Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [231]
‘He knew it too then?’
‘He knew it perfectly well,’ Campbell said. ‘He wanted to put us on the defensive. I have seen it before often enough – they argue from emotion more then you might suppose. What he said about rats and rabbits was just as much beside the point. That fellow’s town is on the east side of the Chattahoochee River, up in Georgia. He was talking about Georgia, not Florida.’
‘It is all one land to them,’ Watson said. ‘They have not yet learned to think in terms of state boundaries.’
‘What is likely to happen tomorrow then?’
‘We shall see,’ Watson said, with deepened gravity. ‘Tomorrow the chiefs will speak and then we shall see. But I am afraid it will not be easy. The signs are bad. We must hope that with God’s help they will be brought to see reason.’
After dinner Redwood asked Erasmus for the favour of some words in private. The major had come from his quarters on foot; it was a fine evening and Erasmus offered to walk some way back with him.
At this hour the streets were almost deserted. Sand and dust had drifted thickly, muffling their steps. The houses were shuttered and silent for the most part. The concrete of sand and ground shell with which they were built had crumbled with time, giving their outlines a softened, abraded appearance in the faint moonlight.
‘I have been making enquiries among the Indians here, as I promised you,’ Redwood said as they walked along together. ‘I am afraid I have not been able to find anyone with knowledge of a settlement in the south of the peninsula. In a way, the times are against you. Some might have known of it who left with the Spanish. As you know, the region is depopulated at present. There are practically no Europeans and the Indians that remain are a sedentary sort of people, who scrape a living here, God knows how.’
‘Well, it cannot be helped.’ Erasmus had not allowed himself to hope for much from the major’s enquiries, but he was none the less disappointed. ‘I am grateful for your efforts on my behalf,’ he said.
‘There is no point even in trying to engage a guide from among them,’ Redwood said. ‘However, I have not failed altogether.’
They were passing a tall, deep-balconied house, which showed some light behind the shutters. As they went by a sound of voices and laughter came from somewhere on the upper floor.
‘These are about the only places which show any sign of life,’ Redwood said. ‘The whores didn’t all follow the Spanish to Cuba.’ He stopped on this, as if suddenly struck by an idea. ‘We are about halfway now to my quarters,’ he said. ‘It might be rather long for you to walk back the whole way. What do you say to breaking a bottle inside here? I don’t suggest we try the girls. I could head you in the direction of something much better if you were ever interested in that line. These have been worked pretty hard by the Spanish and some of our men use them, though there is a brothel nearer the barracks. No, but the Mother Superior here, Mama Rosalita, knows me. I have been here on occasion to deal with affrays and pay for damage. She will give us a room out of the way and serve us a bottle and we can talk in peace. What do you say?’
‘I say yes.’ He had no particular desire for more to drink but Redwood had not told him everything yet, he had paused at a crucial point, perhaps by design. It came to Erasmus that there was some loneliness about the major for all his conviviality.
They passed through the overgrown garden, knocked, were admitted by the massive Señora Rosalita. It was at once clear from her manner that Redwood was a highly regarded visitor. They were shown without delay to a room at the back of the house and served by the señora herself with a sweetish, dark red wine.
‘That’s better.’ Redwood unbuttoned his tunic and stretched his long legs before him. ‘I don’t know how it is,’ he said, following some train of thought of his own, ‘but that preachy fellow Watson sets my teeth on edge, for all I might drink at dinner. Anyway, as I was saying, I