Paulo Coelho - The Witch of Portobello

Before these statements left my desk and followed the fate I eventually chose for them, I considered using them as the basis for a traditional, painstakingly researched biography, recounting a true story. And so I read various biographies, thinking this would help me, only to realise that the biographer’s view of his subject inevitably influences the results of his research. Since it wasn’t my intention to impose my own opinions on the reader, but to set down the story of the ‘Witch of Portobello’ as seen by its main protagonists, I soon abandoned the idea of writing a straight biography and decided that the best approach would be simply to transcribe what people had told me.

Translated from the Portuguese by Margaret Jull Costa

For S.F.X., a sun who spread light and warmth wherever he went, and was an example to all those who think beyond their horizons.

No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they which come in may see the light.

Luke 11: 33

O Mary conceived without sin, pray for those who turn to you. Amen.

Cover Page

Excerpt Before these statements left my desk and followed the fate I eventually chose for them, I considered using them as the basis for a traditional, painstakingly researched biography, recounting a true story. And so I read various biographies, thinking this would help me, only to realise that the biographer’s view of his subject inevitably influences the results of his research. Since it wasn’t my intention to impose my own opinions on the reader, but to set down the story of the ‘Witch of Portobello’ as seen by its main protagonists, I soon abandoned the idea of writing a straight biography and decided that the best approach would be simply to transcribe what people had told me.

Title Page The Witch of Portobello Paulo Coelho Translated from the Portuguese by Margaret Jull Costa

Dedication For S.F.X., a sun who spread light and warmth wherever he went, and was an example to all those who think beyond their horizons.

Epigraph No man, when he hath lighted a candle, putteth it in a secret place, neither under a bushel, but on a candlestick, that they which come in may see the light. Luke 11: 33 O Mary conceived without sin, pray for those who turn to you. Amen.

Heron Ryan, 44, journalist

Andrea McCain, 32, actress

Deidre O’Neill, 37, doctor, known as Edda

Lella Zainab, 64, numerologist

Samira R. Khalil, 57, housewife, Athena’s mother

Luka’s Jessen-Petersen, 32, engineer, ex-husband

Father Giancarlo Fontana, 72

Luka’s Jessen-Petersen, ex-husband

Father Giancarlo Fontana

Pavel Podbielski, 57, owner of the apartment

Peter Sherney, 47, manager of a branch of [name of Bank omitted] in Holland Park, London

Nabil Alaihi, age unknown, Bedouin

Samira R. Khalil, Athena’s mother

Heron Ryan, journalist

Deidre O’Neill, known as Edda

Vosho ‘Bushalo’, 65, restaurant owner

Heron Ryan, journalist

Liliana, seamstress, age and surname unknown

Samira R. Khalil, housewife

Deidre O’Neill, known as Edda

Heron Ryan, journalist

Antoine Locadour, 74, historian, ICP, France

Andrea McCain, actress

Deidre O’Neill, known as Edda

Heron Ryan, journalist

Andrea McCain, actress

Heron Ryan, journalist

Antoine Locadour, historian

Deidre O’Neill, known as Edda

Andrea McCain, actress

Heron Ryan, journalist

Deidre O’Neill, known as Edda

Andrea McCain, actress

Heron Ryan, journalist

Deidre O’Neill, known as Edda

A London newspaper, 24 August 1991

Heron Ryan, journalist

Deidre O’Neill, known as Edda

Samira R. Khalil, housewife

Heron Ryan, journalist

Antoine Locadour, historian

Heron Ryan, journalist

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No one lights a lamp in order to hide it behind the door: the purpose of light is to create more light, to open people’s eyes, to reveal the marvels around.

No one sacrifices the most important thing she possesses: love.

No one places her dreams in the hands of those who might destroy them.

No one, that is, but Athena.

A long time after Athena’s death, her former teacher asked me to go with her to the town of Prestonpans in Scotland. There, taking advantage of certain ancient feudal powers which were due to be abolished the following month, the town had granted official pardons to 81 people – and their cats – who were executed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries for practising witchcraft.

According to the official spokeswoman for the Barons Courts of Prestoungrange & Dolphinstoun: ‘Most of those persons condemned…were convicted on the basis of spectral evidence – that is to say, prosecuting witnesses declared that they felt the presence of evil spirits or heard spirit voices.’

There’s no point now in going into all the excesses committed by the Inquisition, with its torture chambers and its bonfires lit by hatred and vengeance; however, on our way to Prestonpans, Edda said several times that there was something about that gesture which she found unacceptable: the town and the 14th Baron of Prestoungrange & Dolphinstoun were ‘granting pardons’ to people who had been brutally executed.

‘Here we are in the twenty-first century, and yet the descendants of the real criminals, those who killed the innocent victims, still feel they have the right to grant pardons. Do you know what I mean, Heron?’

I did. A new witch-hunt is starting to gain ground. This time the weapon isn’t the red-hot iron, but irony and repression. Anyone who happens to discover a gift and dares to speak of their abilities is usually regarded with distrust. Generally speaking, their husband, wife, father or child, or whoever, instead of feeling proud, forbids all mention of the matter, fearful of exposing their family to ridicule.

Before I met Athena, I thought all such gifts were a dishonest way of exploiting people’s despair. My trip to Transylvania to make a documentary on vampires was also a way of proving how easily people are deceived. Certain superstitions, however absurd they may seem, remain in the human imagination and are often used by unscrupulous people. When I visited Dracula’s castle, which has been reconstructed merely to give tourists the feeling that they’re in a special place, I was approached by a government official, who implied that I would receive a ‘significant’ (to use his word) gift when the film was shown on the BBC. In the mind of that official, I was helping to propagate the myth, and thus deserved a generous reward. One of the guides said that the number of visitors increased each year, and that any mention of the place would prove positive, even a programme saying that the castle was a fake, that Vlad Dracula was a historical figure who had nothing to do with the myth, and that it was all merely a product of the wild imaginings of one Irishman ( Editor’s note: Bram Stoker ), who had never even visited the region.

I knew then that, however rigorous I was with the facts, I was unwittingly collaborating with the lie; even if the idea behind my script was to demythologise the place, people would believe what they wanted to believe; the guide was right, I would simply be helping to generate more publicity. I immediately abandoned the project, even though I’d already spent quite a lot of money on the trip and on my research.