CHAPTER34

thefascistsheldthecrestsofthehillshere.thentherewasavalleythatnooneheldexceptforafascistpostinafarmhousewithitsoutbuildingsanditsbarnthattheyhadfortified.andrés,onhiswaytogolzwiththemessagefromrobertjordan,madeawidecirclearoundthispostinthedark.heknewwheretherewasatripwirelaidthatfiredaset-gunandhelocateditinthedark,steppedoverit,andstartedalongthesmallstreamborderedwithpoplarswhoseleavesweremovingwiththenightwind.acockcrowedatthefarmhousethatwasthefascistpostandashewalkedalongthestreamhelookedbackandsaw,throughthetrunksofthepoplars,alightshowingattheloweredgeofoneofthewindowsofthefarmhouse.thenightwasquietandclearandandrésleftthestreamandstruckacrossthemeadow.

therewerefourhaycocksinthemeadowthathadstoodthereeversincethefightinginjulyoftheyearbefore.noonehadevercarriedthehayawayandthefourseasonsthathadpassedhadflattenedthecocksandmadethehayworthless.

andrésthoughtwhatawasteitwasashesteppedoveratripwirethatranbetweentwoofthehaycocks.buttherepublicanswouldhavehadtocarrythehayupthesteepguadarramaslopethatrosebeyondthemeadowandthefascistsdidnotneedit,isuppose,hethought.

theyhaveallthehaytheyneedandallthegrain.theyhavemuch,hethought.butwewillgivethemablowtomorrowmorning.tomorrowmorningwewillgivethemsomethingforsordo.whatbarbarianstheyare!butinthemorningtherewillbedustontheroad.

hewantedtogetthismessage-takingoverandbebackfortheattackonthepostsinthemorning.didhereallywanttogetbackthoughordidheonlypretendhewantedtobeback?heknewthereprievedfeelinghehadfeltwhentheingléhadtoldhimhewastogowiththemessage.hehadfacedtheprospectofthemorningcalmly.itwaswhatwastobedone.hehadvotedforitandwoulddoit.thewipingoutofsordohadimpressedhimdeeply.but,afterall,thatwassordo.thatwasnotthem.whattheyhadtodotheywoulddo.

butwhentheingléhadspokentohimofthemessagehehadfeltthewayheusedtofeelwhenhewasaboyandhehadwakenedinthemorningofthefestivalofhisvillageandhearditraininghardsothatheknewthatitwouldbetoowetandthatthebullbaitinginthesquarewouldbecancelled.

helovedthebullbaitingwhenhewasaboyandhelookedforwardtoitandtothemomentwhenhewouldbeinthesquareinthehotsunandthedustwiththecartsrangedallaroundtoclosetheexitsandtomakeaclosedplaceintowhichthebullwouldcome,slidingdownoutofhisbox,brakingwithallfourfeet,whentheypulledtheend-gateup.helookedforwardwithexcitement,delightandsweatingfeartothemomentwhen,inthesquare,hewouldheartheclatterofthebull’shornsknockingagainstthewoodofhistravellingbox,andthenthesightofhimashecame,sliding,brakingoutintothesquare,hisheadup,hisnostrilswide,hisearstwitching,dustinthesheenofhisblackhide,driedcrutsplashedonhisflanks,watchinghiseyessetwideapart,unblinkingeyesunderthewidespreadhornsassmoothandsolidasdriftwoodpolishedbythesand,thesharptipsuptiltedsothattoseethemdidsomethingtoyourheart.

helookedforwardalltheyeartothatmomentwhenthebullwouldcomeoutintothesquareonthatdaywhenyouwatchedhiseyeswhilehemadehischoiceofwhominthesquarehewouldattackinthatsuddenhead-lowering,horn-reaching,quickcatgallopthatstoppedyourheartdeadwhenitstarted.hehadlookedforwardtothatmomentalltheyearwhenhewasaboy;butthefeelingwhentheinglégavetheorderaboutthemessagewasthesameaswhenyouwoketohearthereprieveoftherainfallingontheslateroof,againstthestonewallandintothepuddlesonthedirtstreetofthevillage.

hehadalwaysbeenverybravewiththebullinthosevillagecapeas,asbraveasanyinthevillageoroftheothernear-byvillages,andnotforanythingwouldhehavemisseditanyyearalthoughhedidnotgotothecapeasofothervillages.hewasabletowaitstillwhenthebullchargedandonlyjumpedasideatthelastmoment.hewavedasackunderhismuzzletodrawhimoffwhenthebullhadsomeonedownandmanytimeshehadheldandpulledonthehornswhenthebullhadsomeoneonthegroundandpulledsidewaysonthehorn,hadslappedandkickedhiminthefaceuntilheleftthemantochargesomeoneelse.

hehadheldthebull’stailtopullhimawayfromafallenman,bracinghardandpullingandtwisting.oncehehadpulledthetailaroundwithonehanduntilhecouldreachahornwiththeotherandwhenthebullhadliftedhisheadtochargehimhehadrunbackwards,circlingwiththebull,holdingthetailinonehandandthehornintheotheruntilthecrowdhadswarmedontothebullwiththeirknivesandstabbedhim.inthedustandtheheat,theshouting,thebullandmanandwinesmell,hehadbeeninthefirstofthecrowdthatthrewthemselvesontothebullandheknewthefeelingwhenthebullrockedandbuckedunderhimandhelayacrossthewitherswithonearmlockedaroundthebaseofthehornandhishandholdingtheotherhorntight,hisfingerslockedashisbodytossedandwrenchedandhisleftarmfeltasthoughitwouldtearfromthesocketwhilehelayonthehot,dusty,bristly,tossingslopeofmuscle,theearclenchedtightinhisteeth,anddrovehisknifeagainandagainandagainintotheswelling,tossingbulgeoftheneckthatwasnowspoutinghotonhisfistashelethisweighthangonthehighslopeofthewithersandbangedandbangedintotheneck.

thefirsttimehehadbittheearlikethatandheldontoit,hisneckandjawsstiffenedagainstthetossing,theyhadallmadefunofhimafterwards.butthoughtheyjokedhimaboutittheyhadgreatrespectforhim.andeveryyearafterthathehadtorepeatit.theycalledhimthebulldogofvillaconejosandjokedabouthimeatingcattleraw.buteveryoneinthevillagelookedforwardtoseeinghimdoitandeveryyearheknewthatfirstthebullwouldcomeout,thentherewouldbethechargesandthetossing,andthenwhentheyyelledfortherushforthekillinghewouldplacehimselftorushthroughtheotherattackersandleapforhishold.then,whenitwasover,andthebullsettledandsunkdeadfinallyundertheweightofthekillers,hewouldstandupandwalkawayashamedoftheearpart,butalsoasproudasamancouldbe.andhewouldgothroughthecartstowashhishandsatthestonefountainandmenwouldclaphimonthebackandhandhimwineskinsandsay,“hurrayforyou,bulldog.longlifetoyourmother.”ortheywouldsay,“that’swhatitistohaveapairofcojones!yearafteryear!”

andréswouldbeashamed,empty-feeling,proudandhappy,andhewouldshakethemalloffandwashhishandsandhisrightarmandwashhisknifewellandthentakeoneofthewineskinsandrinsetheear-tasteoutofhismouthforthatyear;spittingthewineonthestoneflagsoftheplazabeforeheliftedthewineskinhighandletthewinespurtintothebackofhismouth.

surely.hewasthebulldogofvillaconejosandnotforanythingwouldhehavemisseddoingiteachyearinhisvillage.butheknewtherewasnobetterfeelingthanthatonethesoundoftheraingavewhenheknewhewouldnothavetodoit.

butimustgoback,hetoldhimself.thereisnoquestionbutthatimustgobackfortheaffairofthepostsandthebridge.mybrothereladioisthere,whoisofmyownboneandflesh.anselmo,primitivo,fernando,agustin,rafael,thoughclearlyheisnotserious,thetwowomen,pabloandtheingl,thoughtheinglédoesnotcountsinceheisaforeignerandunderorders.theyareallinforit.itisimpossiblethatishouldescapethisprovingthroughtheaccidentofamessage.imustdeliverthismessagenowquicklyandwellandthenmakeallhastetoreturnintimefortheassaultontheposts.itwouldbeignobleofmenottoparticipateinthisactionbecauseoftheaccidentofthismessage.thatcouldnotbeclearer.andbesides,hetoldhimself,asonewhosuddenlyremembersthattherewillbepleasuretooinanengagementonlytheonerousaspectsofwhichhehasbeenconsidering,andbesidesiwillenjoythekillingofsomefascists.ithasbeentoolongsincewehavedestroyedany.tomorrowcanbeadayofmuchvalidaction.tomorrowcanbeadayofconcreteacts.tomorrowcanbeadaywhichisworthsomething.thattomorrowshouldcomeandthatishouldbethere.

justthen,askneedeepinthegorseheclimbedthesteepslopethatledtotherepublicanlines,apartridgeflewupfromunderhisfeet,explodinginawhirrofwingbeatsinthedarkandhefeltasuddenbreath-stoppingfright.itisthesuddenness,hethought.howcantheymovetheirwingsthatfast?shemustbenestingnow.iprobablytrodclosetotheeggs.iftherewerenotthiswariwouldtieahandkerchieftothebushandcomebackinthedaytimeandsearchoutthenestandicouldtaketheeggsandputthemunderasettinghenandwhentheyhatchedwewouldhavelittlepartridgesinthepoultryyardandiwouldwatchthemgrowand,whentheyweregrown,i’dusethemforcallers.iwouldn’tblindthembecausetheywouldbetame.ordoyousupposetheywouldflyoff?probably.theniwouldhavetoblindthem.

butidon’tliketodothatafterihaveraisedthem.icouldclipthewingsortetherthembyonelegwheniusedthemforcalling.iftherewasnowariwouldgowitheladiotogetcrayfishfromthatstreambacktherebythefascistpost.onetimewegotfourdozenfromthatstreaminaday.ifwegotothesierradegredosafterthisofthebridgetherearefinestreamstherefortroutandforcrayfishalso.ihopewegotogredos,hethought.wecouldmakeagoodlifeingredosinthesummertimeandinthefallbutitwouldbeterriblycoldinwinter.butbywintermaybewewillhavewonthewar.

ifourfatherhadnotbeenarepublicanbotheladioandiwouldbesoldiersnowwiththefascistsandifonewereasoldierwiththemthentherewouldbenoproblem.onewouldobeyordersandonewouldliveordieandintheenditwouldbehoweveritwouldbe.itwaseasiertoliveunderaregimethantofightit.

butthisirregularfightingwasathingofmuchresponsibility.therewasmuchworryifyouwereonetoworry.eladiothinksmorethanido.alsoheworries.ibelievetrulyinthecauseandidonotworry.butitisalifeofmuchresponsibility.

ithinkthatwearebornintoatimeofgreatdifficulty,hethought.ithinkanyothertimewasprobablyeasier.onesufferslittlebecauseallofushavebeenformedtoresistsuffering.theywhosufferareunsuitedtothisclimate.butitisatimeofdifficultdecisions.thefascistsattackedandmadeourdecisionforus.wefighttolive.butiwouldliketohaveitsothaticouldtieahandkerchieftothatbushbackthereandcomeinthedaylightandtaketheeggsandputthemunderahenandbeabletoseethechicksofthepartridgeinmyowncourtyard.iwouldlikesuchsmallandregularthings.

butyouhavenohouseandnocourtyardinyourno-house,hethought.youhavenofamilybutabrotherwhogoestobattletomorrowandyouownnothingbutthewindandthesunandanemptybelly.thewindissmall,hethought,andthereisnosun.youhavefourgrenadesinyourpocketbuttheyareonlygoodtothrowaway.youhaveacarbineonyourbackbutitisonlygoodtogiveawaybullets.youhaveamessagetogiveaway.andyou’refullofcrapthatyoucangivetotheearth,hegrinnedinthedark.youcananointitalsowithurine.everythingyouhaveistogive.thouartaphenomenonofphilosophyandanunfortunateman,hetoldhimselfandgrinnedagain.

butforallhisnoblethinkingalittlewhilebeforetherewasinhimthatreprievedfeelingthathadalwayscomewiththesoundofraininthevillageonthemorningofthefiesta.aheadofhimnowatthetopoftheridgewasthegovernmentpositionwhereheknewhewouldbechallenged.