CHAPTER28

aftertheplaneswentawayrobertjordanandprimitivoheardthefiringstartandhisheartseemedtostartagainwithit.acloudofsmokedriftedoverthelastridgethathecouldseeinthehighcountryandtheplaneswerethreesteadilyrecedingspecksinthesky.

they’veprobablybombedhelloutoftheirowncavalryandnevertouchedsordoandcompany,robertjordansaidtohimself.thedamnedplanesscareyoutodeathbuttheydon’tkillyou.

“thecombatgoeson,”primitivosaid,listeningtotheheavyfiring.hehadwincedateachbombthudandnowhelickedhisdrylips.

“whynot?”robertjordansaid.“thosethingsneverkillanybody.”thenthefiringstoppedabsolutelyandhedidnothearanothershot.lieutenantberrendo’spistolshotdidnotcarrythatfar.

whenthefiringfirststoppeditdidnotaffecthim.thenasthequietkeptonahollowfeelingcameinhischest.thenheheardthegrenadesburstandforamomenthisheartrose.theneverythingwasquietagainandthequietkeptonandheknewthatitwasover.

mariacameupfromthecampwithatinbucketofstewedharewithmushroomssunkenintherichgravyandasackwithbread,aleatherwinebottle,fourtinplates,twocupsandfourspoons.shestoppedatthegunandladledouttwoplatesforagustinandeladio,whohadreplacedanselmoatthegun,andgavethembreadandunscrewedthehorntipofthewinebottleandpouredtwocupsofwine.

robertjordanwatchedherclimbinglithelyuptohislookoutpost,thesackoverhershoulder,thebucketinonehand,hercroppedheadbrightinthesun.heclimbeddownandtookthebucketandhelpedherupthelastboulder.

“whatdidtheaviationdo?”sheasked,hereyesfrightened.

“bombedsordo.”

hehadthebucketopenandwasladlingoutstewontoaplate.

“aretheystillfighting?”

“no.itisover.”

“oh,”shesaidandbitherlipandlookedoutacrossthecountry.

“ihavenoappetite,”primitivosaid.

“eatanyway,”robertjordantoldhim.

“icouldnotswallowfood.”

“takeadrinkofthis,man,”robertjordansaidandhandedhimthewinebottle.“theneat.”

“thisofsordohastakenawaydesire,”primitivosaid.“eat,thou.ihavenodesire.”

mariawentovertohimandputherarmsaroundhisneckandkissedhim.

“eat,oldone,”shesaid.“eachoneshouldtakecareofhisstrength.”

primitivoturnedawayfromher.hetookthewinebottleandtippinghisheadbackswallowedsteadilywhilehesquirtedajetofwineintothebackofhismouth.thenhefilledhisplatefromthebucketandcommencedtoeat.

robertjordanlookedatmariaandshookhishead.shesatdownbyhimandputherarmaroundhisshoulder.eachknewhowtheotherfeltandtheysatthereandrobertjordanatethestew,takingtimetoappreciatethemushroomscompletely,andhedrankthewineandtheysaidnothing.

“youmaystayhere,guapa,ifyouwant,”hesaidafterawhilewhenthefoodwasalleaten.

“nay,”shesaid.“imustgotopilar.”

“itisallrighttostayhere.idonotthinkthatanythingwillhappennow.”

“nay.imustgotopilar.sheisgivingmeinstruction.”

“whatdoesshegivethee?”

“instruction.”shesmiledathimandthenkissedhim.“didyouneverhearofreligiousinstruction?”sheblushed.“itissomethinglikethat.”sheblushedagain.“butdifferent.”

“gotothyinstruction,”hesaidandpattedheronthehead.shesmiledathimagain,thensaidtoprimitivo,“doyouwantanythingfrombelow?”

“no,daughter,”hesaid.theybothsawthathewasstillnotyetrecovered.

“salud,oldone,”shesaidtohim.

“listen,”primitivosaid.“ihavenofeartodiebuttoleavethemalonethus—”hisvoicebroke.

“therewasnochoice,”robertjordantoldhim.

“iknow.butallthesame.”

“therewasnochoice,”robertjordanrepeated.“andnowitisbetternottospeakofit.”

“yes.buttherealonewithnoaidfromus—”

“muchbetternottospeakofit,”robertjordansaid.“andthou,guapa,gettheetothyinstruction.”

hewatchedherclimbdownthroughtherocks.thenhesatthereforalongtimethinkingandwatchingthehighcountry.

primitivospoketohimbuthedidnotanswer.itwashotinthesunbuthedidnotnoticetheheatwhilehesatwatchingthehillslopesandthelongpatchesofpinetreesthatstretchedupthehighestslope.anhourpassedandthesunwasfartohisleftnowwhenhesawthemcomingoverthecrestoftheslopeandhepickeduphisglasses.

thehorsesshowedsmallandminuteasthefirsttworiderscameintosightonthelonggreenslopeofthehighhill.thentherewerefourmorehorsemencomingdown,spreadoutacrossthewidehillandthenthroughhisglasseshesawthedoublecolumnofmenandhorsesrideintothesharpclarityofhisvision.ashewatchedthemhefeltsweatcomefromhisarmpitsandrundownhisflanks.onemanrodeattheheadofthecolumn.thencamemorehorsemen.thencametheriderlesshorseswiththeirburdenstiedacrossthesaddles.thenthereweretworiders.thencamethewoundedwithmenwalkingbythemastheyrode.thencamemorecavalrytoclosethecolumn.

robertjordanwatchedthemridedowntheslopeandoutofsightintothetimber.hecouldnotseeatthatdistancetheloadonesaddleboreofalongrolledponchotiedateachendandatintervalssothatitbulgedbetweeneachlashingasapodbulgeswithpeas.thiswastiedacrossthesaddleandateachenditwaslashedtothestirrupleathers.alongsidethisonthetopofthesaddletheautomaticriflesordohadservedwaslashedarrogantly.

lieutenantberrendo,whowasridingattheheadofthecolumn,hisflankersout,hispointpushedwellforward,feltnoarrogance.hefeltonlythehollownessthatcomesafteraction.hewasthinking:takingtheheadsisbarbarous.butproofandidentificationisnecessary.iwillhavetroubleenoughaboutthisasitisandwhoknows?thisoftheheadsmayappealtothem.therearethoseofthemwholikesuchthings.itispossibletheywillsendthemalltoburgos.itisabarbarousbusiness.theplanesweremuchos.much.much.butwecouldhavedoneitall,andalmostwithoutlosses,withastokesmortar.twomulestocarrytheshellsandamulewithamortaroneachsideofthepacksaddle.whatanarmywewouldbethen!withthefirepowerofalltheseautomaticweapons.andanothermule.no,twomulestocarryammunition.leaveitalone,hetoldhimself.itisnolongercavalry.leaveitalone.you’rebuildingyourselfanarmy.nextyouwillwantamountaingun.

thenhethoughtofjulián,deadonthehill,deadnow,tiedacrossahorsethereinthefirsttroop,andasherodedownintothedarkpineforest,leavingthesunlightbehindhimonthehill,ridingnowinthequietdarkoftheforest,hestartedtosayaprayerforhimagain.

“hail,holyqueenmotherofmercy,”hestarted.“ourlife,oursweetnessandourhope.totheedowesendupoursighs,mourningsandweepingsinthisvalleyoftears—”

hewentonwiththeprayerthehorses’hoovessoftonthefallenpineneedles,thelightcomingthroughthetreetrunksinpatchesasitcomesthroughthecolumnsofacathedral,andasheprayedhelookedaheadtoseehisflankersridingthroughthetrees.

herodeoutoftheforestontotheyellowroadthatledintolagranjaandthehorses’hoovesraisedadustthathungoverthemastheyrode.itpowderedthedeadwhoweretiedfacedownacrossthesaddlesandthewounded,andthosewhowalkedbesidethem,wereinthickdust.

itwasherethatanselmosawthemridepastintheirdust.

hecountedthedeadandthewoundedandherecognizedsordo’sautomaticrifle.hedidnotknowwhattheponcho-wrappedbundlewaswhichflappedagainsttheledhorse’sflanksasthestirrupleathersswungbutwhen,onhiswayhome,hecameinthedarkontothehillwheresordohadfought,heknewatoncewhatthelongponchorollcontained.inthedarkhecouldnottellwhohadbeenuponthehill.buthecountedthosethatlaythereandthenmadeoffacrossthehillsforpablo’scamp.

walkingaloneinthedark,withafearlikeafreezingofhisheartfromthefeelingtheholesofthebombcratershadgivenhim,fromthemandfromwhathehadfoundonthehill,heputallthoughtofthenextdayoutofhismind.hesimplywalkedasfastashecouldtobringthenews.andashewalkedheprayedforthesoulsofsordoandofallhisband.itwasthefirsttimehehadprayedsincethestartofthemovement.

“mostkind,mostsweet,mostclementvirgin,”heprayed.