Хеннинг Манкелль - A Treacherous Paradise

‘I’ve only come to say that I’m continuing with my attempts to talk to her,’ he said when they had sat down in the shade on the veranda and Julietta had served tea.

‘But she’s still silent, is she?’

‘She doesn’t say a word. But she listens.’

‘Can you be sure of that?’

‘I can see that she’s listening.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but what are you trying to talk to her about?’

‘I’m trying to persuade her to confess to her terrible sin, and submit her soul to God. He will pass judgement on her, but His judgement will be mild if she confesses and submits to His will.’

Ana looked at Father Leopoldo in surprise. He really believes what he says, she thought. For him, God is someone who hands out punishment — the same God that my grandmother in Funäsdalen used to talk about. He believes in the same hell that she did. He’s not like me. I don’t believe in hell, but I’m frightened of it all the same. If there is a hell, it is here on earth.

God is white, Ana thought. I suppose I’ve always thought that, but never so clearly as I do now.

She wanted to conclude the conversation.

‘This is the first time you’ve been to visit me,’ she said. ‘I don’t believe that you have only come to inform me that Isabel still isn’t saying anything. I know that already, because I visit her every day.’

‘I’ve also come to tell you that the plaster and rendering in one corner of the cathedral is falling off and needs repairing.’

‘I’m not a plasterer.’

‘We are going to need voluntary donations so that we can carry out repairs as soon as possible, before the damage gets any worse. We can’t wait for the Church authorities in Lisbon to pass resolutions to assist us.’

Ana nodded. She promised to make a donation despite the fact that it felt humiliating to discover that this was the real reason for Father Leopoldo’s visit. She no longer regarded him as a priest, but as a beggar pestering her.

He stood up, as if he were in a hurry to leave. Ana rang her bell and instructed Julietta to escort him out. She thought about her father’s words, to the effect that priests should be kicked out into the snow in bare feet. He wouldn’t have liked Father Leopoldo, she thought — but I would still have been a mucky little angel as far as he was concerned.

Ana avoided visiting the brothel that day. She sent Julietta there with a message to O’Neill saying that he would be responsible for what happened there until her next visit, but at the end she implied that she might well turn up before the end of the day despite everything. Senhor Vaz had taught her that everybody in the brothel needed to be kept on tenterhooks, suspecting that checks might be made at any time of day or night.

After the meeting with Father Leopoldo, Ana sacked one of the night security guards who had been asleep on duty. He pleaded in vain to keep his job. He had been ill, he said; he’d had a fever, his mother had had an accident, several of his children were in difficulties — that was why he had fallen asleep. Ana knew full well that nothing he said was true, it was a ritual from start to finish. But she allowed him to fetch his brother and appointed him as a night security guard instead, warning him that she would check up every night to make sure that he was awake.

After her afternoon siesta, when she had lain in bed unable to sleep, fanning herself, she was driven down to the fort. Carlos was sitting on the chimney when she left. She had realized that he was changing in some way, although it was not clear how. Perhaps I see Carlos as a reflection of myself, she thought. Something is happening, something with vital implications for my life. And hence also for Carlos’s future.

Moses was waiting in the shade of the wall surrounding the fort. Ana got out of the car and walked over to him. Moses selected a place where they could stand without being seen, and gave her a small leather pouch.

‘What’s this?’

‘The crushed shell of a special snail that lives off the Inhambane coast. Plus dried blossom from a tree that only blossoms once every nineteen years.’

‘Surely there aren’t any such trees?’

He looked offended, and she regretted what she had said.

‘What do you want me to do with this?’

‘Give it to Isabel. Say it’s from me. She should eat it.’

‘Why should she eat flowers?’

‘They’ll give her wings, like a butterfly’s. She’ll then be able to fly out of the prison. I’ll meet her and take her and her children to the tunnels in my mine. All that will be left in the cell is the leather pouch, and it will slowly rot away with a whispering noise.’

‘What? Can a leather pouch whisper?’

‘This one can: it will tell the story of Isabel and her new life for anybody who wants to listen.’

‘It sounds like a fairy tale you tell to small children.’

‘But what I’m telling you is the truth.’

Ana could see that Moses was serious. The person standing in front of her was no small child, and as far as he was concerned what he said was the truth, and nothing but the truth. Ana thought he looked very much like Isabel, you could see they were brother and sister, especially in his eyes and the high forehead.

‘I’ll give it to her,’ said Ana, putting the pouch into the basket with the food. ‘Does she know what to do with it?’

‘Yes, she knows.’

‘And you really believe that she will grow wings?’

Moses took a step backwards, as if he no longer wanted to be too close to her. Then he turned on his heel without answering, and left. Ana remained where she was, hesitating. She put down the basket, took out the leather pouch and opened it. It was half full of a bluish-white powder that glittered when the sun’s rays fell on it.

I’m taking part in a strange game, she thought. How can wings suddenly grow on a human being’s back? If my father had given me these ground snail shells and flowers, would he then have been able to watch me flying off over the river and up into the mountains?

She tied the pouch again. There’s a lot I don’t understand, she thought. The wings are something that only Moses and Isabel can relate to. For me they are both laughable and deeply serious at one and the same time.

She went into the fort through the entrance doors. Sullivan was waiting for her on the steps as usual. Today, he was wearing his white dress uniform. He was holding his pipe in one hand. It had gone out. She asked if he had managed to throw any light on who was responsible for the attack on Isabel.

‘No,’ he said. ‘But I can’t believe that we won’t be able to work out who did it.’

‘One of the soldiers?’

‘Who would take the risk? I would send the guilty man back home, and doing one’s military service in a penal settlement in Portugal is something every sensible soldier is scared stiff of.’

‘But who could get past the guards?’

‘That’s precisely what we are looking into. This is a small town. It will be difficult to hide away the truth about what happened.’

I’ll never get an answer, Ana thought. For all I know the man I’m talking to now could be the one who slashed her face.

She left the commanding officer and went down to the cells. She sat down beside Isabel. The basket from the previous day wasn’t completely empty: she had eaten, but not very much.

‘This pouch is from Moses,’ Ana said. ‘He wants you to swallow the contents so that you can escape.’

For the first time Isabel took hold of Ana’s hand. She squeezed the leather pouch hard, and for a brief moment leaned her head on Ana’s shoulder.

‘Go now,’ she said in a voice that was hoarse from lack of use. ‘I don’t have much time left.’