Cesar Aira - The Hare

The shaman looked at him again, this time in genuine astonishment: “You mean you don’t know about the horse?”

“Repetido? What has he got to do with it? Rosas lent him to me, that’s all I know.”

“And where did Rosas get him? Haven’t you seen Cafulcurá’s horse?”

“Yes, it’s similar. . ”

“No; it’s identical.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. . ”

“Yes, it is! But this is incredible! You mean to say you came here blindly, trusting to your good fortune?”

“Mister Mallén, do me the favor of enlightening me.”

Choosing to ignore the Englishman’s irritated tone, the shaman collected his thoughts.

“In our humble way, we like to breed our horses to produce the piebald effect we admire. Why do we like it so much? Because we can read the language of the different patches of color, and this is very practical for us. Repetido is a horse which exactly reproduces the same patches as Cafulcurá’s favorite, or what might be called his ‘official’ mount, and it is for that and no other reason that you succeeded in reaching Salinas Grandes unscathed. The two horses are twins, foals born at the same time from the same mare, and that mare was the granddaughter of the famous Fantasma, the horse in whose kidneys was found the blue stone which is Cafulcurá’s talisman. Apart from the stone, the legend, and the resulting play on words, Fantasma was the source of a line of twin horses. Your Repetido was a gift from our chieftain to Rosas on the occasion of an eternal peace treaty they signed a few years ago.”

“I had no idea.”

“I’m not surprised. There’s so much we do not know. . Well, not to waste time, will you help?”

Clarke only needed a moment’s thought: “Agreed.”

Their conversation was at an end. From their slight elevation, they could see the encroaching night gradually veiling the splendor of the evening sky. Flocks of pigeons rose into the heavens. Everything seemed to invite them to stay a while longer. Then a question occurred to Clarke:

“But, according to what you said, you were expecting something like this to happen, or am I mistaken?”

“Yes and no. It would take a lot of explaining.”

“Then please do so. We have the time. And I wouldn’t want to leave without knowing, it might be useful to me.”

“No, it won’t be useful in the slightest. If experience has taught me anything, it is that the less one knows, the more effectively one can act. But I’ll tell you anyway, because we do have the time. You should start out tomorrow morning.”

He lapsed into silence for a while, organizing his thoughts. “Let’s think where I can start. I should say at the outset that there is a lot of absurdity in the whole thing.”

“That’s the least of my concerns.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. Well, it’s true we had taken all kinds of precautions to guard Cafulcurá, but not for any real reason. There’s a paradox for you, seeing that in the end what happened was something real, all too real. Years ago, some hired shamans carried out who knows what oracular maneuvers, as a result of which there emerged the prophecy that on the day our chieftain celebrated his seventieth birthday, he would suffer an accident similar to the one that had happened thirty-five years earlier, when he reached that age. On that occasion, the birthday celebrations were complicated because they coincided with Cafulcurá’s wedding, since he was finally to be married to the great love of his life, the marvelous Juana Pitiley, whom he had yearned after for more than a decade. The celebrations were extraordinary: a week-long feast, with the inevitable over-indulgence in drink — you can imagine the state we were in by the end. At midnight on the final day, a small band of Vorogas had not the slightest difficulty in penetrating right to the heart of our encampment, picking up Cafulcurá like a bundle of dirty linen, and making off with him. In those days, the Vorogas were nothing like what they are today, except in their evil ways. They were nomadic groups, who could not get used to the plains: anarchists, in a word. Nor were we exactly what we are nowadays. Cafulcurá was young, somewhat dissipated, and our organization in times of peace left a lot to be desired. All this is to explain why the kidnapping caused such disarray in our ranks. It took all Juana Pitiley’s ardor to achieve the miracle of rounding up a party to set off after the Vorogas, and to pursue them for weeks without losing their trail. It was an entire small tribe which had carried out the kidnapping. They went at a good pace, and by pure instinct headed for the southern mountains. We never found out what they intended to do with Cafulcurá, but the fact is they kept him alive, drugged with herbal drinks. Since they knew they were being followed, as they believed by a large force, they spread out and holed up in the mountains, keeping their captive well hidden. When our warriors arrived, there was a series of skirmishes, in which all the ten or more brave Huilliches were killed off one by one, until only the heroic Juana Pitiley was left alive. She was determined to recover her husband or die in the attempt. From this point on, her feat enters the realms of legend. Nobody will ever know what she actually did, but I’ll tell you what has become the accepted version. A different kind of intelligence (now proverbial) came to life in her, a sort of animal instinct, which guided her like a sleepwalker who has the use of reason. Alone, naked, without weapons, she succeeded in getting into the sancta sanctorum of the Vorogas, which in fact was not a cavern but a circle of steep peaks about a league in circumference, at the center of which was a pierced rock, known as the Cerro de la Ventana. One evening she managed to climb up it without being seen, and then, as the sun set, the last ray threaded through the ‘window,’ and on the far side she saw the flight of a hare, later known as the Legibrerian Hare. By now we’re in the realm of pure fiction, for which I apologize. The path the hare followed showed her the way to Cafulcurá. You probably realize that all this could have a perfectly reasonable explanation: how often has the innocence of a tiny wild animal led to the discovery of a secret place? That same night, Juana rescued Cafulcurá all by herself, and the two of them climbed back up the Cerro de la Ventana, where she was sure the Vorogas would not search for them (their natural strategic response would be to disperse, once they discovered that their prisoner had been seized). At dawn, when Cafulcurá came round, they consummated their marriage at the summit of the pierced rock. The next day their escape and the pursuit began. It lasted a whole year. There have been many conjectures about their prolonged flight, but all we really know is that at a certain moment, when Juana Pitiley was about to give birth to the son she had conceived on the night of the rescue, the two lovers separated. As for the duped Vorogas, legend has it that they went to live beneath the earth like armadillos. Cafulcurá returned alone to our tents, and then two months later Juana Pitiley appeared, safe and sound, with a child in her arms: Namuncurá. Since that day she has been the foremost of the chieftain’s thirty-two wives, and a powerful political force in our court. By the way, tomorrow a deputation is to go to Carhué to inform her of the unfortunate occurrence. Her reaction could be fearsome.”

Clarke was no longer listening to him. The mention of the Hare in the Indian’s story had left him on tenterhooks. It was exactly what he wanted to find out about, but he judged this was not the right moment to press Mallén with questions, especially since it was unlikely he had anything important to say on the subject. He also had to give himself some time to reflect on what he had heard. It was bitterly disappointing that this information was coming out just when events were gathering pace around him. Following a very English (but mistaken) line of reasoning, he considered he would be able to think more clearly in peace, away from everything.