Robert Wilson - A Small Death in Lisbon

'I don't know yet, but it sounds bad. People are singing in the street.'

'Singing?' said Pica, both charmed and mystified that something really was happening. 'Ah, well, even if there has been a coup…'

'COUP!' roared Abrantes. 'You don't understand, do you? This isn't a coup. This is a revolution. The communists have arrived.'

'So what?' she said, shrugging herself off the door jamb. 'What are you worried about? Half your money's in Zurich. The other half's in'são Paulo. Even the gold's out of the country…'

'Don't mention the gold,' growled Abrantes, wagging his finger. 'Don't even say the word "gold". That gold does not exist. It never existed. There never was any gold. Do you understand?!'

'Perfectly,' she said, and went back into the bedroom, slamming the door.

Abrantes pulled on his coat and went out into the street and walked towards the Terreiro do Paço and the river. The Praça do Comércio was full of troops, but they were all laughing and joking with each other. Abrantes moved amongst them, stunned.

At a little before 8.00 a.m. a column of tanks appeared from the barracks of the 7th Cavalry. Abrantes positioned himself in the arcade at the north of the square.

'Now we shall see,' he said to a soldier, who looked him up and down as if he was Neanderthal.

The column of tanks drew to a halt. The turret of the lead tank opened. A captain on the ground stepped forward. The lieutenant in the tank shouted down to him. His voice was clear in the fresh early morning and the total silence in the square.

'I have orders to open fire on you,' said the lieutenant, and the soldiers in the square shifted, 'but all I really want to do is laugh.'

The shifting stopped and a murmur ran around the square.

'Go ahead then,' said the captain.

The troops in the square cheered. The lieutenant held up his hand, splayed his fingers and pointed back to the column. The captain sent a platoon to the fifth tank and four of them clambered up on to its shoulders. The turret opened and an explosive colonel put his head out and found himself looking up at four rifles' barrels.

On the River Tagus the navy ship Almirante Gago Coutinho cruised to a halt in front of the Praça do Comércio, its guns pointing into the heart of the city. The troops and tanks in the square watched in silence, preparing for the first volley. Several minutes passed. No sound came from the ship. The guns didn't move. There was no signal until slowly one by one the ship's guns turned away from the city and faced the south bank of the Tagus. To the gunners it looked like a flock of pigeons had taken off as a thousand caps were flung into the air on the back of a tumultuous roar in the Praça do Comércio. Joaquim Abrantes turned and walked back up the Rua do Ouro.

Zé Coelho didn't get home until 10.00 a.m. He and his friends had taken the wounded man to the hospital and the nurses in the Urgência, on seeing his bloodstained clothes, had singled him out and refused to let him leave until a doctor had examined him which took some time. They'd washed him as best they could but the wolf collar was still badly and irrevocably stained from the man's neck wound. His mother opened the door and screamed which brought his father out of the bedroom. His sister took Zé's coat and went to run a bath for him. The telephone rang. His father took the call. Zé and his mother watched in silence as the colonel spoke quietly and seriously, looking at the floor refusing to catch anyone's eye. He replaced the heavy Bakelite handset. Zé's sister appeared in the doorway.

'General Spínola,' he said, summoning a grave and quiet voice to communicate the full weight of the occasion, 'has asked me to go to the Largo do Carmo barracks. Prime Minister Caetano is there with his cabinet and I have been asked to persuade them to allow General Spínola to accept the unconditional surrender of the government.'

'Did you know about this?' asked his wife, her voice quavering with fear and shock at the terrifying implications for her and the children, had the coup turned out differendy and badly.

'No, and neither did the General. Apparently the coup was organized by the junior officers, but the General knows that Caetano won't surrender to them. The Prime Minister won't want power to fall into the hands of the mob.'

'He means the communists,' said Zé.

'And what have you been doing?' asked the colonel, giving his bloodstained son his eagle look.

'I was outside the PIDE headquarters when they opened fire on us. Some people were hit and we took one of them to hospital.'

Zé's mother had to sit down.

'The General said there'd been no casualties.'

'Well, you can tell him from me when you see him that more than one went down in Rua António Maria Cardoso.'

'Did they bring anybody else into the hospital while you were there?'

'They locked me up in a room to prevent me from leaving.'

The colonel nodded, his forehead creased, but smiling at his son.

'You stay here now and look after your mother,' he said, pulling his daughter to him, kissing her on the head. 'Nobody leaves this apartment until I say it's safe.'

'You'll see,' said Zé, teasing his father now, 'they're dancing in the streets out there.'

'My son… the communist,' said the colonel, shaking his head.

At 12.30 p.m. the guard came in to Felsen's cell in the Caxias prison with a tray of food. He put it on the bed. The noise from the rest of the prison, which had been going on all morning, had not abated. The politicals were into their fiftieth rendition of the anti-fascist song Venham mats cinco and the guards had given up trying to quieten them long ago.

'Anything I should know about?' asked Felsen.

'Nothing that will affect you,' said the guard.

'I was just commenting on the different atmosphere in the prison today.'

'Some of our friends might be leaving soon.'

'Oh yes? Why's that?'

'Just a small revolution… like I said, nothing that will affect you.'

'Thank you,' said Felsen.

Nada ,' said the guard.

Dr Aquilino Oliveira should have been happy following the nurse down the corridor of the maternity wing of the'são José hospital. He'd been told that his fourth child was a boy, weighing 3.7 kilos and was completely healthy. The nurse was gabbling at him over her shoulder as she batted her way through the swing doors. She didn't seem to need any response from him to keep herself going.

'…four dead and three wounded. That's what they said down in the Urgência, only four. They can't believe it. I can't believe it. There are tanks in the Terreiro do Paço and the Largo do Carmo but they're not doing anything. They're just there. The soldiers have rounded up the PIDE agents but not to punish them… you know… just for their own protection. The soldiers. I haven't seen it… but they say the soldiers have put red carnations down their rifles so that the people will know, you see… they'll know that they're not there to shoot anyone. They're there to liberate them. Only four people dead on a night like this with tanks in the streets and battleships in the Tagus. Don't you think that's just incredible, Senhor Doutor? I think that's incredible. You know, Senhor Doutor, I never thought I'd be able to say this in my lifetime but I'm proud. I'm proud to be Portuguese.'

She flung open the door to the maternity ward and led the lawyer in. His wife was screened off in the corner of the room with six other women in it. His shoes skidded on the highly polished floor and he had to grab a bed to save himself from falling.

'Watch yourself,' said the nurse, whose rubber soles squeaked on the floor.

He went behind the screen. His wife was sitting up, concerned.