Yasmina Khadra - The Angels Die

I thought she had gone to seize the day, as was her habit, but her mare was in its stable.

I didn’t dare ask Ventabren where his daughter had gone. That day, I ran in a void. I didn’t see the paths or the rocks. I didn’t even feel my legs, let alone my efforts. My stride had no rhythm. The bushes fled before me. I was a wandering obsession …

Salvo, Ventabren and I had lunch in a cathedral-like silence. The table seemed to have tripled in size. The tasteless food stuck in my throat.

The only thing that kept me on earth was the gentle touch of that kiss on my lips.

Irène …

Her absence turned the farm into a gloomy enclosure where I was running around in circles. The walls were nothing but heaps of stones, the landscape an accident, the countryside a shipwreck waiting to happen.

I waited for evening. Evening came, but not Irène. The sun had gone down, but I was still up. There was no light in the window opposite.

Early the following morning, Salvo told me he was going back to Oran. He’d got out of bed on the wrong side. He didn’t know what he was doing in this godforsaken hole. ‘You don’t listen to me, you don’t take my advice, you don’t follow my programme. In the circumstances, I don’t see what use I am.’

He stuffed his clothes in a bag and began walking towards the asphalted road.

I didn’t try to stop him.

I set off to do some feverish sprints as far as the mountain. As if I was fleeing my own shadow.

I was getting my breath back in a clearing when I heard neighing behind the thicket. It was Irène. She tied her mare to a bush and sat down next to me. Her shirt was steaming in the sun, her forehead was red and her eyes glistened with a sort of wild intoxication. She picked up a branch, twisted it, then started breaking it into little pieces. Her breathing drowned out the rustling of the foliage. I waited for her to speak but she said nothing.

‘Is it because of what happened at the dance?’ I asked, to break the silence.

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I thought you were giving me the cold shoulder because of the incident with the policeman.’

‘If only that was all.’

‘Where did you go yesterday?’

‘I stayed in my room.’

‘All day?’

‘Yes.’

‘Didn’t you put the light on?’

‘No.’

‘Were you sick?’

‘In a way.’ At last she turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. ‘I spent the whole day and night thinking.’

‘Thinking about what?’

‘About that moment. I kept asking myself if it was a good idea or if I should hold back. A really difficult exercise, weighing the pros and cons. In the end, I told myself nothing ventured nothing gained.’

She grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me to her. Her mouth devoured mine. And it was in that clearing, where the chirping of the cicadas had conspired to silence the uproar in my chest, that Irène gave herself to me, between a bush and a praying tree, right there amid the profusion of gold coins scattered by the sun on the ground like a generous prince. No ecstasy could have equalled the thrill that went through me when our bodies became one.

Filippi had received strict orders. If you have to tie him up, tie him up and bring him to me before midday. Filippi didn’t want any problems with the Duke. Pale and stammering, he begged me to get my things together and follow him. It was as if his fate depended on the mission that had been entrusted to him. I looked at Irène; she stood by the well, hands on hips, smiling. Out of pity for Filippi, she nodded to me to pack my bags.

‘Thank you, Madame,’ Filippi stammered. ‘You’re really helping me out.’

‘I won’t be so lenient next time,’ she warned him.

As soon as I took my seat in the car, Filippi set off at top speed, doubtless afraid I might change my mind. I turned to wave at Irène, but she was already walking back to the stable.

Gino stopped me at the entrance to the Bollocq offices. While waiting for us to be seen by the Duke, he showed me his office on the second floor with a view of the courtyard.

‘You haven’t wasted any time,’ I said.

‘Best to strike while the iron is hot.’

‘What do you actually do?’

‘A bit of everything. I negotiate contracts, explore deals, check the accounts … The Duke is training me. He has plans for me.’

He was looking better, more handsome, as he got older. He just had to flash one of his smiles and he’d be forgiven any rudeness. His hair, now light chestnut, was starting to darken at the temples, adding a hint of manliness to his charm that was in marked contrast to his angelic air. I understood why nobody could resist him, why the girls sighed over him and the Duke was so generous. I think I was jealous of him. Gino didn’t need to make much effort. He could have had the moon on a silver platter if he’d asked for it.

He motioned me to a chair and poured me a glass of lemonade.

‘How’s it going with Louise?’ I asked.

He frowned. ‘Who told you about that?’

‘I saw you flirting with her.’

‘Nothing definite for the moment,’ he said, annoyed by my indiscretion.

He flopped into the chair behind his desk, every inch the young nabob. He couldn’t yet put his feet up on the desk, as was appropriate for those who climb the social ladder on a flying carpet, but he took his ease with a certain detachment. His suit was impeccable, and he wore gold cufflinks and a chain bracelet on his wrist.

‘Does the Duke know what you’re up to?’

‘What’s your problem?’

‘You know the Berber proverb: the hen lays an egg and the cockerel gets a pain in the arse.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘No, I don’t suppose I need to.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Did the Duke talk to you about the plane tree?’

‘What plane tree?’

‘The one down in the courtyard.’

‘Why should he talk to me about the plane tree?’

‘Forget it,’ I said, aware that I was distracted. ‘So, how’s the fight with Cargo coming along?’

Gino stared at me for a moment or two, bewildered by the mystery of the plane tree, then, making himself even more comfortable in his padded armchair, said, ‘It’s coming along fine. If you win, the North African champion won’t be able to wriggle out of it. He’ll be forced to meet you. We’re going to work twice as hard,’ he said with sudden enthusiasm. ‘That title belongs to us. The Duke wants it at any cost. For the city, and for all of us. You can’t imagine the trouble he’s going to for you, the money he’s spending to make you king of the world.’

‘No joy is complete if it isn’t shared.’

Gino gave a start, increasingly intrigued by my insinuations. ‘I don’t follow you, Turambo. What are you getting at?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You seem bitter.’

‘I felt good at the farm.’

‘It was the Duke who decided to bring you back.’

‘Don’t you think I should have a say in the matter? I’m the one who’s doing the work, aren’t I?’

‘Yes, but I’m the one who’s spending the money,’ the Duke growled, coming into Gino’s office.

He was in his shirtsleeves, with big patches of sweat under his armpits, and he was frowning. Gino stood to attention. The Duke motioned him to sit down again.

‘Do you think I don’t know?’ he yelled at me, waving his cigar under my nose. ‘I sent you to the farm to work, not to fall for that prick-teaser. You have no excuse.’

Gino started wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

‘You’re behaving like a spoilt child, Turambo,’ the Duke went on, ‘and I’m not used to indulging spoilt children. When are you going to get it into your head that you have obligations? Do you know where Marcel Cargo is right now? In Marseilles. In a camp cut off from the world. Preparing for his fight with you. Even the press can’t get to him. He’s working like a dog day and night. No booze, no girls, no films.’