Yasmina Khadra - The Angels Die

‘You see that tree, Turambo? It was here long before my great-grandmother. Probably before the first civilised people even settled in this barbaric country. It’s survived invasions and a whole lot of battles. Often, when I look at it, I wonder how many love affairs started beneath it, how many confidences were exchanged in its shade, how many plots were hatched under its branches. It’s seen generations pass and yet there it is, imperturbable, almost taciturn, as if nothing had ever happened … Do you know why it’s survived the centuries and why it’ll survive us? Because it’s stayed stubbornly in its place. It’s never going to trample on the roots of other trees. And it’s right. The reason it’s fine where it is, relaxed, well-behaved, is so that no other tree can come and overshadow it.’

‘I don’t understand, Monsieur.’

‘You should know this, young man. To me, you’re just an investment. You’re not a member of my family, you’re not a friend. You’re a racehorse on which I’ve bet a lot of money. I may indulge you and spoil you, but that has nothing to do with affection: it’s so that you don’t disappoint me or short-change me. But whatever the satisfaction you give me, you’ll always be the little Arab from the souk who’d do better not to take for granted the favours people do for him. Do you follow me?’

‘Not really, Monsieur.’

‘I thought as much. I’m going to try and be clearer.’ He tapped on the balustrade with his finger. ‘I don’t want you to ring my doorbell without being invited, and I forbid you to go anywhere near my daughter. We aren’t of the same class, let alone the same race. So stay in your place, like that tree, and nobody will step on you … Have I made myself understood, Turambo?’

My hands had left damp patches on the edge of the balustrade. The sun was burning my eyes. A cold shower would have been less of a shock.

‘I have to go and train, Monsieur,’ I heard myself stammer.

‘An excellent idea.’

I wiped my moist hands on the front of my trousers and walked back to the main door.

‘Turambo!’ he called.

I stopped in the middle of the room, without turning round.

‘In life, as in boxing,’ he said, ‘there are rules.’

I nodded and went on my way.

That day, I let myself go on the punch bag until my arms were almost pushed back into their sockets.

‘The Duke would give you the moon if you asked him,’ Frédéric Pau said to me, ‘but you can’t even swat a fly without his permission. He’s strict with everyone. He and I have known each other since we were barefoot boys in the gutter. We stole fruit from the same orchard and bathed in the same trough. And yet I’m at his beck and call. Because he’s the boss … I acknowledge he’s been hard on you. He admits it himself. But don’t make a big deal of it. He just wanted you to know that there are lines that mustn’t be crossed. I assure you he has an enormous amount of esteem for you. He wants to make you a legend. He’ll get you to the top, I guarantee it. Only, he insists on certain principles, do you follow me? Otherwise, how can he get people to respect him?’

It was after midnight. Gino and I had been sleeping when there was a knock at the door. Going down to open up, I’d been surprised to see Frédéric Pau standing in the street, puffing on a cigarette. He’d apologised for disturbing us. It was obvious he wasn’t there by chance. The way he was smoking betrayed a nervousness I’d never seen in him before. I’d stood aside to let him come up. It occurred to me the Duke might have fired him; I was wrong. Monsieur Pau had come to lecture me …

Gino joined us in his pants in the living room, which was dimly lit by an old oil lamp because of an electricity blackout. As soon as he was seated, Monsieur Pau got straight to the point. He’d been given the task of clearing up that afternoon’s misunderstanding, following the words the Duke had said to me in his office. Gino, still half asleep, couldn’t follow much of the discussion. His eyes darted from my tense mouth to Frédéric Pau’s conciliatory hands, trying in vain to grasp what it was all about. I hadn’t told him about the incident in question. The Duke had wounded me deeply and I had preferred to save my resentment for Sigli, my next opponent, an arrogant fellow who was constantly shouting from the rooftops that he would polish me off in the first round. So I was furious with Pau. He was revealing everything without realising the embarrassing situation he was putting me in. However many pained looks I gave him, in the hope of making him aware of his indiscretion, he just kept on talking.

A sound reached us from the end of the corridor. Much to my relief, Pau at last fell silent. He asked Gino what the noise meant. Gino reassured him it wasn’t a poltergeist but might have been a rat overturning something in the kitchen.

I took advantage of this unexpected interruption to divert the conversation. ‘When are we going to sign the contract, Monsieur Pau?’

‘What contract?’

‘What do you mean, what contract? I work for your boss now, don’t I?’

‘The Duke never said anything about a contract.’

‘Well, it’s time we sat down round a table and clarified things. In three weeks, I’m meeting Sigli. I’m not getting in that ring without first sorting out the details of my career. The Duke wants me to follow the rules. Let him do the same. And please note, it isn’t Francis who manages my affairs now, but Gino here. From today, you’ll have to negotiate with him.’

‘All right. I’ll see what I can do.’

‘And now, go home, Monsieur. Tomorrow, very early, De Stefano is picking me up to go to Kristel.’

Pau took his hat off the table. His hand was shaking. ‘What should I tell the Duke?’

‘About what?’

‘About what happened in his office this afternoon.’

‘Nothing happened in his office this afternoon.’

Pau was confused. He didn’t know how to interpret my attitude. I pushed him gently outside, making sure he didn’t trip on the dark staircase, and slammed the door behind him.

‘What was all that about?’ Gino asked.

‘All what?’ I said, going back to my room.

The next day, when I got back from Kristel, Gino told me that Filippi had come to fetch him and take him to see the Duke and that, although he hadn’t signed any papers, the situation was looking better than he’d hoped. He informed me that Monsieur Pau would be coming round that evening to bury the ‘misunderstanding’ once and for all and that, in order to do that, I needed to have a good bath and put on my formal suit.

‘Will you come with me?’

‘Not this time. The situation has changed. From now on, whenever you’re invited, you’re not expected to bring your tribe with you. You just do what you’re told, full stop. But don’t worry, I’m looking after your interests whether I’m there or not.’

That evening, the car driven by Filippi pulled up outside the haberdasher’s. Frédéric Pau opened the door for me in person. From the balcony, Gino gave me a little wave and mouthed something I read as Have fun .

The seafront was swarming with people in loose shirts, and the ice-cream parlours overflowed with holidaymakers. Ladies were strolling on the esplanade, their hair blowing in the wind. Leaning on the railing overlooking the harbour, young people were gazing at the setting sun, its fire in marked contrast to the silhouette of Murdjadjo. From the top of the mountain, Santa Cruz watched over the city, hands joined and wings outstretched. In Oran, summer was a party, and the neon signs were conjuring tricks.

The car turned off from the bustle of the streets and glided slowly into the thick silence of the countryside. A strip of asphalt climbed to the heights of the Cueva del Agua. On this side of the city, you turned your back on the wonders of nature. Now wasn’t the time for contemplation. Poverty was born out of misfortune, and both were accepted as a given, like a curse handed down as punishment for an unknown crime. Huts of hessian flapped in the dust-laden breeze. On a mound of rubbish, ragged children, watched by a sad, rheumy-eyed old dog, were learning to overcome their sorrows … Further on, a sign announced the entrance to the village of Canastel. Filippi turned onto a track and plunged into a thicket filled with the sound of cicadas. We passed little cabins hidden behind reed trellises, crossed a deserted clearing, and finally came to the gate of a comfortable-looking residence perched on a belvedere overlooking the sea.