?HeknewthereprievedfeelinghehadfeltwhentheIngléhadtoldhimhewastogowiththemessage.Hehadfacedtheprospectofthemorningcalmly.Itwaswhatwastobedone.Hehadvotedforitandwoulddoit.ThewipingoutofSordohadimpressedhimdeeply.But,afterall,thatwasSordo.Thatwasnotthem.Whattheyhadtodotheywoulddo.

ButwhentheIngléhadspokentohimofthemessagehehadfeltthewayheusedtofeelwhenhewasaboyandhehadwakenedinthemorningofthefestivalofhisvillageandhearditraininghardsothatheknewthatitwouldbetoowetandthatthebullbaitinginthesquarewouldbecancelled.

Helovedthebullbaitingwhenhewasaboyandhelookedforwardtoitandtothemomentwhenhewouldbeinthesquareinthehotsunandthedustwiththecartsrangedallaroundtoclosetheexitsandtomakeaclosedplaceintowhichthebullwouldcome,slidingdownoutofhisbox,brakingwithallfourfeet,whentheypulledtheend-gateup.Helookedforwardwithexcitement,delightandsweatingfeartothemomentwhen,inthesquare,hewouldheartheclatterofthebull’shornsknockingagainstthewoodofhistravellingbox,andthenthesightofhimashecame,sliding,brakingoutintothesquare,hisheadup,hisnostrilswide,hisearstwitching,dustinthesheenofhisblackhide,driedcrutsplashedonhisflanks,watchinghiseyessetwideapart,unblinkingeyesunderthewidespreadhornsassmoothandsolidasdriftwoodpolishedbythesand,thesharptipsuptiltedsothattoseethemdidsomethingtoyourheart.

Helookedforwardalltheyeartothatmomentwhenthebullwouldcomeoutintothesquareonthatdaywhenyouwatchedhiseyeswhilehemadehischoiceofwhominthesquarehewouldattackinthatsuddenhead-lowering,horn-reaching,quickcatgallopthatstoppedyourheartdeadwhenitstarted.Hehadlookedforwardtothatmomentalltheyearwhenhewasaboy;butthefeelingwhentheInglégavetheorderaboutthemessagewasthesameaswhenyouwoketohearthereprieveoftherainfallingontheslateroof,againstthestonewallandintothepuddlesonthedirtStreetofthevillage.

Hehadalwaysbeenverybravewiththebullinthosevillagecapeas,asbraveasanyinthevillageoroftheothernear-byvillages,andnotforanythingwouldhehavemisseditanyyearalthoughhedidnotgotothecapeasofothervillages.Hewasabletowaitstillwhenthebullchargedandonlyjumpedasideatthelastmoment.Hewavedasackunderhismuzzletodrawhimoffwhenthebullhadsomeonedownandmanytimeshehadheldandpulledonthehornswhenthebullhadsomeoneonthegroundandpulledsidewaysonthehorn,hadslappedandkickedhiminthefaceuntilheleftthemantochargesomeoneelse.

Hehadheldthebull’stailtopullhimawayfromafallenman,bracinghardandpullingandtwisting.Oncehehadpulledthetailaroundwithonehanduntilhecouldreachahornwiththeotherandwhenthebullhadliftedhisheadtochargehimhehadrunbackwards,circlingwiththebull,holdingthetailinonehandandthehornintheotheruntilthecrowdhadswarmedontothebullwiththeirknivesandstabbedhim.Inthedustandtheheat,theshouting,thebullandmanandwinesmell,hehadbeeninthefirstofthecrowdthatthrewthemselvesontothebullandheknewthefeelingwhenthebullrockedandbuckedunderhimandhelayacrossthewitherswithonearmlockedaroundthebaseofthehornandhishandholdingtheotherhorntight,hisfingerslockedashisbodytossedandwrenchedandhisleftarmfeltasthoughitwouldtearfromthesocketwhilehelayonthehot,dusty,bristly,tossingslopeofmuscle,theearclenchedtightinhisteeth,anddrovehisknifeagainandagainandagainintotheswelling,tossingbulgeoftheneckthatwasnowspoutinghotonhisfistashelethisweighthangonthehighslopeofthewithersandbangedandbangedintotheneck.

Thefirsttimehehadbittheearlikethatandheldontoit,hisneckandjawsstiffenedagainstthetossing,theyhadallmadefunofhimafterwards.Butthoughtheyjokedhimaboutittheyhadgreatrespectforhim.Andeveryyearafterthathehadtorepeatit.TheycalledhimthebulldogofVillaconejosandjokedabouthimeatingcattleraw.Buteveryoneinthevillagelookedforwardtoseeinghimdoitandeveryyearheknewthatfirstthebullwouldcomeout,thentherewouldbethechargesandthetossing,andthenwhentheyyelledfortherushforthekillinghewouldplacehimselftorushthroughtheotherattackersandleapforhishold.Then,whenitwasover,andthebullsettledandsunkdeadfinallyundertheweightofthekillers,hewouldstandupandwalkawayashamedoftheearpart,butalsoasproudasamancouldbe.Andhewouldgothroughthecartstowashhishandsatthestonefountainandmenwouldclaphimonthebackandhandhimwineskinsandsay,“Hurrayforyou,Bulldog.Longlifetoyourmother.”

Ortheywouldsay,“That’swhatitistohaveapairofcojones!Yearafteryear!”

Andréswouldbeashamed,empty-feeling,proudandhappy,andhewouldshakethemalloffandwashhishandsandhisrightarmandwashhisknifewellandthentakeoneofthewineskinsandrinsetheear-tasteoutofhismouthforthatyear;spittingthewineonthestoneflagsoftheplazabeforeheliftedthewineskinhighandletthewinespurtintothebackofhismouth.

Surely.HewastheBulldogofVillaconejosandnotforanythingwouldhehavemisseddoingiteachyearinhisvillage.Butheknewtherewasnobetterfeelingthanthatonethesoundoftheraingavewhenheknewhewouldnothavetodoit.

ButImustgoback,hetoldhimself.ThereisnoquestionbutthatImustgobackfortheaffairofthepostsandthebridge.MybrotherEladioisthere,whoisofmyownboneandflesh.Anselmo,Primitivo,Fernando,Agustín,Rafael,thoughclearlyheisnotserious,thetwowomen,PabloandtheIngl,thoughtheInglédoesnotcountsinceheisaforeignerandunderorders.Theyareallinforit.ItisimpossiblethatIshouldescapethisprovingthroughtheaccidentofamessage.Imustdeliverthismessagenowquicklyandwellandthenmakeallhastetoreturnintimefortheassaultontheposts.Itwouldbeignobleofmenottoparticipateinthisactionbecauseoftheaccidentofthismessage.Thatcouldnotbeclearer.Andbesides,hetoldhimself,asonewhosuddenlyremembersthattherewillbepleasuretooinanengagementonlytheonerousaspectsofwhichhehasbeenconsidering,andbesidesIwillenjoythekillingofsomefascists.Ithasbeentoolongsincewehavedestroyedany.Tomorrowcanbeadayofmuchvalidaction.Tomorrowcanbeadayofconcreteacts.Tomorrowcanbeadaywhichisworthsomething.ThattomorrowshouldcomeandthatIshouldbethere.

Justthen,askneedeepinthegorseheclimbedthesteepslopethatledtotheRepublicanlines,apartridgeflewupfromunderhisfeet,explodinginawhirrofwingbeatsinthedarkandhefeltasuddenbreath-stoppingfright.Itisthesuddenness,hethought.Howcantheymovetheirwingsthatfast?Shemustbenestingnow.Iprobablytrodclosetotheeggs.IftherewerenotthiswarIwouldtieahandkerchieftothebushandcomebackinthedaytimeandsearchoutthenestandIcouldtaketheeggsandputthemunderasettinghenandwhentheyhatchedwewouldhavelittlepartridgesinthepoultryyardandIwouldwatchthemgrowand,whentheyweregrown,I’dusethemforcallers.Iwouldn’tblindthembecausetheywouldbetame.Ordoyousupposetheywouldflyoff?Probably.ThenIwouldhavetoblindthem.

ButIdon’tliketodothatafterIhaveraisedthem.IcouldclipthewingsortetherthembyonelegwhenIusedthemforcalling.IftherewasnowarIwouldgowithEladiotogetcrayfishfromthatstreambacktherebythefascistpost.Onetimewegotfourdozenfromthatstreaminaday.IfwegototheSierradeGredosafterthisofthebridgetherearefinestreamstherefortroutandforcrayfishalso.IhopewegotoGredos,hethought.WecouldmakeagoodlifeinGredosinthesummertimeandinthefallbutitwouldbeterriblycoldinwinter.Butbywintermaybewewillhavewonthewar.

IfourfatherhadnotbeenaRepublicanbothEladioandIwouldbesoldiersnowwiththefascistsandifonewereasoldierwiththemthentherewouldbenoproblem.Onewouldobeyordersandonewouldliveordieandintheenditwouldbehoweveritwouldbe.Itwaseasiertoliveunderaregimethantofightit.

Butthisirregularfightingwasathingofmuchresponsibility.Therewasmuchworryifyouwereonetoworry.EladiothinksmorethanIdo.Alsoheworries.IbelievetrulyinthecauseandIdonotworry.Butitisalifeofmuchresponsibility.

Ithinkthatwearebornintoatimeofgreatdifficulty,hethought.Ithinkanyothertimewasprobablyeasier.Onesufferslittlebecauseallofushavebeenformedtoresistsuffering.Theywhosufferareunsuitedtothisclimate.Butitisatimeofdifficultdecisions.Thefascistsattackedandmadeourdecisionforus.Wefighttolive.ButIwouldliketohaveitsothatIcouldtieahandkerchieftothatbushbackthereandcomeinthedaylightandtaketheeggsandputthemunderahenandbeabletoseethechicksofthepartridgeinmyowncourtyard.Iwouldlikesuchsmallandregularthings.

Butyouhavenohouseandnocourtyardinyourno-house,hethought.Youhavenofamilybutabrotherwhogoestobattletomorrowandyouownnothingbutthewindandthesunandanemptybelly.Thewindissmall,hethought,andthereisnosun.Youhavefourgrenadesinyourpocketbuttheyareonlygoodtothrowaway.Youhaveacarbineonyourbackbutitisonlygoodtogiveawaybullets.Youhaveamessagetogiveaway.Andyou’refullofcrapthatyoucangivetotheearth,hegrinnedinthedark.Youcananointitalsowithurine.Everythingyouhaveistogive.Thouartaphenomenonofphilosophyandanunfortunateman,hetoldhimselfandgrinnedagain.

Butforallhisnoblethinkingalittlewhilebeforetherewasinhimthatreprievedfeelingthathadalwayscomewiththesoundofraininthevillageonthemorningofthefiesta.Aheadofhimnowatthetopoftheridgewasthegovernmentpositionwhereheknewhewouldbechallenged.