The War Of The End Of The World - Mario Vargas Llosa [176]
The stars were already out when they dismounted in a little thicket of velame and macambira. They ate without saying a word and Galileo fell asleep before he’d drunk his coffee. His sleep was very troubled, full of images of death. When Ulpino awakened him, it was still pitch-dark and they heard a mournful wail that might have been a fox. The guide had warmed up the coffee and saddled the horses. He tried to start up a conversation with Ulpino. How long had he worked for the baron? What did he think of the jagunços? The guide’s answers were so evasive that he gave up trying. Was it his foreign accent that immediately aroused these people’s mistrust? Or was it an even more profound lack of communication, between his entire way of feeling and thinking and theirs?
At that moment Ulpino said something he didn’t understand. He asked him to repeat it, and this time each word was clear: Why was he going to Canudos? “Because there are things going on up there I’ve fought for all my life,” he told him. “They’re creating a world without oppressors or oppressed up there, a world where everybody is free and equal.” He explained, in the simplest terms he could, why Canudos was important for the world, how certain things that the jagunços were doing coincided with an old ideal for which many men had given their lives. Ulpino did not interrupt him or look at him as he spoke, and Gall could not help feeling that what he said slid off the guide as wind blows over rocks, without leaving the slightest trace. When he fell silent, Ulpino tilted his head a little to one side, and in what struck Gall as a very odd tone of voice murmured that he thought that Gall was going to Canudos to save his wife’s life. And as Gall stared at him in surprise, he went doggedly on: Hadn’t Rufino said he was going to kill her? Didn’t he care if Rufino killed her? Wasn’t she his wife? Why else would he have stolen her from Rufino? “I don’t have a wife. I haven’t stolen anybody,” Gall replied vehemently. Rufino had been talking about someone else; Ulpino was the victim of a misunderstanding. The guide withdrew into his stubborn silence once more.
They did not speak again till hours later, when they met a group of pilgrims, with carts and water jugs, who offered them a drink. When they had left them behind, Gall felt dejected. It was because of Ulpino’s totally unexpected questions, and his reproachful tone of voice. So as not to let his mind dwell on Jurema and Rufino, he thought about death. He wasn’t afraid of it; that was why he had defied it so many times. If the soldiers captured him before he reached Canudos, he would put up such a fight that they would be forced to kill him; in that way he would not have to endure the humiliation of being tortured and of perhaps turning out to be a coward.
He noted that Ulpino seemed uneasy. They had been riding through a dense stretch of caatinga, amid breaths of searing-hot air, for half an hour, when suddenly the guide began to peer intently at the foliage around them. “We’re surrounded,” he whispered. “We’d best wait till they come out.” They climbed down from their horses. Gall tried in vain to see any sign that would indicate that there were human beings close by. But, a few moments later, men armed with shotguns, crossbows, machetes, and knives stepped out from among the trees. A huge black, well along in years, naked to the waist, greeted them in words that Gall could not follow and asked where they were coming from. From Calumbi, Ulpino answered, on their way to Canudos. He then indicated the roundabout route they’d taken, so as, he said, to avoid meeting up with the soldiers. The exchange was tense, but it did not strike Gall as unfriendly. He then saw the black grab the reins of Ulpino’s horse and mount it, as one of the others mounted his. He took a step toward the black, and immediately all those who had shotguns aimed them at him. He gestured to show his peaceful intentions and asked them to listen to him. He explained that he