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The Satanic Cult of Mafra (A Portuguese Tale of Incest)

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  25. The Satanic Cult of Mafra
  26. (A Portuguese Tale of Incest)
  27. © 2005
  28. (Deposit in Register of Copyrights
  29. Library of Congress, Washington D.C. USA) By
  30. Ronald Charles Wolf
  31. Mafra, Portugal
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  61. Dedicated to
  62.  
  63. Homens sapiens sexus
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  73.  
  74. Prologue
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  81.  
  82.  
  83. 1. The education of D. João V.
  84.  
  85. There are events that alter the course of history but whose occurrence is seldom recorded. They are occasions which we are tempted to denominate “fortuitous” or “by chance” but this may not be true.
  86. Such an incident was the arrival of a meek-appearing monk in Lisbon,
  87. early in the evening in the year 1703. The war ships docked at the main commercial square rocked gently with the slow, but even, descent of the river Tejo out to the Atlantic.
  88. Sea gulls whirled above the sloping roof tops and swooped over the walls of the St. George Castle from which sentinels could see across the river, over the plains, and in the distant horizon, the dust from any horse cavalry which might signal a hostile approach from the belligerent Spaniards to the east.
  89. The monk, friar Espada, was a false cleric, but a messenger with a
  90. mission. As he was demented, he was the eternal impostor, who had appeared one day in his thin, almost transparent, frock at the Royal Palace near Commerce Plaza. There, in the silence of the night and to the astonishment of the guards, he had beseeched an audience with the learned Jesuit Francisco.
  91. The Jesuit Francisco da Cruz was a tutor of the Portuguese Prince
  92. Regent João V since his infancy days. Were the wise Cruz permitted to speak freely he would have confessed his daily irritations. The apparent mental irreverence of his arrogant, adolescent, noble ward at times caused his austere, thin frame to convulse with inner distaste for his
  93.  
  94.  
  95.  
  96.  
  97.  
  98. task. But, of course, he would not shirk the obligations imposed upon him by his order.
  99. To be a Jesuit was an imperious calling and pious duty to Christ, to be given with devotion no matter how arduous the service. Moreover, he had to admit, to educate a future King of Portugal was prestigious, even though such an inner acknowledgement was frowned upon by his religious brothers. Yet, whatever vainglory he permitted himself was normally bruised by the often impetuous, impudent behaviour of his student for whom the world was shaped to his pleasures.
  100. This fatuous, but haughty, young man was João V., born on 22 October
  101. 1689 and destined to be coronated King of Portugal on 11 January 1707, when he was only 17 years of age. Of course in 1703 this future event could not have been known.
  102. Or was it, to at least one? Had friar Espada been informed by the
  103. possessor of eternal knowledge? For the friar was not to be deterred. He believed his sinister assignment had been entrusted to him by none other than the determined Immortal Tempter, the Emperor of Darkness, the Mocker of False Morality, also known as Lucifer or Satan.
  104. He spoke, congealed, squirmed, and squealed but he was not the idle
  105. chatterer of life but the anti-Christ, the perennial presence of dementia who stalks among humanity, destroying its cohesion, impaling its denizens upon their false pride and wretched greed, but above all, their uncontrollable sexuality.
  106. He was the incarnation of the occult side of humanity, suppressed but
  107. vibrant, the sensuous instincts which are never dominated and drive social life along its incoherent paths. Behind his sycophantic grimaces lay the foul motives of a mad man.
  108. At first the Jesuit Cruz was reluctant to receive his unknown caller so late in the day; but constant messages by the guards and persistency by an ostensibly religious figure at the gates of the Palace was eventually rewarded by the Jesuit Francisco descending the stone stairs and approaching the large, wooden door which was held ajar by two palace sentinels.
  109. Before him, the Prince Regent scholar beheld a portly, parched face, with skin tightly drawn over prominent cheekbones, while large eyes, seemingly without depth, stared at him with a glazed, stone-like stare.
  110.  
  111.  
  112.  
  113.  
  114.  
  115. His frock was not of an order known to the Jesuit. The strangeness of his dress was further emphasized by his hood that covered most of his face and cast shadows over an inscrutable visage.
  116. Still the visitor’s gaze prevented the Jesuit Francisco from turning his
  117. back and retiring to his lodgings. The intensity of his visitor’s glare caused the Jesuit Cruz discomfort and he was about to return to his palace quarters when his caller stretched out a hand, his long fingers lurching forward from a frayed cuff.
  118.  
  119. “A word, my master,” were his words of introduction.
  120.  
  121. “We do not know each other. How can I be your master?” the Jesuit
  122. Francisco asked with incredulity bordering on disdain.
  123.  
  124. Without responding to the question directly, the friar continued, “I have travelled so far and long to be able to serve the commands of the learned scholar Francisco da Cruz. There is so much I wish to know of the morals and wisdom of our Saviour. All we friars who are not schooled in the church canons with such perspicuity as Master Cruz know your name. Still, our humility serves us as bread the hungry peasant and a starved servant is a faithful labourer. For this reason, my order sent me here so that I might one day return, to my country in the East, with the knowledge needed to spread our gospel.”
  125.  
  126. All the time he spoke, he held his head cast downwards, as if reciting a liturgy. Then he spoke again, with more fervour, but still with his head inclined.
  127.  
  128. “When I was in Jerusalem, our Lord came to me and charged me with the undertaking of seeking out those blessed with His knowledge and to kneel before their robe so that I, too, might be holy, at least in spirit. I follow the prophet Elijah and it was he who wandered through the streets of Jerusalem and held out his hands to gather the coins I needed to seek you and then return with the precious knowledge of our Jehovah. I am, as you see me, tired, but under an oath to complete my service.
  129.  
  130.  
  131.  
  132.  
  133.  
  134. One day I shall return to where the rivers run through olive groves and the staff of the prophet is the rule of law.”
  135.  
  136. While the words of the friar were but guile, he was sure his Lord had indeed extracted from him a vow. The enemy of Christ, the Master of Darkness, had duly entrusted him with the most pernicious of sins. He was to serve the godly so as to destroy their works. On a mountain surging forth from a distant plain he had let the rain splash over his face as he shouted out in the night for the Great Prince of Treachery to welcome him to His tabernacle and let him serve.
  137. The answer was given. There was no necessity for a confrontation with
  138. his archenemy. Victories are often won from within the adversary’s camp and Satan had a grand design which he was pleased to entrust to the wily friar.
  139. When the Jesuit Cruz heard the words “Jerusalem,” they conjured up in the mind of the learned holy man the home where his Master had been born. The biblical prose of his visitor impressed him. His references stirred in the Jesuit an epoch in which he yearned to be present. He suddenly saw before him a true apostle, one who had travelled with zeal and belief to sit at his feet. A sense of importance suffused his body and he had to admit that his fame as a teacher was well implanted.
  140. Thus the most fragile of the human spirit, pride, succumbed to the hidden mockery of the friar. Nodding at first reluctantly, but as soon as the decision was taken, with sufficient conviction, the ascetic Cruz signalled for the friar to enter, and with relief, the guards stood aside. There was, about the friar, something ominous to these ordinary men but which escaped the refined senses of the Jesuit.
  141. And so it came to be that the scholastic, abstemious Cruz was frequently accompanied by the simpering, accommodating friar Espada as he went about his academic obligations to teach and educate the Prince Regent João V. What for the Jesuit appeared to be a hopeless endeavour became for friar Espada an untold opportunity, a unique moment in the ongoing conflict between good and evil when malevolence and wickedness could and would triumph in the small kingdom of Portugal.
  142.  
  143.  
  144.  
  145.  
  146.  
  147. Friar Espada saw before him embodied in the physique of D. João V., their charge, the perennial frailty of royal lineage, the sharp eyes peering over an aquiline nose which gave his face the astuteness of the hunter but not the intelligence of the scholar; the round, full visage emboldened by thick sensuous lips which craved to be satisfied being stirred by unbridled desire: a crop of foppish curls more proper to the destitute nobles which frequented the royal court than to a future King, however impoverished.
  148. As they were both ostensibly religious servants, the time friar Espada spent with the Prince Regent in the company of the Jesuit was naturally confined to canonical matters. This was the purpose and sole objective of the Jesuit Cruz. But when, from fatigue, the Jesuit Cruz retired for some hours to rest, and friar Espada was alone with his charge, he frequently subtly shifted the adolescent’s interest into what he knew was his real interest.
  149. The friar warned him against the perfumed charm and pleasures of the
  150. young ladies obligingly present in the court; the friar described the obscene delights bodily intercourse conferred, and cautioned prudence; and he stimulated and fomented the latent, explosive masculinity in his adolescent tutor so that his body ached and wracked with confined passion which the friar teased and tortured without ever acknowledging its presence. The Prince of Hades had chosen well his envoy.
  151. One afternoon in the spring of 1706, before the death of his father, the
  152. King, D. João V and friar Espada were conversing in the Prince’s study where he liked to indulge in card playing. Jesuit Cruz was frail and he was often absent. D. João V. had invited the friar to be his opponent for the friar was a most congenial companion. The rays of the sun infused the room with its still, stealthy warmth that caused both men to lapse into long periods of silence.
  153. The handsome, effete face of the Prince Regent, enshrined by his long,
  154. immense curly hairs which fell gracefully about his neck, cast a certain melancholy about the room. The friar dared to ask, for His master had instructed him the night before that the moment was propitious.
  155.  
  156. “My Prince is sad this afternoon?” he asked demurely.
  157.  
  158.  
  159.  
  160.  
  161.  
  162. For a moment the Prince did not reply. Eventually he did. “It is obvious, I suppose.”
  163. “May I ask why?” the friar responded softly.
  164.  
  165. The Prince stood up suddenly. His high forehead became taut. “You are a religious man. Of course, I am deeply devout. But I am also destined one day to rule a kingdom and for this I must do so with firmness and strength. In short, I must prepare myself to be a man. I shall soon be seventeen. Am I not ready for, shall we say, the carnal knowledge all men crave? But those pleasures are denied to me by my counsellors.”
  166.  
  167. He paused and then the Prince Regent turned towards him. “Friar Espada, for a while I have observed you. When I asked Father Cruz about you he did not seem to know much. You have come from far. Have you fled from anything?”
  168.  
  169. “Nothing, your Excellency,” was the immediate reply.
  170.  
  171. But the haughty Prince was not to be so easily thwarted. For some time he had found the friar to be different, though he was hard put to define exactly why. There was his speech, as he noticed the friar had a slight accent, though it was not recognizable. The sincerity of the friar never convinced the Prince. There was also a fleshy aspect to his bearing that his frock barely concealed. The Prince pursued his instincts.
  172.  
  173. “Come, come, friar Espada, I shall not chide you if you are only a recent convert. Whatever your past, you have obviously redeemed yourself. In any event...” and the Prince paused, for this is what he really wished to say, “perhaps your, shall we say, earlier period, can be put at my service.”
  174.  
  175. The Prince paused and looked steadfastly at the friar. Of course, the pursuer did not realize he was the hunted, but, then, our future King was still very young.
  176.  
  177.  
  178.  
  179.  
  180.  
  181.  
  182. “Yes, your Excellency,” the friar blurted out in a tone of repentance. “At one time, I was a sinner. A terrible reprobate if the truth be known. But that was very long ago.”
  183.  
  184. “Of course,” the Prince replied cheerfully. “A man is born to sin, is he not? And what were your offences?” the Prince asked happily.
  185.  
  186. Friar Espada waited some moments before replying. The shadows cast by the afternoon sun appeared to darken and the friar realized his Master was now present. He was being instructed to proceed as quickly as he could, for the Prince was now ready to be used as his wild desires would render him one of the most arrogant debauchers of the Portuguese royal line.
  187.  
  188. The friar blurted it out, “The soft skin of the young woman, her throbbing, hot thighs grasping us in their mad desire for our pulsating bodies. My lord, your Excellency, what was I to do? I was young, not yet learned in the ways of Christianity. I fell, I was tempted, I could not resist. Even now, although I know better, wild thoughts still enter my head.”
  189.  
  190. All the time he spoke, the Prince observed his pliant, docile face now full with such emotion. “So!” he thought. “The man is a reformed scoundrel. Exactly what I want.” He then turned towards the friar.
  191.  
  192. “You wish to sin again?” the Prince asked quietly. The friar hesitated, but then being commanded by Him, unseen but present in the chambers, he replied, slowly, “Yes. I cannot relieve myself of this terrible physical craving that is always present with me. Forgive me, my lord.”
  193.  
  194. “Will I be expelled?” the friar wondered to himself. The answer was not long in coming. The future King approached him slowly and then bent ever so slightly towards the now, kneeling figure, prostrate before him.
  195.  
  196.  
  197.  
  198.  
  199.  
  200. “In a week’s time,” he whispered. And then when the room was only full of silence he repeated it as if a command, “Soon, friar Espada. We shall sally forth in the evening. You may sin again but then I expect you will one day resume your vows. As I shall,” he added as an afterthought.
  201.  
  202. As the friar rose to his feet, he knew his quarry had been caught. There thus began the nightly sojourns of them both, the friar leading his consort to the brothels which filled the capital, Lisbon. They were sprawled all over the lower part of the city, near the waterfront. In accordance with the suggestion of the friar, the Prince Regent dressed simply, covering the abundant tresses about his head with a beret and exchanging his royal clothes for the garments of the country peasant. The friar assumed his role with great relish, casting aside his frock for attire suitable to a masculine consort.
  203. Prior to their first escapade together, the friar visited one of the brothels he well knew and made it clear to the reigning mistress that his friend was naïve and therefore to be initiated into the secret of love with firmness but comprehension.
  204. Their first sojourn was immensely successful and quite quickly, the
  205. future King became vitiated. It was all so easy. The cost was so meagre. The pleasures were frankly substantial, titillating, so that our Prince could hardly wait for the next day and all the time he expressed his debt and gratitude to the friar.
  206.  
  207. “Yes, my dear friar,” he mumbled more than once, “you sinned as a young man, as I do, but as you reformed, one day I shall, too, accompanied by your good self,” a remark which appeared to cause him a great deal of mirth.
  208.  
  209. With the carelessness of youth, blended with the undiscriminating eruption of his manhood, the future King seemed relentless in his pursuit of the most varied of bodily pleasures and he became, with friar Espada, a frequenter of the slovenly brothels strung alongside the waterfront. If any one suspected the identity of the handsome, young, virulent visitor, the friar ensured their silence with the necessary coins.
  210.  
  211.  
  212.  
  213.  
  214.  
  215. Spring became summer, seasons passed, and the soft warm breezes which chided the river water along its course into the Atlantic began to chill. Then, the King, D. Pedro II, began to complain of his health. He called his son. D. João V. repeatedly to his bedchamber. He discussed with him what the responsibilities of administering a kingdom meant. If he suspected anything, he held his silence. He had a premonition. It was fulfilled.
  216. On 9 December 1706, the King, D. Pedro II, died, writhing in his bed,
  217. calling out futilely for his salvation. As the Jesuit Cruz was not present at the last moments, the last rites were given by friar Espada. When the friar approached the death bed, the King opened his eyes wide, and, as if seeing a different person wearing the clothes of the friar, he struggled to ward him off, crying out, “No, no!”
  218. Of course his words were mistaken as to their intent, and the King died while the friar held his hand, congratulating himself on this most fortunate of circumstances. The King’s last rites were administered by the Devil’s faithful servant, friar Espada, and on 1 January 1707, D. João V was proclaimed King.
  219.  
  220. 2. The infertility of D. João V.
  221.  
  222. D. João V. sat glumly in his favourite, large poltroon, observing the stout figure of friar Espada move methodically about the spacious card room. Wracked with physical agony, the King shouted out, “Where is the precious medicine you promised me? And where is the damn doctor?”
  223.  
  224. The friar threw up his hands. He feared the temper of his impetuous master. And, in truth, he longed for the appearance of the foreign physician from England who had been sent to cure the secret illness of the King. It was known to a few trusted members of the court that the King had syphilis and for this reason, apparently, was unable to produce an heir.
  225.  
  226. “He is expected momentarily,” the friar murmured with concern. “Surely, this discomfort of your Highness shall find a simple solution.
  227.  
  228.  
  229.  
  230.  
  231.  
  232. It is only a passing sickness.” No sooner had he uttered these words, then the friar regretted his identifying the source of the King’s problems.
  233.  
  234. Upon hearing this unintended dismissal, the King rose and stumbled towards the friar, shouting as he did, “You stupid man! It is because of you I am impotent. Those filthy houses we visited at your suggestion have made it impossible for my wife, Maria Ana, to bear a child. She will not even let me into her bed. Find a solution for me or I shall order your throat cut!”
  235.  
  236. In a rage, the King staggered out the card room and headed for his private chamber. Distraught, he lay upon his bed and his youthful frame shook with despair and pain. He was frightened. The permanence of his reign demanded he have an heir. The harsh winter winds swept about the palace as he stared up towards the ceiling. He could hear the steps of his wife above him, as she moved about her bedroom, while her maids attended to her wishes.
  237. It was February 1710, and almost two years had passed since he wed his Austrian bride by proxy on 9 July 1708, the treaty of marriage with its clauses as to dowries and rents having been previously negotiated by his emissary, Count Vilar-Maior.
  238. Nor did the then Arch Duchess of Austria intend to leave her native country without already having conferred upon her the title of Queen of Portugal. It was therefore agreed that the King would send his power of attorney to the Queen’s brother, the Emperor Joseph I of Austria.
  239. When, then, he first saw her disembark onto the main royal square
  240. aside the river Tejo on 26 October 1708, he sighed with relief, for he was a married man who had not seen his wife until she set foot upon his kingdom. He saw immediately she would be suitable for the practical reasons which had induced him to marry a mere name, however royal. What she apparently lacked in physical beauty was compensated for by cash from her brother, the marriage dowry, a substantial sum desperately needed for the royal coffers; moreover, his bride was endowed with a plump physique, an outward confirmation of her potential fertility.
  241.  
  242.  
  243.  
  244.  
  245.  
  246. Her capacity for procreating was far more important than her melancholy eyes, complemented with a strong, protruding nose and ungraceful lips, and her ungainly, feminine stride which caused much suppressed mirth among the court attendees.
  247. After her arrival, his acts of intimacy with her had been, at best,
  248. tolerable, for she was innocent in all the ways of love and he was already, although almost 20 years of age, satiated and debauched. But this was not the reason why the Queen was unable to produce the needed heir.
  249. It was the pain the King felt all the time, the throbbing of his masculine
  250. organ, infected from the escapades to which friar Espada had led him. He rose from his bed and fell to his knees. His wrath at his frustrated purpose, the need to have an heir, could find no immediate answer.
  251. All he wanted was to feel a coolness sweep over his body and soothe
  252. his affliction. His position required him to be strong and determined, yet his spirit was broken and he saw no solution easily at hand.
  253. The last time he had approached his bridal bed, the Queen had sat upright upon hearing his steps, and held her sheet close to her body. The warning in her face stopped him and he was unable to demand his conjugal rights. Nor did he want to. He had no need of her except as a confirmation of the royal lineage and in this aspect, he was, himself, frightened. He did not want a sick descendant.
  254. As he knelt in despair, he heard his chamber door open slowly. His
  255. faithful tutor, the Jesuit Cruz stood hesitantly in the frame of the royal entrance. D. João V. stared at him with surprise.
  256.  
  257. “And what brings you to my chambers, my learned scholar?” the King asked with irritation.
  258.  
  259. There was a prolonged pause before the Jesuit Cruz replied, “My King, and my ward, for I was entrusted with your education, you are indeed in distress. May I not enter?”
  260.  
  261. Rising to his feet, the King nodded his assent. As the scholar Cruz entered, he did not notice the still body of friar Espada who had now concealed himself nearby the shadowed pillars of the Palace which
  262.  
  263.  
  264.  
  265.  
  266.  
  267. supported the beams of the King’s chambers. Nor did the Jesuit close the door behind him entirely for that might alarm the King. A chair being indicated by the King, the Jesuit sat down.
  268.  
  269. “Well, then, my scholar?” the King muttered, sitting in a chair facing his mentor.
  270.  
  271. Jesuit Cruz was not one to delay. He knew the patience of his charge was not great. “You are concerned the Queen can not bear a child?” he asked gently.
  272.  
  273. With this piercing remark, the King’s composure disappeared. Throwing himself into a mild rage, he thundered, “By God, you are a Jesuit, what can I do with this cursed affliction my wife has?”
  274.  
  275. Grasping one of the hands of the young King, Jesuit Cruz responded, “Seek the help of God!”
  276.  
  277. “And how do I do this?” shouted the King.
  278.  
  279. “You must make a promise,” replied Jesuit Cruz.
  280.  
  281. “What is the pledge?” the King asked curtly but in anguish.
  282.  
  283. “The Lord shall grant you a child and you shall erect a magnificent monument in return for his beneficence.” It was a thought which had been with the erudite Cruz for some time.
  284.  
  285. For a moment the King was silent, and then he inquired, in exasperation, throwing up his hands, “Where?” thinking the topic would end for lack of any clear response. The King was mistaken.
  286.  
  287. “For so long, it has circulated among my colleagues, that our beloved Christ should be celebrated by homage, such as a splendid convent, and also Palace for the royal family, and certainly your forthcoming child.”
  288.  
  289.  
  290.  
  291.  
  292.  
  293. As the King did not respond and sat glumly listening, the Jesuit continued, “I suggest it be in Mafra, to the North, where ancient prophets roamed and chapels lie within the ken of all the people, from the sea to the mountains. Yes, Mafra, the land of those clerics of the past that walked with their staffs through the hills preaching to the peasants. This is the vow you must undertake and fulfil. All of us Jesuits believe in this miracle and power of Christ.”
  294.  
  295. Upon hearing these words, the young King looked in stupefaction at his mentor. Finally standing up, he stared fixedly at Jesuit Cruz and nodded his head in agreement.
  296.  
  297. Slowly, but with deliberation, the King spoke, as if in a dream, “Very well, scholar Cruz, I take this vow. Now let us see if my plea is heard so that I may complete my promise. I have no other solution.”
  298.  
  299. 3. The Devil’s Grand Design.
  300.  
  301. Friar Espada heard the entire conversation between the King and his superior, the Jesuit Cruz. He realized immediately the desperate state to which the King had arrived. Yet he also knew that the erection of a monumental symbol to the power and glory of Christ would be considered by his Prince a failure of mission. He would be castigated and punished in the cruellest of ways.
  302. Weary and resigned, he wound his way to his cell which was in a remote corner of the Palace, there to lie on his narrow bed and resolve his dilemma. Outside, through the narrow slits of the wall which let in a breeze, he heard the soft slap of the river as it slithered along the sides of the main Plaza. The light from his oil lamp flickered intermittently with the passage of a slow-moving breeze.
  303. He was lying for some time when he was suddenly startled when the faint glow emanating from the oil lamp was abruptly snuffed out. His cell was plunged into a thick darkness for there was no moon to afford any light. A slight shuffle was heard from a corner of his miniature room.
  304. Immediately, the friar sat upright. “Is it you, Master?” he asked.
  305.  
  306.  
  307.  
  308.  
  309.  
  310. Quietly, so no one could hear, the friar listened attentively, as the
  311. Prince of Hades explained what he must do.
  312. The next day friar Espada waited till the afternoon and then sought the King in his chambers. After knocking dutifully, he waited, and then, hesitantly, gently pushed the door open and stood in the doorframe. The King looked at him in bewilderment. “You enter, without knocking?” he asked imperiously.
  313. The friar bowed his head. “The anguish of my lord weighs on me in all aspects. I am, also, in despair.” There was a pause, and then the friar offered his services, an arrangement, which his Master, the eternal, smirking, clown of Hades, had secured.
  314. Continuing, he murmured, “As improbable as it sounds, there is a wise healer, a woman, in the town of Mafra, who is reputed to be able to succeed where the learned physicians fail. Perhaps my lord would consider a trip with me to this small village, not far from the coast line and blessed with moderate winds and good vineyards.”
  315.  
  316. There was no immediate reply from D. João V. Besides his intimate adviser, the learned Cruz, this wretched friar was also suggesting he go to Mafra. The coincidence seemed to him to be a divine signal. He was torn between rendering the man asunder and clasping him to his chest in relief. For some time he remained silent. “Mafra, you say?” the King asked astonished.
  317.  
  318. “Yes, your Grace, more specifically a locale known as the “Casal do Abade”. She lives in a humble house on the lands that rise to the North of the village, where there is a view to the sea. As far as you can see, the hills rise and dip and the wild life live in harmony, hidden from the eyes of the villagers.”
  319. “And how did you hear about her, my good friar?” the King inquired. “During the hour of confession, many stories are told,” the friar
  320. responded softly. “Of course, you need not reveal your identity. She
  321. treats anyone who seeks her counsel.”
  322.  
  323.  
  324.  
  325.  
  326.  
  327. The King approached him slowly. He stared at the face of the friar, immobile, but the friar was experiencing fear. He had obeyed without question his Master and he could only hope His plans were well thought out.
  328.  
  329. For a moment the King said nothing, then, he snapped his commands, coupled with a promise to himself. “We shall leave tomorrow and if your prophecy fails to secure my needs, you shall, at best be banished from my Kingdom. Now, make the arrangements and we leave by coach for Mafra, tomorrow.”
  330.  
  331. Scuffling off, the friar hastily spoke with the necessary servants, ordered them not to have any royal flag displayed on the coach, and the next day, on a chilly February morning, D. João V and friar Espada set off for Mafra. The voyage by coach was long and tedious, winding through the valleys to the North of Lisbon.
  332. At first the King had wanted to travel through the hill town of Sintra, as he always enjoyed seeing its varied flora, but the Friar persuaded him it would be shorter to take the less travelled road through the smaller villages, cross by Cheleiros, where the river Lizandro ambled towards the ocean, and then climb the long road upwards to Mafra.
  333. As the coach lurched forward at a slow, but steady pace, the King said nothing. He vacillated between hope and revenge. Were his trip to be successful, he would show his magnificence to the friar. Were their excursion to come to naught, he would demonstrate without mercy a just penalty for the abominable discomfort caused by his coach ride. They reached Mafra by early evening. When the coach driver drew to a halt, not knowing what direction to take, the friar leaped out of the carriage and pointed to an animal track which snaked up towards a large expanse, only to be lost among the thick pine trees which were crowded on the crest before them.
  334. Deliberately, the coach lunged forward while the King stared
  335. inquisitively about him. The silence of the forest now enveloped the carriage making sight impossible. The two horses, dragging its occupants, stepped gingerly, as if unsure of what lie before them.
  336.  
  337.  
  338.  
  339.  
  340.  
  341. Thick, still clouds caused darkness to be everywhere. Unease settled upon the King but he said nothing. His youth rendered him unafraid, but of course he was suspicious. It was possible there was to be an assassination attempt on his life. Although young, he knew he had many enemies, a King always does.
  342. Then, in the distance, he saw a flickering light. The friar smiled. Although he had never been here before, he knew from his confessions the exact location of Casal do Abade. The cabal was always a plague among his flock. Magic and rituals were as common as priestly orations. In some minutes, they arrived at a humble abode, whose door was open, while a scantily dressed woman stood beneath its frame. For sometime she had been expecting her guests, although she did not know the precise day nor time. But, then, this did not matter for she had lived for longer than she could remember. Her life was measured in epochs and by the great social upheavals which intermittently swept humanity.
  343. When the coach had stopped, the friar leapt out, and greeted her, “You
  344. are Maria do Abade?” inquired the friar.
  345. Before him he beheld a woman of porcelain beauty, without age. She might have been a young bride but whose skin belied her real age. Her cold, bright, blue eyes lighted the darkness about them. It was as if they were lanterns intended to serve as beacons for the seekers, those in desperation for salvation from their own misdeeds.
  346. Although her appearance did not cast any maternal, bodily comfort, her face, marked by red glowing lips, hinted at sensual pleasure and mystical dreams where candles are lit and sacrifices made to the pagan gods, where blood runs and intestines are gutted.
  347. Maria do Abade did not reply but instead she beckoned her visitors to
  348. cross the threshold. Entering the simple room, oil lamps affording a pale light, our guests stood silently while Maria do Abade shut the door and proceeded to close the shutters of her windows. The King said nothing, prepared for any eventuality.
  349. After a moment, the hostess approached slowly her callers. She was a
  350. wise student as to the nature of her clients. She knew immediately who the customer was and who was fawning upon him so as to earn a living.
  351.  
  352.  
  353.  
  354.  
  355.  
  356. “I wish to speak to this young man alone,” she snapped at friar Espada. “We shall both converse in the privacy of my quarters, and you, friar, may retire outside to guard this humble home.” When the friar did not answer she snapped, “Go,” and then, pointing to the King, she ordered him, “Come with me.” The King obediently followed her.
  357. Once inside her bedroom she opened her only window. She motioned for the King to come near her, and gently taking his hand, they sat down beneath the black gap through which could be heard the forest sounds.
  358. “Speak, “she whispered. The King looked at her with doubt. “Do not
  359. be afraid. Why are you here? How can I help unless you talk? You must tell me what you want.”
  360. And, as if in a reverie, spurred by the tree breezes, lulled into
  361. confidence by the proximity of nature, the young King told his hostess that he was newly wed but could not conceive.
  362. Stumbling on and murmuring without pause, he told how he had
  363. visited too often the company of women and now he was concerned he might be sick. His wife would leave him were he rendered impotent; he would have to return rents he received as a dowry.
  364. Maria do Abade appeared to be listening with attention. When the
  365. King was finished, a heavy silence fell across the room. The King waited. Finally she spoke. “What will you pay me to cure you?” she asked.
  366.  
  367. Hastily, the King replied, “Whatever you wish.”
  368.  
  369. For some moments, Maria do Abade did not answer. Then, slowly she looked steadfastly at the King. “I can restore you to health. But you must render unto me only that which a noble man can do. If you do not you shall not have the heir you wish.”
  370.  
  371. “What? Speak,” the King whispered.
  372.  
  373. “Here, in this site, where we now talk, one day you shall build a monument. It shall be a glorious edifice which shall be elaborate and
  374.  
  375.  
  376.  
  377.  
  378.  
  379. resplendent and which shall house the orders of this Kingdom. You have made such a promise, have you not?”
  380.  
  381. Now the King was truly marvelled. “How did you know?” he asked.
  382.  
  383. “Is that important?” She replied. When there was no response, she continued. “I, too, want an heir. You must bed with me after I have cured you.”
  384.  
  385. The King stared at her in stupefaction. For some time he said nothing. “What if she knows who I am?” he wondered, “and then I shall have an heir to my throne, even if illegitimate. It is a danger,” he mused.
  386.  
  387. Maria do Abade stared at him and a wry grin crossed her lips. “You are worried about an illegitimate heir and you are frightened of the consequences this means to you.”
  388.  
  389. “Yes, yes,” the King murmured softly. “Yes, of course I am”.
  390.  
  391. Her response was swift. “We each wish an heir. I know you can do that. I know I am dealing with a powerful man, although I do not know who you are. I am prepared to take my vow.”
  392.  
  393. “What is your promise?” the King retorted.
  394.  
  395. “If a child is born, you shall never hear from either of us again. Nor shall you ever see the child. It shall be gone, with me, to a distant land. After all, what is one more escapade to a gentleman? And when I am gone, you may have my lands. Thus I cannot return and you shall have this large tract of land upon which to complete your vows.”
  396.  
  397. In his wretched physical condition, the King believed he had no option. “In any event,” he pondered, “if she breaks her promises I can always have recourse to violence.”
  398.  
  399.  
  400.  
  401.  
  402.  
  403. He stared at length at strange figure of the woman before him. He could not say he was attracted to her nor could he either affirm she was repugnant. Her charm hung in balance, weighed by the centuries of her life, never to be young nor to be old. Finally, the hopeless situation of his physical condition left him little moral force to argue. What he wanted was peace, a refuge from his daily ordeals and a solution to his dilemma.
  404. He stared fixedly at Maria do Abade, and nodded his consent.
  405. And thus it came to be that in the month of March, 1710, D. João began frequent trips to Mafra where, in the silence and solitude of the woods north of the town, he was given special baths by Maria do Abade. One evening, Maria do Abade was waiting for her ward outside the house. As soon as he stood abreast of her, she seized the King by his sleeve. “To night,” she whispered. “I know this is the right moment.”
  406.  
  407. Trembling and slowly, the King entered her home. Her brews and potions had indeed helped him. He felt well, easily excited, replete with sexual energy, anxious as a stallion to mount his mare. Striding forth with a swagger, the witch touched him lightly on his arm. “A drink, first, a sip, to calm your anxiety, to give you the strength a virgin requires.”
  408.  
  409. “You are a virgin?” the King asked incredulously.
  410.  
  411. Without replying, Maria do Abade pointed to her bedroom, where the door was ajar. “There, but first we must, together, drink my infusion.”
  412.  
  413. Reluctantly the King sat down, casting onto a chair his cloak. As he felt the still, cool liquid slither into his throat, he wondered at his good luck in finding this woman who had cured him. And then, suddenly, he became dizzy, his head began to reel; he was going to reach for his knife to protect himself, when he crashed onto the floor.
  414.  
  415. Maria do Abade stood over him. She shut tightly the windows. Then she kneeled onto the floor next to the fallen King. A silence strode
  416.  
  417.  
  418.  
  419.  
  420.  
  421. through the woods. The occasional evening sounds disappeared. All creatures hid themselves. A stranger was stalking the forest. Their senses picked up His presence. He entered the house of Maria de Abade. She was stooped in a trance, saliva sputtering out of her mouth as she mumbled words of black magic over the unconscious King.
  422. Hastily, unseen, the Monster of morality beheld his virgin bride. Her eyes were shut. He cast her onto the floor and raised up her long skirt. Without movement, but with deliberation, slowly but with pleasure, the Destroyer of life allowed his seed to slither into the womb of the virgin and bewitch her so that any child the King should bequeath her would also be his child.
  423. As her body trembled and rocked, in rhythm to his crazed, evil desire, He clasped her tightly by her buttocks and held her still until He knew she was captive to his eternal evil soul. Withdrawing gently, so as not to awake her, He picked up, one by one, the prostate figures of Maria de Abade and the King, lying on the floor near each other, and lay them together on the bed in the adjoining room.
  424. The King was the first to awake and when he did, he found himself in the arms of a virgin, so he believed, and when, awake, she said she was ready, he bedded her frequently on what was now a crisp, clear, moon- lit night.
  425. And he returned and he knew she was pregnant after his third encounter, for, no longer a virgin, her passion clasped him violently to her breast and he exploded within her as does any beast. As he lay on her chest, his organ now pliant but not burning, within her soft, humid body, he understood she was expecting and he felt content he had kept one part of his vows.
  426. In November of 1710, Maria de Abade gave birth to a girl. She was given the name of Joana and true to her word, Maria de Abade, and the child, Joana, went to England. Before she left, she sent word to the King that on the eve of her departure she wished to deed to him her lands, Casal do Abade, which she hoped, would serve as the site of the future Palace Convent of Mafra.
  427. With coins given to her by the great Mocker of Morality, Maria do Abade secured passage to England, taking her child, Joana. The child was brought up in the English village of Haworth.
  428.  
  429.  
  430.  
  431.  
  432.  
  433. In 1738 Joana was wed to Henry Sullivan, for her mother was able to provide her with a modest dowry. Shortly after the marriage, Maria do Abade died. From this wedlock there were born two children, Robert Sullivan in 1739, and Mary Sullivan in 1740.
  434. Thus, the Portuguese hag, Maria do Abade, secured her lineage of
  435. charms and cabalism through the female line. Before she expired, it was revealed to her that one day one of her descendants would return to Mafra, for this was the design of her Master, the Dark Prince she served all her life.
  436. The Portuguese Queen Maria Ana became pregnant and on 4
  437. December 1711 the Queen gave birth to a girl, Maria Barbara, the future Queen of Spain by marriage. Amidst the rejoicing of the entire nation, the story was widely circulated among the population that the Queen successfully gave birth because the King had made a vow to construct a magnificent edifice in accordance with the suggestions of his religious counsellors as a tribute to the Saviour upon lands deeded to him in Mafra.
  438. True to his vow, the construction of the Palace Convent was officially begun in 1717 and was considered completed by 1750, the year in which D. João V. died.
  439. The Jesuit Cruz was given lifetime tenure with which to continue his studies into the teachings of Christ. As for friar Espada, he returned to the East, having been handsomely paid by D. João V. Casting his frock aside, he became a successful merchant who dealt in slaves and camels and was well-known for his insatiable appetite for young girls just emerging into puberty.
  440. The plans of Satan are well contemplated and time is a marvellous
  441. healer. It only took eighty-eight years for a descendant of Maria do Abade, her great granddaughter, to return to Portugal. By then, the King D. João V. was dead. The Palace- Convent of Mafra was complete, its huge marble façade adorned with the revered Saints of Christianity. The huge round Basilica jutting forth between the wings of the building pointed towards the blue sky and heralded the rising of the sun every morning.
  442.  
  443.  
  444.  
  445.  
  446.  
  447. A few miles from the Palace-Convent, on a hillside with a wide, open view towards both the Basilica and the distant ocean, stood the farms of the Cabral family.
  448. This was the family chosen by the Black Prince for his great design and
  449. which became the home of the granddaughter, Emily Sullivan.
  450.  
  451.  
  452.  
  453.  
  454.  
  455.  
  456. Part One
  457.  
  458. Chapter 1
  459.  
  460. 1.0 In which we learn of the hanging of the witch, Mary Sullivan, by the gentle folk of Haworth; and how her daughter, Emily, granddaughter of Joana, returned to Portugal.
  461.  
  462. It was 1788 and the soft, spring dawn had not yet broken the horizon circling the English village of Haworth. The mist was slowly rising from the moors of Yorkshire when they came, the women with their faces twisted with hate, anger, relish, revenge, while the men plodded forth impelled by a pulsating sexual excitement.
  463. They were the women who feared their dullard husbands would fall victim to her scent, the bitch, baptized Mary Sullivan. They were the men she had scorned, whirling her long black skirt in their faces defiantly; others she had seduced; allowed their bloated organ to fill her with excitement and then, afterwards, rejected them with a mirthful gesture as she writhed on the ground unsatisfied, her primal, reproductive needs not fulfilled.
  464. She was cursed and bewitched with desire for men, a perfumed harlot, but innocent in her designs. Nature cast her upon the earth inebriated with the need for love coupled with a fertile imagination and a frenetic vision of the future. She was a soothsayer with no audience and prone to hallucinations. Sometimes for days she would wander the low hills near her remote home, on the edge of the moors where she lived alone with her mute brother, murmuring to herself or conversing with invisible companions. Visions and prophecies crowded her mind and blurred reality while her mysticism left her susceptible to waves of dementia.
  465. About her body hovered the heavy scent of passion and few men could
  466. deny themselves the heat and relief of her surging, heavy buttocks. There was no conscious decision on her part to be either profligate or wanton. In another epoch when coupling was seen as the survival of the species she would have been a goddess, draped in white, holding the
  467.  
  468.  
  469.  
  470.  
  471.  
  472. flame of the temple in her trembling hands as the tribesmen awaited her apparition, her glazed eyes the symbol of the survival of the clan. But the passage of millenniums rendered her an outcast.
  473. As the murmur and mumblings of their voices stirred her from a
  474. restless sleep, she was abruptly awakened by her daughter, Emily, then aged 16, a retiring child that hardly ever spoke and guarded her thoughts for the moments when others were asleep. She carried within her the same disturbing psychological elements as her mother although their nature and content was not yet formed.
  475. Being younger, undisciplined desire had not yet seized her, and
  476. perpetual fright willed her into a submissive, taciturn, obedient adolescent. Her body was a shell encapsulating a foreign spirit, a port of call of a dark soul whose presence is seldom visible but whose seed was prompt to germinate.
  477.  
  478. “Mum, mum,” she cried, “run, run, they are a’coming to take thee away. O’ mum dearest, thee must flee.”
  479.  
  480. Springing from her bed, Mary stared wide-eyed from the window of her country cottage at the crowd surging over the hillside, the heather on the hillocks barely stirring from the thumping on the earth. She knew, then, she would never again see her English fields, smell the wild flowers filling her with delirium as her incessant passion was abated for the moment. They said she was a vile sorceress. Witches were hanged; they could not escape. She stared at her daughter; saw the terror in her face. Would they lynch her also, a young girl only recently a woman? Or would they defile her, because she was still a virgin, the men in a rage with their wild lust?
  481. Her maternal instincts surged forth and caused her to make an
  482. immediate decision. She rushed to the cupboard where she kept her meager savings.
  483.  
  484. “Away with thee, Emily, gather thy things and make thee for Plymouth, the sailor’s port. Ye’ll find harbor there. Ye’ll find thee a safe haven. Seek a house of charity where the young girls are given shelter. I shall guard over thee, always.”
  485.  
  486.  
  487.  
  488.  
  489.  
  490.  
  491. With the voices carried nearer and closer by the morning breeze, Emily fell in terror on her knees before her mother. “I can’t mum, I can’t leave thee, my mother, my benefactress.”
  492.  
  493. Shuddering, Mary stuttered through her tears, “Run, run, I am lost. Thee have no one else. Thou are a child of sundry men. I do not even know thy father.”
  494.  
  495. But these were false words. With the forlorn child prostrate at her feet, her life’s history swirled before her with clarity and nearness. Mary would never tell her Emily that she was the child of an incestuous afternoon with her brother Robert, the two of them living alone for many years, since the death of their parents, Joana and Henry Sullivan. Her parents she hardly remembered, for they died when she and Robert were still youngsters. She remembered fitfully that her mother was reticent, withdrawn, timid, given to spells of trances while her father was a surly, stocky man who went about his tasks with few words. They both died from a pest which swept the village. Apparently her mother came from another land because she was always referred to as “The Portuguese one”, or, “that strange foreigner”.
  496. Neighbors saw to it that while they were youngsters they were fed and lived in a small cottage on the fringe of the town. Eventually they reached adulthood, he to become a barefoot, speechless, pastor and she an occasional domestic, a garrulous, displaced seer, like her mother, whose mumblings were misunderstood by all.
  497. One afternoon, housebound by snow, when solitude gripped them both, they struggled towards each other in the stillness of a winter silence and the heat of physical love momentarily drove away their fears.
  498. The villagers suspected as much. That is why they believed the poor
  499. fool had left their village in the middle of night, to find a ship to take him far from his native land, never to be seen again. The truth was not to be spoken. Upon awakening, he had fled from his unpardonable sin, his body trembling from his breach of society’s most stern edict.
  500. Leaving Mary still undressed in their bridal bed, but asleep from the
  501. exhaustion of her moral crime, he gathered his paltry belongings and
  502.  
  503.  
  504.  
  505.  
  506.  
  507. silently disappeared, forever, to be plagued all his life with fits of madness and eventually die a rejected, despised, beggar on the foul streets of an Asian village, having been left behind by his ship’s crew. But was Emily, in truth, the child of this forbidden, fraternal lust? For the Devil is never far away. Our primal thoughts, propelled by instinct are wrapped in the rules and regulations of a community, but the inherent nature of mankind surges forth to capture us when the circumstances are propitious. At such moments, Satan appears and whether He is induced fantasy or a deduced fact remains unanswered. This, then, is the occult meaning of the Master of Darkness, who is nothing other then a vision of our wild, barely controllable eroticism which once saved our species but which is now its principal impediment. He, the demon feared and despised in every religion, is a necessary artifice. He appears and seduces throughout the history of humanity, for our dual nature requires good and evil to be personified and Satan, therefore, exists.
  508. Shortly after the departure of her brother, when she awoke after her
  509. fraternal incest, she realized was alone; that she would forever live without a permanent male companion. She fell on her knees, a naked penitent and a distressed creature. Eventually dressing herself, she stumbled out of the house only to encounter the same melody of silence. Dismayed with her breach of that most rigorous of taboos, Mary went bawling through the woods and bathed herself in dry leaves beneath moon-lit clouds as she chanted silver-toned gibberish.
  510. And when she returned to her bed in the early hours of the dawn, exhausted and delirious with her instinctual relief, the poor hapless creature, how she welcomed the Master of the Occult to her bosom in her unmanageable fantasies for she was determined to forget her transgression and believe it was someone else who deflowered her.
  511. She called out in the seclusion of her cottage for the Prince of Darkness to come to her and save her, not the Christ of charity and peace, but the Lord of passion and fecundity. She wanted to be a mother not a virgin goddess. And when she believed his presence in the solitude of her room, as she willed him to lie down beside her, she could easily conjure up the firm look of pleasure in his bright, steely eyes. She moaned with delight as he caressed and impregnated her with his seed. He
  512.  
  513.  
  514.  
  515.  
  516.  
  517. whispered in Mary’s ears, when she lay still with satisfaction, “Your children and theirs by descent shall forever be part of my court. Before they are born, I shall touch their souls as I have yours. They shall be mine, implement my kingdom. I, too, have sensuous needs. I, too, am the father of a multitude of children.” She had found her spiritual companion. His carnal thoughts were hers.
  518. Bending his face over her exposed, throbbing chest, he gently kissed the
  519. cleavage between her vibrating breasts but the mark he left would never be seen until she was dead when only, then, his possession of her in defiance of morality would be revealed in its sarcastic, sardonic cross. But these words and his labial caress, Mary did not hear or remember.
  520. Yet Mary believed in her most guarded thoughts, those which even to
  521. herself she only let surface from time to time, that Emily was the child of her infernal embrace. It never occurred to her to question this conclusion for she was an ardent believer in the arcane, that aspect of life which is felt and sensed, and seen, if infrequently, only in her fertile imagination. Had she been schooled, she might have been a poet of the woods, celebrating the rhythms of nature. But her well of bountifulness was confined to her rudimentary thoughts and expressed itself in the thoughts of her epoch, when good and evil were seen as a conflict between the Prince of darkness and the Christ of our sufferings.
  522. When Emily was born Mary did not bring her to the Church for baptism.
  523. The priest would have refused. She might have been stoned by the villagers. The absence of her brother was well-known and the reason circulated in whispers, although with doubts. The birth of her child attributed was at times to him, the renegade brother, at other times to her alley behavior. Rather, as soon as the weather was warm, she carried Emily out and laid her gently on a hillside where the warm spring sun could caress her face. Then she knelt on her knees and cried out beneath the moving branches above her head.
  524.  
  525. “Oh, my lovely Warrior, star of the night and white filament, tell me you approve of our lovely child, this creature of our frantic needs. Tell me you will always protect her. I labored grievous hours for her to see the pale light you cast.”
  526.  
  527.  
  528.  
  529.  
  530.  
  531.  
  532. In answer to her pleas, a lone raven screeched across the valley. Raging inside for the need of a consort, she shattered the country calm with her wailing, “Did I sin? What matters it with whom we lie?” When no response was forthcoming, she knelt over her newly-born and draped her body across its tiny silhouette, shuddering with her mixture of love for the child and horror at her act. Her mind swirled with the confrontation between instinct and custom, rendering her susceptible to her flights of fancy.
  533. It was then she became aware of the presence of someone behind her.
  534. Afraid to look, she cried out, “You embraced my virginity. You have made me your bride forever. Tell me you will shield our child from harm forever and be with her when she is in need. Tell me,” she screamed.
  535. Slithering to the warm earth beneath her body, she clasped Emily to her breast and smothered her face with kisses. On her back, the rays from the orange star stirring her passions, she slowly opened her legs and allowed her Master to satisfy her needs. With each imagined movement of her dark spouse, she groaned with delight and clasped ever more tightly her beloved Emily.
  536. This scene of tormented passion by her mother, and its abatement by the Prince was to repeat itself through all the years of Emily’s childhood, even into adolescence, so that it can not be said the damned cottage where Mary and Emily lived had no male presence. Whenever Mary believed the presence of Emily’s father was necessary she would call upon her progenitor to fulfill his physical obligations, to Mary as his wife, and for moral guidance to Emily, his daughter. Her daughter, Emily, eventually grew accustomed to her mother’s frequent retirement to her chambers and the unintelligible sounds inside which often lasted hours.
  537. Sometimes at night, Mary would like candles and burn wild plants which grew on the moors, mumbling her riddles and incantations, while the fearful child stared at her through her wide, clear eyes. For she, Mary, was the bride of the Devil and she reveled in this privilege. Her constant infidelities with the male mongrels and scrounges of her
  538.  
  539.  
  540.  
  541.  
  542.  
  543. village were encouraged by her husband. His wife had intense corporal wants. The book of damnation contains no prohibitions.
  544.  
  545. Mary’s remembrances were rudely shattered by the shaking Emily who had wrapped her arms around the trembling legs of her mother, and brought her back to the reality of the screams and shouts outside. Mary suddenly pushed her violently away.
  546.  
  547. “Begone, begone! They will kill thee. He will protect me. I shall watch out for thee. My spirit shall be with thou. Go, flee.”
  548.  
  549. Not understanding, Emily sobbed, “I can not, Mum, I can not leave thee bereft,” Emily wailed.
  550.  
  551. Hearing the approaching tumult, knowing this wretched day would see her swinging from a tree, dangling as a puppet whose strings are taut but whose limbs are limp, Mary willed in her mind the aid of her consort, He, who in her conviction, was Emily’s father. She called upon him to save their child. Her mouth gathered froth and spittle seeped from her lips. A trance seized her and from her growing madness there surged forth a howl so deep and foreign that the nearing crowd stopped and fell silent.
  552. Simultaneously, the creatures of the heath halted their daily rustlings. No birds took flight. The usual winds died to an imperceptible stir. It was as if a visitor was expected. Jostled by an unseen hand, Mary stirred from her hallucinations and pushed Emily away.
  553.  
  554. “Run, child, run, He will guide thee!” she cried out.
  555.  
  556. Again there was heard the outside disturbances. Seized with panic, the confused child kissed her mother feverishly about the feet, and then fled, through the backdoor, into the mixture of dark and light, haze and moor, across the fields, her face wet with scalding tears, clutching the few savings her mother gave her, stumbling over stones and fallen limbs, but never stopping.
  557.  
  558.  
  559.  
  560.  
  561.  
  562. He, the Lord of iniquity, the universal evil, watched her from a distance and ensured she would have a safe passage. He caused the trees to sway and the wind to stir so as to hide the noise from her frequent falls. He retarded the natural light so as to obscure her figure on the hillside. He was the Prince of Darkness and He invoked all his powers.
  563.  
  564. “Flee, my child,” He chanted, “for you are of my seed. And I shall have many more children. My kingdom shall flourish.”
  565.  
  566. As He watched her sturdy legs carry her over the last knoll, a wry smile crossed his lips. He had triumphed. Where was his arch rival Christ? He laughed at the helplessness of good and right before the supremacy of corporal pleasure, and unbridled desire. He watched in amusement as Emily awkwardly made her way through the hedges and prickly shrubs, the sharp undergrowth causing her legs to drip with small rivulets of blood until in exhaustion she fell upon a small hillock of heather and began to snivel.
  567. It was then her protector made his evil scheme. It would have been easy to seduce this timid, unsuspecting child and what a conquest, a victory for the primitive forces latent in our souls, the taking of a daughter by her father, the most gross of all deeds, the vanquishing of morality and the supremacy of our evolutionary origins. But then her youth and his deflowering might propel her into a life of debauchery and His plans would end in a dark alley with her throat slithered from side to side.
  568. Far more clever, devious, and even morally profitable, to guide her destiny so that she, with His unseen collaboration, might found what was His innermost desire: a fraternal, incestuous cult; to see the cult inaugurated by Mary continued so that it would persist for decades, perhaps forever, a counterpoint to the insipid, false morality of customs. Social despair and depravity would dominate the abominable human society. “Yes,” he thought, “I shall aid her and we shall see the paths and ways of men and their foolish lust.”
  569. Stretching forth His unseen hand, He lifted Emily up and whispered into her ears, “Rise, child, there is strength in your young limbs. There is still time. I must return to gather your mother and carry her with me. Now, you must continue your flight and you will be safe. The distance
  570.  
  571.  
  572.  
  573.  
  574.  
  575. is long but the winds shall aid you.” As He watched her scampering over the banks of undergrowth, with small, wild orchids edging their way through the stone crevices, knowing she would be safe, His immediate thought was Mary, to retrieve her before she was buried , and He had the distasteful labor of digging her up, and so He returned to her.
  576. When they came, Mary was on her knees, dressed in her nightgown,
  577. head bowed, while her wild, black hair cascaded about her neck in long sensuous folds. Screaming like piglets the women dragged her down the stairs, as the men kicked and beat her in the face and thighs. By the time they reached the tree overlooking the dales, the monument which for time immemorial served as the hanging post for witches, she was already moribund.
  578. They were about to hang her from the thick oak limb when her body
  579. went limp and her lips fell open. A hush fell about the crowd. Then the thin one, the scraggly spinster who had never known physical bliss, ripped open the nightgown covering her bodice.
  580. A gasp emerged from those who could see. A small red cross was etched in the cleavage between her bosoms.
  581.  
  582. “Lord, forgive us,” murmured Nelly, the fat one with the cudgel in her hand. Then Ned stammered, “Is it the sign of our Lord, or is it the mark of the devil?”
  583.  
  584. Ted, the village buffoon started to whimper, “It’s just a birthmark, that’s all.” Silence reigned for some moments until a voice cried out, “The daughter, Emily, where is she?”
  585.  
  586. The crowd rushed back to the house but Emily was gone, vacant rooms was their welcome, the silent walls and empty chambers mocked their anxiety. In despair they searched the closets, the attic, the cupboards; but Emily had escaped.
  587.  
  588. Desolate they returned to the place of their heinous crime, where Mary had been left in a slumped, motionless heap. Two hangings had been denied the raging crowd. Their thirst would be partially quenched by
  589.  
  590.  
  591.  
  592.  
  593.  
  594. seeing Mary rot underground in the pauper’s graveyard. But this was to be denied the harbingers of justice. Although the ripped, blood-soaked nightgown lay beneath the tree, the body was gone.
  595. Simpering, Betsy Pierce stammered, “Our Lord took mercy on her and
  596. carried her away.” No sooner had she mumbled her words, when Ted shook his head and replied, as he often did when others were afraid to speak the obvious, “Maybe it was the devil! Who else would want her?” A harsh guffaw was suddenly heard from someone in the crowd. But no one could say for sure who it was.
  597. All those present sank to their knees and the brilliant light of the day
  598. being born turned into a grey shadow. Rain clouds blotted out the sun and the fields turned wet with a thunderous downpour. Those present prayed, but sins are not washed away. They become part of us; gnaw at our psyche until the monster we want to destroy becomes our master. Emily made her way to Plymouth where she was given refuge in one of the many homes for young ladies in distress which were the delight of a society founded on manners and the export trade. The sisters of “Our Refuge for Blessed Souls” were impressed with the silent, serene demean of Emily who could pass days without speaking other then the common courtesies, confusing her mysticism and occult origins with innate manners, and they tutored her to become a governess. Upon leaving the Blessed Souls she secured work as an educator to the children of Lord Sommerfeld whose fortune was built on the port wine trade with Portugal.
  599. In 1798 when his children no longer needed her services, Lord Sommerfeld, in deference to his Christian sense of duty, utilized his vast contacts with the entrenched Portuguese feudal owners of the vineyards bordering the Douro River. This river flows from Spain, passing by Oporto as it spills into the Atlantic Ocean, and in the city of Oporto Lord Sommerfeld had many contacts with port wine exporters. He secured work for Emily as a teacher of English in the small Portuguese village of Mafra where one of the Port wine growers along the sinuous Douro valley had a first cousin. She readily accepted her work for, as she said, “Portugal is not that distant to me.” Of course no one understood her remark.
  600.  
  601.  
  602.  
  603.  
  604.  
  605.  
  606. Chapter 2
  607.  
  608. 2.0 A short family history
  609.  
  610. It was August, 1830, a torpid, Portuguese summer with the wind barely discernible. No one was in the main square in the village of Mafra, a small Portuguese hamlet approximately 30 miles North from the capital of Portugal, Lisbon. A few stray dogs ambled about, without the energy to bark their presence. Although it was the end of the day, the cool, ocean breeze from the nearby coast was still to stir and bathe the town with its fresh, gentle evening winds.
  611. The setting sun caused the distant Mafra Palace-Convent to cast a long,
  612. silent shadow across the dwellings and vineyards within its orbit. Behind the large, towering stone structure, designed by Italians and implanted on Portuguese soil, sprawled the immense preserve denominated the “tapada”, the private domain of the royalty of Portugal with it exclusive hunting privileges agglomerating 800 hectares (2,000 acres). Silence hovered over the tapada where not even the orange- beaked crows screeched their occasional welcome.
  613. Within sight of the Palace-Convent was the farm of Jorge Sullivan
  614. Cabral, son of Emily Sullivan, deceased in 1818, and Henrique Cabral, buried in 1825, and grandson of Mary Sullivan. Jorge was leaning against a tree, his face turned towards the fields cultivated by his paternal ancestors, his body in repose, weary from his daily tasks, his face in deep thought, but there was absent in his features the momentary harmony of body and spirit which is induced by toiling the land.
  615. He had hopes the wine harvest would be an excellent one this year. The
  616. rain had fallen, although not too much. Because Mafra was so near the Atlantic coastline of Portugal, the sun’s stellar appearance was often erratic. Normally it was habitually shrouded by a slow, thick haze which hung in the valleys, ominously, as if the summer heat prevented it from any movement.
  617. But not this year. Not too much sunlight, nor too little. The frequent
  618. Spring fogs which usually drifted through the vales of Mafra were
  619.  
  620.  
  621.  
  622.  
  623.  
  624. intermittent. Even the bathers flocking to the beaches of Ericeira, known for its summer mists, 10 miles east of Mafra, had few complaints.
  625. “Yes”, Jorge thought to himself, “it is a good year, this hallowed epoch
  626. of 1830”. The holy presence of the Palace-Convent reinforced the religious aura suggested by tilled meadows and pruned orchards. With many reasons to feel content, still Jorge found himself restless in spirit. Staring at the distant Palace, its twin bell towers silhouetted against the blue sky, partially hiding the glistening white Basilica, the approaching evening reminded Jorge his nights were becoming agitated episodes, interludes when his tired, but firm body, seethed with a throbbing energy, so that he was forced to roam after sunset the streets of Mafra in search of frequent physical comfort. “I am, as was my father,” Jorge mumbled to himself. “Let a woman pass me by and I immediately want to seduce her. If she does not cross my path, I will seek her out.”
  627. A gush of loneliness and solitude suddenly swept over him, almost in
  628. tandem with the distant ocean breeze now moving towards Mafra. For a moment the listless face of his mother appeared before him, with her habitual curious expression, hovering amongst the leafed branches of the olive trees where he reclined to rest his tired muscles. Jorge’s memories of his mother were of a silent woman who saw to his welfare but who would stare for hours out of a kitchen window, as if waiting for a visitor. Of course the guest came, but no one knew of that. He came to visit Emily at night as He had done with her mother, Mary.
  629. Jorge had no knowledge of his English family. The few times he asked his mother about his grandmother he was greeted with a vacant stare or intermittently with a few unintelligible words making clear her refusal to discuss anything about the subject.
  630. Questions about his grandfather were aborted with responses such as
  631. “he died while I was an infant,” or “my father was carried away early from a local pest.” He quickly surmised his English ancestry was obliterated in the memories of Emily, his mother. The family past was not to be discussed. With time, Jorge ceased thinking about his English origins.
  632. The constant melancholy of his mother, the loud, boisterous, coarse
  633. personality of his Portuguese father, the geographical isolation of their
  634.  
  635.  
  636.  
  637.  
  638.  
  639. farm, the fact of being an only child, all conspired to mould Jorge into a pensive, brooding young man whose thoughts were constantly turned inwards towards self-examination and self-doubts.
  640. A lanky, brooding man, at times bordering on permanent sulkiness,
  641. with a strong physique and piercing eyes, complemented by a high forehead, locks of black hair falling in grace onto his neck, Jorge was a solitary neighbor who frequented with few people.
  642. Moreover, he had reasons to feel he was different from the other village
  643. lads. He had been born with a red birthmark on his chest, a small design, which at times appeared to have a shape, and at others was almost unnoticeable. If his mother, Emily, ever noticed this blemish, she made no comments and in any event, it was not a very serious physical disfigurement. But sometimes, when he had no fear of being seen, he would examine this mark and strive to know if it had any special significance.
  644. “I must not think too much of my family. They are all gone,” he
  645. thought to himself as he stretched his arms out and forward to sooth his aching muscles. Soon the night sky would be ablaze with stars and fleeing comets. The screech owl would begin his nightly hunt while the foxes scoured the barnyards for the open door which would give them access to the chicken coups. Guard dogs were beginning to bark as they raced wildly about the courtyards, smelling their country enemies hiding in the undergrowth but seeing their glistening eyes in the shrubs and bushes.
  646. Feeling indolent and reminiscing, he stared at the sky. He could easily recall his mother’s serious yet puzzled stare, that of a child confronting an alien, hostile world. Closing his eyes, the modest part of the family history was easily recalled, although some of it was obscured from his knowledge.
  647. He was sixteen when his mother had died. The people in Mafra referred to her as “the English lady”, for she barely learned to speak Portuguese and thus always remained on the fringes of community life.
  648. For Emily, there was no reason to master the Portuguese language. Slim,
  649. quiet, her wide brown eyes holding you steadfastly in their gaze, perennially withdrawn and muted, Emily Sullivan had been summoned
  650.  
  651.  
  652.  
  653.  
  654.  
  655. from England to teach English to the landed gentry of Mafra and therefore they had to speak English to her and not she, Portuguese. When she arrived in Mafra in 1798, she easily captured the hearts of the Mafra townsmen, and in particular, the hearty, sturdy, robust Henrique Cabral, known for his womanizing and his constant nightly sorties but who in a drunken fit had a wish: he had to found a family before his whoring buried him and his assets passed to the collateral (and to him obnoxious) members of his family, in particular his avaricious brother Dom João. Emily’s arrival spawned in him the vision of creating a family molded on the habits of the Portuguese royalty: seek a wife from another land.
  656. Momentarily reforming himself, so much so that he even took to bathing at least twice a week, Henrique Cabral wooed Emily according to the etiquette of Portuguese monarchs. Flowers and long bows preceded his appearance in the salas where Emily was summoned to teach English to the heir of Count and Countess Pinto or the Duke and Duchess of Gradil or the boisterous Julia and Edmundo Macieira who controlled the wheat trade and dictated their terms to the millers from Lisbon to the wine district of Torres Vedras.
  657. With his large clear blue eyes and sturdy physique trembling before what Emily surely assumed was her feminine charms, but what was in reality Henrique’s impatience to produce an heir so that his detested family would not benefit from his eventual demise, she eventually succumbed to his mumblings in broken English and rudimentary Portuguese for her hand.
  658. It was what she had to do. She was ordered to do so by her mother who
  659. came to her one night, in her dreams, her arms beckoning her child to come to her bosom. As Emily rose and rushed to her mother, she fell into her arms sobbing with relief at once again being joined to the only love she had known. Caressing her hair, her mother told her she had to marry, to bring forth into the world a child, a male infant, to be of comfort to Emily.
  660. As she listened to her mother, she saw behind her mother another figure,
  661. a grinning orangutan staring over the shoulder of Mary and baring its long teeth at her, Emily, while with his hands he swayed his genitals from side to side, as squeals and shrieks burst forth from his throat.
  662.  
  663.  
  664.  
  665.  
  666.  
  667. Then, in amazement, Emily saw her mother grab a branch and run after the orangutan with her buttocks swinging in an exaggerated pendulum movement.
  668. With relief, Emily awoke with a start. Without thinking, she made up
  669. her mind. To the distress of the Cabral family and his brother, Dom João, Emily Sullivan and Henrique Cabral were married in 1801 in the august cavern of the basilica of the Palace-Convent of Mafra.
  670. Emily did not fare well under the roaring love-making of Henrique
  671. Cabral for to Henrique, the more noise you made, the more it was enjoyable. Whereas he had initially been conquered by her imagined natural aristocratic bearing, he quickly grew bored with her timid love responses, her fear of his manly prowess and country passion, and no doubt, an understandable desire to avoid going deaf.
  672. Once Jorge was born, Emily requested Henrique to inhabit his own bedroom and, with gratitude, Henrique returned to his bawdry, bachelor behavior, although discretion was required of him. With an heir secured, he could now pass his many family members in the streets and sense contentment with their loss of lands, his properties, those bequeathed to him by his father who in turn received them from his father and the ancestral line was indeed lengthy.
  673. Unknown to Henrique, Emily’s bed was now occasionally occupied by
  674. the screeching orangutan in a more acceptable guise and his passionate caresses on the limbs of Emily produced the desired effect. She murmured with delight and trembled with multiple spasms which encircled her thighs.
  675. To the relief of Henrique, Emily died in 1818 when she was 46, weary
  676. from a world in which she had no natural place. The event was memorable for the fact that the village priest congratulated Henrique on the holiness of his wife. To the perplexed look of Henrique, the priest murmured, “She has a small red cross on her chest, no doubt the sign of her vigilant faith but a rather extreme case of self-flagellation. Such is the faith of our flock.” Although Henrique did not remember this physical mark, he merely shrugged his shoulders in agreement, attributing his lack of memory to his infrequent love-making with Emily.
  677.  
  678.  
  679.  
  680.  
  681.  
  682. Henrique was able to openly resume his unbridled masculine hunts until his heart gave out in the year 1825 when he was 65 years of age. And then, he only collapsed because the chosen object of his ardor was as constantly unsatisfied as Henrique was incessant in his demands. One had to forebear and since Henrique was considerably older, his heart just stopped, “a gift from the Saints to the village tarts,” a friend quipped.
  683. Most of the preceding past was within the cognition of Jorge. He shook
  684. his head as if to reproach himself. He wondered why his family recollections were occupying so much of his mind when instead he should be working. Yet he had to admit that today he felt keenly the sadness from remembrances which overcome a young man in whom nature has stirred and spurred his blood to race with the daily warm sun, merely cooled by his own sweat from his toil in the vineyards.
  685. To further complement his anguished memories, exacerbated by his tormented desires and incessant masculine stirrings, was a recent suggestion by his father’s brother, the detested uncle Dom João. Their meeting had taken place some days before. His uncle was now proposing that, he, Jorge, should take a wife and marry Rosa, his first cousin. In this way, two adjoining estates, the largest vineyards in the region of Mafra would be joined. “After all,” thought the contemptible Dom João, “what escaped me by inheritance could now be regained by holy matrimony.”
  686. At the time of this proposal, Dom João was a widower who had extinguished the will of his wife, Sofia Monteiro, to live rather early in her life. The Cabral brothers were notorious, insensitive brutes concerning women. Sofia merely expired from watching D. João eating, belching, defecating, working, sweating, and retiring to bed with sonorous operas as the sun set, never stirring until sunrise.
  687. Yet Dom João was a responsible father and for many years after his
  688. wife’s death he had the sole responsibility for the education of his only child, Rosa. It was so sensible, Dom João had explained to Jorge when they had talking in the local tavern, its cool interior in marked contrast to the bright, clear but searing temperature reigning outside.
  689. “Jorge,” Dom João murmured, lowering his head so that their
  690. conversation should remain for the moment confidential, “the dear son
  691.  
  692.  
  693.  
  694.  
  695.  
  696. of my late brother,” Uncle João made the sign of the cross, and then continued, “cousin Rosa has the necessary virtues, as your mother did.” To the blank look of Jorge, Jorge confided, “Your father told me she was a virgin. Bravo, a rare quality in a woman, and so is Rosa. Not like your trollops wandering around the streets of Mafra, their bosoms thrust forward as the heads of our country mules and their buttocks as wide as the cows in our pastures.” Dom João paused, the images of his language stirring his masculine vitality and he took another gulp of fresh red wine to calm his wild desires. “Moreover, Jorge,” he added with apparent concern, “a young man needs a female companion and I need a robust, sturdy, dedicated manager. What better choice then my beloved nephew?”
  697. “You see”, Uncle João suddenly mumbled, although in a now grave,
  698. somber tone, “our two estates will make you the richest wine producer in the great Lisbon area. Markets, my nephew, are near, as the citizens of Lisbon are a drunken lot. They like their wine raw and rough, just as we grow it here in Mafra. Markets and money, my dear nephew. What more is there to life? Put the only virgin I know into your kitchen, give us an heir, and go about your manly business.” Then he added, “With a certain amount of prudence, my cherished nephew, as did your father, my beloved brother.”
  699. Uncle João was well aware of Jorge’s profligate reputation but where as he initially saw this as a detriment to a marriage with his only child, his beloved Rosa, he later believed this to be an asset for what did it matter if Jorge sallied forth out of the house every night leaving Rosa alone? By nature she was a domestic, cherishing her kitchen utensils, and with heirs to occupy her, it was just as well Jorge took his whoring out of his house and left Rosa in peace. Mothers are usually bad lovers. He, Dom João knew that, as did his brother. In honor to his filial remembrance, he again made the sign of the cross before gulping the remnants of wine left in his glass.
  700. The enticements of Uncle João were well calculated. Jorge did not
  701. know what Uncle João knew. Cousin Rosa was becoming fanciful for a certain Rui Rias, a young man, the son of a local fabric merchant who owned a small shop where cloths and textiles from the North of
  702.  
  703.  
  704.  
  705.  
  706.  
  707. Portugal could be bought. Yet the family of Rui, no matter how promising their future, at present were landless.
  708. All this Uncle João learned from his many vassals who made daily trips to the town centre. It was intolerable to Uncle João that the estates left by their father should fall into the hands of other people. At night it tormented him, thinking that his estate of 35 hectares (87.5 acres) might be broken up when it could so easily, by the time-honored habit of a convenient marriage, be augmented to include a further 25 hectares (62.5 acres), the lands of his beloved nephew.
  709. The two cousins together would have vineyards and pasture lands
  710. totaling 60 hectares (150 acres), a magnificent size for rural Portugal with its Neolithic methods of farming. He resolved to speak to his daughter.
  711. Some weeks prior to his meeting with Jorge, he had found Rosa in the
  712. kitchen, where she usually was, explaining to the servants how a table should be set for important guests. As he strode into the large, open space, with its ample chimney where the soup pots were hanging from thick, iron chains waiting to be warmed from the soft pine embers smoldering beneath them, he hesitated.
  713. Being a father, Dom João was proud of his Rosa, for she was a farm girl in spite of her privileged position in the social life of Mafra. She was not afraid of daily chores, the routine of farm life; she relished in the pride of good crops, flocks brought home safely, and vineyards manicured so as to ensure a productive harvest.
  714. Yet as a man he had to admit Rosa was probably doomed to spinsterhood unless someone, determined to upgrade themselves, submitted their hearts to the calculation of their minds. Rosa was plain looking, stout, of medium stature, with a ruddy complexion from assisting in the country tariffs. Her thick legs, so necessary for carrying buckets of water or pails of fruit were not the sensuous limbs to entice the available gentry of Mafra. Added to her physical plainness was a spirit of spite which disturbed and irritated the male companions which infrequently entered into her life.
  715. However, D. João understood that she was capable of great moments of emotion, outbursts of sentiment, for he witnessed it himself. Had he not seen the flush to her face when they went to the Rias fabric store and
  716.  
  717.  
  718.  
  719.  
  720.  
  721. Rui himself waited upon the family, the stares he gave Rosa, how her cheeks burned a crimson which revealed the ardor she was undergoing. Once home, Dom João rebuked her gently for her “overly coquettish” behavior unbecoming to “gentry” and she had exploded in a wrath, called her father “an insensitive brute” before she rushed off to her room and refused to come down for dinner in the evening. Dom João was perhaps slow in movement and deliberate in speech, but he was quick to note the distress of his daughter and its implications.
  722. Watching her quietly as she went about her womanly chores, Dom João had come to an immediate conclusion. He would arrange the proper marriage for her and what more natural than her first cousin, Jorge, a neighbor and a prosperous landowner.
  723. Yet, even while whispering and conspiring with Jorge, Dom João felt
  724. both satisfaction and remorse. An only daughter was to be given away but was Jorge going to be as intolerable and indifferent as his father, Dom João’s brother? On the other hand, Jorge hardly said anything, merely nodding his head from time to time. Of course Jorge knew his cousin, Rosa, well. There was hardly a day when then their paths did not cross, as is often the case with family who are neighbors.
  725. Still the thought of bedding Rosa had never crossed his mind. She was
  726. the pudgy school girl whom he accompanied to school when they were children. She was the tearful cousin whom he had to rescue every so often when the boys began their teasing. He could not even recall holding her hand in a sign of intimacy as distinguished from help.
  727. Now resting against the bark of one of his sturdy olive trees, thoughts of his mother again with him, Jorge recalled those words of Dom João and decided perhaps he ought to go and call upon Rosa to see if there were any female virtues he had overlooked. After all, the dowry she brought was not to be demeaned nor rapidly spurned. A man with land was a man with power. And he needed a woman. He could not continue with his physical torment which only obtained relief with nightly sorties. Moreover, the village sluts that giggled and shook their hips when his eyes savored their bodies were not suitable alternatives for his manly requirements. He knew of one or two men of his age who had succumbed to awful diseases, well beyond treatment by local doctors, and who now suffered abominable injuries, if not imminent death.
  728.  
  729.  
  730.  
  731.  
  732.  
  733. The need for a spouse only further clouded his normally rational mind. While he had a romantic side, and indeed often found himself daydreaming about some of the village girls in a serious vein, his forced loneliness on his estate heightened his sensual needs while diminishing his possibilities. While at first an uninspiring objective, the words proffered by Uncle João conferred on Rosa, as cosmetics will often do to a comely face, a fragile allure, possibly a solution to his complex male personality, a duality whose composition was unknown to him. More land through marriage was not to be despised, cast aside, and after all, he knew Rosa was a hardworking daughter, wise in the ways of the land. Perhaps there lie dormant within her brawny body a naturalness which would satisfy the maddening craving coursing through his blood as his browned arms tended his crops.
  734. A few days later, the conversation with his uncle still fresh in his mind,
  735. he found, of course purposefully, cousin Rosa in the fruit orchard which adjoined their property line. Jorge was almost ten years her senior, for Rosa was then a strapping 19 years of age. At that age her limbs were firm, her bosom full and bursting with the vitality of life which nourishes children waiting to be born. As the afternoon sun danced around her waist, Jorge’s eyes fixed on the sensuous thighs which bulged with warmth. He noticed the moisture on her skirt caused by sweat and physical movement. Her plain face, square and flat in country fashion, barely showed any emotion or physical stress. His body stirred and called him unashamedly to the warmth and pleasure of her muscular abdomen.
  736. “What is it, Jorge?” Rosa asked as she continued her gathering of ripe lemons. “Are you taking off the afternoon?”
  737. Jorge merely nodded and sat down nearby her. Their long association produced an intimacy between them which needed few formalities.
  738. After a few moments, Jorge pronounced, “I’m hot.”
  739. Something in his voice caused Rosa to turn and face him directly. She had never really looked seriously at her older cousin. Quiet, moody, his tall, lean body strode forward and backward in jerky movements as if a straight line did not exist, could not, for the universe was round and rotating. He always appeared not to be aware of her presence, his deep- set eyes frequently fixed on a distant, unseen image.
  740.  
  741.  
  742.  
  743.  
  744.  
  745. All the same, today she saw his languid face, his long eyelashes, his motionless arms crossed on his chest. For a moment, unexpectedly, she imagined his arms circling her waist and his body pressed hard against her buttocks in desire. Immediately casting aside such thoughts as improbable and born of her own country nature, she returned to her tasks of lemon gathering.
  746. Jorge continued to watch her, observed her body turning and twisting,
  747. and finally he closed his eyes. He resolved to speak to Uncle João. Raising slowly from the ground, he thought of kissing Rosa goodbye but instead nodded his head slowly towards her inquisitive eyes and hastened to return to his own tasks.
  748. A few days later he encountered his uncle in the same tavern, as a message had been delivered to him, asking for the meeting “with urgency”. By then, Dom João understood the situation to be pressing. Gossip from his faithful servants, particularly the cooking staff, made it clear to him Rui Rias was pressing forward as steadfastly as possible with his claim to Rosa. The young girl in the scullery, Branca, the daughter of the first cook Adelaide, had seen the two of them, Rosa and Rui, walking together towards the end of the day, in the village park, within the shadows of the Palace-Convent. They obviously lingered longer together than was thought proper.
  749. After some preliminary drinks Dom João came to the subject matter with alacrity. Reclining backwards in his chair, he inhaled slowly his hand-rolled cigarette and then asked, “Well, Jorge, are we going to do a deal?”
  750. Jorge stared at his uncle impassively. He wasn’t sure if he was on the
  751. right course. He had his father’s uncontrollable temperament for women, although he genuinely believed he could keep it under control. Moreover, he did find Rosa attractive with her coarse country manners which belied certainly a passionate nature.
  752. Additionally, so much land was to be gained. His thoughts raced back and forth with no consistency to the conclusion. Finally he blurted out, “My dear uncle, I do find Rosa attractive. Yes, damn it, she has a fine body and a willing spirit. But marriage, I just don’t know.” He paused, hoping for some direction to his thoughts.
  753.  
  754.  
  755.  
  756.  
  757.  
  758. His uncle had already raced to the steps he knew he had to take. If there was a strong possibility, he would make it a reality. Crushing his cigarette on the wooden floor of the tavern, he stated matter-of-factly, “Never make a hasty decision, Jorge. We shall talk again.” When they paid their departing comments, Jorge ambled onto the dirt road leading to the gates of his farm.
  759. A mild ocean breeze stirred the panoply of tree leaves lining his path.
  760. In the distant he heard a dove pigeon cowing. The enveloping pine trees sprawled throughout the valleys gave off an intoxicating smell, resin mixing with the pungent odor of sea salt brought by the sea winds. Gazing backwards, he saw the smoke of chimneys spiraling upwards towards the bright blue sky of Mafra. A rivulet passed by the edge of his walk, the water slowing drifting downwards towards the lower, original part of the village where it would eventually join other streams and then a steady current of water would later find its way into the river Lizandro which snaked towards the Atlantic ocean, bordered by lush and fertile fields. Reaching his destination, he paused and stared at the distant hills, small in stature yet well-groomed and tendered with husbandry learnt through the millenniums.
  761. “It is all land”, Jorge thought. “Without properties, a man is useless, a
  762. burden to himself, his family, his community, a vagabond cur, worse, a despised mongrel with no claim on any man or woman.” Continuing with his thoughts, he addressed himself, “Estates define the man. I am nothing, a foolish man if I have no land to till. No one will heed me. Nor can I continue with these bitches to satisfy me. I shall catch a sickness, for sure.”
  763. Forcing his tired feet to continue their march towards his homestead,
  764. the ancient site of his forbearers whose land had been accumulated by work, some by bitter fights among heirs, and even some by treachery upon neighbors whose land frontiers were not well defined, he entered his home, sought the comfort of his room and fell asleep on his bed, still dressed, with the sound of the dove pigeon fixed in his ear and the image of his mother staring at him from a faded photograph, her lips partially open as if she was going to tell him a thought but her soul had been suddenly clamped down, the blood system plugged, and her heart had burst with a searing pain.
  765.  
  766.  
  767.  
  768.  
  769.  
  770. Dom João lost no time. Some days later he appeared at the shop of the Rias family and announced he wanted to speak to Miguel Rias, the owner and presumably head of the family. He was obsequiously and immediately received in the austere living room of the Rias family for the very bearing of Dom João Cabral demanded no less. Waiting for him was the father, Miguel, his panting wife Ana, and the son, Rui. After initial pleasantries and courtesies, which only served to increase the breathing of Ana, and even induced sweat to gather on her forehead, Dom João came quickly to the point.
  771. “I have a distant cousin in Lisbon who is in dire need of a young
  772. apprentice. He is, as you are, my dear landless Miguel, in the fabric business. He has quite a nice establishment in downtown Lisbon.”
  773. A silence reigned in the room. Dom João’s allusion to “landless” only
  774. heightened the fear which silently bonded the three family members in a pact of anxiety. As a member of the landed gentry, Dom João Cabral had connections to the Lisbon royal families and more seriously to the banking establishments which governed the lives of merchants. Miguel expected the worst as he had an overdraft with a Lisbon bank owned by the prominent Castro family, distant relatives of Dom João Cabral. Miguel worried the apparent concern with Rui’s future was but a diversion for the financial catastrophe about to be announced by Dom João.
  775. Dom João Cabral knew of the overdraft. His cousin Albino Castro had
  776. sent him a message about the situation and Dom João had delayed in answering, hoping to juggle this casual set of events in his favor.
  777. “Rui,” Dom João suddenly thundered, “have you thought of seizing an
  778. opportunity to earn your way in life in the corridors of Lisbon commerce. Your father may need whatever mercantile experience you gain.” He paused and waited. He saw the terror instilled in the eyes of Miguel Rias. He watched Ana’s body begin to tremble as her fingers rushed over the rosary beads which miraculously appeared in her hand. Only Rui appeared impassive, but then he was too young, like Rosa, to understand flight. He suddenly saw the corpulent and seductive body of Rosa receding from his present reserved but hopefully, one day, ardent embraces.
  779.  
  780.  
  781.  
  782.  
  783.  
  784. He impulsively burst forth. “Thank you, Dom João”, he murmured, addressing his benefactor with the most regal of titles reserved for the landed gentry. “Thank you, indeed, but my father no doubt needs me here.”
  785. Dom João’s sonorous reply was to be expected, having been carefully
  786. planned. “How can a defaulting, bankrupt, penniless merchant employ a son gainfully? Do you know my gabbing adolescent that the Lisbon Bank Commercial and Agricultural Deposits, owned by the family of the aunt of my beloved grandfather, is impatient to receive the proceeds of your father’s impudent overdraft and have charged me with explaining the procedures to follow to your enterprising father? Answer me, do you?”
  787. Ana dropped her rosary onto the sole table modestly decorating her
  788. living room and excused herself profusely from the august presence of her guest explaining she was suddenly smitten with a severe headache. She stumbled out of the living room and burst into tears in the solace of her bedroom whose only window faced a narrow alley which seemed to attract garbage and paper as honey draws flies.
  789. Rui remained silent, gazing at his father from the corner of his eyes.
  790. He saw his father had his head hung downwards. Miguel Rias was not a man to stand up to commercial forces more powerful than he and in all events, what Dom João Cabral said was true. He was in debt. He was about to be ruined.
  791. Then Dom João revealed his true purpose in more acceptable language.
  792. “Now, Rui, it has been brought to my attention how your graces demonstrated to my beloved Rosa are causing effect.” He paused, watching Rui’s immobile face. “What father would cause distress to your family under such circumstances? Cousin Castro can be persuaded to renew the overdraft and grant your father a further period to rectify his misfortunes which are no doubt but temporary. Even if he is convinced of your father’s imminent failure, I can buy up the overdraft and deal with your father on a more friendly basis. Yes, we are all members of a tightly-knit, unified, Mafra family, although not necessarily with the same economic virtues, and we all must help one another, in spite of ill-conceived commercial plans by others.”
  793.  
  794.  
  795.  
  796.  
  797.  
  798. Dom João paused, rather pleased with his momentary verbosity. Continuing he lowered his voice, “You must go to Lisbon, Rui, and quite frankly, never return. By doing so, you shall rescue your father. Your father will explain to you why you are not a suitable suitor for Rosa, financially speaking of course. You are an attractive young man and Rosa has good taste. As did her mother. But I am a man of affairs. Rosa is reserved for another and if you mention any of our conversation to her I shall destroy your father. Such is the code of men.”
  799. Inclining forward, in a artificial pose of respect, Dom João turned around and as he neared the exit, he whispered, “I shall await your news.” He was gone although his keen ears did hear a long wail emerge from the back of the house, partially muffled by the narrow passage which served as an airshaft for the bathrooms, yet still discernible as the anguish of a woman who fears her son’s primitive instincts shall wreck havoc on the family fortunes, or lack of them.
  800.  
  801. 2.1 The rejection of Rosa
  802.  
  803. The searing afternoon sun, yet with its summer force although it was the first week of September, brought a languid listlessness to the kitchen domestics as they lazily drifted through their Sunday scullery chores. The culinary apprentices Rita and Joana were peeling potatoes, gazing mournfully out one of the windows, hoping a Prince would capture their young hearts and save them from the endless drudgery which life would bring them, as it had brought their mothers and grandmothers.
  804. Still, the small, open crevice, crossed with thick iron, permitted them to see the resplendent bougainvillea which caroused throughout the stone walls separating the Cabral house from the expansive, rich soil, stretching for miles across the hills, where sheep and cows grazed contentedly as intermittent clouds slowly crossed the limitless expanse of blue.
  805. The estates of Dom João Cabral burst forth in bountiful grace wherever
  806. the eyes came to rest. The tall umbrella pine trees, scattered in clusters throughout the acres of fields, afforded shade for the animals and tempered the harsh winds which blew in a fury from the coastline
  807.  
  808.  
  809.  
  810.  
  811.  
  812. during the winter. Now, a sultry summer breeze barely stirred the meadows of oats and wheat.
  813. Rosa was in the kitchen, observing Rita and Joana, a certain maternal empathy rising in her as she watched them murmuring and gossiping together. She had come to prepare some thick brown bread for her father. Yet her father’s remarks earlier in the day hovered about her imagination and, no matter how absorbing her tasks, his offhand remarks demanded clarification.
  814. She had been in the dinning room, where she and her father took breakfast, when, as he was leaving, he had said to her, casually, but then her father never stated a sentence, or even a phrase, which was not premeditated, words to the effect, “I saw Jorge Cabral some days ago. A fine young man. He asked about you. I think he takes a fancy to you. I wouldn’t be surprised, Rosa …,” and he let his words end in an inaudible murmur.
  815. Dom João crossed himself thanking God for having given him a wife
  816. whose only interest in life had been tending to his culinary needs, before continuing, his trend of thought broken, “Your mother, Rosa, how healthy, shall we say bursting with love she was when she was your age. Remember, my child, you are a country girl, brought up with the fresh air, our delicious fruits, meat everyday on the table, the cakes of our local pastry shops delivered right to our doors. Life is sweet my precious child, my only heir…” He strode out of the room, enchanted with his matinee eloquence.
  817. Rosa did not reply but the words left their impression. She remembered the way Jorge looked at her when he paid his last visit to her in the orchard. At that time, an involuntary flush rose to her cheeks when their eyes met. But she resolved not to think any further about Jorge. He was her cousin, almost a decade her senior, morose and moody, and she, Rosa, was young, vibrant, enchanted with the brightness of the day and the green foliage cascading about her in every direction.
  818. Noting the sun was nearing its midday summer height, she slipped out
  819. of the kitchen door and headed for the grove where she and Rui invariably met. A narrow dirt pathway led from the back of the kitchen to a small lemon grove, and then wound its way through gentle hills and twisting vales until the sound of gurgling water was heard. There,
  820.  
  821.  
  822.  
  823.  
  824.  
  825. surrounded by a ring of polished black rocks and lemon grass, was a small pond, a favorite refuge for foxes, large enough for them to drink from in the secrecy of the night, and the water, crystal clear, reflected the sun in all its stellar splendor.
  826. Rui was waiting for her, as he did every Sunday noontime. At first
  827. Rosa’s heart gave a sudden jump when she saw his fresh, eager face looking at her earnestly. But, then, she immediately noticed a slight frown to his features and her instinctual knowledge of men, a gift to women from nature, raised an apprehension within her. Still, she decided not to voice her doubts and instead wait.
  828. Rui greeted her with a warm embrace. They had yet to be intimate. Such a step was impossible for a young woman such as Rosa, brought up in the strict, intimate Catholic atmosphere of Mafra. Although she was infused with the warmth of Rui’s body when he was near her, their love signals were confined to sporadic touches and compassionate embraces of greeting and withdrawal.
  829. Upon seeing her, Rui, who had been sitting, stood up, as if he were
  830. going to make a speech. Rosa stopped and looked at him, his still adolescent features barely concealed by the emergence of the first signs of maturity encircling his lower chin, a steady gaze to his eyes which would later demark him as an embittered adult. He had been commanded to leave the first love of his unfolding life, but he would forever remember Rosa, never to be his, because his family were landless and his father, luckless, a poor merchant.
  831. That Rui later, decades after this rendezvous, amassed one of the great fortunes of Lisbon would not be sufficient to assuage the permanent wound which he carried with him all his life so that he died without any heirs, never marring but roaming from one consort to another.
  832. At this moment in his life he had come to say his farewell to Rosa. His
  833. father gave him no choice when he had shouted over the sobbing gasps of his mother, “Is that why we had a son, to destroy our family?”
  834. Rui watched her approach their watery recluse where they had
  835. exchanged many private thoughts. At the sight of her thick, corpulent body supported by stubby, muscular thighs his masculinity stirred and coursed through his blood. The pulsating sun did little to soften his now racing heart and trembling lips.
  836.  
  837.  
  838.  
  839.  
  840.  
  841. She came to him and now realized what suffering he was undergoing. “What is it, Rui?” she whispered to him.
  842. His father had instructed under no circumstances was he to reveal the true motives of his departure. Such a disclosure would be worse then remaining in Mafra for the breach of a confidence would bring the wrath of Dom João upon the whole family. He was to tell Rosa he was going to Lisbon to have a career with a distant relative. He, Rui, was too young to think of any serious engagement with a young girl, like himself.
  843. In a trance, Rui went through his rehearsed speech. Years later, he
  844. could not even recall what he said, nor what Rosa replied. The image he carried with him, often surging forth in his imagination at the oddest moments, when he was addressing a bankers’ conference, or sealing the purchase of a large tract of land, or even visiting the factory floor of one of his many enterprises, was that of Rosa, crumpled on her knees, by the edge of the pond, silently crying, never looking up at Rui, thrashing her hair from side to side as if in a ritual ordained by the forest gods.
  845. He finally fled, tears washing his hot, torrid face, the white clouds
  846. soaring above his dampened head, the bright blue of an ocean sky blotting out the darkness gathering in his mind, down the dirt path he raced, past the copses of umbrella pine, scraping his thighs against the wild thorns which sprung up wherever the hand of the hoe was absent, till he saw in the distance the small village square of Mafra, the oak trees conceding shade to the mules tied up outside the taverns and commercial shops.
  847. He saw the sign of his father’s establishment, “Rias and Son” and his
  848. anguish burst forth in unbridled frenzy so that he stopped and pounded his fists against a dying poplar where the water had been diverted and its source of life extinguished. The crows screeching above his head paid scant attention to his howling which only reminded them of the wild, homeless dogs which ran through the night, their stomachs empty and their eyes a cold, clear green.
  849. Rosa did not stir for some time. Finally she stood up and straightened out her skirt. Slowly she climbed the path upwards which would lead her to her home. As she walked, her only thought was that she was
  850.  
  851.  
  852.  
  853.  
  854.  
  855. homely, a discarded cloth not suitable to drape the lovely bodies of the society ladies. The explanation given to her by Rui appeared baseless, for surely he knew that if they went together to Lisbon, her family fortunes would protect them and ensure a future. The sensible feminine conclusion was that he had found someone else and wished to use Lisbon as an excuse to break off their incipient intimacy. “I am ugly”, she whispered to herself, “not even my youth is attractive. I shall be barren and die slowly as the autumn leaves.”
  856. Struggling against the rising slope of the path, Rosa thought her chest would burst and cleave through the middle, exposing her bleeding heart wrenched unwillingly from her body. The searing pain enveloping her bodice became unsupportable. Stumbling, she sank to the dirt floor and reclined against an outcropping of granite. Some moments passed. The slow, steady movement of the white billowing clouds helped to calm her. The fluttering of partridge wings hidden beneath bushes hastened her return to inward silence and a certain calmness gained control of her racing, confused thoughts.
  857. Then, Rosa came to a decision which would forever mark her and the family eventually to be impelled forth from her thighs and permitted to see the light. Never would she allow a man again to deceive her. For deceit, there was only one remedy. She was a country girl and knew well the law of animals. The weak, wither, and die, and the strong live off the carrion of others. She, Rosa, would arise and survive. The others, the cravers and the ambitious, such as Rui, would be cast aside with a vengeance. Retaliation was to be the motif of her life. To whomever she allowed to caress her firm, but willing, flesh would, must, be allied to her spirit and be chaste with all others. She was to be the sole object of male lust and its satisfaction to her mate. Infidelity would be cut at the root. Never would she allow betrayal to pass unpunished.
  858. Standing up, she clenched her teeth and let her hands run along her sweating thighs. She noticed the faint smell from between the thick flesh holding her torso rising to her nostrils and she knew she was yearning to have a lover and be a mother. Under the laws of her land, this required her to be married. Her rejection by Rui cleaved her pride and the image of her womanhood, shattering her spiritual integrity and exposing her to the shadows and desires of other times, other epochs,
  859.  
  860.  
  861.  
  862.  
  863.  
  864. other passions, other stages in the human cycle now prohibited but ever latent. Standing up, she started the walk towards her home.
  865. Exhausted, she eventually reached the courtyard of her residence. In the distance she saw her father watching her. Of course he knew where she had gone and what had transpired. This had been combined with Rui’s father the day before. He said nothing as she neared him but he smiled tenderly at her as soon as he saw her distressed face. For the grief displayed in her countenance was mixed with resolution and he knew his daughter was as he was, unbreakable in spirit, undaunted by adversity. He had succeeded, the estates would be joined, and the ensuing heirs would add glory to the name of Dom João Cabral.
  866.  
  867. 2.2 A devilish decision.
  868.  
  869. As soon as the burning, summer sun rose less austere in the horizon, the fresh, late September winds from the nearby Atlantic coast swept into the village of Mafra, bringing with them a welcome respite. The grain harvests were almost over and now it was the hour of gathering grapes and the making of wine. Village festivals were in course throughout the towns surrounding Mafra. The various patron Saints of the laborers were called upon them to assist in making the precious, bodied wine which would ensure another year’s income. No family who had grape orchards could afford to be idle.
  870. By tradition, originally founded on necessity, neighbors helped one another in the cutting of the vines, the storage of grapes into baskets, the carrying of them to the large wooden vats where the process of stepping on them and waiting for the natural fermentation was inaugurated. Although the steps were simple-gather, carry, and crush- many hands were required. So it was quite natural Jorge, Dom João and their hired hands would spend considerable time together during the month of September.
  871. The evening before Jorge was to bring his laborers over to the estates of
  872. Dom João, a strange incident occurred to him. In a moment of forced relaxation, for he well knew tomorrow would begin the arduous tasks of gathering the grapes of his uncle, he strolled over to the large wheel behind his home which was used to draw up the water.
  873.  
  874.  
  875.  
  876.  
  877.  
  878. Anyone leaning over the short, stone embankment surrounding the waterhole would be awed at the deepness of the hole which bore its way out of sight into the granite laden soil. Although the well was dug by hand centuries before his birth, oral tradition borne by the families recounted the deaths of the poor beggars, by land slides, forced to work by hand in the bowels of the earth carving out the earth so the precious liquid could be raised by the landed gentry.
  879. But such thoughts were not with Jorge. He simply felt the need to be
  880. alone and hearken to the country sounds. His forced patience was rewarded as he heard the low wooing of the night owls as they called to one another in hopes of a courtship. September in the countryside is the moment when the absence of a mate is most keenly felt. The wine festivals are in harmony with the rites of the ancients, for coupling in September in the human species produces the yearlings in the Spring. Sitting on the edge of the stone guard, Jorge stared moodily into the darkness of the night, illuminated, but barely, by the glittering sparkle of the heavenly firmament. An ominous silence gathered about the courtyard. Normally, Jorge was never concerned with intruders for the rural laws were self-enacted. Any trespass was met with a shot gun. Still, this evening he confessed to a certain uneasiness. He attributed his disposition to the loneliness which was more often his constant companion. He was about to retire to his home when he heard a rustling in the bushes near his tool shed. At first he believed it to be the noise of a small animal.
  881. One of his many dogs began to growl and this worried Jorge. He was too far from his house to think of retrieving his weapon. It was not wise to turn his back if there were a trespasser nearby. He decided to take a bold step, as he shouted out, “Who are you? What do you want?”
  882. The ensuing silence of the autumn night only served to hasten his fears.
  883. There could be more then one person and he was without arms. Some of the jerky, whimpering mongrels began barking, one or two were even howling in tribute to their carnivorous ancestors from the steppes of East Europe who came South into all of Europe in search of easy prey, the deer and the sheep. Their baying only served to heighten the tension infusing Jorge.
  884.  
  885.  
  886.  
  887.  
  888.  
  889. “Who is it, I say?” he called out. Still, there was no response. Kneeling, Jorge picked up a fallen, dead limb from a pine tree and held it firmly in his moist palm. A clear movement of feet could be heard within the rim of cork trees which initiated the peach orchard. He stood motionless, waiting for the appearance of a face. To his left he suddenly felt a brusque movement and he wheeled around swinging his weapon with all the strength he could muster. But his bludgeon cleaved through empty air. No one was in sight.
  890. A dog yelped, “ Was it the small one?” he thought, the one he called “little fox” because she was so good at hunting rabbits, “Yes, it must be her” he rummaged, before remembering she had died the winter before, “Then which cur was it?” he asked himself, and he would have continued perplexed when, without warning, a sudden gust of wind gathered and the heretofore sky, lit with infinite beacons, sparkling and vibrating in the black dome, was swamped out of sight by rolling thunderous clouds which swept in from the coastline of Ericeira and a violent downpour of rain burst out of the sky.
  891. Forgetting his former hesitations, Jorge turned around and started to dash towards his home. As he did so, he slipped over one of his farm tools which had slithered to the ground and he fell downwards. He was sure he felt a blow to the back of his head but he lost consciousness.
  892. He must have lain there for hours for when he awoke he was drenched. His clothes clung to him, mixed with mud and water. His head hurt. His legs were heavy. Raising himself up, he saw the storm had passed. Instinctively he touched the back of his head in remembrance of his fall, but there were no signs of an injury.
  893. Once again, the thick, milk-band of stellar light was visible. Eventually gathering all his forces, he struggled towards his home and threw himself upon his bed in exhaustion. For reasons he could not fathom the thick, sensuous body of Rosa rose before him. Scenes of her ruby- colored cheeks and bright brown eyes mingled with remembrances of his mother bending over him as a child and looking apprehensively at him.
  894. Unable to achieve the degree of inner harmony to fall sleep, he eventually rose and went into his bathroom to clean up. Stripping off all his clothes he began to wash himself thoroughly, with cold water, since
  895.  
  896.  
  897.  
  898.  
  899.  
  900. he had not the energy to warm the water over the dying wood stove smoldering in his kitchen. As he started his ritual, he examined himself carefully to ensure he had suffered no serious wounds. It was then he noticed that his birthmark was more visible, clear in outline, and he murmured to himself, “I must be a holy man, having been born with a cross.”
  901. Almost in response to his words, the sky burst into a loud, crackling
  902. flashing sear of light and in the distance he heard the approach of thunderous clouds, once again announcing their return. “So,” Jorge thought, “I escaped just in time.”
  903. Clean and lying in his bed, listening to the heavy downpour of rain,
  904. Jorge stared at the wooden rafters lining his room. His eyes wandered over his sparsely furnished dwelling and the realization of its drab masculinity impelled him towards a thought which, at first had been dim in his consciousness, but now leaped forward with more clarity, as if impelled by an outside force. The large, still eyes of Rosa appeared to him with all clarity, as if brought before his vision by an invisible hand. With his head still throbbing, he became susceptible to the thoughts and advice of unseen companions. Living alone was not advisable. What if he had fallen from a blow and not just slipped as he believed? He needed to take a wife and commence a family. It was then he was sure he heard his mother’s voice, or an utterance so similar, urging him to court Rosa. He imagined he saw his mother sitting in the corner of his room, staring at him with a forlorn, anxious gaze which molded her face into a hollow round ball.
  905. Her mouth struggled to articulate words and for some moments Jorge wondered if his head blow had not done permanent damage. Yet he was sure he saw her and her words cascaded finally in an illogical syntax, but what Jorge understood was that she was urging him to accept Rosa as his wife, reminding him that it was important the Sullivan line continue and how she longed to have heirs beyond the generation of her son.
  906. The more he listened to his mother, the more logical it appeared to him
  907. he had to marry Rosa, for then he would gain not only a woman, but lands and a worker. On the other hand, he knew of his father’s lasciviousness and wondered if he could dominate his equally wild
  908.  
  909.  
  910.  
  911.  
  912.  
  913. spirit. He explained this to his mother but she waved away this thought wildly with her hands, shaking them and he watched in amazement as they danced in the air. How could she be with him, he pondered, and he lay still for fear her apparition would disappear.
  914. Jorge did not forget the personality of his father and his debauchery,
  915. well-known to Jorge, was a counterpoint to his mother’s passivity and sensual reticence. Jorge oscillated between the two stages of human emotion. His spiritual repose Jorge appeared to have inherited from his mother for he was normally shy in the presence of fine, young women and the many available brides in the village.
  916. Yet, akin with his father, only with the Mafra trollops did he feel at ease and able to indulge his sexual fantasies. Rosa was clearly a novice in the art of love-making. If her sensual needs were subdued, Jorge would be forced to repeat the infidelities of his father.
  917. Were the temperament of his father to reach out and claim him as his manly heir, successor to his myriad conquests, then it was best he, Jorge, remain a bachelor. To suffer with Rosa what his father endured with his mother, convinced Jorge it was best to avoid such a moral impasse with its physical suffering. He tried to explain this to his mother but she kept shaking her head. It was then he noticed her eyes had no color and a fright seized him. From where had she come?
  918. In response to his unspoken question, with a sudden, jerky movement, walking on unseen stilts, his mother approached his bed and held his pounding head in her cool, firm hands. As her frosty hands stroked his forehead, he wanted to bring her face close to his and feel her lips, as he did when he was young, and then he became drowsy with his mother murmuring to him that he must go and join Rosa as soon as possible. Thinking he would go and visit Rosa the next day, he felt slumber overtake him and at the thought of her voluptuous flesh lying next to him, his eyes closed and the rain stopped. The winds calmed down. The nightly silence returned. But the dogs continued to snivel and cringe for they could see what human eyes do not, their olfactory senses confirmed their fears, their instincts caused them to curl up against one another in anticipation of the evil lurking around their lair.
  919. They knew they were defenseless against that part of life normally
  920. hidden from our senses and which often twists apparently reasonable
  921.  
  922.  
  923.  
  924.  
  925.  
  926. conclusions into sinister events. For our dreams and thoughts are often inspired by the suggestions of others rendered plausible by an induced exhaustion. When Jorge’s mother slipped out from his bedroom door to resume her eternal wandering, the dogs began to howl without cease. From behind a tree, the one who had struck the blow watched silently the passage of events and He felt comfortable that His desired conclusion would become a reality. It was imperative that Jorge marry and His sinister lineage be continued.
  927.  
  928. 2.3 The courtship by Jorge
  929.  
  930. The next day commenced with a clear sky, the smell of the wet earth perfuming the orchards and droplets infusing the leaves, soon to fall, now reinvigorated with the false hope of a past Spring. As he cut himself a piece of coarse, thick wheat bread, he speared a slice of dry goat cheese to accompany it and decided to freshen himself up, in deference to the thought of meeting Rosa. He had awaken thinking of her animalistic thighs and a diffuse heat surrounded his face
  931. His workers would already be at the estate of his uncle João. He had
  932. issued these orders the day before for Jorge did not intend to do anything other then supervise and in any event uncle João, an early riser, would be afoot to ensure the necessary organization.
  933. After a respectable amount of awkward toiletry, which essentially
  934. consisted in shaving and grooming his hair, Jorge set off on the path towards the lands of his uncle. As it was late September, harvest festivals were in preparation throughout the district. In deference to the ancient human rites of birth and death, the sun cast its force upon all life, the grass fields swayed to the gentle ocean winds, while from the gathering of clusters of people could be heard laughter and the sounds of tools striking metal or wood. Voices shouted across the valleys while the baying of donkeys rose in harmony as they called to one another from their forced labor.
  935. Nearing the vineyards, he saw in the distance Rosa carrying a basket of
  936. grapes, full to the brim, some of the cuttings tumbling over the edge. Although it was still early in the day, he noticed the rivulets of sweat moistening her forehead as she struggled with her cargo. “A worker,”
  937.  
  938.  
  939.  
  940.  
  941.  
  942. he thought, and as his eyes gleaned her firm, sturdy thighs, he added to his words, “a fine body in bed to calm my passions.”
  943. Hastening towards her, he greeted her with a soft smile and lifted the basket from her shoulders. As he did so, he allowed his rising arms to gracefully graze her shoulder, a gentle movement, yet calculated to establish a physical intimacy between them.
  944. Although only some weeks had passed since the departure of Rui,
  945. Rosa’s will in not succumbing to self-pity had taken a firm hold. By nature she was resolute, with a rigid character which rarely diverted from its objectives. When her passions were aroused, logic, even reasonableness were cast from her as if a pestilence and she allowed only emotional currents to dictate her course of action.
  946. A fine line existed between her capacity to be practical and the surge of
  947. revenge which imparts a calm determination. In this case, she easily exercised control because her involvement with Rui had not been complete. She had not been shed but merely refused, an important difference for a woman. Had she been appropriated in body and then put aside, her reaction would surely have been violent. Such are the natural codes of conduct of country people. Treachery in morals in the provinces normally meant physical violence. Fortunately, this was not necessary for Rui had merely declared he was leaving without ever having, so to speak, arrived.
  948. From despair she had passed to abandonment, then to bewilderment,
  949. only to conclude she had been deceived by a foolish young man who she would no longer think about. There were chores to be done and she, Rosa, would not waste her time anymore with frivolous episodes. She regained confidence in herself as a woman, so when Jorge’s physical presence became a reality their eyes crossed and once again a blush seized her cheeks. She recognized immediately the desire for her which sequestered him and she deferred to it.
  950. Nature had intended her to be a homely woman of the country, a worker and mother who would bear the seeds of a man. Other thoughts did not hover about her daily imagination. She went from task to task and her future child-bearing was but one more. Unlike Jorge, the property advantages of their joined estates did not enter into her thoughts as a monetary unit but rather, as they were family, she understood a possible
  951.  
  952.  
  953.  
  954.  
  955.  
  956. alliance with Jorge meant the Cabral clan would be more vigorous, prosperous, with the lineage continued uninterrupted by extraneous blood.
  957. In small ways, Jorge was attentive to her presence, sometimes picking
  958. up her basket and putting it on her shoulders; other times walking with her down the path between the grapes, engaging in idle chatter. When finally they sat down for lunch under the shade of the hanging grape vines, it was as if they had always been a family, busy with their domestic chores, for in truth they were, first cousins, united by remote, ancestral ties, and many episodes of family triumphs and tragedies.
  959. As he drank his glass of wine from last year’s crop, and slowly stirred
  960. the hot bean soap which had been given to him, he observed with attention the high cheek bones of Rosa, her broad, bulky nose, the firm look with which she captured all details of her tasks and then his eyes glanced furtively at her blouse which hung loosely about her waist. He saw the white, delicate skin which rippled from her muscles circling her waist and he understood the intense passion of which her body was capable. He resolved to declare himself at the earliest opportunity. But first he would speak to his uncle João.
  961. When there was a lull in the early afternoon, a brief interval for the workers to enjoin a brief respite and chat about their own farming chores, Jorge sought out D. João in his office, a small room dominated by a desk upon which there were heaped scores of papers all scribbled over with numbers. These were the accounts of D. João and he reviewed them daily. As Jorge strode into the room, D. João signaled for him to sit down on the stiff, linear wooden chair which served as the sole object of comfort for a visitor. D. João was hoping for good news as his attentive eyes followed constantly the activities of his daughter. “Sit down, young man, and rest your weary arms. These damned wine harvests sap our strength. Good thing we take a profit for it. But of course, as I have remarked, if our estates were joined, we might improve the return on our produce.” He paused, waiting for the effect of his words.
  962. Jorge hesitated for some moments and then blurted out, “She’s a fine woman, Rosa, my cousin. It is natural and right we should join our families. I would like to ask for her hand, from you, my dear uncle.”
  963.  
  964.  
  965.  
  966.  
  967.  
  968. D. João rose from behind his desk and signaled for Jorge to approach him. As Jorge neared him, D. João grasped him firmly about the shoulders and whispered in his ear, “She’s a strapping, hot blooded creature, even if she is my daughter, you’ll treat her well, Jorge, eh?, your father was a incurable skirt chaser, I hope this doesn’t run in the family.” Dom João paused, before continuing, “Well, it probably does, Jorge, but you must keep yourself in check, at least for some years, until Rosa is, shall we say, captive to your children and domestic chores. It’s not a scene Rosa will tolerate very easily.” He gently pushed Jorge away from him and stared at him steadfastly. “Eh?” he repeated.
  969. Having made up his mind the night before, Jorge barely heard his
  970. uncle’s advice. He responded with conviction, and assurance, “I have been foolish not to have seen earlier the fine, exceptional spouse Rosa would make. I admit, uncle João, your words some weeks ago about the proprietary advantages to a marriage with Rosa stimulated my initial interest. But, no, uncle João, I declare my passion for Rosa, today, it is genuine. Who can deny the appeal of her strapping arms and honest capacity for work? And other women? That surely will not be necessary.”
  971. D. João listened with a mixture of pleasure and stupefaction. While he understood the domestic qualities of his only child, yet as a man he also understood her simple presence and lack of female guiles. Still, his objective was to be achieved and had not he himself suggested to Jorge that once an heir was produced, the marriage could run its normal course. Why should he, D. João, expect more from his nephew then others gave?
  972. “Good man,” he burst out, before continuing, “but I shall remain silent
  973. until Rosa comes to me. A conspiracy between uncle and nephew, eh, my fine, can I say, soon to be son-in-law?” As he watched the retreating form of Jorge stride out of his office, displaying confidence and perhaps satisfaction, D. João, for a moment, wished his late wife had been present to give him counsel. Even if she were an insipid, uninspiring bed companion, unable to satisfy his minimum needs, still, she had been a gentle lass with a commonsense approach to life. “Well,” he thought, “men do what they can. At least the future of Rosa and my grandchildren shall be ensured. Eh, Sofia?” and he then startled himself
  974.  
  975.  
  976.  
  977.  
  978.  
  979. with the pronouncement of her name, she who died when she was only
  980. 39 and left D. João to carry on the parental duties.
  981. “Nonsense, nonsense, “he muttered to himself, “it shall be alright. Too much chatter about love. Animals fornicate and they aren’t in love, so why should this be required of Jorge?”
  982.  
  983. 2.4 The Priest has a vision.
  984.  
  985. In the month of December, 1830, when the cold winds roar across the valleys surrounding Mafra, Jorge and Rosa were married in the private chapel of the Cabral estates. At the time of the wedding, the chapel was near the land limits of both properties. By family agreement, no claim of ownership was ever asserted by either Henrique or João Cabral. Mass was held for both the brothers and any member of the family was free to utilize the chapel. Now, with the two estates being joined, the ownership of the chapel would never be placed in controversy.
  986. The massive holdings of the Cabral family lay to the north east of the convent, commencing near the stone barrier circumventing the extensive private hunting grounds of the King. At first there was a precipitous valley which delineated the wall and public road from the lands but then, in a sharp incline, was the private path of the Cabral family culminating in the chapel, homes, and outlying buildings which settled on top of the crest of the hills, and then sprawled out through the dips and rises of the many hillocks with their views to the ocean on the west and the distant convent to the north.
  987. As the moving white clouds rose in majestic flight, stirred by the ocean
  988. winds, they sprinkled the Cabral lands with precious water so that swaying pine trees and fertile lands were interlaced, at times providing shelter to the shepherds and animals, other times breaking the force of the winter temporal.
  989. From this vantage point, the town of Mafra was seen as dominated by the Arabesque convent with its turrets modeled after the North African mosques. Such architectural heritage was a result of Portugal’s occupation for hundreds of years by the North African tribes which swarmed over the ocean to the south bringing their desert horses and their houses built around inner courtyards. The victory of Christianity
  990.  
  991.  
  992.  
  993.  
  994.  
  995. over Islam did little to change the normally secretive, withdrawn habits of the townspeople.
  996. Chapels and mass now celebrated another God but the substitution was a mere custom. On a winter afternoon, when there was no sun to brighten the spirits, one could imagine the trotting of horses mounted by their desert warriors, ambling about the village square in front of the convent site, at that distant time, just gentle slopping hills which afforded views to the distant coastline South of Ericeira and the undulating ocean.
  997. The wedding was attended by all the relatives of both sides of the
  998. Cabral family as well as by any one who had any dealings with the Cabral family. Dom João Cabral went to the bride’s dressing room a few moments before he was to accompany her to the chapel. Knocking on the door, he entered and saw Rosa, dressed in a long, flowering white brocaded dress, staring at herself in front of a mirror. With the entry of her father into the privacy of her room, her face became tense and she gave a start.
  999.  
  1000. “What is it, my dear?” he asked gently.
  1001.  
  1002. Rosa rushed to him and threw her hands around his shoulders. “Tell me, my child,” he urged again.
  1003. But no reply was forthcoming. She remained in his embrace for sometime until she sensed the embarrassment she was causing her father. Slowly she withdrew her limp body from his chest and straightened herself up. Taking his hand, together they started the short walk from the house to the chapel. In a distance, Dom João could see the crowds of people waiting for him. Then, by agreement, the sound of a guitar was heard as well as a young melodious voice rose above the murmuring of people.
  1004. The hymn by the Portuguese church organ composer, Carlos Seixas (1704-1742), drifted melodiously from within the chapel and both Dom João and Rosa realized the gravity of the day. The solemnity of the music contrasted harmoniously with the staunch, rising oak trees
  1005.  
  1006.  
  1007.  
  1008.  
  1009.  
  1010. surrounding the chapel so that the natural beauty of two bodies uniting in wedlock was given its due homage by the forces of nature.
  1011. Within, Rosa was trembling, an apprehension gripping her whose reason she could not determine. Her courtship by Jorge had been traditional, respectful, the glances, the holding of hands, yet his physical possession of her had been confined to his dark, recessed eyes which often held her for prolonged moments, as if he were following the contours of her body and imaging her as his bride, coupled together in his arms, an act isolated from the embrace of her soul.
  1012. It had been agreed between them they would spend their honeymoon at
  1013. the Convent of Our Lady of Ó, a small recluse situated on the banks of the River Lizandro, some few miles from the ocean and only about a two hour drive by mule. Here, within the safety of the convent walls, they could walk along the banks of the river, which snaked lazily from its distant source into the Atlantic ocean. At this time, there were still frequent highway robbers which roamed the roads and isolated horse paths. But the site of the Convent of Our Lady of Ó was at the foot of the village Carvoeira, a short wooden bridge separating it from the townspeople that mingled constantly along the banks of the river to do their washing.
  1014. Moreover, the Convent of Our Lady of Ó was dependent on the
  1015. donations from the nearby, country aristocracy to support their order. Dom João was one of the largest estate holders, and it was well-known in the history of the order that Dom João had sent his wife to them when she was sick for a cure and he had been generous in his payments. When she died, he ordered a special mass for her and gave the order a respectable sum to ensure she would be remembered forever in their holy prayers.
  1016. Thus, the site of the Convent of Our Lady of Ó afforded both security,
  1017. privacy, and its connection with the family of Dom João meant that Rosa and Jorge would be graciously received. If they wished, they could amble inwards towards other villages scattered along the hillside, or alternatively, it was a short distance to the estuary of the river where it spilled into the vast sea.
  1018. The wedding ceremony was presided over by the Priest Lobato, a small,
  1019. fragile man descended from one of the Italian artists which had come to
  1020.  
  1021.  
  1022.  
  1023.  
  1024.  
  1025. Mafra to assist in the design of the Convent Palace. As he recited the religious words which would unite Rosa and Jorge, his furtive eyes kept glancing at Dom João who he hoped would reward him with some badly needed coins, for Father Lobato had served loyally for decades the Cabral family. They were his principal source of sustenance. Although he was deeply religious, Father Lobato was also exceptionally superstitious. During the night preceding the wedding, he had gone to the family chapel to rehearse the ceremony he would perform and to offer his personal prayers for the happiness of the union. It had not been a pleasant event for Father Lobato. When he arrived at the chapel, a mild storm had been gathering in the distant coast line. Even being 15 miles away, he believed he could hear the crash of the waves as they beat against the cliffs of Ericeira.
  1026. Then he had considerable trouble in opening the large, oak doors to the
  1027. chapel. The iron lock was stiff with its ancient age and he struggled with the cumbersome key he carried around his waist. Finally managing to open the door, a sudden gale arose and whipped the door from his hand with such violence that it swung in swiftly only to rebound and knock Father Lobato down.
  1028. He must have lain there on the steps of the chapel for sometime, slightly dazed, until he believed the hand of Christ lifted him up. “Yes,” he thought, “who else could it be?” He stumbled hesitantly into the chapel, still weak from his fall, and fell on his knees before the large picture of Christ which had been commissioned centuries ago to a local artist. Crude in its conception, yet nevertheless with sufficient skill to convey the acute physical suffering being endured, Father Lobato often came to the chapel to stare at the painting. The wounds of Christ always held him spellbound. It was as if, at any moment, the blood would again spill forth, and drip downwards, robbing the world of its true savior.
  1029. So that evening before the wedding, Father Lobato again found himself before the sacrificial scene, his hands clasped in fervid faith, his words of grace and protection tumbling forth from his thin lips. Outside the storm gathered force. The mystic faith of Father Lobato rose in intensity with the vigor of the temporal swirling about the small chapel.
  1030.  
  1031.  
  1032.  
  1033.  
  1034.  
  1035. “O lord,” he beseeched, “with your grace bless this union I shall officiate tomorrow. Grant this couple fecundity and prosperity.”
  1036. With his head bowed, Father Lobato suffered within his chest the anguish of his Lord for their flock. As if in answer to his words, a strong downpour beat on the ceramic tiles of the roof and then, as Father Lobato gazed upwards towards Him, the large oak door swung open violently. Father Lobato remained paralyzed with fear. It seemed impossible for him that anyone would enter the church at this late hour. Nor did he dare to turn around and look, his fragile heart preferring to seek refuge in the unknown and unseen.
  1037. Yet, he knew someone was in the Church with him. Was it a robber who came to steal the silver of the Cabral family? He was defenseless to defend their property. He was a frail, weak man, without any physical force. Overcome he lay prostate before the painting of Christ calmly awaiting any misfortune which might occur to him. A large shadow cast its contour across his body. He trembled, awaiting the worst, his death perhaps. But this did not occur. Rather, moments passed, the wind died down, the rain stopped, and silence returned to the chapel. Rising slowly, Father Lobato finally risked to look behind him. Yes, the door was open. He saw no one. Surely it was the wild winds.
  1038. Then he turned to thank his Lord for his safety. His face hardened with astonishment. Christ was bleeding. He, Father Lobato, was sure of that. Drops of blood surged forth from His wounds. Glancing at the face of his savior, he was frozen with fear for he was convinced he saw the mouth, heretofore fixed in the perennial sadness so familiar to artists, was now open, struggling to say something.
  1039. The head of Father Lobato swirled with confusion and his eyes suddenly began to see only colors, streaks of green and blue mixing with black. Beneath him, the floor of the church, thin strips of oak, now weak with the centuries, began to shake as if someone were jumping up and down on the boards. There then emerged from the confusion of colors swarming before his eyes a countenance, a dark visage, vaguely familiar to him, whose mouth was clasped firmly in defiance of the beatitude which infused his soul, a thin smirk from which there emerged silent laughter.
  1040.  
  1041.  
  1042.  
  1043.  
  1044.  
  1045. In the few seconds remaining to him he struggled to recognize the face he saw but colors and images intermixed so that his perception was faulty. Then abruptly his eyes cleared, he could see all, but what he now saw was the silhouette of Christ, His mouth moving up and down as a child does when suckling at the breast of its mother.
  1046. In panic, Father Lobato fled from the chapel, to the safety of his humble quarters in one of the wings of the Cabral house, and prayed for mercy upon all those who inhabit the earth. He vowed to return to the chapel in the morning; to ensure what he had seen was true before announcing his visions to his flock. A miracle had been granted to him as a reward for his decades of unquestionable faith.
  1047. As soon as he awoke, the day of the wedding, he hastened to the chapel and lurched forward towards the painting of Christ. Gazing at the floor he now saw no blood, nor were there any signs of the holy sap remaining on the gold wooden frame. He examined the floor boards both in front of the altar and behind where he had lain prostate. It was then he noticed what he thought was a footprint but examining it more closely he could not be sure. Father Lobato rubbed his eyes. “Perhaps,” he thought, “my faith is overcoming my reason. I am getting senile. This life of penance has affected my senses. I was too tired last night.” He resolved to say nothing for fear of being considered a fool, no longer competent to officiate. But his memories of the night before did not easily leave him and they returned in detail as he stood before the couple he was blessing.
  1048. Nearing the end of his official duties he nodded to the altar girl who was to carry the rings to the couple to approach him. A distant niece of Rosa carried the two rings with great pomposity to the altar. Smiling at her, Father Lobato then began the litany of questions and answers which would culminate in the blessed union. The faces of the two cousins were staring at him. He saw in Rosa’s features a mixture of hope and fear. Her clear, open eyes stared at him as if, he, Father Lobato, were to pronounce the magic words which would bring her permanent happiness.
  1049. He first handed the ring to Jorge, as this was the custom. Without hesitation, Jorge firmly inserted the ring on Rosa’s finger. Then he made the same request of the bride, who reciprocated. He was about to
  1050.  
  1051.  
  1052.  
  1053.  
  1054.  
  1055. pronounce the words of union, when he glanced at Jorge’s face. It was then his head exploded with the vision which penetrated his memory.
  1056. It was the mouth of Jorge he had seen last night. The smirk seen the evening before was stretched as a rubber band in burlesque from one ear to another, a harlequin grin bent on evil. He was sure of it. While he mechanically pronounced the nuptial words, his mind swirled with confusion. He wanted to shout out, to warn Rosa, to withdraw the ring she was now wearing, but before he could say anything the confusion broke forth as the couple rushed down the chapel corridor towards the carriage waiting for them.
  1057. In haste, Father Lobato followed them to caution Rosa, but what could he relate, and in any event, he was fatigued with his former night’s sojourn. He stood on the chapel steps, helpless, as he watched the carriage, pulled by two stout mules, pulled away from the crowd. Dom João put his hand on the shoulder of Father Lobato.
  1058.  
  1059. “A fine service, Father,” Dom João muttered, “one of your best. Take these coins as a sign of my respect for your great holiness.”
  1060.  
  1061. Father Lobato nodded his gratification although his body was limp with despair. That evening, he returned to the chapel and kneeled in devotion before his Holiness. His heart shook with the general dread which suffused his entire body. The cold winter night heightened his sense of loneliness and fear. His parched skin, which hung limp over his diminutive bones, had never lain next to the corpulent body of a woman yet he instinctively understood that the one true comfort in life was to be united physically with another human being. Christ was his bed mate, a choice he made early in his life while an adolescent. Still, the scent of a woman often stirred his fantasy.
  1062. He prayed for the happiness of Rosa, for her future, her family that her
  1063. union with Jorge would bring. He sought the protection of Christ for her welfare, and lowered his head in devout respect. Eventually, he fell asleep, exhausted from the events of the day.
  1064. As his eyes closed, a faint smile crossed his lips. He was sure that, He, had listened to his words and that the marriage of Rosa and Jorge was
  1065.  
  1066.  
  1067.  
  1068.  
  1069.  
  1070. blessed. But to another, ever present, the adversary of Christ, it was just the joyous continuation of the curse of Mary Sullivan.
  1071.  
  1072.  
  1073.  
  1074. Chapter 3
  1075.  
  1076. 3.0 It was in the autumn of the year 1837, my dear, that Rosa watched her once erstwhile, beloved husband, Jorge, being savagely assassinated, and poor Rosa, you should know, never quite recovered from the shock.
  1077.  
  1078. It was as if a hand stretched out and hauled her into an upright posture. She was sure of it. Initially, she remembered the firm grasp of fingers pulling her into a sitting position. Then the memory blurred, she now wasn’t certain, but how she awoke seemed less important than the fact that she was alert and the sinister silence invading her home shook her into a frozen state of anxiety.
  1079. The only consoling sounds were the slumber stirrings of her two children, Susana and Benjamin, sifting from their nearby bedroom, through the corridor, and reminding her they were well. When your offspring are, respectively, six and four, the sounds of their repose are indeed comforting. Susana had been born in 1831 and Benjamin in
  1080. 1833, and each birth brought her into touch with her inherent, natural state of spirit, a robust woman bursting with the vitality of life and whose physical strength ensured she would have healthy, vigorous children.
  1081. But the other was gone, she was sure of that. Although she and Jorge
  1082. now occupied separate bedrooms, a response to her repugnance at his present dissolute behavior, she still rebelled against her circumstances. Sleeping alone did not calm her wrath nor still her anger. Being only twenty six, a young, strapping female, her forced celibate life served to increase the daily tension tempering her spirit so that she was as a coiled spring, easily sprung with the smallest provocation.
  1083. Yet Jorge’s absence was not just an incitement. It was a deliberate defiance; still, she was, to a degree, helpless to stem the degradation invading her life. At times, she attributed the present state of marital
  1084.  
  1085.  
  1086.  
  1087.  
  1088.  
  1089. disgrace to what had been a turbulent, disturbed, brief interlude with Jorge during their honeymoon at the Convent of Our Lady of Ó. The unhappy, it could even be called ominous, episode was never resolved, to be followed by years of brooding on his part, an unwilling companion who bedded her with little enthusiasm, masculine aggression bordering on cruelty, and soon permanently abandoned his interest in her after the birth of their second child, a son, Benjamin. To Rosa’s disgust, he pursued the prostitutes of Mafra with a determination, frightening and malignant in its passion, as if to replace memories with sordid pleasures.
  1090. Sometimes, Rosa tried to broach with Jorge why she had behaved the
  1091. way she did, but he would never listen, turning his face away, or walking out of the room and not returning for hours.
  1092. His masculine pride had been permanently wounded and his physical craving for Rosa inhibited. What should have been a misunderstanding became a permanent obstacle to their conjugal life.
  1093. Sitting on the edge of her bed, their wedding night in the winter of 1830
  1094. returned to her with all its graphic intensity…
  1095.  
  1096. Upon arriving at the Convent of Our Lady of Ó, Rosa and Jorge were greeted with the bustle and fuss normally conferred upon personages of the landed gentry. Fatigued from the two hour journey by mule from Mafra and the preceding festivities, they both were relieved to be served an early supper of hot broth and roasted chicken. There was also present a vibrant sexual excitement which, unspoken, not articulated, yet coursed between them as they held hands on the peregrination to the Convent.
  1097. They retired early, as was expected of them. Being winter, December, the month of the birth of Christ, there was present at the Convent, reflected in the spirit of the nuns, a holiness which permeated the chambers and cells of all the inhabitants.
  1098. The Convent was more than a complex of buildings huddled by a river.
  1099. Its thick moss-covered walls impeded the winter winds sweeping through the Lizandro valley from entering the halls and corridors of Convent while they served to contain, within, the warmth springing forth from the various open hearth fires blazing on each floor, centrally
  1100.  
  1101.  
  1102.  
  1103.  
  1104.  
  1105. situated so the nuns could conduct their solemn prayers in apparent cheer.
  1106. The bridal suite of Rosa and Jorge was the room of the mother superior, but this she abdicated temporarily in favor of her honored guests. To the delight of Rosa and Jorge, the room contained a large, open chimney which was put to fire early in the day so that by evening, the large chamber was warm, comforting, and conducive to the rest of the recently married couple.
  1107. As it was late, it was agreed they would retire early, and with certain nervousness, Rosa now lay expectantly in the bridal bed, her heart racing, her body taut. This to be expected in a young woman who had not yet encountered that most physical intimacy which unites man and woman, although there was also sweeping through her body the natural desire of a country miss.
  1108. Rosa had spent some time combing her fine, flaxen hairs which she usually tied up behind her head, secured with a velvet ribbon before resting to await Jorge. She had decided to let her hair fall in all its luster to her shoulder and she waited..
  1109. Washing himself with the tepid water which the nuns had arranged for
  1110. him in a baked-clay basin, Jorge contemplated his future. He had done well. Dom João made it clear to him he was very pleased. He, Dom João, would start to work less and allow Jorge to manage the two estates. There was no need to take any legal procedures, since, Rosa, as his sole heir, would automatically inherit the entire farm. Nor did he see any reason to merge the two homesteads into one as this would only give the local authorities reason to levy taxes.
  1111. “What is needed, Jorge” he whispered, “are heirs. Secure the blood
  1112. line.”
  1113. “Yes,” thought Jorge, “that is what I shall do tonight. I must gratify the wishes of Dom João. With succession secured, he will give me free rein of the properties and I shall be, de facto, the lord of these pastures.” Rather satisfied with himself, he entered the room where Rosa was resting, her eyes fixed upon him, a certain tenderness suffusing her so that she willingly awaited his gentle embraces. But as Jorge approached her, the previous winter winds roaring up the Lizandro valley immediately died down, a stillness stole into the corridors of the
  1114.  
  1115.  
  1116.  
  1117.  
  1118.  
  1119. convent until there was a complete calm , and then with an unanticipated force there raced through all the cells and chambers a bluster of wind extinguishing the candles and oil lamps illuminating the quarters.
  1120. Rosa and Jorge were plunged into total darkness, except for a sliver of
  1121. moon light which caressed the iron bars of their room, and cast its pale light above. As Jorge approached the bed, Rosa suddenly froze, her body now unyielding with fright. Jorge’s face appeared to her entirely different. His heretofore rich brown eyes appeared to have lost their color only to be replaced by round, hollow, holes. His body visibly tremored from the force which inhabited him.
  1122. She imagined his face was drawn even more thin, a determination crossed his cheeks to end in a sinister, thin, sarcastic leer, as if, he Jorge, were satisfied to have last captured the one prey necessary, a victim to be seized and violated.
  1123. And this is what, uncontrollably gripped Jorge. He saw Rosa, not as a
  1124. timid, although willing mate, but rather a body to be torn asunder with his masculine needs regardless of her responses or wishes and such thoughts surged forth for no apparent reason.
  1125. In spit of her protestations and physical struggles, he harshly grasped
  1126. her legs and spread them apart, mindless of the obvious terror on Rosa’s face. He lunged at her breasts with strong hands which hurt her and wounded her dignity. He grasped her by the shoulders and rolled her from side to side immersing himself in the massive flesh heaped upon the bed.
  1127. Rosa cried out and tried to hinder his brusque movements which
  1128. wounded and bruised her in their cruelty but Jorge was not to be stymied. He did not want to seduce but violate her. He must destroy the true vestiges of her integrity so that she would serve his uncontrollable sexual needs. Grunting and swinging his hips as if he was mounting a horse, he rocked her savagely from one side to the other, panting and wheezing in rhythm to his movements while the red mark on his chest glowed vividly.
  1129. Yet, were Jorge to examine his behavior on that evening he would have responded that it was not he, Jorge, who was the lover, but another spirit who had invaded his body and took possession of him,
  1130.  
  1131.  
  1132.  
  1133.  
  1134.  
  1135. manipulating his physical structure, seizing and sequestering his emotions, bending his inflamed body to another’s malevolent will.
  1136. What confronted Rosa, which in her imagination prior to the wedding was to be a romantic, gentle, introduction to the manners of love, became a sordid, bestial violent rape of a frightened child. As the grinning, smirking, speechless lips of Jorge parted in obvious ecstasy- for the carnal needs of the dark world need to be satisfied with the living-she silently wept to herself with every painful thrust which pierced her body and whose pain seared through her head, blotting out all thought, turning her into a receptacle for sperm.
  1137. Nor was it a short interlude. Our hapless Jorge, having been invaded by an evil spirit, was captured for sometime until Rosa fainted. But even, then, our interloper was not satiated until, Jorge, exhausted, and no longer able to respond, fell on his side and collapsed into a deep abyss of slumber.
  1138. When Rosa eventually opened her eyes, she knew a dreadful injustice
  1139. had been done to her. But its reason, she could not determine. Yet her feminine instincts, the maternal wisdom which nature has bestowed generously on women, warned her of the tragic circumstances her life would confront. The details were blurred. There was not revealed to her the details. She was part of a grandiose scheme whose pattern she would never discern. What was critical, but this she could not know, was that she was to be the conduit of His seed.
  1140. Lying next to Jorge, the slow movement of the river Lizandro reached
  1141. her ears as it lapped lazily against the banks. She listened to his soft breathing. The gentle sounds contrasted with his lurid actions on their nuptial encounter. She wondered if her virginity had not perhaps exaggerated the violence which she felt from Jorge’s body. She prayed that it was she who was overly timid and not Jorge who was so possessed.
  1142. But such thoughts were only wishful thinking. No matter how subdued or even gentle Jorge was with her in the day, at night he became another person, haunted by a force unknown to them both, abusing her in the most manner, requiring her to submit to distasteful sexual demands. Her honeymoon intimacy quickly became an anticipated nightmare, a dream that she banished from her mind as soon as his
  1143.  
  1144.  
  1145.  
  1146.  
  1147.  
  1148. body slumped onto her chest, he, exhausted with his feats mandated by another.
  1149. The end of the honeymoon brought no relief. Through the ensuing years, Jorge lavished his dark, carnal needs upon her flesh as soon as he invaded their bed. There seemed no respite for her. Her personality began to undergone a profound change, which she managed to conceal from even herself but which inevitably tore asunder all her pysche, leaving in its place a void waiting to be filled.
  1150. There followed the birth of her two children; the joys of D. João; his sudden death from a cerebral stroke while he sat at his favorite desk pouring over his accounts; the destruction of Rosa’s sensual spirit with the cycle of seasons, until, with Jorge, she merely lay still, while his body ravished her with violent relish; until, one day, with the passage of time, she gathered up her intimate clothes and moved into her father’s bedroom where she sought spiritual refuge and physical safety; but it was too late. Rosa was on the road to an insanity concealed from the world but which had destroyed her so that she became the necessary conduit for His grand scheme.
  1151. Stunned by her open rebellion, Jorge said nothing, and, perhaps with
  1152. relief, returned to roaming the streets of Mafra, at night, in search of prey to unleash his gnawing need. Tthe wives of Mafra noted his actions from their windows, with curtains partially drawn, while the maids gossiped so that the antics of Jorge ensured moral disgrace enveloped the Cabral family. All this Rosa knew for the scullery maids were only to happy to let their sly asides fall as crumbs onto the dinner plates of the family.
  1153.  
  1154. Putting her feet squarely on the floor, Rosa’s spirit hardened, as it had done that day many years ago with Rui. She dressed, slowly and methodically, as her thoughts sought a course of action from within the occult wells of her spirit. Walking steadfastly to Jorge’s room, it was not even necessary to open the door. From the hall, she saw his bed, sheets drawn back in random order, the absence of his body, the boots normally lying on the floor, now gone.
  1155. Outside, the moon was in all its full splendor, and a pale, lustrous light
  1156. turned the evening into a day of shades of grey. Her faithful dog, Castro,
  1157.  
  1158.  
  1159.  
  1160.  
  1161.  
  1162. normally asleep in a corner of the patio, began to whimper and race around the house, circumvented by thick stone walls which had been laid centuries ago to hinder the assaults by wandering marauders.
  1163. Any movement by Rosa was immediately sensed by Castro. He had
  1164. been found by one of the grape harvesters two years ago, an abandoned, starving male mongrel, and brought to the kitchen. Rosa immediately adopted him. To everyone’s surprise, he grew from a listless, moribund puppy into a strong, full-bodied canine who fiercely defended his mistress. The farm hands claimed he was still part wolf, and he was given a deference not normally accorded to domestic animals. His natural wildness never seemed far from the surface.
  1165. Following Rosa around all day, he tolerated the presence of others but any suggestion of verbal aggression towards her, whether from her husband or between the lady of the manor and the servants, was immediately silenced by his rising and standing in front of her. His green, bright shimmering eyes would hold the interloper in a fixed stare, his lips slightly curled upwards, baring his sharp teeth.
  1166. Now, as Rosa stood in thought before the living room window, gazing listlessly towards the distant hills, the moonlight bathing the copses and footpaths, the whimpering of Castro grew into anxiety until there burst forth from him a long and mournful howling, piercing the stillness of the late twilight.
  1167. As she listened to him, a resolve seized Rosa. Her physical humiliation and moral insults suffered through the years rose in all its fury, gurgling upwards from within her entrails, and she stormed out of her home. She was decided to put an end to the slatternly behavior of Jorge, his debased conduct which had stained the House of Cabral and blemished the memory of her family. She would confront Jorge, shame him into proper comportment, and insist he fulfill the role of a manor lord in accordance with local customs.
  1168. As soon as she was out onto the cobble stone patio which then led to the dirt path trailing in the olive grove, Castro, the moonlight dancing among his short hairs, came up to her and rubbed his head against her thigh. Without much thought, she patted him gently on the head and set off through the iron door into the fields, Castro trailing behind her. She seemed unaware of the solitude about her, the danger of prodding forth
  1169.  
  1170.  
  1171.  
  1172.  
  1173.  
  1174. into valleys and hills where strangers to the community wandered at will, their thoughts on plunder and profit. She was unaware of the cold breezes stirring her hair as she strode through underbrush and hedges. The curtain of darkness enveloping the undergrowth and drooping branches hindered her progress until she reached the first clearing normally reserved for the grazing of sheep. The nearer they were able to pasture to the manor house, the safer they were from the occasional wolves which came down from the distant summits. She was unsure in which direction to proceed, so she stood for a while, hearing in the far distant the roar of the ocean waves as they pounded the stone cliffs of Ericeira. Her heart was racing. The years of ill treatment by Jorge swirled through her images and deep resentment, long held in bay, now dominated her thoughts.
  1175. Castro began to whine and pace nervously back and forth, pawing at the
  1176. ground, his piercing green eyes staring fixedly in all directions as he turned his head from side to side. Rosa felt her heart pulsating; its sound crashed and rumbled through her consciousness; her body began to tremble slightly. She debated whether or not her nightly sojourn was not a foolish episode which should be quickly ended and she ought to return to the safety of her home.
  1177. She then heard some movements in nearby scrub and she stood still, wondering what would emerge into the small clearing where moonlight now capered between leaves as a slight draft stirred the olive trees. Castro began to growl, a guttural sound which did not rise in pitch but was more a murmur of warning, as if he were saying to what he could see, not to come any closer.
  1178. The shuffling of feet against dry leaves caused her to pull Castro next to
  1179. her. She knelt down beside him, her eyes cast upwards, as a warrior who has lost a battle and waits for the death blow, urging the final thrust be done quickly. Castro began to lick her face and tears slowly welled forth, her distraught condition rendering all imaginable things possible. Overcome with emotion she clasped the head of Castro to her bosom.
  1180. Jorge was betraying her. She knew that. He was somewhere nearby laughing at her and her family, his moral impurity a curse upon the Cabral clan. Now he was threatening her and her children. Rather than
  1181.  
  1182.  
  1183.  
  1184.  
  1185.  
  1186. be caught in his sexual exploits, he would rather injure Rosa and it would be attributed to a wandering robber or desperate criminal. She was sure of her presentments.
  1187. Castro suddenly leaped forward, breaking forth from his mistress’s
  1188. grasp and rushed into a cluster of shrubs. A loud scuffle was heard. Castro’s growling and snarls mingled with the country sounds enveloping her in all directions. Without thinking, Rosa rushed towards the site to find Castro snapping at what appeared to her to be shadows dancing among a medley of branches.
  1189.  
  1190. “Castro, what is it,” she cried out, “we must abandon this unholy site. Come with me.”
  1191.  
  1192. In response to her pleading, Castro did just the opposite and dashed forth from the undergrowth in which he was engaged, looking at her, almost as a human would nod, and started to trot forward, guided by an invisible hand, someone who wanted Castro to go forward to a destination which for sometime had been planned.
  1193. The ocean winds now began to stir until they reached a velocity
  1194. sufficient to rustle and sweep away all fallen vegetal debris in her path. The more she ran after Castro, the stronger the gale rose in intensity until a roar caused by the passage of air currents through the valley of pines and eucalyptus dimmed her senses and sight. She was blindly chasing Castro who loped as if he were following someone, an indiscernible guide who wanted him to bring Rosa, quickly, to the tragedy which had been premeditated for many decades.
  1195. Of a sudden, Castro stopped and his body became taut and still, his leg
  1196. muscles stiff and rigid. Rosa arrived at the same spot and stared with Castro. On a hillside near them, was a shepherd’s stone hut, centuries old, which had served as a refuge for the pastors when they were gazing their animals.
  1197. It was then that Rosa heard laughter, a light, lilting sound which
  1198. blended with the now bright, unwavering moonlight illuminating the cabin. This was followed by the murmurs of a deep sound and Rosa recognized immediately the voice of her husband. She hesitated, not knowing what to do, anger impelling her forward, fear shackling her
  1199.  
  1200.  
  1201.  
  1202.  
  1203.  
  1204. feet, anxiety rendering her immobile. Yet hate was the stronger emotion and it leaped in fore, dictating her thoughts, demanding she seek revenge for Jorge’s abominable behavior.
  1205. But Castro’s commands from others were not to be avoided. He dashed
  1206. towards the opening in the shelter, snapping and snarling, whip lashed by another master. The voice and laughter were no longer discerned. For a moment, a wavering second, when choices are made, but often the wrong alternative chosen, time hovered in abeyance above the stone refuge, and then a decision was taken, ill-advised, prodded by a malevolent will. Jorge appeared at the door, with a shot gun in his hand. Whether or not he saw Rosa is in doubt as she stood shielded under the limbs of a thick oak tree, but his dark eyes, upon seeing a savage, snarling animal threatening him, became fiery as anger pounded the blood in its upward course through the arteries behind his eyes. Suddenly the moon, previously clear and bestowing light in all directions, was blotted out by clouds racing across the night, chased by sea winds. Jorge’s view was hindered. He raised his gun, not recognizing Castro, thinking he was a wild dog, or if he did, in retribution for interrupting his tryst, and pointed the two barrels at the snapping head near him; but he never fired a shot.
  1207. Instead, Castro leaped and grabbed him by the throat, dragged him to
  1208. the ground, and within a matter of seconds, his jugular vein was pierced as his voice shrieked and squawked, thick red blood spurting forth from his neck as if it were spring water burbling from within a crevice of rocks. Rosa watched horrified as Jorge writhed and struggled to regain his life which fled from him, his blood seeping into the soft humid earth. All was muffled, a silver silence which held the participants in a frozen profile. She, the unknown, unseen sexual companion, was within the shelter, her frightened heart racing with the terror instilled in her. Not an outcry was heard from within the love asylum. The other, Rosa, leaned against the tree, unable to stir. Castro sniffed around the face of Jorge, an expression of horror on the fallen man’s features, and then Castro put back his head and began his long, wolverine howl which sifted up from his throat and pierced the night with its clan rite of calling across the snow bound steppes of distant lands.
  1209.  
  1210.  
  1211.  
  1212.  
  1213.  
  1214. Eventually prodded into movement by the evening cold penetrating her limbs and causing her to shiver uncontrollably, Rosa took a hesitant step towards her fallen husband when she stopped, still within the shadow of the trees. There emerged slowly from the opening to the hut a young village tart known to her by the name of Marta Silva. Rosa recognized her immediately. She lived in the lower part of the village and earned her livelihood by washing clothes for the merchants and landed gentry.
  1215. She was also known for being covetous of married men. She was well- known for her sexual escapades once she was introduced into a family. Many a Mafra wife had been seen chasing her down the street because of her flirtatious attitudes with their husbands, bordering on nymphomaniac propensities.
  1216. Marta stared at the fallen figure of Jorge. Her face was frozen into fear and her wide eyes bulged from her inner terror and panic. Rosa held her voice, her natural inclination to call out to Marta. A resolution overtook her. A surge of relief invaded her and she believed she had been rescued, she and her children saved from a life of debauchery and lechery by her debased husband.
  1217. Staring at the silhouette of Castro, with his mouth pointed upwards
  1218. towards the stellar panoply, the foolish expression on the countenance of Marta, it occurred to Rosa there was no need for her to intervene. There was no help she could now render to Jorge. Indeed, his death freed her and she saw a benefit in letting him lie there until discovered. His bones would rot in harmony with his soul. This would be a just punishment for his lover who would face a dilemma when the local authorities demanded an explanation.
  1219. She was about to call Castro when, to her astonishment, she saw he was gone. His departure had been as sudden as his aggression towards Jorge. She turned her head in all directions and strained to hear any noises, but none were forthcoming. Until she did hear a wail, a sobbing of hysteria issuing forth from within the stone prison, what once had been a lover’s hermitage.
  1220. During all this time, floating clouds had rendered obscure the participants in this nightly drama. Of a moment, the passing clouds did not return and again a brilliant gleam illuminated the stone hut, the
  1221.  
  1222.  
  1223.  
  1224.  
  1225.  
  1226. fallen body of Jorge, the figure of Rosa. Alone in the clearing, the light dancing about her hair, Rosa was seized with an hysteria and began to leap wildly, dashing from the edge of the clearing to the trees and back again, the dance of the virgins, for Rosa had never known the delights of love. A primitive emotion enveloped her entire spirit as an ancient ritual began to take place, purification achieved through madness in order for a new being to emerge.
  1227. She, Rosa, was now a prophet, a nymph of the woods, her repressed,
  1228. sexual energy bursting into her veins so that she longed for a male companion, someone who would caress and love her the way nature intended. Her frigid body, which had never known the sweet sleep of love, was hard and rigid. Back and forth she raced, a crazed creature, stifled libido coursing through her body, demanding satisfaction, the passionate embrace of a masculine body, pulsating with desire but tender in its clasp.
  1229. Eventually, she fell sobbing onto the forest ground, writing and
  1230. wriggling in all directions, her limbs careening from one side of her face to another, her mouth twisted to one side as in a minor cerebral vascular accident. Finally, from exhaustion, calm took possession. Her lips hardened. She lay quietly for some time, oblivious to the sobbing coming from within the refuge. She was alone, but she would never be rejected again.
  1231. Struggling to her feet, Rosa stared about the clearing, the fallen corpse
  1232. of Jorge; she heard the wails and moans from within the sanctuary now turned a prison. Rosa’s eyes bulged wide and an expression seized her face rendering her unrecognizable for some moments. An uninvited spirit possessed her.
  1233. She walked slowly back to her manor house, reveling in her newly found strength and confident Castro would be waiting for her. But she never saw Castro again. He disappeared. Perhaps he returned to his ancestors who struggled in the upper hills to survive the continual destruction of their habitat. He might have even gone over the hills down to the sea at Ericeira and stood for hours on the cliffs, waiting for the sun to rise, only to leap in grandeur from one of the precipices. If he did, his body was never found and the sea took him away to the grave
  1234.  
  1235.  
  1236.  
  1237.  
  1238.  
  1239. of all humanity, the mother water which first brought life to the planet
  1240. Earth.
  1241. When Rosa awoke the next morning, stirring in her bed still dressed, she wondered if she had been dreaming about a sordid tragedy which was only imaginary. But the noises coming from the outside garden, the voices sifting upwards to her bedroom window confirmed the reality of her recollections. The authorities had been to the site of the savage attack and Rosa was informed of Jorge’s death.
  1242. She greeted the news with an impassive stare and to the satisfaction of the town people ordered him to be buried in the family chapel, laid under a stone which occupied the center aisle directing the pious to the altar. There was no ceremony which was attributed to Rosa’s grief. When the priest informed her that there had been noted a miniature, flaming, red cross on the chest of Jorge as he was put to rest, Rosa did not reply. To her, it was a birthmark which her children also bore. She nodded her acknowledgement to the priest, nothing more. Informing her children, who were very young, she merely told them their father had been injured; called to serve the Holy Christ she devoutly murmured; and he would never return again.
  1243. As for the harlot Marta who had the misfortune and obligation to inform the authorities, she was too incoherent to give a comprehensible account. Yet every one knew why the two of them were up in the hills together and it was God’s justice what happened to Jorge.
  1244. One or two villagers even went so far as to suggest it might be the work
  1245. of the devil who, it was believed, roamed the country hills at night, driven from paradise and who sought to inflict his curse upon those who defied the laws of the land. Some sceptics voiced the contrary opinion. Precisely the customs of the country were being followed, the ancient rules, the primitive commandments, the consequences of the human spirit, cruel and lascivious in origin.
  1246.  
  1247. 3.1 The creation of the cult and the riddle of the first two
  1248.  
  1249. For some days Rosa brooded about the house, at times cross with her servants, at other moments withdrawing to a corner of her home, alone, musing over what had happened, a mute fury dominating her entire will
  1250.  
  1251.  
  1252.  
  1253.  
  1254.  
  1255. and reason. The betrayal of Jorge demanded retribution. Her family and assets had been put into jeopardy. Her head pounded and ached. She noticed she dropped things more frequently. Her coordination was lacking in the mundane labor of the kitchen. Her memory seemed blurred, not as perfect as she had believed. She informed her staff she was retiring to her room for a few days. Her children were not to disturb her.
  1256. Within the confines of her sanctuary, remembrances of her brief
  1257. interlude with Rui returned. Tears swelled in the corner of her eyes. Neglected, cast off, abused, deprecated, Jorge, the interloper, had inserted himself into her family. His birthmark was on the chests of their children. This meant nothing to her except that it was as if Jorge was not dead and would always claim his dominion over them.
  1258. The ugliness of her honeymoon returned in all its imagery to her as she lay on her bed, remorse and self-pity in reign. One night, when the sky was clear and streaking stars crossed the dark firmament, dazzling with distant flickering lights, she decided to go the family chapel. She was distraught. Dizziness possessed her. A light pain crossed her forehead and she sensed a minor tremble gripping her limbs.
  1259. Entering the ancient chapel, built on the site of a Moorish mosque, long
  1260. since buried beneath its own ruins, she tumbled down the aisle and stood before the altar. She knelt on her knees before the dimly candle- lit figure of an oil painting of Christ, entitled, “Lamentation Over Christ, Dead”, by the 16th Century Portuguese artist Diogo de Contreiras. In
  1261. apparent peace, she bent her head.
  1262. But it was not a repose of the spirit. The flickering lights of the oil torches waved their shadows on the ceiling of the chapel. She sensed she was in a cavern and she was to be introduced to the rules of a secret society. The Master, the Lord of Darkness, the Judge of all iniquity would instruct her as to what her future life should be. Silently she prayed for instructions. Her tame personality, that aspect nurtured within the shelter of a family and society, was pushed aside by the constellation of instincts and emotions which are carried forth into the world by the emerging fetus, only to be held in abeyance by customs. She pleaded for guidance and rules. They were given. The moment had arrived. The time was propitious for evil and it was seized.
  1263.  
  1264.  
  1265.  
  1266.  
  1267.  
  1268. After some moments, frenzy took hold of her and she rose in a trance before the sorrowful Christ. She began to spit at the holy figure, frothing with saliva spinning from her mouth. Rushing into the sacristy, she took off her clothes and donned the frock of the chapel priest. Naked underneath, she threw her discarded garments into a corner.
  1269. She then returned to the altar, dressed properly for her nuptial night. Falling upon the cold, damp granite floor, her body shaking and heaving with repulsion at her lost life and debauched husband, she asked for assistance from the occult powers. Christ was dead. He would not return to grant her grace as she presided over a family dinner. It was then words were whispered to her which took form in her mind as to what was demanded in order to be admitted to the cabal society obscured from normal human observation. The cancer of rejection followed by hate instilled its destructive logic.
  1270. From this day henceforth the two Cabral estates would never be separated. Love was to be replaced with power and dominion. Fortunes accumulated in lands ensured that the Cabral descendants would be the kings of their local domain. But there was always the unknown influence of the others, not part of the clan, those that arrived, bringing flowers which were soon cast aside when the torrid heat of the harlots was sensed.
  1271. The family to continue needed to have heirs. From her grave Rosa would rule the destiny of her family but this required the ordinary canons of marriage to be avoided. Marital unions would debase her future descendants. Wringing her hands and swaying from side to side, she heeded His mandates, the original customs of wandering tribes who had to submit to necessity and unquestioned affinity to survive.
  1272. Her children would mate. There was no other solution. Strangers to the clan would only bring evil and lewdness. To ensure pure and proper descent of the estates, heirs would be secured through the family so that her two children must now in carnal wedlock produce at least two siblings of the opposite sex, a daughter and a son.
  1273. Complacent strangers would be arranged to marry the children to conceal the true origin of the incestuous offspring but each spouse would be sworn to secrecy in return for the handsome incomes the estates produced.
  1274.  
  1275.  
  1276.  
  1277.  
  1278.  
  1279. These were the rules of the Cabral clan and each generation must do the same. Only two siblings were required. All other children, either born to the siblings, or as a result of the arranged marriage, no matter from whom, were to be assassinated. The Cabral family was to be structured as if it were a commercial enterprise. Sentiment and morality were banished.
  1280. As her dark, maniacal thoughts gathered force, the windows of the
  1281. chapel were blown open and a long, dark shadow was thrown across her body. With the wind blowing wildly, Rosa shouted, “The House of Cabral shall forever be protected. The blasphemous blood of others shall not dirty our future generations. I shall rule for eternity. Oh, Master, you have guided me well.”
  1282. The windows slammed shut with a deafening thud and a silence reigned.
  1283. Suddenly there was heard a sharp noise and Rosa looked up at Him, nailed to the canvas. The oil painting of Christ had fallen from the altar and lay on the ground. As she approached the painting she saw there was blood seeping forth from the imagined wounds. With a laugh and loud gasps of breath, she snatched from her pocket a handkerchief and smeared the face of Christ with his own blood, shuddering with her blasphemy but seized with an uncontrollable pleasure at her defilement. Her lower abdomen became slightly swelled and she pulsated with desire.
  1284. It was then she heard loud rumblings of thunder although the sky was
  1285. clear. This she saw through the few slits in the chapel walls which served as windows. Again and again the clamor of the sky roared and boomed as Rosa sat on her haunches, her hair now falling about her shoulders, revealing a distraught, crazed face struggling to cope with a world now disorganized; where fantasy was confused with reality.
  1286. Rosa waited patiently, shaking her head in an ecstasy, praying to the
  1287. forces of evil, calling forth the Master of Darkness, until a door was heard opening and a light was cast upon the chapel floor. Rosa never lifted up her head. She threw herself back on the floor and in the position of a woman copulating shrieked with pleasure, screaming with delight and clasping her arms around the humid air hovering over her body. Eventually, a sound of relief escaped from her lips and she lay
  1288.  
  1289.  
  1290.  
  1291.  
  1292.  
  1293. still, until she fell asleep, only to awake a demented mother and possessed with evil.
  1294. The next day she ordered the village mason to chisel an inscription upon Jorge’s tombstone in the chapel. To his perplexity she instructed there be carved in the granite the following words:
  1295. “Each shall marry, but neither father nor mother the other shall be!” When the stone craftsman asked her what the words meant, she smirked
  1296. and laughed hysterically without pause so that in fright the humble
  1297. workman fled from the cemetery to tell his tale of the strange woman who was now the owner of the largest tract of tillable lands north of Lisbon.
  1298.  
  1299. Chapter 4
  1300.  
  1301. 4.0 You might describe it as a proper education.
  1302.  
  1303. Shortly after the death of her husband, Jorge, in 1837, Rosa, now a prisoner to another spirit, bereft of reason and possessed by an insurgent, exigent, libidinous personality, conceived her plans and meticulously completed them. Her heart was turned against her son, Benjamin. He was the creation of his father. He bore the same red mark on his chest. His bodily movements and facial expressions were faithful imitations of his deceased father. His face constantly reminded Rosa of Jorge and an uncontrollable revulsion towards Benjamin gripped her spirit.
  1304. With Susana, she had the opposite reaction. She saw in Susana the betrayed female whipped and lashed by the erotic manners of all men. Susana was like her, a gentle creature who craved love but who would ultimately be betrayed. Susana was to be protected and Benjamin was to be cast off. But she concealed her emotions. She never displayed any act which would betray her true feelings for she was determined to move towards her goal.
  1305. She saw the inauguration of an incestuous cult between Susana, then 6
  1306. years old and Benjamin, a mere 4 year toddler, as a tabernacle where
  1307.  
  1308.  
  1309.  
  1310.  
  1311.  
  1312. her disturbed psyche would find peace, one might even say harmony, with the forces of passion and affection which underpin the universe. Physical love would be blended and integrated into the love of the family.
  1313. Ardor would not destroy the Cabral clan. It would unite it and render it
  1314. unsullied and chaste. What social evolution strived to eliminate would be cast aside by instinctual needs channeled into fraternal intimacy. The copulation by sister and brother would be the purest form of love as covetousness and family would no longer be separate.
  1315. With these basic thoughts in mind, Rosa methodically took over the
  1316. functions of managing the huge Cabral lands while the villagers marveled at her organization and dedication to husbandry. The income from the estates augmented considerably. Rosa introduced new varieties of wine from France which survived better the winter frosts and were abundant in their flowering. The warm, costal winds drifting in from Ericeira were particularly beneficial in the years following 1837 and excellent wine harvests followed in succession.
  1317. With determination, she went about ensuring the vines, the crops, and the timber were cultivated and treated in accordance with the latest methods of husbandry. She often had professors from the agricultural school in Lisbon come to her estates for their opinions and suggestions. Their technical advice was usually accepted and implemented. Her wide eyes and silent expression conveyed, apparently, her devotion to her lands. Yet all this activity was a superficial distraction to her darker needs,
  1318. Rosa attended to the tutoring in accordance with her plot. Whereas Susana and Benjamin had previously separate rooms, she now put them into the same chamber, advising the servants that with the death of their father, the infants needed to feel secure and protected. Children have their own language and so, by living in the same room, their grief would sooner be forgotten in the babble and games of youngsters. Of course, the maids murmured in the corridors, it was sensible. One more example of the clear determination of the mistress of the mansion. For this was what had become of the simple, austere, country manor of João Cabral, a monument was now being erected.
  1319.  
  1320.  
  1321.  
  1322.  
  1323.  
  1324. In conformity with the complexity of her thoughts, and the labyrinths of her emotions, Rosa proceeded to add turrets and balustrades to the house so that gradually the country home began to resemble in spirit the distant, baroque silhouette of the Mafra convent easily seen from any window. Large formal gardens were planted around the nearby ground, with cedar trees lining the paths all of which guided the eye to the Mafra basilica.
  1325. Shaped in a circle wrapping around the homestead, the gardens took the
  1326. shape of a sundial whose epicenter was the Mafra palace, the construction of a visible pledge of a Portuguese king who needed God’s assistance to produce an heir. And this is what Rosa wished, proper heirs descended uniquely and purely from her children.
  1327. Whereas for centuries there had been a cobblestone path leading to the
  1328. main door, Rosa now had built a wide, marble ascent of stairs which, beginning from a wide, convex, arc, rose in narrowing splendor towards the thick, oak door, with its brass handles, above which Rosa ordered made and hung a coat of arms with the sign of the Cabral family.
  1329. The design for the heraldry came to her in a dream one night. In the traditional form of a shield, she conceived of the heads of two dogs, their teeth bared, separated by a moon (it had to be this as there was missing the usual rays signifying the sun). In Latin, following the format of the shield, was the cryptic inscription on the tomb of her husband, an academic achievement graciously made possible by the erudition of the local priest:
  1330.  
  1331.  
  1332.  
  1333. be!”
  1334.  
  1335. “Each shall marry, but neither father nor mother the other shall
  1336.  
  1337. The passages of the years were, to the casual visitor, imprinted by the incessant toil and designs of Rosa. But of course her real life and ambitions were elsewhere. She thought of little else other than her plans for Susana and Benjamin. Sometimes at night, when she was tired from the monotonous routine of labor supervision, she would lie in her large, bed, with a print of Christ above the headboard, this in smug defiance to her devotion to the occult, and also a ploy to the other inhabitants of her home, and wait for Him to come. Her body might be aflame with
  1338.  
  1339.  
  1340.  
  1341.  
  1342.  
  1343. unreciprocated desire and provoked by her torturing need for physical relief she would call out to Him in the night and wait patiently.
  1344. Of course He came always. Her door was always slightly ajar, so that she could hear any calls from the chamber of her children. But in reality it served a dual purpose. He could enter freely. There would be no noise. Effortlessly, He could slip into her bridal bed and embrace her with His firm, warm arms, His gentle hands ran along her thighs as she was lulled into a passionate response, which increased in intensity until the taut tension gripping her body exploded into relief and she could again fail into her reverie.
  1345. Her sensuality drove her to shape and mould the imaginative minds still captive to their mother. She missed no opportunity. At night she would come into their room and suggest the two children sleep together so as to ward off the winter winds. At times she would slip out of her bed at night to see what they were doing and she was always satisfied with her progress. Often Susana and Benjamin were still clasped together, in infantile sleep.
  1346. When the warm weather returned, she would suggest they take baths together so as to be able to play in the water. This she would only do when the maids were out of the house on farming chores. Then she would draw hot water from the wood-burning stove and suggest that the two of them take off their clothes, and wait for her while she carted the inviting, comforting warm liquid. Those moments alone, together, the two of them, patiently waiting, were to her crucial, for then the nakedness of each would be natural to them.
  1347. After the bath, she often ordered Benjamin to dry his sister, or she might command the same of Susana. Sometimes Susana appeared hesitant when she was wiping the genitals of Benjamin but Rosa would shout out, “hurry child, before you both get a cold.” The forbidden soon becomes the normal, the sin becomes the need, as morality is inverted. The mind of Rosa, where love in its genuine form was twice betrayed, now exchanged virtue for evil. Desire became the mantra and affection was born as perverted passion,
  1348. If she found herself alone with one of them, she never failed to talk about the other, how beautiful he or she was, the importance of the family, how necessary it was that they always be together, the grandeur
  1349.  
  1350.  
  1351.  
  1352.  
  1353.  
  1354. of the Cabral clan and its eminence in the local community. She never mentioned their father Jorge, and with time, the children learned it was a distant, remote fact in the Cabral history. They had a father. He died. The past was buried. The future was paramount. Rosa often spoke of the “destiny of the family which time would unfold.” To Benjamin’s questions as to what this meant, she merely smiled knowingly and told him his destiny was yet “to come” but it would, surely.
  1355. It was the future unmercifully becoming a reality which calmed the
  1356. agitated spirit of Rosa. As the children became older, passing into their early teens, Rosa noticed a growing reluctance on the part of Susana to share her bed with Benjamin. The first opportunity she had, when they were gathering lemons together in the orchard, Rosa spoke to Susana about what it meant to be a woman. The maternal spirit, she explained, was to give, to devout yourself to another being, to nourish and animate the male psyche, by its nature fragile and brittle.
  1357. She talked to Susana how the female body was structured to receive
  1358. and birth was the continuation of the spirit of nature present in all things. Life was not the apparent, nor the visible. The human mind could not grasp the significance of the universe as it was concealed from our perception. When Susana asked about the meaning of honor and sin, a thought often on her mind as she grew into adolescence, Rosa replied there was no distinction.
  1359. Right and wrong were human concepts not to be confused with the
  1360. function of animals, which was to procreate and thus ensure the continuity of life. The preservation of the clan was imperative and women were the center of this process. Their bodies were the conduit for the next generation. Marriage was a custom imposed on society for this purpose but the reality of a union between a man and a woman was the transfer of the human spirit to succeeding cycles.
  1361. It was necessary to transcend the normal thought patterns of the
  1362. community and utilize the female capacity for birth for a noble purpose-the preservation of the family- not by reaching out to others, but searching within the family. Rosa did not go further in her explanations, rather allowing her words to course their own way through the reflections of Susana.
  1363.  
  1364.  
  1365.  
  1366.  
  1367.  
  1368. As for Benjamin, she noticed as he grew older that the firm set to his face, superficially an outward sign of strength, in reality belied his basic, furtive personality, which was akin to a forest animal. Similar to his father, his real thoughts were submerged from others, and his eyes restlessly darted from object to object, person to person, always in search of what was not present. He sought refuge in his somber thoughts while revealing to others an apparent interest by his silent, dedicated attention.
  1369. Gradually it became clear to Rosa, insight granted to her through the cunning often conferred by dementia, that she must pursue different courses of education with Benjamin and Susana. The more difficult would be Susana as her mind and soul thrived on symbolism and an incipient maternal affection. She, Rosa, must shape such virtuous qualities to enable Susana to confuse her generous spirit of love with ritual and desire. This could be done through the teachings of the mystics which roamed the alleys of Mafra or occasionally came over the hills from nearby towns.
  1370. They were tattered, incoherent beggars schooled in the language of cabalism, landless and orphans to employment, living off the generosity of the peasantry. They spoke of the “divine spirit” guiding the world of nature. The stars and planets at our birth determined our destiny. The human being was a mere tool in the great design of life. One particular prophet, called Jaime-Jaime by the Mafra villagers as he frequently stuttered when he became excited, was a frequent visitor to Rosa’s kitchen. There, seated before a hearty meal of soup, brown bread, and goat cheese, he would ramble on to Rosa and Susana.
  1371. Stooped over from a life of walking aimlessly from town to town, he had spent his entire existence sleeping in the fields and forests scattered along the coastline. His mind had been nourished by the fleeing streaks of white which dazzled the Mafra sky on clear evenings. At night, watching the speckled flashing firmament rotate on an invisible axis, he wondered if life was not merely a pulsating reflection of another, larger spirit whose grace strove to appear in all forms possible.
  1372. When weather permitted, they all, Rosa, Susana, and Jaime-Jaime might wander over to a vale where some of the sheep would be grazing. Jaime-Jaime stumbling with his staff to support him, would tell Rosa
  1373.  
  1374.  
  1375.  
  1376.  
  1377.  
  1378. and Susana tales from his fertile imagination. The world was full of spirits who hid from human society but they had a master who taught them the art of sorcery in order to escape the savage cunning of the human.
  1379. These spirits had no physical form; rather they dwelt in the bodies of
  1380. humans and carried on their separate lives so that each human was a transporter of many essences. Jaime-Jaime said this was the origin of the world; that each creature was built out of material substances but the real core of every person was a mixture of many wood spirits that fought for ascendancy. Only during the daily, human repose did they dare to venture forth and prance about in the solitude of the groves where they could laugh and love with one another.
  1381. Sleeping in the woods in the evenings, he, Jaime-Jaime, would hear the
  1382. voices of the spirits who had escaped during slumber from their mortal prisons. They exchanged stories. Their master taught them that the customs and rules of society had nothing to do with the forces of life and nature. Their king was the lord of darkness who was expelled from paradise for having asked questions, daring to challenge edict and ordinances.
  1383. The gods of the churches and other places of worship were false refuges
  1384. from the one true impulse of all living matter. The origin of all life was the ego of love and passion. These instincts were the foundations of new consciousness. This is what mother earth demanded from each soul and the spirits were in constant struggle with social artifice which chocked and clogged the regenerative spirit of mortals.
  1385. With the winds gently rustling his grey locks, his long, ragged frock
  1386. affording scant protection against the ocean chills, while his blue eyes darted stealthily from hedge to hedge in search of the spirits of which he spoke, Jaime-Jaime was the impoverished prophet of the dales and hills, striking the ground with his staff as if to waken up the goblins and dryads of the glens and lowlands.
  1387. With time, the country seer Jaime-Jaime created the intended
  1388. impression on Susana, leading her to believe the visible world was a mere reflection of the redemptive spirit inhabiting each human being. She saw herself as growing towards woman, the stage at which her
  1389.  
  1390.  
  1391.  
  1392.  
  1393.  
  1394. body would blossom and burst forth with its fruit, while she, Susana, was only the temporary haven for new life.
  1395. Rosa noticed the changes overtaking Susana and encouraged her set of mind whenever she could. She prayed at night to her Master to help her in her task. Her goal was to found what would be the sublime proof of real love, passion inspired by knowledge of two people who share the same thoughts and ideals and this had to be her children, Susana and Benjamin.
  1396. As she continued with her plan and as her children crossed adolescence in their journey towards adulthood, Rosa cultivated the emerging mysticism of Susana with frequent visits to astrologers and local oracles who were only to happy to offer their services to the now undisputed mistress of Mafra, with her vast fortune increasing everyday. It was the widow Jula, an outcast aristocrat and astrologer from Lisbon, now living in the lower part of the village, who conspired with Rosa to ensure the final commitment of Susana to the cult of the damned.
  1397. During their frequent visits to Jula, the soothsayer observed the torment which silently moved beneath the placid stare of Rosa; she perceived the agony and sensed the martyrdom in command of Rosa’s personality. Jula had much experience with the neurotic dispositions of the wealthy as well as the local gentry. Marriages arranged between the affluent families limited the scope of nature’s natural disposition to experiment so that a tendency to sickness and emotional disorders was a characteristic of the provincial landed class.
  1398. At first she attributed Rosa’s strangeness to the Dom João Cabral line, all of whom within her memory had married within the local community. Yet from Rosa’s trembling lips at times escaped words which led Jula to believe she could profit from Rosa in an unexpected fashion.
  1399. Rosa would speak of “chaste love”, of “virginal sacrifices”, refer to “unsullied passion” or “uncontaminated desire”. While Jula did not understand the underlying convulsions which caused these words to burst forth, she recognized Rosa was emotionally distraught and it surely it had to do with her daughter for why else would she come with her. No doubt, she erroneously concluded, Rosa was worried Susana
  1400.  
  1401.  
  1402.  
  1403.  
  1404.  
  1405. would not marry for her plainness and lack of sensuality was equal to her future inheritance, evident and considerable.
  1406. At this time Susana had just turned 22 and she had become a passive reflection of her mother’s restless mysticism. Youth enabled her to contain and conceal any outward signs but in harmony with her mother she lived within a world of fantasy which her privileged, moneyed position fostered and permitted.
  1407. Jula had an illegitimate nephew, Bruno Pinheiro, the result of an affair between a sister of Jula, Serenela, and a Lisbon bachelor merchant, José Pinheiro, wealthy and cultured, who received his diversions in life by frequenting the nightly private clubs of Lisbon and having affairs with the courtesans.
  1408. Returning in the evening with his body sullied with the corporal sweat
  1409. of paid lovers, but to a home replete with the art treasures of Portugal, ancient saints and virgins covering the many corridors and walls of his pretentious palace, the silence of beauty was not sufficient to calm his anguished spirits. Physical exertion does not always soothe the tormented soul and Pinheiro was alone, frightened, without any companions.
  1410. During one of his many dinner expeditions to the home of Lisbon
  1411. nobles, he had met Serenela, Jula’s sister, a woman with an excellent lineage, for the family of Jula and Serenela could boast various coat-of- arms, but, similar to Jula, Serenela was a fanciful spirit with little understanding of the commercial world. Her inherited rents barely supported her. José Pinheiro took a fancy to her and even considered her as a possible permanent mate, a thought which lingered, but was never realized.
  1412. The affair with Jula’s sister lasted longer than others, and, from an excess of passion by Pinheiro, much to the annoyance of Serenela she became pregnant. As abortion was severely punished and universally condemned at that epoch, Bruno was born to a frail woman who saw no prospect of a pleasant life remaining to her. During her entire gestation, she whimpered and wailed and beseeched José Pinheiro to relieve her of an eternal burden for she was in no condition to raise a child.
  1413. Having an excess of servants, alarmed of being alone, recognizing his
  1414. approaching infirmity, he decided to recognize Bruno as his son, and
  1415.  
  1416.  
  1417.  
  1418.  
  1419.  
  1420. educate him properly. What José Pinheiro conceived as being proper was naturally entirely contrary to the spirit of an emerging person.
  1421. He relegated Serenela to a modest apartment for which he paid the rent, afforded her a minimum monthly stipend as her public disgrace ensured she would never marry, and undertook the education of Bruno. The child’s education would be as important to him as was his art collection. The results were similar with Bruno developing into an esthete endowed with a mystical imagination which dwelt upon distant castles and Christ crucified in various fashions. At first the sight of dried blood in various painting techniques held some interest for the growing boy but eventually the art became replaced with a morbid preoccupation with death. The demise of the soul became his dominant characteristic, a thought he carefully guarded to himself.
  1422. Growing up in an atmosphere of ingratiating lackeys, where an abundance of food and art replaced the normal maternal presence, Bruno matured into a frail young man, tall and slim, given to few words, the normal masculine signs of strength and bone absent in his feeble, debilitated frame. Bruno, similar in spirit to his father, was a dandy who delighted in the museum galleries of Lisbon, London, and Paris, and whose course of life would never have led him to contract marriage.
  1423. He made a visit once a month to his mother, who lived now a life of
  1424. indolence and indifference, supported by her pension from Pinheiro, and these encounters with his mother further strengthened Bruno’s inherent aversion to women. His mother’s slovenly appearance, an act of revenge for the fact she was made to understand she was not part of the Pinheiro family, inculcated in Bruno an indifference to women, and his attitude only aggravated his mother’s detachment from his life. She was civil merely in order to receive her pension. The visits of her son were an annoyance and a disagreeable necessity.
  1425. The female, sensuous, corporal presence was hardly noticed by Bruno, who often, for hours, would stare at the magnificent medieval oil paintings of the dying Christ imagined by the talented masters of medieval Portugal and marvel at the suffering depicted in all its color and stylish grandeur. No doubt Bruno would have been quite content to pass his life, as his father, alone, and enjoying his wealth. Between Bruno and his father there was a natural affinity and Pinheiro’s decision
  1426.  
  1427.  
  1428.  
  1429.  
  1430.  
  1431. to recognize Bruno as his son was rewarded with masculine company. The two were in harmony with the decay and death of the human cycle. Yet Serenela was disturbed. She saw the course of Bruno’s life unfolding before her. The rejected maternal guidance imposed by Pinheiro nagged at her. The monthly visits through the years permitted her to have knowledge of her son. Eventually he would pass the stage when bachelorhood becomes permanent and Bruno would never marry. While Bruno’s celibate state held no emotional content for Serenela, she realized that eventually her benefactor might decide her pension was no longer necessary as Bruno was now an independent adult. Furthermore, Bruno himself, as heir, might not honor his father’s obligations. But as a grandmother, the future of Serenela was assured. All children need a grandparent and Serenela was the only possibility.
  1432. A wife for Bruno was, then, the obvious solution, a gateway to security
  1433. for Serenela. When, then, as Bruno was approaching full manhood and had already celebrated his 22nd birthday, Serenela made a surprise visit to Pinheiro at his sumptuous Lisbon office in Rua Augusta.
  1434. For this occasion she dressed herself properly and appearing unannounced at his office, Pinheiro, unprepared, consented to see her. Serenela came quickly to the point. Bruno was at the age for marrying. Surely his father, the eminent merchant Pinheiro, wanted to see his son established properly with a family and an heir. A young bachelor was not a suitable successor to the commercial empire of Pinheiro.
  1435. The father waited patiently. His trade astuteness permitted him to listen when he heard reason. The decrepit figure of Serenela merely made him marvel at his own strength of blood which was evident in Bruno. As she talked, his body relaxed in the large, leather maple supporting him, he marveled how wisdom was often found in the strangest places and none other then Serenela, who he always considered a fool. The more she spoke the more sensible her words appeared.
  1436. Not a man to prolong the moment when it arrived, and being equally anxious to be rid of Serenela before foolish, romantic thoughts might erupt from her, he quickly agreed and Serenela returned to her despised chambers satisfied her once lover Pinheiro, was at heart a gentleman and proper father and above all, her old age was secure from the ravages of society.
  1437.  
  1438.  
  1439.  
  1440.  
  1441.  
  1442. All this was known to Jula with whom Serenela often stayed to escape the suffocating life of Lisbon. One afternoon, Jula met Rosa on the streets of Mafra. Inviting her to a café, they passed some time together in idle conversation until Jula remarked that she seldom saw Susana in the company of a young man, in fact she never had seen Susana with anyone but her mother.
  1443. From the beginning of their encounter, Rosa surmised Jula had a
  1444. motive for her causal reference to Susana. The unexpected invitation meant that Jula wanted to profit from Rosa being alone. Hearing and understanding immediately the unspoken thoughts meandering through Jula’s mind, the possibility of presenting a suitor for Susana, Rosa stifled any objections for she was also ready to take steps to further her designs for Susana.
  1445. While Jula was describing Bruno and his life with his father, Rosa
  1446. began to form an image of what this young man must be like. The more Jula spoke of the Pinheiro family, the more the distasteful aspects of Bruno’s character, evident from Jula’s meticulous recitation of the stories told to her by her sister, emerged in her mind clearly.
  1447. The Pinheiro household subsisted in splendor but its essence was
  1448. morally perverse. Under usual circumstances, she, Rosa, should have been insulted by Jula’s scarcely concealed insinuations of a meeting between the Cabral and Pinheiro family. Yet she held her silence, meditating as the words of Jula tumbled without shame from lips shaped by avarice. Serenela had promised Jula a modest sum if the meeting with Rosa bore fruit. The meeting came to an end with Rosa thanking Dona Jula profusely for, “as you observed well, Dona Jula, it is time my daughter married and the young man you describe seems an excellent choice.” How Jula marveled at her triumphal stroke of good luck!
  1449. As she returned to her home later in the day, Rosa mused over the
  1450. contents of her conversation with Jula. Rosa saw that Susana was ready for marriage but for her plans to materialize it had to be a union which, in essence, was a farce. Yet she could not speak openly to Susana about her designs. Rather it had to come about through events due to the personalities involved. In other words, the proper spouse for Susana was a bridegroom who was a phantom to the bridal bed.
  1451.  
  1452.  
  1453.  
  1454.  
  1455.  
  1456. The next day, her mind clear as to her course, she paid a visit to Jula and obtained the address of Pinheiro. She explained to Jula that she would visit Pinheiro and speak to him about his son meeting Susana and in the meantime, Jula should review the matter with her sister, Serenela, who would explain in more detail who the Cabral family were. She then wrote a letter to Pinheiro and requested a meeting with him. Some weeks later, a carriage stopped outside her home and a serious looking young man, a bookkeeper in apprenticeship at one of the shops of Pinheiro, arrived with a reply for Rosa. Pinheiro wrote he would be pleased to meet “the owner of the Cabral domain” and suggested the day, place, and time in Lisbon. At the appointed hour and proper rendezvous, Rosa arrived, dressed simply, but with enough jewelry draped about her neck and pinned to her bosom to announce ostentatiously her wealth.
  1457. As she entered the office, the afternoon sun was in all its splendor, turning an autumn day of 1852 into homage to the creative powers of nature faced with the circle of death and birth. Harvest time would be followed by the mournful demise of foliage, the long slumber of the earth, the hushed repose of regeneration, the lull of consciousness before it once again awoke from a temporary sleep and burst forth in beauty and color, inviting the denizens of the world to celebrate the forces of life and light.
  1458. From the window of Pinheiro’s office, Rosa saw the sloping red tiled roofs cascading towards the estuary of the Tejo River. Slim spirals of smoke drifted lazily upwards towards the distant blue horizon while sporadically Rosa heard the mournful cries of the ferry boats as they lazily plowed across the watery strip, back and forth, in an incessant rhythm obedient to an unseen logic.
  1459. Pinheiro observed before him a stout, determined woman, her eyes
  1460. revealing an unspoken objective to be achieved while her rigid face reflected an inner indomitable spirit which would not deviate from a conceived plan. From the plainness of her dress and lack of visual female sensuality, Pinheiro concluded that her daughter, Susana, was also a drab shadow of the many vibrant, passionate women Pinheiro had known in his life time.
  1461.  
  1462.  
  1463.  
  1464.  
  1465.  
  1466. Still, while engaging in idle chatter with Rosa, Pinheiro’s mind ruminated over the future course of his son, Bruno, and he had little doubt what it would be. With every day that passed, Bruno assumed more the role of a dandy, preferring the male company of the many wealthy aristocrats who collected rents to that of constructing a family and taking over the commercial empire Pinheiro had created.
  1467. “It will all crumble when I die,” Pinheiro thought. “Bruno shall spend
  1468. his life wandering from brothel to brothel and only repeat the pattern of my life.” He was suddenly jostled into the moment when Rosa paused and then blurted out her invitation.
  1469.  
  1470. “May I suggest you and your son come and have lunch with us on a Sunday, after the usual mass? Mafra afternoons on the day of weekly rest tend to be a peaceful and reflective time,” murmured Rosa.
  1471.  
  1472. Pinheiro stared at her for a moment, his usual cynical expression softening a bit. In fact he had been thinking of what it would be like to have a family life and even become a grandfather. Such a possibility had not really entered into his conscious thoughts.
  1473.  
  1474. “Yes,” he replied impulsively and even managed a smile, “that would be delightful. Shall we say, not this Sunday, but the following?”
  1475.  
  1476. With their business concluded, Rosa left the sumptuous offices of Pinheiro. As he watched her staunchly walk away, Pinheiro felt rather satisfied. It was time for Bruno to marry and assume his paternal and employer obligations. “No doubt,” he mumbled to himself, “there will be little resistance to this obviously sensible union between commerce and farming.” Turning around in his chair and watching the ferry boats slide and slither their choppy ride across the river stirred by restless autumn winds, Pinheiro decided he would broach the subject with Bruno this very evening.
  1477. During the long mule ride back to Mafra, Rosa realized she must
  1478. prepare Susana immediately for the forthcoming holy lunch, for that is what it was. In Rosa’s mind, the purpose of the probable sanctified union with Bruno was the essential step towards her final objective. To
  1479.  
  1480.  
  1481.  
  1482.  
  1483.  
  1484. achieve her corrupt goal she would need the assistance of her dark Master, the resources of her spirit now weakened and submerged within their fragile frontier when she dwelt upon her goal.
  1485. While her driver was whipping the mule through the valleys and
  1486. miniature hills lying to the north of Lisbon, she suddenly ordered the coachman to take the road along the river Lizandro which ran lazily towards the ocean south of Ericeira. Along its banks she could watch the fields being ploughed by the oxen and hear the sharp, shrill twang of axes as they felled the trees which would serve for firewood, heating the hearths and providing heat for the iron cast stoves.
  1487. Eventually they neared a bend in the road from which she could see a
  1488. dirt path snaking into where she knew there was a grove of olive trees encircling an unused chapel, in disrepair, moss clinging to its walls and where the altar of Christ was bare and bereft. She ordered the handler to stop and suggested he rest the mule for some minutes. The poor creature appeared on the point of collapse and the freshness of the river water would revive him.
  1489. Leaving her handler to rest alongside his mute companion, Rosa walked slowly up the small, dirt path, hard and unyielding from the countless steps which had trodden over it through the centuries. Now, there was only the silence of the ghosts of ancient pilgrims long since buried in distant cemeteries. Far away she heard the screech of the Ericeira sea gulls as they plowed the valley sky in search of debris or rotten carcasses.
  1490. Where formerly there had been a heavy, solid oak door gracefully opened by a humble apostle to the devout visitors, there now appeared a large gap beneath the granite frame, a simple passageway for sparrows and pigeons. The door, rotten and permanently soaked from decades of winter rains, lie on its side on the small, arched corridor snaking around the chapel.
  1491. Rosa stumbled forth for an inner voice was calling her. Whispers seeped through the leaves of the pine trees and poplars urging her forward. Entering the shadowed tabernacle, the autumn sun impeded from casting any interior light, she walked towards where there had been an ornate altar, a barren stone slab instead in its place, and she knelt, defiantly. Her normally stern face crumbled into furrows molding
  1492.  
  1493.  
  1494.  
  1495.  
  1496.  
  1497. her young face into a patchwork of crevices and grooves much like corrugated iron. She sensed a minor tremor in her lips.
  1498. An excited female sparrow flittered wildly above her head in defense of her unborn chicks. Rosa paid no attention. Seized by an emotional surge of abandonment, she pounded the floor with her hands as hysteria gradually enveloped her. Driven by doubt, the last flickering trace of maternal protection still hovered about her reason, casting misgivings to her plans. She was not sure. Scruples still existed. Yet she must push them aside. Proof, she wanted confirmation that her chosen path was correct and certain.
  1499. Sobbing, she clutched at her precious pendants hanging listlessly about her neck and cried out, “Is your will this? Is this the sacrifice demanded of me before you shall love me as your eternal bride?”
  1500.  
  1501. Warm, salty tears flowed down her cheeks, as self-pity and rage against the barrenness of her life swelled forth and cast her into the turgid currents of her obscure thoughts.
  1502.  
  1503. “Where are you?” she called out plaintively. “Have you no pity on those you love? I am creating this monument of blood and family in your honor. Your realm shall triumph! You must return. Give me your instructions!” she demanded.
  1504.  
  1505. Abruptly, she heard a door open. She would have turned around but she froze with fright, her body rigid and taut. She remembered clearly the sight of the decayed door now sprung loose from its iron hinges and lying on the floor. Frightened to verify if it was her imagination or a mistaken remembrance and there was a door, she remained still and waited.
  1506. Stooped, her bare knees cold and bruised from the large stone slabs
  1507. serving as the chapel floor, she lifted her eyes upwards towards the wooden ceiling. Light illuminated the room. She felt an enveloping fever possess her. It was then she heard her words of encouragement, the whispered instructions of her companion, urging her not to falter, nor waver for the revelations granted to her were certain and eternal.
  1508.  
  1509.  
  1510.  
  1511.  
  1512.  
  1513. The voice repeated to her what she wanted to believe. Her children were to found the permanent cult of the House of Cabral whose lineage would be secured through the secret ordinances she, Rosa, was about to establish. Nothing should deter her. Her strength must come from her sureness of her beliefs.
  1514. A hand touched her gently on the shoulder. She shuddered with excitement and desire. As she slumped to the floor in anticipation, the kisses and caresses she sensed lulled her into a dream where consciousness was abated and fantasy stifled her fear and anxiety.
  1515. The Master of the Night took her passionately and loved her mightily
  1516. so that his seed would never become dissipated and wasted among the lost and damned. For some lingering, splendorous moments the forces of evil proclaimed their victim, the triumph of malediction over those deserted and cast away. Without comfort, the soul withers, transformed and twisted into a hideous reflection of the human condition. The void her arms embraced as night fell each day filled her with the hate and revenge which dominated her psyche. She was betrayed, a crippled ego whose salvation was the destruction of others. This universal fragility He would take profit as He always does.
  1517. Convulsion after convulsion contracted her body until eventually she
  1518. dozed, sprawled out on the chapel floor, with the cold winds stirring her long skirt, the seizure diminishing in frequency and allowing her to recuperate. When she awoke, she was calm, her thoughts certain, her course of action obvious. She was no longer afraid.
  1519. Arising, she turned slowly and stared towards where she heard the door swinging on its ancient hinges. There was none. She saw only the dying light of the day. She hurried down the hill in time to see the mule prancing nervously in its reins, anxious to return home for its evening meal.
  1520. She was planning what to tell Susana when the mule dragged the cart up the long entrance leading to the back door of the kitchen. In the distance she saw Susana waving to her and for a moment, she had a tinge of regret but this quickly passed. There were generations to secure, descendants to curse and imprison.”
  1521.  
  1522. Chapter 5
  1523.  
  1524.  
  1525.  
  1526.  
  1527.  
  1528.  
  1529. 5.0 Some marriages are made in hell.
  1530.  
  1531. Bruno lurched out of the squalid room, the hysterical laughter of the courtesan Marisa resounding in his ears. As he tripped over his own feet and lay sprawled on the platform of the first floor, the door swung open violently and Marisa stood there, naked from the waist up, her hands grasping her hips as a matador does when in the arena. She looked at him with disdain, before she blurted out, “I’m not giving back your money. It’s not my fault you’re an impotent, useless lover. Don’t you know what men do? Do you or don’t you know? What’s the matter? You never saw a woman naked? You don’t know what to do? Well, the money is mine, I was ready, and you’d better go and get some lessons.” She slammed the door in a disgusted temper.
  1532. For some moments, Bruno lay still, his eye sockets burning with heat, his heart beating irregularly. Disgusted with himself, he knew well what possessed him to seek the company of Marisa, a known slut and a brazen one at that. His friends had taunted him with his virginity.
  1533. Having passed his 22nd birthday, he still could not boast of any
  1534. conquests. Edged on by wagers and bets, as well as smug, masculine jokes, he finally agreed to seek the flesh of Marisa. And there was another reason; the imperative of knowing if he were capable of what his father was soon to demand from him, hints given by his father when they occasionally dined together, that there was approaching a time to form a new Pinheiro family, a branch, as it were, of the prosperous main office.
  1535. His ineptness was only matched by his agony. Seeing Marisa lying on
  1536. her back, her legs spread wide open, while he stood haplessly in front of her, his trousers on the floor, made him only want to flee and erase the horrible sight from his mind. Her grossness and animalistic vulgarity before his timidity aggravated his natural shyness and buried his masculinity under her avalanche of empty phrases and meaningless caresses.
  1537. At times he wondered if it was his disinterest or his fright. He could never make up his mind. The titled girls, daughters of his father’s friends, made their willingness to consider him as a husband quite
  1538.  
  1539.  
  1540.  
  1541.  
  1542.  
  1543. obvious, for he was heir to a fortune. Yet his solitude meant more to him than the company of even the most vivacious of the smiling, hypocritical, sly maidens.
  1544. The world of scents and perfumes, flowers and carefully groomed
  1545. coiffeurs held little enchantment for his solitary habits. He, Bruno, much preferred the company of men, the drinks, the smoking, and the recount of the daily profits made in trading. Like his father, the sensibility necessary for genuine affection was dormant, probably never meant to awaken.
  1546. With the early darkness of the day enveloping his crumpled body and
  1547. shamed spirit, Bruno debated his course of action. Marisa had humiliated him. But he was at fault. The normal sensual pleasures of his male companions he had not experienced. Were he to return with his tale about Marisa they would ridicule him for ever. Struggling to his feet, he stumbled towards the door and knocked on it gently. The furious face of Marisa confronted him.
  1548.  
  1549. “What now?” she screamed.
  1550.  
  1551. Summoning up his courage he stood ashamedly before her and whimpered, “Teach me, please, teach me, I don’t know what to do. Please. I’ll pay again. It’s not the money. It is me. I need to know.”
  1552.  
  1553. The wretched look in his face recalled to her other times when she had felt her own humiliation. Stepping back she beckoned him to enter. She then pushed him gently towards her bed and lay on top on him before he could protest. It was foul to Bruno. He hated every moment of it. Later, in his life, he would attribute his perversities to that evening with Marisa when the beauty of love was forever destroyed by these gross rites of initiation.
  1554. Her grunting and heaving, compounded by the stench her body emitted, infused his first memories so profoundly that he became permanently impotent, unable ever again to physically desire or crave. Rather he wanted to run, to hide, and to escape to where there were no demands made upon him as a man.
  1555.  
  1556.  
  1557.  
  1558.  
  1559.  
  1560. As she forcibly impelled him to reach a climax, he felt his masculinity permanently draining from him. Never again would he be able to covet. The flash of pain which seared through his limbs as his anxious sperm sprawled into a wasted womb caused him to fall onto his side, where he sobbed, uncontrollably, without cease and without knowing why.
  1561. Marisa misunderstood his emotion and attributed his reaction to the awakening of his sensual needs. She did not realize Bruno was condemned, never to love other then in his imagination, never to touch, other then with fright and hesitation, never to reproduce, to be an onlooker to families of other people.
  1562. Finally he roused himself, and hardly looking at Marisa, he placed more money on her dingy night table, and hastily left. Marisa scarcely noticed. She heard the bells of the church strike 11 pm and she remembered she was expecting another customer soon. She hoped this one would be more to her liking. The novitiates were always a disappointment to her. She didn’t even bother to wash herself.
  1563. On the way home, Bruno decided to stroll over to Rossio Square, the
  1564. main plaza of lower Lisbon, dominated by a fountain whose splashing, clear water sprinkled the flower vendors during the day. At night, it was a meeting place for the homeless, the drifters, the outcasts, the sellers of body and spirit, united and comforted by the tepid breezes sifting up the streets from the river front.
  1565. Leaning against the statute of angels supporting a large bronze sprout, Bruno held his face in his hands for some seconds. He was trembling. Not only did he feel ashamed but the future before him was terrifying. His father had mentioned to him an imminent journey to Mafra, where Bruno was to be presented to a young lady of marriageable age, and the only daughter of a rich widow.
  1566. The knowledge of this forthcoming visit, and its purpose, he, Bruno, to
  1567. be considered a candidate for her hand, had also driven him to the arms of Marisa, not merely the visible snickers of his male companions, but the necessity to understand his capacities. He had his doubts. Was he simply to obey his father’s commands? Why did they need more money? His father had not married and he saw no reasons for him to have a different life.
  1568.  
  1569.  
  1570.  
  1571.  
  1572.  
  1573. He resolved to have at least words demanding an explanation with his father. Near him he saw an elderly man talking anxiously to an adolescent, dressed poorly and in dire need of bodily comforts, his tattered sweater falling loosely over an emaciated frame. The desperation in the youngster’s face contrasted vilely with the lust and desire flushing the face of the other. Bruno wanted to go over and offer the young man some money, not for anything in return but simply to save him, to rescue the lad from the perdition awaiting him that evening. But he knew he was incapable of such an aggressive act and in disgust with his own diffidence he strolled briskly away from the mélange of people and headed towards the river front. There, he thought, the emptiness of the large, open plaza, with its arches facing the distant villages across the river, there he might find repose, a pause from the harshness of the evening’s memories.
  1574. In a few moments he reached the large, open square, ringed by a series of spans and corridors which formed a rectangle with three sides, the fourth being the river front. This was Commerce Plaza, where the trading ships docked and disgorged their merchandise from the Orient and Africa.
  1575. He was dizzy, from the stress his personality was suffering, the episodes to which he had been subjected, the confusion reigning in his mind as to who he was. He wanted to sleep, to awake a new person, and be born again.
  1576. Sitting down, he rested his head in his arms and fell into a troubled
  1577. slumber. When he awoke, or so he believed, he at first thought he was alone, but then he became aware of another solitary figure, near him, in the shadows, observing him quietly.
  1578. Frightened, not knowing if his unsolicited evening companion meant ill or harm, he quickly stood up thinking to cross the square in search of a café, when the stranger started to walk towards him. Bruno remained still. “Best not to show fear,” he thought to himself. When the interloper was near Bruno, within conversation range, the pedestrian stopped, although Bruno still could not see the person who was now leaning against the wall under the vaults.
  1579.  
  1580. “You come here often?” the visitor asked.
  1581.  
  1582.  
  1583.  
  1584.  
  1585.  
  1586.  
  1587. Bruno was surprised; it was the voice of a woman. He hesitated and then decided not to be rude as such an attitude could be interpreted as a provocation which he wanted to avoid. He was still cautious. “Not often,” Bruno replied, then falling silent.
  1588.  
  1589. “It is natural to have secrets,” the intruder remarked.
  1590.  
  1591. The intimacy created by these words, their truth in so far as Bruno was concerned, left him startled, but pleasantly. “No doubt,” he mused to himself, “she is a frequenter of night streets and has learned to judge people just by their appearance. People who wander about at dusk always have confidences and women know well the enigmas of men.” Bruno forced himself to respond, “Exactly my thoughts.”
  1592.  
  1593. The newcomer gave a short laugh. “You are going home soon. What will you do when you get there?”
  1594.  
  1595. “What shall I do?” he murmured to himself. “I don’t know,” he stated out loud curtly.
  1596.  
  1597. An awkward moment hovered between the two. The presence of the foreigner began to intimidate Bruno. He wanted his guest to leave but, then, the streets were not his.
  1598.  
  1599. “You are uncomfortable with me,” was the unexpected pronouncement from the visitor.
  1600.  
  1601. “Who are you?” Bruno blurted out suddenly. “What do you want from me?” Sweat began to gather on Bruno’s forehead. He was debating whether or not he should not leave this woman immediately and go about his business.
  1602.  
  1603. For some minutes, it seemed an eternity, only the distant rumbles of carriage wheels and the thump of horse hooves were heard. The lapping of the river against the bank of the open square calmed a bit Bruno’s
  1604.  
  1605.  
  1606.  
  1607.  
  1608.  
  1609. spirits but he was nervously wringing his hands together behind his back.
  1610.  
  1611. The uninvited guest began to speak, “Once, when I was very young, I committed what others called a sin. It was in a land far away. I was drawn to this transgression and I could not resist. Since then I have wandered for a long time.” She paused as if overcome with a strong surge of emotion but then continued. “But love has many forms, so different. We must accept the form of love granted to us. I did.”
  1612.  
  1613. As he listened to her soliloquy, Bruno pondered to himself, “A traveler lonely and desperate for conversation,” his trepidations diminishing a bit.
  1614.  
  1615. Again the voice carried on, “You will never be comforted the way other men are. You will be asked to do things you do not want. You must roam as I do. Such will be your life.”
  1616.  
  1617. Weakly, drowsy from the phrases now pounding in his head, Bruno replied, “What is my nature, my destiny?”
  1618.  
  1619. It was then the stranger stepped forth from beneath the shadows and as she did, the previously concealed moonlight suddenly burst forward with its shimmering illumination, revealing her features. What Bruno saw was not what he expected.
  1620. Before him stood a tall, thin form, in clothes of another epoch, a
  1621. woman’s head with a shawl wrapped around her body which slipped into a long skirt touching the ground. Her eyes held Bruno in a steady gaze. But it was her face which gripped Bruno. It was pale yet glowed with an inner yellow light which made her eyes appear red and hollow. Bruno trembled with awe, a cold sweat sweeping through him.
  1622.  
  1623. “Why have you brought me this message?” Bruno asked. “Who sent you?”
  1624.  
  1625.  
  1626.  
  1627.  
  1628.  
  1629. The visitor responded tersely, “And why is that important? You must do what others ask of you. Can you do this?”
  1630.  
  1631. Bruno responded hotly, “I do not know what you are referring to. And if I refuse?” he added.
  1632.  
  1633. “You will not,” his companion whispered, “you can not. I am certain of this. You can not deny what is your fate.”
  1634.  
  1635. Bruno felt himself slipping again on to the pavement where he had been resting. “Your words make no sense,” Bruno mumbled. “I am so tired, so fatigued.”
  1636.  
  1637. Suddenly his companion’s voice snapped through the cold night air. It was sharp and shrill. “Go to your home, now. Seek your father’s approval. You were nothing until he gave you a home. Your mother did not want you. You are ungrateful. You are not to disobey. You would be trash in the gutter had not your father extended his hand. Listen, ye, to his counsel.”
  1638.  
  1639. Faced with his mute response, the visitor exploded, “Thy damnation is near, if ye be stubborn.” With these words, she swirled her skirt in anger, and vanished among the arches. Bruno sat for some time, in a stupor, and then he became aware of where he was. Stillness pervaded the square. No one was to be seen. Slowly, Bruno struggled to his feet. He waited for his guest to return. The streets and arches remained silent, with the occasional drip of water falling from the domes of the corridors.
  1640. He decided to walk home, through the narrow streets and cobblestones
  1641. so as to clear his head. Some moments passed before he recalled his meeting with the strange woman. Her words were incomprehensible to him. The more he thought about her, the odder it all seemed, and the most peculiar were her last words. He suddenly remembered she had lapsed into a form of language he did not understand well, the “ye” and “thy”, they were no longer words in use. “From where did she come?” he wondered to himself as he wandered towards his dwelling.
  1642.  
  1643.  
  1644.  
  1645.  
  1646.  
  1647. It was well near midnight when Bruno arrived to his home. His destination was a town palace facing the Estrela Park. To get there, Bruno walked along the river front and then climbed the hills which brought him to the gentile parish of Lapa. From this aristocratic neighborhood, it was an easy stroll to his father’s splendid, opulent residence, a two storied building surrounded by gardens and imported statuary.
  1648. As he walked, he tried to clear his thoughts. He was not sure if had
  1649. dreamt of the lady’s presence, or, if it were a fact. But then, he concluded, it made no difference. Reality and fantasy are both imagined and what is truth is what we believe. She had told him to obey others and accept his father’s counsel. But this admonition, whether it was his own consciousness or the advice of a stranger, in both cases who was to be obeyed was not explained.
  1650. With this perplexity still to be resolved, he reached his quarters and entered with the purpose of retiring for the night. He was distraught. There were no other words for his condition. He saw a light in the library off the hall. “My father is waiting for me,” he said to himself as he ambled towards the door. Standing before a blazing fire was José Pinheiro, his hands clasped behind his back.
  1651. “Good evening, father,” Bruno stated respectfully, “you are up late.” “Waiting for you, my son,” José Pinheiro responded, coughing slightly.
  1652. “Do sit down.”
  1653.  
  1654. Bruno headed for a small, leather sofa and resigned himself to listening to his father. José Pinheiro cleared his throat and began. Bruno was of the marrying age. He, José Pinheiro, was getting older. His commercial empire was a network of important contacts which would evaporate with his death. Bruno was intelligent but also sensitive and, even, aesthetic, a lover of art as his father. It made more sense for Bruno to avoid a commercial life which was perhaps not suitable to his tastes. Better to think of living the life of a gentleman farmer, the lord of a country manor, where rents from his inheritance would guarantee a
  1655.  
  1656.  
  1657.  
  1658.  
  1659.  
  1660. steady income and the results of the farm would only add to this largesse.
  1661. José Pinheiro drew an idyllic picture of the life Bruno would have if he found the proper companion. After a slight pause and twisting of his fingers, José Pinheiro reminded Bruno of the young maiden from Mafra of whom he had already spoken and, then, abruptly, he stopped talking and looked earnestly at Bruno.
  1662.  
  1663. “Yes, father,” Bruno asked politely, “what is it?”
  1664.  
  1665. José Pinheiro shook slightly; an imperceptible tremor grasped his chest. It was as if he had a vision and he saw the details, the future for his son, the desolation to which his son was being led, and yet, simultaneously, he questioned if he were not confounding his own fears with predictions. He was not, after all, a soothsayer. He spoke, not addressing Bruno, but his past, his own life. He told Bruno not to be afraid, to raise a family was good and correct, he himself was proud and content to have Bruno as his son, so Bruno should not hesitate. Again he paused. Bruno sat quietly for some moments. They stared at each other.
  1666. Bruno saw the desperation in his father’s face but the origin he could
  1667. not know, for even José Pinheiro could not explain the chill sweeping over him.
  1668.  
  1669. “Speak, father,” Bruno murmured, “tell me.”
  1670.  
  1671. José Pinheiro observed morosely his son’s features. He saw his frail features and the debility in his face, the small chin supporting thin lips permanently creased in a frown. His son had a meager frame tilted slightly over narrow hips, the result of selected marriages formed from the modest, aristocratic circle of Lisbon nobility. José Pinheiro was fond of his son, but knew well his limitations.
  1672.  
  1673. “We must go soon to Mafra and meet Rosa Cabral and her family,” he finally said resignedly.
  1674.  
  1675.  
  1676.  
  1677.  
  1678.  
  1679. “Of course,” Bruno replied immediately, “as you wish.”
  1680.  
  1681. Bruno retired to his room. His spirits were heavy as he sensed a circle being drawn about him but for what purpose he could not design. Lying in bed, Bruno listened to the thump of his father’s feet as he lurched about his bedroom across the hall. Under ordinary circumstances, the echo from the steps would have comforted Bruno and reminded him he was not alone. But it was precisely his sense of isolation that prevented him from the desired slumber. The events of the night were a plague to rest. He tossed and turned, a distraught creature wrought to the plans of others.
  1682. He only wished to succumb to his exhaustion. The act of yielding would give him his solace and preferred peace. Irritated with his turmoil, he garnered his strength and slipped out of his large, cherry wood berth. He strolled slowly towards the expansive window overlooking the gardens and knelt down on his knees. His posture of prayer was meant to demonstrate his piety, the inner grace he sincerely sought but which continually receded from his grasp. “Tonight,” he thought, “I shall pray for salvation and for the path each man must walk.” Then he added, “Through reflection, there must be an answer.” With his hands clasped, he implored the Christ of his childhood to instruct him and grant him vision. The late hours of the evening conferred a solemnity to his act of contrition. The occasional rustle of a crow in the nearby trees lulled him into an imagined repose. The fantasy natural to agitation overtook him as he murmured his prayers of succor.
  1683. To know the truth; to understand the nature of humanity and its purpose on earth. Surely Christ did not intend his flock to suffer. Yet everywhere there was anguish and agony. His episode with Marisa still burned in his consciousness and the shame of his reserve encumbered his spirit. There swelled within him the need to accept, to submit to others and not to assert his self. Perhaps this was the destiny to which his unsolicited night-time companion had alluded. His fate was to be an outcast. His mother did not want him. His father considered him incompetent. Marisa could barely conceal her scorn. The pleasures of
  1684.  
  1685.  
  1686.  
  1687.  
  1688.  
  1689. the flesh appeared apparently denied to him. Did not Christ yearn for his death in the ultimate sacrifice possible, to save others?
  1690. His call for deliverance could never be answered, he realized, as he was being shunted out of the current of life. His father wished him to retire to the country at an age when his contemporaries were preparing their careers. “Very well,” he concluded, “so shall it be. I am not one for combat. The hills and lands shall be my monastery. I shall be the priest of the wild flowers and soaring birds.” He rose and stared morosely into the gardens. He could see the expansive gardens with their trimmed hedges and graveled paths. The moon was now fully exposed and its lunar light illuminated his view.
  1691. He stood paused for some moments, watching the occasional stirring of tree branches. Then he saw her. He was sure it was she. The lady of the square, the same tall figure with the long skirt. She was staring at him and smiling, while her burning-red eyes revealed with their inner glow her face, now held in a fixed smile. Her satisfaction was apparent.
  1692. Bruno opened the window to call out to her, to demand an account, when she vanished, as if swept away by the noise of the rising window. Bruno hesitated and then returned to his bed. “Again I dream,” he grumbled to himself. “I must leave this wretched city. Father is right. There I shall be happy. The corridors of business are not to my liking and never will be.” He wrapped the covers about him so as to construct a cocoon.
  1693. As he fell asleep, nimble fingers opened the large wooden door serving
  1694. as entrance to the back of the garden. A silhouette slipped out, scurrying down the street and vanishing into the night air and into the arms of a companion waiting for her in a distant place beyond the ken of humans. The two lovers celebrated their eternal passion.
  1695.  
  1696. 5.1 Benjamin, the prodigal son.
  1697.  
  1698. The languid winds of autumn barely heralded the storms brewing in the distant horizon off the coast of Ericeira, turbulence which would affect all the members of the Cabral family. Rosa’s plans regarding Susana were accompanied by the explosion of Benjamin’s virility and Rosa,
  1699.  
  1700.  
  1701.  
  1702.  
  1703.  
  1704. aware of this, intended to profit from the congruence that both her children were ready to have sexual companions.
  1705. Benjamin, gripped by emotions he never experienced before, became the scandal of the local community. The news from the servants did not disturb Rosa at all. In fact, she welcomed the gossip. In contrast to Susana, enveloped in a mysticism carefully cultivated by her mother, Rosa realized it would only be a matter of time before Benjamin was completely corrupt.
  1706. With his increasing maturity, he was now 20, his physical demands took over the direction of his mind and dragged him into the futility of night life. As his masculinity exploded and coursed through his blood, he became captive to nature’s imperatives without any exercise of will or containment of morality. Being an heir to the largest estate in the Mafra district, there were no lack of female pretenders.
  1707. He abused his social position and his requests for tavern credit, gladly extended and promptly paid by his mother, hastened the steady, inexorable plunge of her son into the dismal abyss of pecuniary lust. He showed no interest in the local, albeit secondary, aristocrats who would have made excellent spouses. The past now possessed him as the mark of the red blotch on his chest asserted its claim.
  1708. After an easy conquest of a village tart which evidently was as unmemorable as it was spiritless, Benjamin’s escapades entered into a spiral of sought satiety which was impossible to attain for youthful passion was confused with love. During the afternoon he would lounge around his bedroom, day dreaming of his next triumph and the imagined relief beckoning him. At night, he would bid his farewell to his mother with little explanation and saunter out, his destination the meeting places where the single girls congregated, those willing for a modest sum to indulge the fantasies of the young men.
  1709. The intended victim easily became the pursuer, for the prize of having
  1710. seduced Benjamin, conferred on the harlot a modicum of fame. Nights of debauchery succeeded one another as water cascading from hills in winter. But Benjamin’s capers were accompanied by a necessary, vigilant guardian who encouraged his prowess. The silent companion was an observer of the line of Mary Sullivan who, for so many decades,
  1711.  
  1712.  
  1713.  
  1714.  
  1715.  
  1716. was watching and waiting. Human time bears no resemblance to destiny’s clock.
  1717. The visitor might appear to be a stranger he met at a tavern, or an escort who appeared with the strumpet, his presence never questioned, or a guest at one of the many houses which concealed their nocturne activity during the day with an innocuous commercial activity.
  1718. All these interlopers greeted Benjamin with the camaraderie which
  1719. masked the dark motives stirring beneath the grinning teeth and soft spoken words of encouragement. Benjamin was being nursed for more terrible acts whose finality demonstrates the monstrous falsity of human morality.
  1720. Benjamin was the chosen damned, the selected fool, a mixture of fluids and chemicals with no apparent purpose in life other than aimless sexual movement. Awakening in the morning, when the sounds of the countryside drifted across the hills, intending to remind inhabitants of the gentle sweetness of nature that nurtures all living matter, Benjamin was indifferent to the melody of songs bursting forth from the tree tops or the call of the wild geese as they flew on their southern journey to Northern Africa where the warm sun would ensure their survival. His body raked with the diffuse, hot temper of need. The egoistic demand of total satisfaction without regard to any particular companion uttered its commands and Benjamin was helpless and unable to refuse.
  1721. There was no one to guide him for no one was more determined as to his final destiny than his mother, Rosa. The sight of her lanky, swarthy son slipping out of the kitchen door at night, with an affected air of nonchalance, filled her with loathing. Time and time again as she lie in her bed, the terror stricken face of her late husband, Jorge, at the moment of his death, would surge forth into her mental memories, and her revulsion towards him continued as intense as on that night, only modestly tempered by her satisfaction with his violent slaying.
  1722. As the spiritual heir of Jorge, Benjamin suffered the silent contempt of his mother and his presence was tolerated merely for the purposes being constructed by Rosa. When she became aware of Benjamin’s permanent debauchery, she resolved to achieve a family justice. This was another revenge she would impose on her distasteful recollection of Jorge. She would deliver Benjamin into the hands of Marta Silva, the
  1723.  
  1724.  
  1725.  
  1726.  
  1727.  
  1728. tart who had gone to the hills with her husband, Jorge, so many years ago.
  1729. Approximately fifteen years had passed since Jorge’s death in 1837 and Marta, now 45, was slowly drifting into a permanent dissolute life, lying with any man who could gather together some coins. Rosa resolved to go and see her, even though the thought was completely repugnant to her nature. “I am the judge and the executioner,” Rosa often muttered to herself as she trampled upon the cobblestones of the village when domestic tariffs called her into town.
  1730. When the daily winter winds and rain began to lash and drench Mafra,
  1731. Rosa took advantage of the first break in the weather and one afternoon when the sky was clear, she gathered her spirits together and went to see Marta. Her plans were quite simple. She would offer Marta employment as a scullery maid and it would be only a matter of time before Benjamin fell into her arms. With a permanent bed mate at his disposal, Benjamin would be inexorably dragged into the limbo of torment, where his sensual needs became warped and crazed and no amount of pleasure could diminish his, by now, irrational desires. His plunge into the final debacle she was arranging was inevitable.
  1732. Since the dramatic happenings when Jorge had been slain by the dog
  1733. Castro, Marta never spoke of that evening. Nor did she know Rosa was a witness to the events. The fifteen years which had passed since the terrible, terrifying moments in which she was swept into a scene of death and horror, impelled Marta towards a compulsive attitude where she sought refuge in the arms of anyone who was willing to pay for her bodily services. Demons pursued her continually for she had been a witness to the physical death of His son and there was a price to be extracted for this privilege.
  1734. When Rosa appeared at her miserable hovel one afternoon with her
  1735. offer of work, a hysterical, maniacal laughter silently rose within the bowels of her body and shook her violently. The hapless wife of her dead lover was offering her employment. What is more, she already knew of Benjamin’s escapades and his wild pursuit of the scent of women. The fact that the scion of her former lover would now be cast into her presence, his immature mind an easy prey to the lure of physical desire, he, the son of her throbbing lover long since deceased,
  1736.  
  1737.  
  1738.  
  1739.  
  1740.  
  1741. all these emotions and cluttered thoughts made it clear to her that at last the good fortune, which occasionally is granted to the wretched, was within easy reach of her clinging, rotten limbs. It never occurred to her the manipulation in course was from the other woman.
  1742. So she accepted the offer quickly, muttering her thanks through a
  1743. clenched mouth, shuffling her feet behind her in some awkward semblance to a courtesy while all the time her mind was infused with the glory soon to be conferred on her. It was agreed she would report for work as soon as possible. To the dismay of the other servants, whom she informed when she returned home, Rosa simply retorted that the weak needed assistance and the church was not the only place for charitable deeds.
  1744. Marta arrived and was shown her quarters which Rosa ensured were at
  1745. a distant wing from her bedroom so that the expected follies of Benjamin would take place far from her ears. The first few weeks Benjamin seemed indifferent to the presence of Marta in the kitchen for she was considerably older. He was the burning young adult in the full prime of his sensuality while Marta offered the spectacle of a weary, worn drudge, whose pallid face and permanent fatigue failed to stir him. Her futile coquetry irritated him.
  1746. The nights succeeded one another as Benjamin stumbled home late,
  1747. when the fields were silent, he soaked with drinks, and his body heavy with the aftermath of lust and depravity. He would stagger up the steps towards his room and throw himself upon his bed, not awakening till late in the afternoon the next day, his fetid breath emitting sounds resonating through the corridors.
  1748. One evening he came home when the late evening was cool and the night was clear with the sparkle of distant stars. Across the nightly dome of intense black surrounding the village houses and gardens, the thick band of distant lights circumvented the horizon. Drops of scattered milk floated through the firmament trailing off into eternity. He lurched into the kitchen in search of cool water. Marta was there. He saw her large thighs and bulky breasts barely concealed beneath her slovenly dress. He was exhausted but he was still full of need and he looked into her eyes and saw she wanted him. The thought of her common legs enveloping him appealed to his spent taste in search of
  1749.  
  1750.  
  1751.  
  1752.  
  1753.  
  1754. another flavor. Her obvious experience with men promised acts of physical love he had not experienced.
  1755. And so he bedded her that night. It was simple, it was without guile, and he became quickly habituated to her willingness no matter when or for what pretext. Above all, her proclivity to the unusual inebriated him beyond his imagination and his head would burst with the passion exploding in his head and draining his body until, soaked, jaded, he would fall onto her chest, his frail, adolescent bones trembling against her heart. Enough of his youth remained to shame him for his wanton behavior.
  1756. Days would pass and Marta would not even appear in the kitchen as she lay in her room with Benjamin. She could not believe her blessings. Benjamin seemed enthralled with the physical warmth she dispensed so willingly and she never asked for anything in return. In fact, Marta was quite happy. She had security. No one would threaten her. She saw the justice in sleeping with the son of the man who had been assassinated in her presence.
  1757. Her only thought was what more or what novelty she could introduce into her physical love with Benjamin to hold his interest and maintain his passion. Such is the nature of lust that one extreme quickly becomes the commonplace and Benjamin’s cravings turned urgent and immediate.
  1758. Through the weeks that passed, with Marta occasionally reporting to the kitchen for appearance and some degree of employment, Rosa was silent and ostensibly satisfied. When the other kitchen servants would complain to her, she would snap at them and tell them they could leave, a threat which would never be challenged. The stories of Benjamin’s complete depravity circulated throughout Mafra, which pleased Rosa even more. She was waiting, watching when Benjamin would become the incarnation of sex, a soulless phallic symbol in need of a destiny. She would prepare it although its precise moment she could not determine.
  1759. This is what her night visitor told her when he sat next to her and
  1760. whispered in her ears the future, the consecration of the cult which must take place soon. He told her how much she satisfied Him, as His warm breath lapped invitingly against the crevices of her neck. She murmured
  1761.  
  1762.  
  1763.  
  1764.  
  1765.  
  1766. with delight and ecstasy as His fingers softened her maddening anxiety and lulled her into a reverie of dreams and desire. Whispering to her as she moved towards her needed climax, He told her of what was coming and how she should proceed and she understood. When her body was seized with a convulsing spasm, He explained what would happen. It was forthcoming, shortly, He promised. For the moment, he advised her, the marriage of Susana and Bruno must be consummated. To this task, Rosa turned her attention,
  1767.  
  1768. 5.2 The fated course of love
  1769.  
  1770. Susana was aware of her brother’s daily absences from their domain although she did not know the full extent of Benjamin’s degradation. Passing her in the corridors, he would merely nod to his sister as he lurched about bent on satisfying his infernal needs and fantasying as to what new experience awaited him.
  1771. Nor did the presence of Marta loom significant to Susana. Although the sight of Marta groping about the large open hearth kitchen was distasteful to her, she was hard put to define its reason, and merely granted her the necessary courtesies from the mistress of the manor.
  1772. The servants never discussed with Susana their whispered calumny for
  1773. there was a strict social hierarchy in the manor. As to the few questions Marta posed to her mother about the “new servant, Marta,” Rosa merely shrugged her shoulders with the laconic reply, “The hirelings come and go,” and Susana thought no more about the topic. She was caught up in a diabolical scheme engendered by the great Designer of all things evil.
  1774. Of course, Susana was the key element and Rosa soon concluded the moment had come for Susana to be married. When she had first met Bruno Pinheiro, a day in November, when he and his father arrived for a lunch following the Sunday mass, she saw in his face the blank glaze of a condemned soul whose journey through life was merely marking time of a useless passage. Jula’s description of Bruno was accurate and Rosa needed precious little time to know her choice of an illusory husband was certain. Bruno would never be a satisfactory physical companion to Susana.
  1775.  
  1776.  
  1777.  
  1778.  
  1779.  
  1780. Prior to their advent, Rosa spent a great deal of time with Susana explaining the reason for the visit. She told Susana she had met a young man through an old family friend who was from a well-bred lineage. He was a quiet gentleman, not yet experienced in life, but Rosa was impressed by his obvious depth of feeling, his sensibility to others, the beauty in the world obviously revealed to him by his withdrawn, retiring comportment.
  1781. Moreover, he appeared to Rosa to be lonely and in need of a companion
  1782. who would make a life for him and above all he was anxious to start a family. The young man, Bruno, was restless to leave Lisbon and set up home in the country. Susana listened but did not hear for her thoughts were immersed in the words of “love,”, “family”, “home”, “children”. The reality behind these words she could not visualize.
  1783. The first visit by Bruno and his father was uneventful although in her youthful reveries Susana did not discern the personality of Bruno. He was attentive, for he could no longer bear the jeers of his colleagues, and he believed his only salvation was to flee from Lisbon and retreat to the country. Naturally, he did not think of his life as a military campaign but he sensed that in Mafra he could build a fortress about his life which would permit him to maintain an orderly, calm existence.
  1784. His confidence was further fortified by the sensory pleasures he
  1785. underwent when confronted with the physical beauty of the Cabral estates. Wherever his eyes turned, there were low, rolling hills, tilled with perfection, so that with the coming of spring, corridors of rye and oats would spring forth to feed the wandering cattle, oblivious to the savage death awaiting them. Nor did the harsh, winter winds dampen the vitality and force surging forth from the dormant orchards circling the manor house. A ring of fruit waiting to bud and burst forth enhanced his belief that peace, for him, could be achieved in the Cabral mansion.
  1786. Rosa guided him and his father through the many saloons of her home, with Susana dutifully following in her footsteps and occasionally exchanging glances with Bruno. While the décor and furniture was hardly resplendent or even reminiscent of the many foreign artists residing in Lisbon and displaying their talents for the homes of the city’s aristocracy, still there was evident everywhere, in the large,
  1787.  
  1788.  
  1789.  
  1790.  
  1791.  
  1792. carved wardrobes, the lavishly sculptured wooden beds, the many, darkly painted still-life of the chase and fruit solemnly covering the main dinning room, and of course the repeated signs of devotion to Christ, the opulence of the Cabral family.
  1793. Rosa was always careful to demonstrate her devoutness and fidelity to
  1794. the image of the Lord and his messages. For Rosa, the congregation was a farce. The thought of the church and its acolytes repulsed her. She saw no salvation in any of the commandments of the ministry. She had once been mortally betrayed. Never again would she prostate herself in denial before the garish, hideous, smirking face of that Christ who dealt out justice in an arbitrary fashion.
  1795. Ambling through the corridors of her ostentatious country villa, with a thrust of her broad shoulders she flung open the French doors leading out onto the gardens, trimmed in accordance with the latest fashions imported from England. She turned to Bruno and his father and with obvious pride, waved her hand towards the distant horizon. “Beyond those hills, you are near the ocean. That is where my lands end. This is the inheritance for my lovely Susana and my son, Benjamin, naughty boy, off on one of his silly escapades. Well, he shall grow into his work as did his father.” A smile crossed her face which was misunderstood by all present.
  1796. Rosa undertook the chaperon of the romance between Susana and Bruno with total dedication and astute reserve. She brought Susana into Lisbon often to see Bruno and suggested they visit the landmarks sprawled throughout the seven hills towering over the commercial heart of the city.
  1797. They walked, Susana and Bruno. They stopped at the many cafés to take tea and sweets. Often Bruno would take Susana into the old Moorish part of Lisbon, denominated Alfama, and together they strolled about in search of the ruins and relics left by the vanquished Moors, once the caliphs of the capital. Remnants of ancient walls cropped out between narrow streets, while at a corner near a dilapidated fountain Bruno might encounter an inscription written in Latin, attesting to the antiquity of the site.
  1798. Other times, Bruno would hire a carriage which would take him on the
  1799. long trip by horse to Mafra. His father was amazed at Bruno’s
  1800.  
  1801.  
  1802.  
  1803.  
  1804.  
  1805. persistence, his apparent infatuation with Mafra, the mansion, and of course Susana. Yet Bruno hardly spoke of his thoughts to his father. As to Susana, he did escort her willingly through the part he knew he must assume. He asked for her health, he strolled with her among the gardens; he spoke to her of the enchanting solitude and inner allurement of the Cabral estate. “There is such a stunning enchantment here, in this rural paradise,” he whispered to Susana, and she was satisfied.
  1806. She did not examine beyond the content of the words. Nor did she find
  1807. it strange that Bruno never once addressed words of passion to her. “He is timid,” she answered to her infrequent doubts, “and he is inhibited by my presence.” If she expressed a hesitant opinion to Rosa about her future, her mother brushed it aside with a loud laugh and snapped, with a disdaining grimace. “He loves you, child, and is thus tongue twisted. To be shy is the most natural thing in the world. Do not let him escape you. It is youth which snares the mate.”
  1808. Autumn was succeeded by winter and the courtship of Susana and
  1809. Bruno continued in its natural rhythm. Although both Rosa and Susana attempted to draw Benjamin into the intimacy of a possible new family, the prodigal son displayed no interest. He saw the attractiveness of Susana for Bruno. He himself was well aware of her sensuous bodily graces. But his nightly forays dissipated his strength. His mental vigor had long ago snapped. His wanton interludes with Marta broke his sense of morality. He could not draw the line between the permitted and the fantasy.
  1810. When his mother hinted at an impending marriage between Bruno and Susana, Benjamin broke into unrestrained laughter. He could recall perfectly Susana’s developing body, the nights, when younger, they lay in each other’s arms. A surge of jealousy swept momentarily through him, a touch of despair, for Susana had always appeared to him as ripe fruit on the family table, there, not necessarily profited. The fact she was his sister barely managed to stifle his natural lust, but then his rounds in Mafra sufficed as an outlet.
  1811. Once or twice he attended a Sunday lunch when Bruno was present but he found the Lisbon guest insipid, boring, and indifferent to the strong currents of corporal desire dominating Benjamin. He resolved not to have much to do with Bruno and if there was to be a marriage he would
  1812.  
  1813.  
  1814.  
  1815.  
  1816.  
  1817. simply shunt Bruno into some meaningless task which did not interfere with the life of the manor. In any event, it would be some time before Bruno would be asked to assume the custodianship of the farm, no doubt decades, for his mother was quite active.
  1818. The courtship proceeded to its natural climax until one afternoon, in a
  1819. response to an invitation from Rosa, Bruno and his father arrived for a sumptuous lunch preceding Christmas. D. José had suggested to Bruno that he should declare his intentions to Susana and Rosa had advised Susana that Bruno was desperately in love with her and would probably propose to her the coming Sunday.
  1820. After lunch, with the connivance of the parents, Susana and Bruno found themselves alone in the spacious library of the Cabral estate, a fire roaring with its power and bathing the guests with its diffuse warmth. They exchanged pleasantries with one another. Bruno noticed her dark her eyelashes were and he felt a surge of deep wanting, for her, for the safety she represented, for the physical tenderness which only a woman can dispense.
  1821. He suddenly stopped talking and walked towards her. Taking her hand gently in his, he found himself telling her things he never uttered, of his loneliness, his need for companionship, the wastefulness of his days. Before Susana could reply, Bruno suddenly threw himself onto his knees, and grasping her by the ankles, begged her to accept him as her husband.
  1822. Startled, and at a loss for words, Susana hesitated, and then her mother walked into the library. Seeing Bruno in a prostate position, she correctly assumed his request and, observing the gaping appearance on Susana’s face, she grabbed Bruno by the shoulders and hoisted him up. “My dear boy,” she murmured softly, “how fortunate we shall be to have you in our family. Another son has been granted to me by the wise divinity embracing us all.”
  1823. Without waiting for any reaction on the part of Susana, Rosa pulled Susana towards her, onto her chest, and stroking her hair, murmured words of affection and thoughts of the great happiness awaiting her. “Dom José,” she called out excitedly, “come and congratulate our children on their blessed union.”
  1824.  
  1825.  
  1826.  
  1827.  
  1828.  
  1829. Dom José reeled into the library and with a significant demeanor of pleasure and pride, grasped his son to his bosom. “Bravo, Bruno, you have chosen well.”
  1830. Rosa wanted to call Benjamin to the intimate celebration now taking
  1831. place but he was nowhere to be found, although a short walk to Marta’s chamber would have found him panting and sweating as his sinewy limbs rocked to the rhythm of an infernal appetite.
  1832.  
  1833. 5.3 My sister, Susana, deserves a nightly visit.
  1834.  
  1835. When Benjamin awoke, it was nearing midnight. Marta’s loud snoring stirred him from his reverie. Opening his eyes, he saw Marta sprawled out on the bed, her heavy, flabby breasts dropping without elegance onto the sheets, while her lower abdomen heaved and subsided as if attempting to disgorge an exaggerated repast. His thoughts at the moment toward Marta were a combination of revulsion and gratitude. Her frowzy appearance irritated him yet as she was a willing partner to all his jaded desires, and they were many, she was a source of satisfaction. No matter what degree of fulfillment he demanded or craved, she was prepared to yield and to even evidence, whether true or simulated, a joy in its perversity. It did not matter, either to Marta or Benjamin, the sincerity of their passion. What was crucial was the satisfaction derived from compliance.
  1836. For Marta it was a circle in her life and at times she confused the wild
  1837. passion of Benjamin with that of his father, Jorge. And if Benjamin at times saw clearly the broken, humbled spirit of Marta it did not matter to him. It was her body, a receptacle for all his youthful flights of fancy, some indeed distorted, which allowed him to momentarily escape his bodily imprisonment and confused mental state.
  1838. Eventually the heavy silence enveloping the manor stirred him from Marta’s bed. With the smell of her spent ardor still about his body, he slowly dressed and quietly left the chamber so as not to awaken her. He began the walk to his room, tired in spirit and without hope. It was his lingering feeling of futility which drove him night after night to seek the comfort of another body. It never occurred to him that faith and the
  1839.  
  1840.  
  1841.  
  1842.  
  1843.  
  1844. future were intrinsically linked to a morality, no matter how constructed or what were the standards.
  1845. It was the lack of any rule of conduct which was destroying Benjamin. The absence of inner regulations meant anything was permitted and therefore he had to try all and experiment with every possible variant. He was young, adrift, without a spiritual rudder. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he was irremediably contaminated.
  1846. Passing his sister’s room, he saw a light from under the door and he decided to pay Susana a short visit. He knocked gently on her door and, receiving an affirmative response, pushed the heavy, wooden portal inwards. To his surprise, he saw Susana was lying in bed, in her nightgown, her full, budding breasts rising slowly with her breath, her eyes turned towards him with a tired expression.
  1847. With a nod of his head, but not at first speaking, he dropped into an
  1848. armchair near her bed, where there was a night table with a lamp, and stared moodily at her. They both experienced the same emotion, a return to their infancies when they had been bed mates and shared the same reveries uncontaminated by the senses of desire. Noting her soft, iridescent hairs spread out on her pillow, Benjamin was harshly reminded of the contrast between Susana and the trollops with whom he cavorted. He was particularly anguished by the obvious, virginal softness of Susana and the ugly coarseness of Marta.
  1849. Finally, he spoke, “You will soon be marrying Bruno.”
  1850.  
  1851. “Yes,” Susana replied, and then she stopped as if to stifle a further thought, not bothering to ask how he knew.
  1852.  
  1853. Unable to understand its origin, Benjamin was seized by an anger which swept through him with a violence which caused him to stiffen his hands on the arms of the large, leather seat enveloping him. And then, without explanation, there swept before him in his imagination the naked corporal outline of Susana being bedded by Benjamin and a wild, inner laughter began to seize him, racking his body so that he had to cross him arms about his chest to stifle the offensive noises overwhelming him. Her thick monastic flesh being stirred by the wimp
  1854.  
  1855.  
  1856.  
  1857.  
  1858.  
  1859. Benjamin was a garish incongruity which caused him contemptible disbelief.
  1860. Susana appeared oblivious to his emotions, as she kept her eyes focused on the ceiling, pensively contemplating the events of the day.
  1861. Against his will, Benjamin prodded her. “You are in love with him?” Susana did not reply but kept staring at the roof of her room, a sanctuary she realized she would soon be leaving. She was unable to reply to Benjamin. When the silence became unbearable, Benjamin lifted himself up and approached Susana. Between them there had always been a comprehensive understanding not requiring many words. Under ordinary circumstances, Benjamin would have offered some words of encouragement or support, but he was too debased to verbalize any solace. Instead, he gently lifted the hand of Susana which was lying on the cover of the flowered eiderdown covering her. He felt her warmth, the blood pulsating in her soft limb, a call of tenderness and refuge, a bulwark of safety and encompassing love which is the icon of motherhood.
  1862. Benjamin was overcome with grief. He wanted to clasp her to his bosom but he knew his masculinity would explode and he would be confronted with the most horrible of all family desires-incest-and here Susana was soon to marry. His body began to tremble and while there was still the faintest tinge of will power remaining within him, he stood up quickly and fled from her room.
  1863. Lurching down the corridor towards his lodging he began to sob from the disgrace of his desires when he saw a man in the shadows at the turn of the hall, staring at him, a mixture of disappointment and contempt curled about his lips. Benjamin knew that Bruno and his father had visited them that day, but he did not know whether they were staying for the evening or not. Nor did he know the figure of D. José very well, having been only once introduced to him, but then never bothering to attend any of the afternoon lunches.
  1864. Moreover the darkness of the passageway made identification difficult.
  1865. He was about to call out, when the silhouette vanished, rounding the corner towards his room. Rushing to the site, Benjamin stared down the corridor now leading directly to his room. But it was empty. Benjamin paused, a searing pain lapping at his groin. He knew what it was, the
  1866.  
  1867.  
  1868.  
  1869.  
  1870.  
  1871. return of unsatisfied want, a demand of physical satisfaction which leaps from the virility of young men. He glanced back towards the chamber of Susana, debating whether to return-was it possible Susana was waiting for him?-then he heard a shuffle and a door opened, the entrance to the stairs descending to the kitchen.
  1872. Again he believed he saw the same dark outline of a person staring at him. Overcome with fear, spent with stifled emotions, he was about to call out when the face confronting him became clear, he saw dark, dazzling eyes holding him in their confrontation, and words passed through the air between them, not heard by others, sounds which were the combination of Benjamin’s innermost desires and fantasies, almost commands which ordered him to turn around and bed her, his sister, the true object of his desire, the only one which could satisfy his hopeless damnation.
  1873. He wavered, his legs shaking, now going backwards, now moving forwards, until a violent reaction seized his body and he collapsed onto the floor. Lying there, he gasped and struggled to regain his breath, which he recovered slowly. When there returned to him, a sense of mobility, he did not stand up but rather slowly crawled on his knees to his room. And then he recalled the nightly apparition which he had witnessed. Where was his visitor?
  1874. But the silence of the hall and the encompassing solitude everywhere present convinced him he was a victim of his own weary thoughts, often confounding imagination with reality. Darkness and shadows distort reality, making us believe events happen. With relief he reached his room and threw himself onto his bed. His last memory was hearing heavy iron hinges creak, the slow swinging of a door as it closed with deliberation.
  1875. In her room, Rosa was planning the consequences to the forthcoming
  1876. union. Of course, the marriage should take place in the family chapel, and the honeymoon would be consummated in a cottage not far from the main manor which was used occasionally for special guests arriving from Lisbon. Reviewing the possible alternatives, Rosa concluded a wedding in January would confer an atmosphere of a fresh life coinciding with a new year.
  1877.  
  1878.  
  1879.  
  1880.  
  1881.  
  1882. But when she focused on the aftermath of the wedding, she realized the honeymoon might cause Susana anxiety and an unpredictable response so that the nearness of the bridal lair important. Rosa was convinced that Bruno would not make a satisfactory mate. How Susana would react to the obvious inadequacies of Bruno, apparent to Rosa but not yet to Susana, was her concern. She decided the best was to have Susana and Bruno pass their first night together near her so that she, Rosa, was present for all contingencies.
  1883. It was essential to her plan that the marriage be consummated, maintained, and never disrupted. For Rosa’s cursed objective to be achieved, the sensual life of Susana was to be fomented elsewhere. The forthcoming cult of the House of Cabral demanded absolute obedience, an impenetrable secrecy, but also a social masquerade which would be a mockery of the touted paradise of conjugal life.
  1884. She was the planner, the schemer, the prophet, and, above all, the instigator. This is what He required. The descendants of Mary Sullivan to be forever cursed and Rosa was the mere female conduit of His pleasures and His designs.
  1885. The events preceding the marital decision had been carefully planned
  1886. by Rosa. This was the culmination of her dedication to the cult soon to be launched. She did not map out a particular route. Her mind and thoughts were invaded by inner counsel and fantasies which tormented her at night. She could only think that from the marriage between Susana and Bruno a way would be shown to her but of course its precise details she failed to articulate. It did not matter. She knew from the beginning the marriage was fated to fail and the two participants were hapless victims to her own schemes.”
  1887.  
  1888. Chapter 6
  1889.  
  1890. 6.0 The family records reveal the wedding night took place during the month of January, 1853. For good reasons, the precise date is not indicated.
  1891.  
  1892. The month of January 1853 was particularly wet and cold, even for
  1893. Mafra. Winds swept off the coast of Ericeira in a fury, lashing and
  1894.  
  1895.  
  1896.  
  1897.  
  1898.  
  1899. soaking all vegetation in its path. The ground became heavy and soaked with running water, while the village fountains sprouted forth their overflow of underground streams.
  1900. Bruno remained longer then he should have in the bathroom. He
  1901. glanced at his face in the crude mirror, a mere piece of metal highly polished. Although the reflection was faulty, the candle light still managed to reveal his features. He knew his appearance displayed inner turmoil. How he was to fulfill his masculine obligations to Susana appeared beyond his capacities. He knew she was waiting for him, and he wanted to realize his conjugal promises, but a fear he could not define rendered him hopeless. Shame invaded him as water steadily invading a deserted beach during an incoming tide.
  1902. On the other side of the door, Susana was staring out of the window,
  1903. wondering what Bruno was doing in the bathroom as no sounds were heard. The guest cottage they were occupying was a one story building, near the large manor, with large windows which allowed its occupants an expansive view over the countryside.
  1904. Lying on her side, she could see the twisted trunks of the various olive trees. It was late evening as the wedding had been a long, festive occasion; but the pale moonlight illuminated the olive groove and even permitted a glimpse of distant hills. Susana, partly in a drowsy state, allowed her thoughts to course through the events of the wedding. It had been an awkward affair.
  1905. Guests from Lisbon appeared in abundance, for even if they did not know Susana personally, they came to homage D. José. From the village of Mafra, all the merchants dependent on Rosa for sustenance arrived with their gifts. It was an investment they were making in their future. Through all the constant chatter and confusion, the ceremony, the meals, the procession to congratulate Susana and Bruno, in the midst of the flurry of servants carrying the varied dishes, a few memories stood out in the mind of Susana.
  1906. Her mother had moved awkwardly among the guests, an anxiety
  1907. evident in her face. More than once, Susana saw her mother staring at her apprehensively. D. José kept tapping his fingers on a table, glancing furtively continually at his son. Her brother, Benjamin, was seen for a few minutes, but then she did not see him for the rest of the day. She
  1908.  
  1909.  
  1910.  
  1911.  
  1912.  
  1913. did not even know if Benjamin had been present in the chapel for the ceremony.
  1914. As for herself, her courtship had been so strange that she could not fathom how the marriage had materialized. Bruno had never once kissed her and she could not recall Bruno even having exhibited any physical affection towards her. She mentioned this once to her mother who exploded in anger and told her Bruno was a young man of impeccable manners.
  1915. What she did not know was her mother later that day rejoiced in what she understood to be her excellent fortune, her perspicuity in selecting Bruno, the ideal impotent mate for her daughter, he who would never be a bed companion to Susana and who would impel Susana towards the damnation awaiting her.
  1916. While the nuptial night should have been an episode of effusive tenderness and an explosion of physical passion, a silence hovered about their bridal chamber which heightened the tension circulating within Susana. Many instances, while Bruno was ostensibly engaged in his toiletry, she longed to return to her protected and pampered status of mistress of the Cabral estates, a single girl still not initiated into the world of conjugal demands.
  1917. The quietude of the early evening, the infrequent country sounds which
  1918. filtered through the window, the vexatious hooting of a barn owl seeking companionship, even the groaning of the branches from the force of the ocean winds charging in off the coast, caused her to be restless and impatient for her imagined night of initiation. She, alone, was to be the object of Bruno’s desire.
  1919. But Susana was not alone. They were all there, the expectant, invisible companions who understood the importance of the events which would come to fruition this evening. Rosa hovered about her window, glancing frequently towards the country cottage serving as the honeymoon suite. She was waiting for a signal. There were others, Rosa was sure. She did not see them, but she heard noises and the mumbling of whispers borne by the winds.
  1920. It might have been Benjamin prowling as he often did at night when his uncontrollable desires sent him off towards the village. Also, she had
  1921.  
  1922.  
  1923.  
  1924.  
  1925.  
  1926. implored upon D. José to stay overnight and yet he was too nervous a man to retire early. Others she could conjure.
  1927. Her visions had gathered in intensity as the days shortened towards the family ceremony. The day before the wedding she had gone to the family chapel and knelt for hours before the Christ she despised. She saw the smirk on his face, the cunning look in his eyes telling her what a farce were the community morals.
  1928. Bowed beneath his scarred, blood-mired face, her hate and rage for the barrenness of her life had swelled up within her and she felt a pounding seize her head and push her towards the floor. But she was determined to punish the fool who preposterously deceived the world and in her determined wrath she had snatched from the altar an empty silver goblet and rushed to a fountain from which water dripped slowly.
  1929. As she watched the cup fill to its brim, a wail rose within her and she
  1930. cried out beneath the arched roof, as if relief were possible through crazed utterances, or even that salvation could be secured through confessions of guilt, “From whence come the laws that regulate our lives? How can they be just if there is so much suffering?”
  1931. Turning her face towards the Savior she picked up the receptacle, now
  1932. replete with cool, fresh water, and hurried towards the painting. As soon as she was near enough she turned the goblet upside down and let the water run across her forehead and splash downwards onto the floor. “Are you ready to receive me now? Have I not baptized myself as you demand?”
  1933. She saw the lips of Christ began to tremble as words strived to escape from his lips, as if He wanted to answer her, but a swirling darkness started to envelop her and there thundered in her ears another spirit telling her that her daughter would soon be ready for the carnal sacrifice. This was the culmination of the first sin, the passion that spluttered fitfully one afternoon in Haworth, for the Master of Darkness does not allow his victims to escape with protestations of grace. They must render homage throughout eternity. The basic laws of the community once broken can not be mended. The accursed bear their mark and the blood of the condemned flow unaltered throughout the generations leaving the sign of their contaminated blood upon the flesh of the heirs.
  1934.  
  1935.  
  1936.  
  1937.  
  1938.  
  1939. Watching the droplets fall slowly from her face, Rosa listened to Him and agreed it was right and good. She was to be patient. She had chosen her victim carefully. He told her Bruno would not fail her. Her justice would be perpetuated. Such were the whispers He breathed into her ear as she rocked in frenzy in the early mornings in her chamber. She understood and laughing without reason she had rushed from the chapel to rest for the wedding soon to take place.
  1940. Now, poised before the window, observing the slow drift of clouds
  1941. across the dark horizon, an occasional sliver of light bathing the still fields, she bowed her head in homage to her masters, for they were many. Her stock, muscular body firmed with the contained energy which could not find release. She waited, for a signal, a sign, a beckoning, and an instruction.
  1942. Within the cottage, the same inertia was seizing Bruno, trembling with anxiety in the bathroom. He had to leave his sanctuary, but he was unable to give the command to his feet. A damp, heavy sweat enveloped his body. On the other side of the door, Susana was waiting for him. There was an unseen, ancient feud underway, a chorus of spirits in the undergrowth. Rosa imagined it dimly. Susana was unaware. Bruno was the prize.
  1943. Now the woman with the long dress told him to flee, to return to the
  1944. comfort of his home and art objects whence nothing would be required of him. The other, the father, D. José urged him to grasp his destiny and give life to others. Christ once again cried out for salvation while the putrid mouths shouted for their trophy. The battle of course was not heard but when the invisible arms clashed with such furor that a loud, strident crackling was heard, assumed by the terrified villagers to be a phenomenon of nature, lightening without rain, and the sign of evil, Bruno was propelled from his chosen hideaway and stood before Susana.
  1945. A pleasant smile greeted him. She was waiting for him. She lifted her arms to call him to her. Yet, madness seized his thoughts. The spiritual struggle was reaching its culmination. The source of darkness played its trump. The crackling voice of Marisa and the stench of her flaccid flesh appeared before his eyes in an apparition. He saw her, Susana, a virginal halo of peace and love, then Marisa, a lump of wasted, fetid
  1946.  
  1947.  
  1948.  
  1949.  
  1950.  
  1951. flesh, while a searing pain crossed his chest. He was implored to seek the true path of feminine solace, but he was an error, a human mistake, wisely chosen by Rosa.
  1952. Staggering towards Susana, he stared wildly at her and then, seeing
  1953. now the fear in her face, when he wanted tenderness, he turned around, scoped up his overcoat lying on a chair, and fled, running, out into the night, not knowing where to go, the hills calling him, the wind dispersing the tears flowing in abundance in their downward course, while the solitary owl screeched with crazed loneliness.
  1954. The flight was the glorious march towards the altar of sacrifice. Now
  1955. the lightening struck again and again. He could not turn back. The infrequent clouds gathered in intensity and while light struggled to hold back the obscurity of evil, it was too late. Bruno was lost, stumbling about the hillocks, while the drones gathered in intensity until he fell to the ground, sniveling, but never asking for guidance. The quietness of the night was cleaved with his hysterical weeping.
  1956. Left alone, Susana remained immobile for some minutes. The gathering
  1957. storm outside began to shake the modest structure and she was gripped in a fear. Her astonishment, then her abandonment on her wedding night, burst forth from her in a childlike wail and she sprung from the unused nuptial bed. He had fled from her! Her body, in preparation for its initiation, was aflame with desire and bursting with readiness. Running to the door, she flung it open and stared into the blackness of the heavens which were now unleashing a steady downpour. Reason drained from her as the rivulets of water dribbling from the roof of the porch. A voice began to call her. She could not identify it but it was surely her mother. There was no one else to comfort her. She could not remain in her bridal chamber which was now defiled by Bruno’s crazed behavior. Wet and cold, her body trembled with fright and despair; yet the anticipated male passion still persisted with her.
  1958. The return to her mother’s manor seemed the only alternative and in a dazed determination she lumbered towards the large, stone structure drenched in water yet offering a haven to her desolate spirits. From the vantage of her window, Rosa had seen the flight of Bruno and now she saw Susana lurching towards her, at time slipping onto her knees, other times standing straight and allowing the coolness of the bursting night
  1959.  
  1960.  
  1961.  
  1962.  
  1963.  
  1964. shower to temper the unsatisfied desire which had taken dominion of her.
  1965. Rushing from her room, Rosa hastened to the main door and threw it open to greet Susana. As soon as Susana saw her mother, she rushed into her arms. Murmuring to her, Susana grasped her in apparent concern, and issued her foul suggestion, “To the chapel, my love, to the chapel my dear, we must pray together. Go, go, I shall join you immediately.”
  1966. Not understanding but obedient by nature, Susana hesitated slightly, and then, oblivious to her appearance, her nightgown soaked with water, and barely concealing the contours of her youthful body, turned and fled towards the nearby sanctuary to await her mother. As soon as she was heading towards the site of Susana’s planned ritual, Rosa turned around and raced up the stairs towards the chamber of Benjamin. Flinging open the door, she saw he was not there.
  1967. In desperation, she raced down the corridor towards the far wing of the
  1968. manor, towards Marta’s room, mumbling to herself that Benjamin must be there; it was ordained so and could not be otherwise. He did not fail her. Approaching the door to Marta’s chamber, she heard the sexual groaning of her son. Revulsion swirled within her but she was unwavering. The moment had to be seized.
  1969. As soon as Benjamin heard the door swinging open he released Marta from his arms, who in any event was already limp from his excessive appetite, and he stared in stupefaction at his mother. “Hurry,” she shouted, “Susana has been defiled. Come quickly to the chapel.” With those enigmatic words, she slammed the door and waited impatiently for the noises signaling Benjamin was obeying her. When she heard no rustle or stir, she began to bang violently on the heavy wood with the heel of her shoe, screaming hysterically, “Leave that foul bed and assume your obligations or I shall cast you penniless onto the streets of Mafra.”
  1970. In a matter of moments, Benjamin appeared and stared mutely at his
  1971. mother. He had hastily dressed and his shirt hung loosely about his frame, revealing his muscular, sinewy physique. The pale light of the hall caused him to resemble his father, a steel-cold look in his eyes while, before the tragic events, his lips were curled in disdain.
  1972.  
  1973.  
  1974.  
  1975.  
  1976.  
  1977. “What is it, mother?” Benjamin asked softly.
  1978. In reply, Rosa grabbed his hanging, motionless hand and pulled him down the long passageway. Benjamin stumbled after her, his ears suddenly penetrated with garbled sounds while the rising storm shook the timbers of the house. As soon as the main door was thrust open, Benjamin beheld a sight of unnatural dread. Torrents of rain raced down the pathway leading to the garden but what riveted Rosa and her son were the howling wild dogs gathered in a horde near the garden wall racing back and forth, saliva and froth emerging from their mouths as they howled and barked.
  1979. “No, mother, we can not go outside. These are wild dogs that will
  1980. attack us. Please, let us return.”
  1981. In reply to his plea, Rosa dragged him onto the large, stone patio and thrust her face upwards towards the sky. “What do these creatures want?” she cried out.
  1982. Snapping and displaying their long fangs, the savage curs raced toward
  1983. them, but stopped short of the patio, as if in a ritual invested with spiritual significance. Rosa held her face tilted towards the dark firmament unleashing buckets of water which drenched both her and Benjamin. For the forthcoming ritual, she wished for the heavenly floods to purify her and Benjamin.
  1984. But to reach the chapel where she had sent Susana, meant to traverse the thick, barking packs which were clearly impeding her intentions. It was then Rosa understood the turmoil confronting her to be unnatural obstacles bearing a message. The howls and elements were the last attempt to test her courage and commitment to the cult. Had not her night-time companion and lover warned her that she would have many obstacles to overcome? The rain and savagery confronting her were purification and courage, the two elements she would need as she pushed Benjamin towards her intended goal.
  1985. With her characteristic boldness, she stepped forward pulling Benjamin with her. She saw the barbarous creatures staring at her with their heads lowered, and as she advanced they slowly retreated. Gathering more conviction with each step, she and Benjamin slowly started the walk to the chapel.
  1986.  
  1987.  
  1988.  
  1989.  
  1990.  
  1991. From behind the tree trunks the canines wailed in harmony to the ceremony about to unfold but they did not attempt to deter Rosa or her son. Their master was not the dark visitor to Rosa’s chamber. They were sent by the angels who in their simplicity thought physical fear would deter Rosa. Once again, the malign spirits rejoiced in their triumph, as the warped mind of Rosa distorted reality into visions.
  1992. In the distance, Rosa saw the flickering lights of the tabernacle. A
  1993. momentary lull in the storm, interlaced with the shimmering gleam of the moon, silhouetted the chapel on the crest. The place of worship was soon to become the altar of her conceived passion and the inauguration of the most pure love, sprung from desire which does not pollute.
  1994. As soon as they reached the chapel door, Rosa, swung it open to behold the magnificent scene now displayed to her, which in her wildest imagination exceeded her hopes and aspirations. Susana lay sprawled out on the stone floor of the primitive church, her wet clothes clinging to her so that her luxurious body revealed all its loveliness as yet untouched by gentle, sensuous caresses. She was in a daze.
  1995. Rosa turned towards Benjamin. She saw the lust in his eyes burning with a frightening brightness, stirred by the fallen creature, his sister, at once he sensed pity, at once he was swept with an unconsummated passion. He walked slowly towards her, his mother whispering behind him, “comfort her, touch her, awaken her spirit, bring her to the only ecstasy permitted humans.”
  1996. Kneeling next to Susana, his heart was stricken with compassion and desire. He touched lightly her hand. In her dream-like stance, she grasped it firmly, believing in her mind that Bruno had returned. The eyes of Christ moved and looked imploringly upwards. Susana rolled gently onto her back, her eyes closed, yearning for her bridal passion to be satiated and Benjamin overcome with a profound, instinctual desire, raised the wet gown of Susana and clasped her to him with a wild craving.
  1997. The wildness of his desire impelled him towards the craved penetration
  1998. but he was abruptly halted by the strong hand of his mother grasping his shoulder. Before he could utter a word, she struck him from the prostrate body of Susana and he fell with a heavy thud to the floor.
  1999.  
  2000.  
  2001.  
  2002.  
  2003.  
  2004. For a moment the panting of brother and sister reverberated throughout the stillness of their haven. Rosa’s eyes glowered at them both. Then her voice rang out, “Your father’s grave is nearby. Stand up! There is a pledge to be made, a sacrifice to be enacted. The cult of the family Cabral shall be established this virginal night when we are all united, mother, daughter and son, the original family which customs and time have destroyed through the foolish laws of men.”
  2005.  
  2006. 6.1 Hail, Satan, for Christ is impotent.
  2007.  
  2008. They stood with their mother as she stared down at the slab of black granite, beneath which rested the bones of Jorge. The curt epitaph was still clearly visible:
  2009. “Each shall marry, but neither father nor mother the other shall be!” Turning towards her daughter, she spoke and commanded in a trance,
  2010. “Lie upon the grave of your beloved father.”
  2011. Susana slithered upon the cold stone, exhausted from her flight and feverish with the dampness now invading her body, consumed with tingling desire. Her frail spirit was broken and shattered by the imperious utterances issuing from her mother. Standing over her, seized with uncontrollable ardour, Benjamin stared at the splendor and beauty of the fallen Susana.
  2012. At first, Susana just lay there, twisting and turning with the mounting fever possessing her. Until, her mother, impatient with the limp posture of Susana, grabbed the edge of her soaked nightgown and savagely ripped it off of her. The white and pink of her flesh glowered in the dim candle light of the chapel.
  2013. Benjamin was not able to control himself. His nights in their adolescent beds together returned to him with all the sweetness and warmth he remembered. His body swayed with the heat suffusing him. Glancing at his face, Rosa saw the lust and physical pain roaring through his limbs. “Take her,” she whispered. “She is not your sister. She is the eternal woman who shall bear our seed forever through the generations.”
  2014.  
  2015.  
  2016.  
  2017.  
  2018.  
  2019. Wailing as a wild animal, Benjamin fell upon her and his masculinity sprung to life. With his every frantic movement the eyes of Christ widened until when Benjamin reached his climax and screamed with released grief onto the chest of Susana, the eyeballs froze. He, the Savior, was obliged to witness the vilest of all acts before him while the others, in the shadows, silently congratulated themselves with their glorious victory.
  2020. After their frenzied embraces, terminating with the explosion of
  2021. Benjamin’s masculinity, Susana began to sob softly as her hands caressed the locks of her fraternal lover until exhaustion overtook her. A silence reigned in the oratory. A prelude to their spiritual death, an induced sleep seized Benjamin and Susana. Rosa had witnessed the whole scene as she stood in the shadows under the arches where the pillars spiraled upwards towards the curvatures of the ceiling.
  2022. The naked body of Benjamin arching and falling in rhythm to his crazed, debauched sexual energy impelled Rosa towards her own excitement which rose, at first, slowly, but with the accelerated movements of Benjamin, increased in intensity until, in a trance, she approached the bodies of Benjamin and Susana, now still, and only the twitching movement of their eyelashes stirred the cloistered repose of the sacrificial altar.
  2023. Gently, Rosa moved the collapsed figures of Susana and Benjamin so that she could see their chests. The red cross of each was bright and incandescent. Picking up Susana’s discarded nightgown, Rosa covered the naked bodies of her children. She then turned around and walking slowly to the granite slab covering the tomb of her husband, Jorge. Suddenly, a mouse scampered out from beneath a pew and made a dash for the vestry door. Rosa did not notice its frantic haste.
  2024. She knelt down and stared dazedly in front of her; yet her eyes revealed
  2025. only the dark space of the sanctuary as her mind was captive to fantasies and demons. The occult powers which long had dominated her spirit sprung forth from her mouth as she began her litany. They were the rules of Satan as erected through the Cult of the House of Cabral which would regulate descendants forever. From her frothy mouth she blurted her prophecies and visions wrapped in hate and contempt, the result of the wretchedness of her life. As she mumbled her commands,
  2026.  
  2027.  
  2028.  
  2029.  
  2030.  
  2031. the youthful face of Rui appeared to her as in a dream, and tears gushed forward over her face:
  2032.  
  2033. “It shall be as written on this slab. From this blessed union of my children shall issue forth their descendants and mine. But this shall be concealed from the knowledge of all others. The silence of their spouses shall be bought with the produce and wine the Cabral estates germinate. Each shall marry, but neither father nor mother the other shall be!”
  2034.  
  2035. The missing words were “to each other” for the marriage of each sibling would not produce offspring from such a union. Mother and father each sibling would be but it would be their children and not issue of their matrimony. Slowly Rosa stood up, trembling from the cold and heavy, humid air enveloping her body. Her children were still sleeping. As she approached them, she felt a convulsion seize her limbs, causing her to gasp and struggle for air. Putting her hands to her head she began to scream and laugh intermittently, stumbling and falling, then raising herself again, until, overcome, she fell upon the naked bodies of her children. The smell of their sweat was her last sensory impression before she fainted.
  2036. For some moments the only sound heard was the scratching of the mouse endeavoring to enter the vestry so as to escape. Finally, the noise ceased. Eventually, soft footsteps were heard and a woman in a long skirt emerged from the shadows. Her wide, glowing eyes stared for some time at the scene before her.
  2037. Then, with a determination shaped by her damned eternal wandering, she approached the body of Benjamin and turned him towards her. She stared for some time at his bare chest, marked by the pulsating red cross. Kneeling down she lifted him gently up and held him tightly in her arms, murmuring words of endearment, “My son, my son, how peaceful he seems.”
  2038. A burst of approval was heard from beneath the arches and together, the
  2039. benefactress and Master of darkness danced to the madness of their designs and celebrated the continuation of the first mortal sin, those days long ago in Haworth.
  2040.  
  2041.  
  2042.  
  2043.  
  2044.  
  2045. The irrational, insane, inherent nature of humanity was confirmed visibly.
  2046.  
  2047. 6.2 The fraternal embrace.
  2048.  
  2049. The mist was slowly rising from the vales surrounding Mafra. Occasionally, the country silence of dawn was broken by the stirring of the ravens as they prepared to commence their daily search for food. Starting their early morning journey to the local market, drivers muttered curses under their breath for the wet fields from the evening moisture impeded the oxen. The first to stir was Susana. Opening her eyes, a chill swept over her ardent body. She saw her mother sitting in one of the pews, staring at her.
  2050. Slowly rising, she then glanced at the body of her brother, still in a deep repose. The events of the night swept before her and she was about to cry out when her mother signaled for her to be silent. Initially overcome with shame, Susana rushed into her mother’s arms and began to cry uncontrollably.
  2051. Rosa said nothing. The collapsed frame of her daughter, the destruction
  2052. of her personality, complete and now without any moral references, left her an empty vase which Rosa would fill according to her designs. She guided her gently to the tomb of her father and explained to her what was to be, all the while holding her tightly, with apparent motherly concern, and with time Susana’s sobs began to subside.
  2053. Susana mumbled her dishonor and mortification before the possession of her by Benjamin. She was a destroyed woman who could not return to her husband’s bed. She would have to leave Mafra and seek refuge in a convent, if she could find an order to accept her.
  2054. Her mother scoffed at her, chided her for her over reaction and haste in
  2055. reaching conclusions. The love her brother felt for her was genuine and sincere. It was redemption for Benjamin. The three of them were the sacred family and outsiders had no place in their circumscribed circle. The passion Benjamin suffered for Susana was more genuine and forceful than could ever be proffered by another. Rather than casting aside this fury of ardor seizing Benjamin, she, Susana, should profit and allow the seed of Benjamin to impregnate her so that her body would
  2056.  
  2057.  
  2058.  
  2059.  
  2060.  
  2061. burst with the fullness of his masculinity. Heirs, and the line of the
  2062. Cabral, would continue uncontaminated.
  2063. Moreover, she whispered, Bruno was incapable of providing her physical comfort, nor was his virility sufficient to produce a child. Susana would be condemned to a life of bareness and she would die, childless, and still a virgin. All the while she spoke, Susana remembered the stricken face of Bruno, the fright and terror reflected in his expression as he stared at Susana. His twisted grimaces had wounded her fragile confidence as a woman and contrasted vilely with the pounding, fervor of Benjamin.
  2064. She kept her head bowed as her mother recited the customs which would now be the family conventions. Bruno would be coaxed into returning to his bride. In return for his silence, he would receive a home, an apparent family, a monthly stipend. The future issue of Benjamin and Susana would be claimed to be the child of Bruno and Susana. Benjamin would also marry but she, Rosa, would choose a spouse for him who would be bound to mute complicity for the same reasons as Bruno. She would be a simpering, aristocratic lackey who had no hope of ever marrying a robust, vigorous land owner.
  2065. Benjamin and Susana would ensure the continuation of the Cabral
  2066. lineage and they would, together, bring forth a male and female. All others were to be destroyed, their infant bodies buried in the family estates so that their existence was never to be known. Each female born would eventually be taught the rules of the Cabral cult and ensure the continuation of its tenets.
  2067. It would be an oral tradition which remained with the female
  2068. descendants. Those coming, the female children of fraternal incest would possess the seductive charms necessary to ensure their brothers were drawn into the sacred mores of the Cabral sect.
  2069. With adherence to these rites, the Cabral family and lands would thrive
  2070. and prosper. In the midst of this plenty, the fraternal love which is a normal constant in families would find its natural expression and not be inhibited by threats. The cult of the family Cabral, the worship of incest, was the primal, natural state of the family and its suppression and condemnation by others was a result of imagined prohibitions whose only purpose was to expand and acquire lands.
  2071.  
  2072.  
  2073.  
  2074.  
  2075.  
  2076. As Susana sat motionless while her mother purled her counsel, Benjamin awoke from the murmur of voices and glanced over at Susana and his mother. His remembrances were dim of what had transpired the night before. Yet, from his position he saw the naked back of Susana and his unbridled desires again rose with a violence within him. The sensations of the night before, when her voluptuous body exploded with desire, blurred visions raced through his ravaged senses and he started to drag himself towards his mother and sister. The most exquisite sensuality he had encountered could not be allowed to escape.
  2077. Rosa heard his scuffling and turned to see him crawling towards them
  2078. both. She saw the wild voracity in his eyes and she glanced at the face of Susana. There, also, she noted a blush overcoming her cheeks as the remembrances of her brother’s embraces were still fresh with her. Rosa hastily slithered away from the tomb of her husband. It is doubtful if Benjamin was even conscious of her presence.
  2079. As he rose to his knees and clambered towards Susana, his only thought was to once again grasp her thighs and descend deeply into her body. Rosa retired to the dark arches and leaned against one, her back to the lovers, now embraced in crazed desire. Listening to their wild chants of passion and relief, Rosa thought briefly of Rui, wondered what it would have been like to have been his lover, and as she heard the screams of mutual anxiety rise to a screeching pitch, only to be silenced by the spasms of release, her body trembled with remorse at her blighted life. With her back securely supported by a wooden pillar, Rosa watched the sun’s rays filter through the crevice in the chapel wall facing east. No sounds were heard from the bodies of Susana and Benjamin enveloped in one another. Eventually she closed her eyes. She would have to speak to Bruno, placate him with some monetary offer, even have D. José threaten him. As for Benjamin, there were local fools in abundance who would gladly exchange a life of chastity for the appearances of children and sustenance.
  2080. “The laws of men are hollow of moral content,” she thought to herself.
  2081. “They serve commerce and nothing more. It is desire and passion which brings forth life. Rules and regulations are useless artifices.”
  2082.  
  2083.  
  2084.  
  2085.  
  2086.  
  2087. She thought of leaving but then she decided to wait until her children, now lovers, locked in unison, should arise, and as a family they would all return, together.
  2088.  
  2089.  
  2090.  
  2091.  
  2092.  
  2093.  
  2094.  
  2095.  
  2096. Part Two
  2097.  
  2098. Chapter 7
  2099.  
  2100. 7.0 The incestuous genealogy of the Family Cabral.
  2101.  
  2102. The complete genealogy of the Cabral family until the present can be consulted in detail in the appendix to this Part II. For our purposes, it is sufficient to emphasize that it did come to pass that Benjamin Cabral married Ana Pereira, a young, aristocratic widow from the nearby village of Igreja Nova, a frail, frightened creature who had a child to rear and was only too happy to accept Rosa’s proposal.
  2103. She was offered a life blessed with security, comfort, and above all, a safe future for her child. Nothing was expected from her; she received nothing; she gave nothing; she passed her life being as unobtrusive as possible. On her death bed, she did not call for the Priest. Her sins, in the form of her silence for decades in the midst of gross misdeeds occurring at the Cabral estates, were too large to be spoken. Death arrived as a kindly gesture from a stranger.
  2104. Rosa died in 1857 but from the incestuous unions of Susana and Benjamin there were born Diana in 1853 and Antonio in 1855 so that Rosa was able to see the living proof of the continuation of the Cult of the House of Cabral. Children issued from the marriage of Benjamin and Ana but in accordance with the instructions of their mother, Susana and Benjamin had them assassinated on the day of their birth and buried as soon as nightfall permitted the necessary discretion.
  2105. Ana spent days in bed following each murder but she thought of her son,
  2106. the child of her former, true lover, and said nothing. Eventually he grew into adulthood and went to Africa, leaving his mother to die, a useless but convenient ornament to the Cabral family.
  2107. Bruno remained a celibate while Susana’s passion for Benjamin
  2108. became an obsession. Benjamin was her husband, not the shadow of Bruno who spent his life going to Lisbon, testing his prowess with prostitutes, and of course failing.
  2109.  
  2110.  
  2111.  
  2112.  
  2113.  
  2114. With the continuation of his incestuous love for his sister and its immediate gratification, Benjamin gradually ceased his nightly escapades in Mafra and settled down to running the Cabral estates and ensuring their prosperity. When Susana died in 1876 at the age of 45, Benjamin had her buried in the family chapel. He kept vigil over her every evening for weeks.
  2115. Finally, he returned to his incessant forays with other woman and died
  2116. one year later, at the age of 44, dissipated in body and devoid of any will to live. Near the end of his life he spoke incoherently. The family doctor said it was a mental illness but the villagers spoke of syphilis. Substantially prior to her death, when Diana was still an adolescent, Susana fomented in Diana an earnest carnal love for her brother, Antonio, with the same words and whispers her mother had used with her. Eventually possessed with the knowledge of her obligations, charged by her mother, Susana, with the continuation of the cult and its true mission, Diana seduced her brother.
  2117. They spent their nuptial evening in the family chapel, with their
  2118. grandfather’s tomb as their bridal bed, as they fornicated. Christ, enshrined in a painting, rendered immobile from the nails piercing him, and further hanging from the wall, was obliged to watch in horror the destruction of virginity by the embraces of the siblings. Yet, this was only the initial stages of the cult.
  2119. Through the generations, the female descendants adhered to their duties conferred on them by oral tradition and the brothers were willing accomplices. From each fraternal fit of passion, other infants were born. Husbands and wives of various sorts were purchased with ease, for the life of the nation was difficult and dire.
  2120. Poverty always threatened a family and the Cabral manor was a refuge from penury and strife, even if its grounds were fertilized with the bones of unwanted children. Mothers and fathers grieved to see their offspring strangled at birth, but the Cabral estates were sufficiently far from the village for its inhabitants to construct their own laws. Passionate sisters and anxious brothers feasted in their fraternal lust for when enforcement of social custom is weak, the original nature of humanity arises in all its sexual fury. In six generations there were born
  2121. 24 siblings but six generations wrests many changes in human lives so
  2122.  
  2123.  
  2124.  
  2125.  
  2126.  
  2127. that when Liliana (b. 1937) and Duarte (b. 1938) were brought froth into the world, an atmosphere from family conspiracy had rendered the inhabitants of the Cabral lands mentally disordered, and on the brink of dementia from the multiple homicides committed in the name of fraternal love which knew no limits.
  2128. It was Rute Neves, married to the fifth generation brother, Ricardo Cabral, who attempted to escape from the cursed cult of the House of Cabral, and leave Mafra with her husband and their adopted son, Duarte, whose real mother was Paula, Ricardo’s sister.
  2129.  
  2130. Annex
  2131.  
  2132. Part Two
  2133.  
  2134. Complete Genealogy of the Family Cabral
  2135.  
  2136. Emily Sullivan (1772-1818), a Yorkshire lady from Haworth, England, came to Portugal in 1798. She married Henrique Cabral (1760-1825) in the year 1801, when Emily was 29 and Henrique was 40. They had one son, Jorge Sullivan Cabral (1802-1837). In 1830, Jorge, aged 28, married Rosa Monteiro Cabral (1811-1857), aged 19, who was the daughter of João Cabral (1758-1835), brother of Henrique Cabral, and Sofia Monteiro (1786-1815).
  2137.  
  2138. Rosa and Jorge had two children which initiated the incestuous lineage in Mafra:
  2139.  
  2140. 3. Susana Monteiro Cabral
  2141. Pinheiro 1831-1876
  2142.  
  2143. 4. Benjamin Cabral 1833-1877
  2144.  
  2145. During their incestuous union, Susana is married to Bruno Pinheiro and Benjamin is married to Ana Pereira. From the fraternal coupling there were born:
  2146.  
  2147.  
  2148.  
  2149.  
  2150.  
  2151.  
  2152. 5. Diana Monteiro Cabral
  2153. Pinheiro Fernandes 1853-1899
  2154.  
  2155. 6. António Cabral 1855-1902
  2156.  
  2157. Thereafter, Diana marries to Alfredo Fernandes and António marries
  2158. Francisca Leite. From this sister/brother liason, there were born:
  2159.  
  2160. 7. Clara Monteiro Cabral
  2161. Pinheiro Fernandes Conde 1874-1922
  2162.  
  2163. 8. Pedro Cabral 1875-1921
  2164.  
  2165. Prior to the birth of their children, Clara marries João Conde and Pedro marries Maria Fonte. Clara and Pedro are the parents of:
  2166.  
  2167. 9. Célia Monteiro Cabral Pinheiro
  2168. Fernandes Conde Miranda 1895-1950
  2169.  
  2170. 10. Paulo Cabral 1897-1953
  2171.  
  2172. Célia thereafter marries Samuel Miranda and Paulo marries Cristina Borges. From the ensuing illicit affair between two siblings there were born:
  2173.  
  2174. 11. Paula Monteiro Cabral
  2175. Pinheiro Fernandes Conde
  2176.  
  2177. Miranda Prado
  2178. 1916-196212. Ricardo Cabral1917-1963Paula was then given in wedlock to José Prado and Ricardo marries
  2179. Rute Neves. Ricardo and Paula were the progenitors of:
  2180.  
  2181. 13. Liliana Rosa Monteiro Cabral
  2182.  
  2183.  
  2184.  
  2185.  
  2186.  
  2187. Pinheiro Fernandes
  2188. Conde Miranda Prado
  2189. 1937-14. Duarte Jorge Cabral1938-Liliana and Duarte had two children:
  2190. 15. Lucia Cabral1969-16. Salvador Cabral1970-All descendants of Emily Sullivan were easily identified by the red blotch on their chests, at times with no shape, at other times resembling a cross.
  2191.  
  2192.  
  2193.  
  2194.  
  2195.  
  2196.  
  2197.  
  2198.  
  2199. Part Three
  2200.  
  2201. Chapter 8
  2202.  
  2203. 8.0 The flight.
  2204.  
  2205. It was a chilly January morning in the year 1939. Rute stood by a window clutching in her hand a letter from her elder brother, Manuel, now living in New York City. Remembering his serious nature, Rute was not surprised to observe how neat and orderly his handwritten sentences were. “His life is well organized,” she thought, “and mine is not.”
  2206. From the chambers she and Ricardo Cabral occupied, Rute could see the choppy ocean waves as they rolled towards the distant shoreline of Ericeira. The last few days had been replete with rain and now the water-laden earth slowly absorbed its precious gift from the heavens. With so much precipitation, the spring crops would be strong, sturdy, with plenty of feed to store for the livestock during the ensuing winter. This was the life of the country, planning for the future, but dependent on the caprices of weather. Opening her window slightly, the pungent smell of richly fertilized soil wafted towards her. A
  2207. stir from the bed where Duarte Cabral was sleeping caused her to walk over and ensure he was well. Staring at his closed eyes, his mouth tightly clasped with a determined set, she felt her maternal instincts rise in defense of his protection even though she was not the biological mother.
  2208. He had been born a year earlier. One of the maids found him on the
  2209. kitchen doorsteps, an abandoned infant, newly arrived. Ricardo had insisted with Rute that they adopt the child as theirs since he and Rute were still childless. It was a paltry ruse. Rute believed she knew well from where the child issued.
  2210. It was not possible to live in the Cabral household without becoming familiar with, or suspecting, the occult history of all that passed. The corridors were always abounding with maids whispering and holding
  2211.  
  2212.  
  2213.  
  2214.  
  2215.  
  2216. their hands to their mouths in an effort to stifle any scandalous information from bursting forth in torrents.
  2217. A tall, plain, religious woman, with a silent, morose expression emphasized by her long, flowing black hair, Rute quietly raged against the circumstances of her life. She was living on the Cabral lands, a wife to the heir Ricardo, but a spouse in name only.
  2218. It was her father who had insisted she accept the frank proposal of
  2219. Ricardo’s mother, Célia, the formidable matron of the Cabral manor. Célia had suggested to Rute’s father, that Rute become betrothed to Ricardo and assume the privileges as wife to an affluent country property owner.
  2220. Rute never would have accepted such a suggestion under ordinary circumstances but the years were passing and she had no hope of any suitor. Although her parents were part of the aristocracy of Mafra, and this was the reason which brought forth Célia, their land holdings were modest, mostly olive groves. But the condiment market was poor as the nearby sea air stunted their growth and rendered them bitter.
  2221. Her father’s business, an olive oil warehouse, was in decline. The financial prospects emanating from a marriage with her was not sufficient to overcome her homely appearance and attract any suitors. This Rute knew, for she was, above all, a perceptive person with a substantial capacity for grasping the essential of life. And while she was not prone to verbalizing with ease her thoughts, they existed and were often carefully constructed.
  2222. Moreover, her brother, Manuel, had emigrated to New York City in
  2223. 1930. As the only other child, the entire burden of caring for her elderly parents was her future. Not having any viable alternatives, and in moral desperation, she accepted Célia’s proposal to her family, thinking she would construct a new future for herself.
  2224. Ricardo made the frequent, necessary courtship visits. The first time she
  2225. met him, she was pleasantly affected. Before her stood a heavy, thick- boned, but muscular man, with a gentle face and an awkward gait. Shocks of curly brown hair fell about his forehead while his hazel eyes held you in a steady gaze. For some time, she thought her fortune would take an agreeable turn.
  2226.  
  2227.  
  2228.  
  2229.  
  2230.  
  2231. Yet, it always struck her as odd that never once did Ricardo invite her for a walk alone, or do any of the small, romantic gestures expected from a future husband. In fact, he spoke very little, being inclined to an introspective manner and distrustful of conversation. His time with Rute was usually characterized by his sitting awkwardly in front of her, staring blankly in front of him, and occasionally commenting on a particular farming chore which was still uncompleted. His eyes frequently strayed towards a distant horizon which lay beyond the ken of his companion.
  2232. Sometimes, when he was with her, his eyes cast inward on an unknown
  2233. image, she would study his features. His face bore the lines of a person burdened with words, captive to other voices and different lives. With his hand resting on his forehead, she believed she witnessed an ongoing struggle within the mind of Ricardo, as if another Ricardo struggled to assert himself but was, by edict, forbidden to do so.
  2234. She wanted to say something and once she had actually stretched her
  2235. hand towards him so that her fingers touched his. He raised his head slowly and she watched his trembling lips struggle to find words. But he was unable to articulate what he felt and merely clasped his hands together in despair.
  2236. With time, a certain apprehension began to grow within her as the
  2237. wedding day neared but of course it was too late to retreat. To her surprise, the local tradition of a large wedding was eschewed in favor of a small, modest family ceremony. Nor was it the local village priest who administered the necessary oaths. Instead, Célia retained a priest from a community to the North, where, she stated, was the ancestral home of their ascendants.
  2238. Finally, a modest amount of romantic hope was squashed when Ricardo advised Rute they would spend their honeymoon at the guest cottage which was within sight of the family manor. Attributing Rute’s startled look, but inner dismay, to genuine surprise, Ricardo told her it was better to confine their lives to the Cabral lands, where everything they could possibly need was available. “In any event,” he murmured, “the life of a farmer means conserving money for the difficult times ahead,” a remark Rute assumed to refer to climatic instability.
  2239.  
  2240.  
  2241.  
  2242.  
  2243.  
  2244. Her anguish and misgivings were dramatically heightened when her wedding evening proved to be an adolescent affair, with Ricardo barely able to complete coitus, a distasteful episode which left Rute awake the whole evening. Still, the shaking body of Ricardo, as he lay next to her, softened her disappointment towards him. She stroked his head gently and she heard his silent sobs as he buried his tormented face within his pillow.
  2245. Following their unsuccessful physical union, the ensuing months only
  2246. worsened the situation as Ricardo hardly ever made any passionate overtures, and when he did, it always seemed to Rute they were mentally prepared and the culmination was always the same: coitus interruptus.
  2247. After these episodes, he would arise and sit, for an interminable period,
  2248. in a maple near their window, and watch, as if in communion, the evening passage of time. With the moonlight illuminating his profile, Rute stared at him, unable to sleep, awaiting his return to their bridal bed. When he did, he invariably threw himself onto the mattress, and with a brusque turn, fell asleep with his back towards Rute.
  2249. Of course, Ricardo’s withdrawals made it impossible to have any
  2250. children and yet any mention of this by Rute to him was always met with sullen hostility. He would stare at her with a mournful gaze and then slump angrily away. The real reason for his surliness surprised even Ricardo. Unexpectedly, Ricardo had grown fond of Rute, in spite of his adherence to the Cabral cult. Her natural grace confronting the sinister undercurrents at the Cabral mansion made her appear regal and sturdy.
  2251. He understood she was a woman of strength and character. Ricardo
  2252. admired those qualities although he kept his thoughts to himself and cursed his inability to truly take her as a wife. He even felt a certain physical attraction to Rute but these momentary impulses were usually cast aside before the torrential passion his sister displayed towards him. Torn between a growing fondness for Rute and a commitment to the cult, Ricardo wavered daily between despair and fraternal lust.
  2253. Paula, Ricardo’s sister, treated Rute with a courtesy bordering on disdain. Buxom, robust, sensuality bursting from her limbs and thighs, she was constantly with her brother, accompanying him to the fields,
  2254.  
  2255.  
  2256.  
  2257.  
  2258.  
  2259. assisting him in his managerial chores, frequently and openly embracing him for his examples of good husbandry. Once Rute made this observation to Paula’s husband, José, but he merely stared at her for sometime, as if she should possess knowledge he had.
  2260. José had a heavy, sluggish, posture, and was the son of the local
  2261. pharmacist. Rute was surprised Paula consented to marry him. José was not entirely well, subject to epileptic fits, and bursts of uncontrollable rage, both of which increased with frequency in direct proportion with the journey of the seasons.
  2262. No doubt his physical ailments and mental quirks justified Paula
  2263. publicly ignoring her husband and treating him little better than a hunting dog, called when needed, but otherwise forgotten. The only difference was that José did not have a physical chain about his neck. With time he slowly drifted into a state of permanent silence, when not interrupted by fits of nervous apoplexy, appearing for his monthly stipend at Célia’s cabinet and then withdrawing. His refuge was a room in the attic replete with foreign postcards he purchased at the monthly Mafra fairs. He was cataloguing them. He became a cast-off, left to drift away among the unlimited tasks of a meaningless life.
  2264. And then there was Célia, Paula’s mother. She was civil to Rute, treated
  2265. her with diffidence, but never with interest or compassion. Rather her attitude was one of contained contempt. Reference was never made to the fact that it was Célia who had sought out Rute’s family. It was as if Rute were a guest at the Cabral manor, to be tolerated and fed, nothing more. Any initial attempts by Rute to have an intimate relationship with her mother-in-law were greeted with indifference, and Rute’s engaging attitude confronted with haughty silences.
  2266. Paula’s father, Paulo, Célia’s husband, was even more absent. He spent his entire day in Mafra, allegedly on family business, but eventually Rute learned he had a gentleman friend, a military in the local barracks, with whom he spent his days and only returned to the Cabral lands at night. The daily visits eventually became absences for weeks at a time away from the estates. Their private liaison was soon public and a Mafra scandal.
  2267. When the sordid contours of the Cabral family became clearer to her,
  2268. Rute was sufficiently immersed in the daily routine so that a return to
  2269.  
  2270.  
  2271.  
  2272.  
  2273.  
  2274. Mafra was realistically not possible. She would have to regress as a married woman, for divorce was not practical in the Catholic atmosphere of Mafra, and remain a wedded spinster, indeed a distasteful and contradictory situation. Yet, as Rute’s suspicions began to grow and her insights became more acute, she was on the verge of speaking to the village priest, when the infant Duarte appeared and a return to the past was closed to her.
  2275. Ricardo’s jubilant welcome was indeed exuberant and seemed
  2276. consistent with the lavish attention he gave Paula’s daughter, born a year earlier, baptized Liliana. Although at first Rute hesitated to adopt the child, christened Duarte, as her son, her innate emotions overcame her initial reluctance. Moreover, both Ricardo and his mother, Célia, insisted on the adoption and the entire process was handled in the local court with great alacrity. To be accurate, Rute was a mere bystander.
  2277. In spite, therefore, of the apparent tranquility of her quarters, with its wide view of fields and hills, Rute was permanently agitated, and in a state of critical anxiety, troubled as to what course of action to pursue. The behavior of Ricardo and Paula was reaching unbearable proportions.
  2278. She seldom saw Ricardo. Possessed with a passion whose origin she well surmised, he now slept by himself in an ante chamber to their quarters. Often, Rute heard him steal quietly from his bed in the middle of the night and be gone for hours. She, Rute, was left with the shaking light of the moon as her companion.
  2279. Although her dark suspicions had never been verbally or visibly confirmed, there rested little doubt as to whom were the parents of Duarte, her adopted son. Duarte, as did his cousin, Liliana, had a red blotch on his chest. When Rute confronted Ricardo with this uncanny coincidence, he merely shrugged his shoulders, muttering, “It is common for people to have birth marks,” although his cheeks blushed as he uttered those words. He then added quickly, “As I do, and so does Paula. The human body is imperfect in its design, is it not?” he asked Rute. To which question, she did not respond.
  2280. As of lately, with increasing frequency, Paula’s mother, Célia, fawned incessantly upon Duarte and Liliana and was constantly putting them
  2281.  
  2282.  
  2283.  
  2284.  
  2285.  
  2286. into the same bed. Any interference by Rute spurred open aggression from Ricardo later in the day.
  2287. Faced with these responses, Rute began awakening each morning with a choking sensation in her throat. She wavered between a denunciation to the local priest-whose consequences were unimaginable-and flight. She did not see how she could absorb anymore of the Cabral manor life. Still, there still remained within Rute, a residue of feeling for Ricardo. She saw him as a victim, encircled by his mother and sister. At times, when he picked up his son, Duarte, she saw a tender, apprehensive look cross his face and she knew anguish and sorrow were invading his spirits as if a part of him was a critical observer of the larger Ricardo who was possessed by unidentifiable spirits. When he would shake his head while holding the small hand of Duarte, she imagined to herself he was trying to cast forth from his spirits alien guests whose origin he could not surmise.
  2288. He was hapless, and rather then condemning Ricardo for his imagined
  2289. breach of social taboos, Rute saw the conspiracy mounted against him by his mother and sister. His fitful behavior towards Rute did not antagonize her but on the contrary stirred her so that she wanted to confront Rute and Paula and demand her marriage be consummated as she intended.
  2290. Through the window where she was standing, Rute felt the coldness of the early morning. Her forced isolation and unwanted presence by the ladies of the manor contrasted sharply with the pleas of her brother, Manuel. Grasping his letter tightly in her fist, she felt as if he were next to hear, urging her to come with her family and join him in the new land. War was on the march in Europe. She was not safe. While Portugal was still a harbor of haven, fighting between nations tended to spill over.
  2291. Above all, Manuel wrote, her adopted son, Duarte, would grow up in the new world, free from any of the social restraints imposed by a small village. While Manuel did not fully understand all the implications of life on the Cabral estates, the news reaching him from Mafra was disturbing. He saw Rute’s departure from Mafra and voyage to America, not as an exile, but as a journey to fresh horizons, where everyone’s past could be reshaped.
  2292.  
  2293.  
  2294.  
  2295.  
  2296.  
  2297. His neatly transcribed words that morning found a positive response in Rute and suddenly, as if inspired, she stuffed Manuel’s letter into her skirt pocket. Picking up Duarte, she hastily dressed him, and strode down towards the main part of the house, with the intention of conferring with the local priest. No sooner had she reached the bottom of the stairs, when she was met by Célia, a frozen expression on her face, her eyes bulging and fixing Rute with their glazed stare.
  2298.  
  2299. “Where are you going” Célia softly asked, baring Rute’s progress. Rute halted and clutched Duarte tightly. “I thought I would go to see father Nuno,” she replied curtly.
  2300.  
  2301. “With your son?” Rute snapped angrily. She always referred to Duarte as “your son” when addressing Rute in order to emphasize his origin.
  2302.  
  2303. Rute hesitated and then replied, “Well, I can not leave him alone,” then she added, as if speaking to herself, “no, not ever.”
  2304.  
  2305. Célia suddenly snatched Duarte from her embrace. “Father Nuno has no need to see Duarte and if you want to talk to the young fool you can walk to town. The carriage is being repaired.” Without waiting for a reply, Célia held Duarte securely in her arms and strode away.
  2306. Although the brisk, sharp January winds were a deterrent, Rute
  2307. continued with her plan, seething with irritation from Rute’s harsh treatment of her. The path leading to the village sloped down towards the valley before rising to reach the town of Mafra. As she plodded along, her arms wrapped around her chest to create more warmth, she saw in the distance the Mafra palace convent.
  2308. For centuries it had stood as a complement to the Cabral estates, the
  2309. manorial house and the Basilica sharing the landscape. The manor was a symbol of wealth and power but so was the palace. Each housed a spirit, each claimed its acolytes. It did not matter the faith, for the difference between the sacred and the profane is often tenuous.
  2310. The sting and chill of the morning air hastened Rute’s pilgrimage and it was with both physical and mental comfort when she literally burst into the cabinet of Father Nuno. A kind, portly, observant man, he had been
  2311.  
  2312.  
  2313.  
  2314.  
  2315.  
  2316. assigned to the Mafra parish upon his graduation from the Sacred College of Lisbon Friars about two years prior to Rute’s visit. Through his confessions, for many of the young maids from the Cabral estates trod the path Sunday morning to his church, he had knowledge, if scanty, of the Cabral family events, those seen, and those imagined. “Father Nuno,” Rute stuttered as she entered his office, not bothering to knock. Seeing her agitated state, he motioned for her to sit down, extending his hand and clasping her cold fingers. As soon as she appeared relaxed, he inquired, “And what brings you to me so early this frosty morning. Not even the birds are stirring.”
  2317. Rute hesitated. She did not know where to begin. She could not even
  2318. state clearly or put into words her thoughts. They remained locked in her throat. It was then she realized the hopelessness of conversation. What words could she possibly utter which would be meaningful? Yet she must.
  2319. She started to speak but then her body began to tremor and she thought
  2320. she was being appropriated by spirits who wanted to silence her. Feeling the pains crossing her chest and the shortness of breath overtaking her, she cried out, “No, no, be gone!” Throwing her head back from the sharp cramps squeezing her chest, her tongue rolled languidly from one side of her mouth to another, as she struggled to regain her breath.
  2321. Father Nuno sprung to his feet. Although heavy, he was agile. He was
  2322. also a believer in the purifying power of Christ. “Evil is everywhere,” he often thundered to his flock. Presently, in his own chamber, his senses told him a Christian supplicant was in danger. He could not see anything but the air in his quarters was heavy and moist. His cat, Angela, who often sat on his lap while he prepared his sermons, sprang from her site and arched her back at the empty space.
  2323. “Who are you?” shouted Father Nuno, his chest thrust forward defiantly.
  2324. Again Rute called out, writhing in her chair, and overcome with fear, Father Nuno grabbed a cross from the wall and laid it across Rute’s heaving chest. Some moments passed and while Father Nuno was reciting in Latin from a passage of one of his favorite Old Testament psalms, Rute thrashed and gripped the arms of her chair.
  2325.  
  2326.  
  2327.  
  2328.  
  2329.  
  2330. Looking at Rute’s face, Father Nuno saw her gasping and gulping air to keep from choking. She was afflicted. More, she was in dire need of intervention. Father Nuno was certain of that. “Call for Christ,” he shouted. “His name, mention it. He is our savior.”
  2331. Rute opened her eyes and saw the despair in Father Nuno’s face, while
  2332. hearing his commands. With her last breath, on the point of expiring, she murmured, “Christ our Father in heaven…” and as she did so, she clasped tightly the cross lying across her chest.
  2333. Slowly her body relaxed. The spasm she felt seizing her subsided. As the cognizance of her death receded, she knew, she understood, why she was infected and by whom. Her death was desired. She was an obstacle to the designs of those ruling the Cabral manor, present and others, of whom Rute had no knowledge.
  2334. After some moments, the attack was over and slowly she regained her composure. With great reluctance she loosened her grip on the cross. She realized there was nothing she could tell Father Nuno. What dark secrets she might reveal would not provoke any response from Father Nuno other then the confirmation that sin was rampant on the Cabral lands. Better to make her own plans and implement them as soon as possible.
  2335. Standing up, she approached Father Nuno and spoke gently, obvious
  2336. gratitude in her yes, “I must be going. You have been a great help and you saved my life.” Without waiting for a reply, she left abruptly. Watching her totter down the church path, Father Nuno fell to his knees and raised his head heavenly, a serene smile on his face. He offered his thanks to his Savior. Momentarily, virtue had triumphed and evil had been banished. Father Nuno was a Christian by innate conviction.
  2337. Rute continued on her way and lingered somewhat about Mafra. She sat for a short while in the village square observing the Mafra palace- convent. In the distance, atop the crest of a hill, she saw the Cabral manor. “There is still time,” she thought. Her hand fumbled about the letter in her pocket. Her son, Duarte, could be saved. Ricardo could be redeemed. He was a mere ploy in the plans of Célia and Paula. “My brother is calling me, why shouldn’t we go?” was the echo of her muffled words. With these optimistic thoughts, she gathered her skirt and started the long climb to her quarters.
  2338.  
  2339.  
  2340.  
  2341.  
  2342.  
  2343. On her arrival home, Rute resolved to speak to Ricardo. She intended to tell him if he loved his son, Duarte, their adopted son, for she would never articulate what she believed to be the truth, then they all, as a family, should break with the manor life and emigrate to America. But Ricardo was not to be found, and she made no conscious effort to find him. “He will eventually appear,” she thought.
  2344. But he did not. The hours passed without Rute seeing any of the family.
  2345. It was as if, on her return, a conspiracy of silence had seized everyone. “I shall be patient,” she murmured to herself. A solitary lunch was followed by a dreary somnolent afternoon. One of the maids, Ana, was attending to Duarte’s needs, so Rute did not even have her maternal tasks to distract her.
  2346. Laying in her room, with the vacant corridors and empty saloons as as a
  2347. background, the oppressiveness of the Cabral manor encircled her as will the fog embrace the trees as it stealthily invades the forest. With the passage of the silent afternoon, and the slithering, early presence of a winter evening, the pervasive hushed atmosphere of the mansion became foreboding and ominous. She was confined to a building whose occupants were both seen and unseen.
  2348. There were those with whom she had daily contact but at all times she
  2349. sensed the vigilance of others whom she would never know yet who were masters of her destiny. Lives were unfolding, being lived to a specific purpose, one from which she was excluded.
  2350. She must have dozed off, nor could she recall for what length of time,
  2351. when she suddenly awoke with a start. For a moment she thought someone was in her chambers and she remained still, her eyes fixed and holding in their gaze all the objects in the room. No one was to be seen. Yet she heard a call, a cry, distant and faint. Sitting up, she peered out of her window. Darkness lay as a black sheet over the meadows and grove. Still she discerned a dim light casting its faint light from the family chapel.
  2352. Slowly she straightened her clothes on her body and fearful, but with
  2353. determination, she started her lonely journey to the tabernacle. The night air was biting, cold, damp, and she realized she was not properly dressed. Unmindful, she pressed on, driven by an unidentifiable need. Upon reaching her destination, she stopped and gently pushed open the
  2354.  
  2355.  
  2356.  
  2357.  
  2358.  
  2359. heavy oak door. Before her, the feared truth in all its horror was illuminated by the dim flicker of the sole candle set upon the altar table. She saw the silhouettes of Ricardo and Paula, in a corner of the altar, their arms wrapped around each other. She was sure Paula was clasping Ricardo to her breast and her rage spat forth, incoherent and spiteful. “Stop it,” she screamed, “this is a place of worship and not defilement.” There was a momentary silence and then the bulky form of Paula rose, her naked chest wet with the sweat of passion, a wild look on her face, her eyes riveted into a rigid, penetrating glaze. Upon seeing Rute, she snatched a silver goblet from the altar table and rushed towards her in a fury, screaming utterances not known to Rute, gibberish and foul words, her arm arched upwards to deliver a death blow to Rute for having dared to interrupt her idyll.
  2360. “Paula, wait, please wait, she doesn’t understand,” were the words
  2361. which slithered across the front-row pew, the mournful voice of Ricardo, a wail bursting forth, wrenched from his throat by fear and dread. With her arm poised above Rute’s head, Paula, her heavy breasts still damp from her frustrated liaison, wavered, and at that precise moment, Rute, confronted with the gnarled, tortured face of Paula, terror and hysteria racing through her trembling body, fell to the floor and as Paula tripped over her, she immediately rose and fled out into the dark, windless evening.
  2362. Fleeing down the dirt path she could only think of running, hiding, and saving her son, Duarte, for he was her son. This is what had been ordained for her. She was not to bear children but she would save Duarte from the eternal damnation awaiting him. She would interfere with fate. She would defy the malignant forces which had overpowered the Cabral manor. She would escape and take Duarte with her. She would turn their wretched, foolish lie into a moral triumph for she, Rute, was a child of Christ while the others were the followers of Satan. Truth, and its believed power, inhabited her soul and gave her the needed strength.
  2363. As soon as she reached the manor house, she flung open its door and
  2364. raced upstairs. Her one thought was to find Duarte and secure his safety. From the ground floor she ran up to the top floor of the mansion where the maids lived. She was sure she would find Duarte in the chambers of
  2365.  
  2366.  
  2367.  
  2368.  
  2369.  
  2370. Ana. But as she reached her own floor, the door leading to the rooms of Célia were opened and she saw her standing before her, hatred and fury crossing her face in taut, fine lines.
  2371. “Where is he?” Rute shouted, “Where is my son?”
  2372. Célia hesitated and then retorted, with sarcasm, “Your son? The son of
  2373. Ricardo, but not yours.”
  2374. Before Rute could reply she heard the cry of Duarte, a soft, inquisitive sound, no doubt provoked by hearing Rute’s voice. He was in Célia´s room. She stumbled towards Célia, and demanded, “Give him to me.” When Célia did not respond, she pushed her aside and rushed into the chambers. Seeing Duarte in his bed, his eyes open and watching her, she lifted him up and turned around to leave. Célia bared her exit.
  2375. But Rute was determined. She lunged forward and knocked Célia so
  2376. that she fell backwards, and as she did so, she cried out, “Stop her. She has lost her mind.”
  2377. No clear thoughts appeared to Rute. All she knew was that she must
  2378. leave as soon as possible and all she needed was warm clothes for herself and Duarte. It was only a few steps to her own quarters and within minutes she wrapped Duarte into a thick blanket and she threw a heavy overcoat over herself. “Father Nuno,” she thought. “I must get to him. He will save us. A carriage. I shall take a carriage. Surely it is fixed now.”
  2379. Above, she heard the sounds of running steps and the cries of Célia.
  2380. There was no time for elaborate plans. Instead of going down the main stairwell, she chose the back stairs used for servants and fled as quickly as she could to the carriage house. As soon as she arrived, she frantically looked for the usual driver, Pedro, the old man with the limp, who was the Cabral driver for decades.
  2381. Not finding him, she pushed open the carriage door, seeing in the
  2382. distance the gas lights now illuminating the rooms of the manor. Suddenly she gave a start. Staring at her were a couple, a tall, slim, dark man, a scowl on his face, accompanied by a woman dressed from another epoch, her long skirt falling to the floor, while her long hair was tied neatly behind her neck.
  2383. “Who are you and where is Pedro?” Rute demanded. More shouts were
  2384. heard in the distance. “Who are you? I must leave at once.”
  2385.  
  2386.  
  2387.  
  2388.  
  2389.  
  2390. The two strangers stared at her until the man, speaking slowly, stated, “Pedro is very sick. I have been hired to be the driver and my companion is assisting the seamstress. Where do you want to go? Summoning up her courage, Rute issued a command, “It doesn’t matter. The horses, harness them up, now, I shall tell you as we drive.” She paused and waited.
  2391. Finally, the man inquired, “And the child?”
  2392. Rute bristled as she replied, “I am the mother. You are not to be concerned.”
  2393. The man turned around and stared at the horses in their stalls. The
  2394. noises coming from the distance were now subdued. A hush reigned over the Cabral lands. As the both of them stood there, not obeying her orders, Rute decided to take charge herself. She opened first one stall and harnessed the horse and then the other stall. All the time, the couple stared at her without speaking. When she was finished and the horses were secure, she jumped onto the board and, as the door was open, shouted, “Stand clear!”
  2395. In response the tall gentleman leaped up next to her and whispered, “Yes, we must part, we will take you. Hurry, into the carriage with your son. We shall whip the horses for you.”
  2396. Without further thought, Rute slipped down, holding Duarte tightly, and the other, the companion, jumped into the carriage to be with Rute. The horses whirled around and with a strong snap of the whip, the carriage shot forward and they all went careening down the country road heading towards Mafra.
  2397. After some minutes, as the manor house receded in the distance, the
  2398. driver shouted out to her, “Where are we going?”
  2399. “To Mafra,” Rute answered back. “Quickly, to Mafra.”
  2400. No words passed between Rute and her companion. They both stared at Duarte. At moments, Rute thought her escort cast a tender look towards the child, but Rute was too excited to ask any questions. “Where in Mafra?” the driver asked again.
  2401. “Keep driving,” Rute retorted. “You must hurry.”
  2402. It wasn’t long before they arrived at the main square. The carriage slowed down. Breathlessly, Rute gave her final instructions. “To the house of Father Nuno,” she ordered. Rute noticed a certain hesitation as
  2403.  
  2404.  
  2405.  
  2406.  
  2407.  
  2408. the horses did not move immediately, but then slowly, the driver turned them in the right direction and within moments the carriage arrived at the quarters of Father Nuno. A pale illumination was seen through a window.
  2409. Before her companion could speak, Rute leaped out with Duarte and
  2410. rushed up the path to the home of Father Nuno. One knock was sufficient for the door to open.
  2411. With relief she saw the kind, humane, concerned face of Father Nuno. “What is it, child?” he asked, looking with compassion at Duarte all bundled out. “Come in and tell me.”
  2412. In moments, Rute blurted out her story, omitting the scene in the chapel.
  2413. She must leave. The manor life was destructive. She could not explain. She wanted to go to Lisbon. She had no money. Father Nuno must help her. It was a plea of one Christian to her savior. All the time she spoke, Father Nuno retraced in his mind the various stories he had heard. He saw the stricken, desperate expression of Rute. He knew he could count on various local merchants to advance any monies he might need for Rute.
  2414. “Why Lisbon?” he asked.
  2415. “I must join my brother in America. He will take care of me and Duarte. Please, I must escape. From Lisbon, I can get a boat.”
  2416. Father Nuno did not hesitate. His love for his flock was strong and committed. Without any further words, he snatched his coat from where it hung and took her arm. “Come my child, I shall accompany you. Who brought you here?”
  2417. Rute explained as best as she could for in truth she did not know
  2418. anything about her driver and companion. They were new, temporary help no doubt. Father Nuno listened attentively but said nothing. As he neared the carriage, he saw the face of the driver silhouetted against the clear sky and flickering lights of the night. Within the carriage he saw the strange face of the escort, her eyes burning and shimmering. A premonition overcame Father Nuno. Without any words he took out his cross he always carried around his neck and held it up.
  2419. Directing his words towards the driver, he chanted as he waved his cross, “May God speed you well and safe on our journey to Lisbon.
  2420.  
  2421.  
  2422.  
  2423.  
  2424.  
  2425. Now hasten. The night air is cold. The cross of Jesus shall be our illumination on the dark road before us.”
  2426. The driver turned his face away and did not reply. Rute noticed the scowl on Father Nuno’s face. She was about to speak when Father Nuno silenced her with his finger, “Hush, child. We are in mortal danger. Pray with me. He will protect us but you must get immediately into the carriage.”
  2427. As they entered the interior, Father Nuno nodded to the visitor, but no words were exchanged. Father Nuno kept the cross in front of him, as he prayed silently, but motioning Rute to sit opposite him with the child Duarte. The horses started out rather slowly until Father Nuno opened his window and cried out, “Hurry, driver, or I shall whip the beasts myself.”
  2428. Lulled by the rocking of the carriage, the murmuring of Father Nuno
  2429. as he held tightly his cross, accompanied by the morose, grim gaze of the woman, Rute was overcome with fatigue, and holding Duarte tightly, she fell asleep not awakening until hours later they all arrived in Lisbon.
  2430.  
  2431. 8.1 The members of the cult reach an agreement.
  2432.  
  2433. Some evenings later, they were sitting around the dining room table, Célia, Ricardo, and Paula, a heavy, oppressive silence chaining the three to their forced reunion. Dinner had been served and completed. Even the plates had been withdrawn. There seemed no reason to delay their departure yet Ricardo and Paula knew their mother wished to speak to them.
  2434. With her large, peasant face holding them in her stare, Ricardo and Paula waited for her to speak. Slowly, in between sips from a cup of herbal tea still warm, she explained how their cult was too strong to be terminated but that great sacrifices must now be endured.
  2435. As she uttered these words, she gazed for a long time at Paula. At
  2436. length, she explained. She knew where Rute was lodging with the child Duarte. This information had been given to her by her faithful driver and his companion, both now gone as Pedro, the former family driver, had recently returned. Their devoted efforts to aiding the Cabral family
  2437.  
  2438.  
  2439.  
  2440.  
  2441.  
  2442. would never be forgotten for without them, it would be impossible to find Rute or little Duarte.
  2443. Knowing where they were, the family had two choices, either forcibly return Rute and Duarte to the mansion, or choose a more subtle route. But enforcing Rute’s return to the manor would surely meet with the opposition of Father Nuno and this was not desirable.
  2444. If Rute wished to leave the manor with Duarte, and if she succeeded,
  2445. the cult would end. Therefore, it was imperative that the safety and eventual return of Duarte be secured. This could only be done by Ricardo seeking out Rute, declaring his loyalty to her and accompanying her and Duarte, as the husband and father, to their final destination, a distant land.
  2446. What the next decades would bring would be unimportant, for Paula
  2447. would secure the education of Liliana and ensure the terms of the cult were imbedded in her development. Ricardo, for his part, only had to extract from Duarte one day a promise he would return to the family lands and claim his inheritance. Liliana would be waiting for him. While Duarte would not know the terms of the cult, with time he and Liliana would succumb to the natural passion which was part of their heritage.
  2448. Of course, the ensuing years meant Paula would live a celibate life. As
  2449. for Ricardo, he would have to assume his matrimonial obligations but then he could take solace in knowing that his contribution meant the cult would survive. She paused and waited for her words to have their effect.
  2450. Paula glanced furtively at Ricardo. She wanted him to reject their
  2451. mother’s words but she saw his obedient face gazing steadfastly at his mother. For herself, crazed with a gripping passion which would never abate, she held her words for fear of incurring her mother’s wrath. Finally, Célia beckoned Ricardo to approach her. As he did so, she motioned for him to kneel before her, which he did without protest. Stroking his head, she murmured, “I expect much from you. It is an enormous sacrifice. Yet you must undertake it with good will so it will succeed. Educate Duarte, protect him, prior to your death you will advise him of the lands he has inherited and he will return. No matter what he has been doing, the soil will call him. Liliana shall be waiting.”
  2452.  
  2453.  
  2454.  
  2455.  
  2456.  
  2457. She then tapped Ricardo lightly on the shoulder and directed him to return to his chair.
  2458. No one spoke. Eventually Célia stood up and stared at her two children. She whispered her instructions, “Go, my loved ones, you only have a few days together. And then Ricardo must part.” With no other words, she started the climb to her chambers.
  2459. That evening, the chapel was the tabernacle of love as Paula’s body
  2460. enveloped Ricardo in the warmth of her desperate needs. She knew Ricardo would act upon his mother’s commands and within a short time she would be left, alone, with her mother and Liliana, charged with the obligation of instructing her daughter as to the tenets of the cult. But she, Paula, would be bereft of her physical release. Her bed would be cold. She could take no lovers. The cult was strict in its principles. There was only one lover permitted to her and he was leaving.
  2461. So the few nights they had together were burned away in the fire and explosion of their bodies and each coupling took them to new heights until one time, Ricardo, exhausted, threw himself upon the granite slab of his ancestor and succumbed to sleep while Paula stroked his naked buttocks.
  2462. The next day Ricardo left. Paula retired to her room and did not appear for days. When she did, her face was taut and set and she never smiled until some moments before she died in 1962 having satisfied herself that Liliana was properly prepared. Duarte would return. She was sure Ricardo would not fail.
  2463. Thus it came to be that in the year 1939 Ricardo left with Rute and Duarte for New York where they were met by Rute’s brother, Manuel. Ricardo found work in a trucking company owned by a Portuguese family and he reared his family stoically but never forgetting his filial promise.
  2464. With the family flight from Portugal, or more precisely, Mafra, Rute undertook her maternal obligations with total dedication. By nature, Duarte was withdrawn but observant and Rute saw he was scholarly by inclination. She encouraged his academic interests and by the time he was in high school he already knew he wanted to specialize in Portuguese literature.
  2465.  
  2466.  
  2467.  
  2468.  
  2469.  
  2470. Upon graduation from high school in 1958, he was sent to a Mid- Western university where he continued his studies with great distinction. Receiving his bachelor’s degree in 1962, he then wrote his master thesis on the Portuguese writer Eça de Queiroz for which he earned in master’s degree in 1963. Two years later, in 1965, he received his doctorate in Portuguese literature for his thesis on “Realism in
  2471. Portuguese Literature in the 20th Century: A Political and Social
  2472. Critique”, a work which received immediate academic acclaim.
  2473. During this period of his life, Ricardo toiled at his employment, provided the sustenance his family required, supported his son emotionally whenever the need arrived, but his presence was not accompanied by his spirit. He daily thought of his mother and Paula, remembered vividly her frantic embraces and many a night lay awake his body racked with unsatisfied desire. Yet he had an objective and time would present him with the moment.
  2474. No visits were ever made to Portugal by the family. Neither Rute nor
  2475. Ricardo revealed any significant details of the Cabral family history or of Rute’s parents. They were facts wrapped in a family album whose contents were static and historic. Duarte always believed Rute was his natural mother and no one bothered to explain differently.
  2476. Rute eventually passed away in 1958, the year Duarte went to the
  2477. university so she did not survive to see his substantial academic credentials. Ricardo was stricken by a grave illness in early 1963, the year in which Duarte earned his master’s degree, and he did not live to see the next year.
  2478. True to his sacred word, before he died, Ricardo explained to Duarte
  2479. that he was heir to substantial lands in Portugal, near the historical village of Mafra, and they were presently under the administration of his cousin, Liliana. Fearing too many revelations would cause him to tell more than he wished, he confined himself to the essentials. There was a cousin, there were lands and Duarte, by inheritance, would be independently wealthy. Before his mminent demise, he asked Duarte to promise him he would go and reclaim his rightful share of ancestral property.
  2480. Not knowing whether the onslaught of death was befuddling his father,
  2481. Duarte agreed and his father, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, when he was
  2482.  
  2483.  
  2484.  
  2485.  
  2486.  
  2487. alone, closed his eyes in peace, clutching in his hand a letter postmarked 1962 from a relative in Mafra advising him his sister Paula had died.
  2488. In the years after their death, it occurred to Duarte that his parents being
  2489. buried in a strange land was improper. Following some inquiries he learned he could have his parents returned to their village. By 1968, Duarte had completed his doctorate thesis for which he was awarded his Ph.D. and in the same year he decided it was time to fulfill his promise to his father; make the journey to Mafra; claim his inheritance and then return to begin his academic life. Accordingly, he had the remains of his mother and father shipped to Mafra, Portugal. Prior to departure, he wrote a letter to his cousin, Liliana, introduced himself, and informed her of his planned arrival.
  2490. When, a fortnight later, the postman brought the letter to Liliana’s
  2491. home, it was with an air of ceremony that he presented it to her for signature, thinking she would be startled to receive any news from abroad. But Liliana disappointed him while she gently closed the door on his inquiring face. As soon as she saw the postmark, she had no doubt that it was from Duarte.
  2492. His name and where he lived were well known to her. His name had been mentioned many times to her by her mother. Being carefully reared by her mother, Paula, as to her duties and the terms of the cult, she also knew that one day Duarte would come and claim her. Upon receipt of his letter she went to inform her mother, buried in the village graveyard, of the truth of her mother’s prophecy for she had to share this momentous moment of family loyalty.
  2493. Standing over her tomb, still holding the flowers she had brought, she
  2494. told her mother Duarte was returning. No sooner had the words fallen from her lips when she noticed a tall stranger near her, smiling at her in approval. They were alone, for it was a workday and the peasants and laborers could not dare to miss their daily toil. As the wind stirred slightly, a soft, ocean breeze coming in from the West coast, the stranger approached Liliana slowly. Near her, he stretched out his hand and for reasons she could not explain, she fell to her knees and bowed her head.
  2495.  
  2496.  
  2497.  
  2498.  
  2499.  
  2500. The stranger knelt beside her and his thin, rapine face glared fiercely towards the horizon.
  2501. “You knew my mother?” Liliana whispered.
  2502. The stranger did not reply. Instead, he turned his head towards Liliana and stared at her critically. Suddenly, before she could make a cry, with his long, thin finger nails, he ripped slightly the blouse covering her bosom. Her birthmark glowed brightly in the dim light of the afternoon. “Remember, remember,” he hissed, “you are beholden to the faith and cult of your mother.”
  2503. As she remained on her knees, fearing the worse, but too far from the
  2504. village to cry out, the stranger laughed. “You fear for your virginity. It is reserved for someone else.”
  2505. And then he was gone. When she awoke from her fainting spell, Liliana
  2506. stared for some time about her. Eventually arising to return home, she pondered over the events of the afternoon. “Perhaps I dream too much,” she wondered, “Yet, it is true. My chastity awaits Duarte.”
  2507.  
  2508. 8.2 The return to Mafra.
  2509.  
  2510. The priest in charge of the cemetery in Mafra had written Duarte that the plot for his parents was already assigned. With much inner comfort, Duarte gave instructions to the Lisbon funeral home as to whom they were to contact. The name of the priest was Father Rui and they would have no trouble in finding him. Satisfying himself the agency was both competent and responsible, Duarte decided to linger some days in Lisbon.
  2511. He wanted this initial interlude to become accustomed to Portugal and
  2512. then he would go to Mafra. Although his parents often spoke of Portugal, and of course he was fluent in both Portuguese and English, still the new flavors of a strange country merited his tallying awhile and absorbing the local culture. He did not plan to stay long in Portugal, just the sufficient length to meet his cousin, discuss with her how the lands would be administered, and of course leave her in charge while he returned to the USA to resume his career.
  2513. Prior to leaving, he had received a letter from a State university in
  2514. Michigan offering him an instructorship in Portuguese literature. His
  2515.  
  2516.  
  2517.  
  2518.  
  2519.  
  2520. affirmative response was immediate. He was to begin his lectures in September and as it was June he anticipated a quiet summer at the estate of his family where he could prepare his assignments as well as attend to any legal or administrative necessities.
  2521. By nature, Duarte was a quiet man, possessed of great physical strength.
  2522. Tall, muscular, with a large quantity of brown hair, he tended to walk with his head down as if it were the weight of his thoughts which bowed him, and not the heaviness of his bones.
  2523. Similar to his father, he spoke rarely, yet this was rather an enforced silence as he had strong emotions and reactions to events touching his life. While he respected his father, he had never been on intimate terms with him. It was as if his father always wanted to tell him something but never seemed to find the appropriate moment.
  2524. By contrast, his mother, although regal in appearance, and stoical as to the contours of her life, was capable of demonstrating much affection. Duarte would often find her staring at him and if he prodded her with any questions, she often merely stroked his hair gently and murmured, “We did make a great voyage, didn’t we?” It never occurred to Duarte to ask her as to what was the voyage she referred to for they appeared to him words of endearment which needed no explanation.
  2525. “Our family history conditions our life” thought Duarte, reminiscing
  2526. about his parents. Yet he had no regrets. If their origins were modest, he mused, they nevertheless educated him well. And of course the unexpected inheritance of lands in Portugal was indeed a surprise. Brimming with satisfaction, enchanted with the early summer weather of Lisbon, Duarte spent the next few days savoring the hum and hustle of the Portuguese capital. “June is a fine time in Portugal,” he thought, as he gazed at the ferry boats trudging across the Tagus River, bringing workers to and fro from the capital to the outlying provinces.
  2527. A dazzling constant blue light invaded the sky during the day and at times Duarte had to shield his eyes. He had never witnessed such stunning clarity being a child of a large metropolitan city. It seemed to him the country was blessed with colors to delight the senses and he felt alive, responsive to nature. It was as though for the first time he was emerging into life and being beckoned to join the throngs of people enjoying and laughing with the daily tariffs of their lives.
  2528.  
  2529.  
  2530.  
  2531.  
  2532.  
  2533. In reaction to the pageant of life and color now unfolding before him, Duarte could only wonder and be enthralled with the movement of commerce and pleasure, the cafés and their smells, the flowers ringing the sprouting fountains of the many plazas, the red tiled roof-tops reflecting the bright, shimmering sun while sea gulls squawked shrilly as they swooped and dived incessantly.
  2534. The throbbing energy and bursting vitality of everything he saw
  2535. stunned him into more introspection for whereas his previous life had been scholarly and ascetic now he beheld the frantic movement of life’s claim on all living creatures. There was light, the sensuous smiles men and women exchanged, the arms locked in quiet passion, eyes that held one another expressing what words lacked to declare. At times he thought he would be suffocated with the beauty of love he saw in all things, from gracious granite stones adorning buildings to the heads reclined against one another as the sun caressed their faces in repose, a tranquility and peace which only the sentiment of devotion can bring. Other moments he raged against the physical sterility of his life for at
  2536. 30 years he still did not know the sweet comfort of a woman’s body. He was chaste in mind and body and for the first time he was aware of his masculinity. Yet he was also a prisoner to his habits and the most he could muster was an admission that finally, he, too, needed to have a mate. Such an event, he pondered, would have to take place upon his return home when he took up his academic chores.
  2537. At night, with the mild weather inviting strolls, he ambled down to the main plaza facing the river and watched the bobbing lights of boats which were obliged to criss-cross all night long as they bore their passengers from work to home or dwelling to factory. Families needed sustenance and the men gave their labor without complaint. All they wanted was a hearth, a household, a warm embrace to greet them when finally, tired and fatigued, they returned.
  2538. Those few days Duarte spent in Lisbon were to be a tonic for his future life. He would not easily forget the Castle of St. George, towering over the city of Lisbon, with its rampart walls encircling it, as if at any moment the heathen Moors would return and lay claim once again to their rightful dwellings. Duarte had to remind himself that almost eight
  2539.  
  2540.  
  2541.  
  2542.  
  2543.  
  2544. hundred years had passed since the Moors were driven out of Portugal so real was his vision inspired by this ancient monument.
  2545. Sometimes in the evenings, while strolling through the older parishes, tripping over the cobble stoned streets, observing the flowered gardens or listening to voices sifting out from the patios, he felt a longing, a sense that he was returning, once again, to his natural home but immediately he suppressed such thoughts.
  2546. No matter how intoxicating was his acquaintance with the land of his parents, he was committed, he must believe, that eventually the promise of his academic life was supreme, the one goal he must maintain. It was only a matter of days when, upon awakening, and hearing the sounds of voices from beneath his hotel room, when he decided he must now go to Mafra and begin his work.
  2547. The trip to Mafra was undertaken by taxi and Duarte had almost two
  2548. hours to savor the countryside as the wheeled transportation lumbered along country roads. Everywhere he looked, he saw low, rolling hills covered with grape vines. The road snaked through valleys and the driver, thinking he was bringing a tourist, did not hesitate to describe all the historical monuments along the way.
  2549. “We are a religious people,” the motorist frequently muttered as he pointed out the many chapels evident from the road, the small stone rosary boxes constructed alongside the highway to bless the passengers, the ancient stone crosses marking each village center from which the heathens were hung, the humble churches which served as the social center of each parish, the buildings with their edges painted blue to ward off the devil. “Oh, yes,” his guide snorted, “we are religious and we fear Satan. Don’t you?”
  2550. Duarte did not respond. He had never thought about it. His life, as short as it was, had been confined to study and thought, and the perplexities of the universe were never in his mind. Answering for him, the cabman retorted, “Of course you do, and with good reason.”
  2551. For a while they rode in silence and then the chauffeur quipped, “This
  2552. is Moorish country.” Duarte smiled to himself and asked, “But why do you say that?”
  2553. Yet no response was required for Duarte saw the vestiges of the former
  2554. North African conquerors of Portugal wherever his eyes cast. The low
  2555.  
  2556.  
  2557.  
  2558.  
  2559.  
  2560. houses built around courtyards, the windows closed to keep out the light, the long black skirts worn by the women, while their faces were shrouded with heavy cloth skullcaps, the sullen faces of the men as they lingered around the tavern doors, all were a sharp contrast to the busy metropolitan life of Lisbon with its shrill gaiety, spirited throngs and its obvious European influence not yet implanted in the provinces. Lisbon was the exception. The ghosts of the Moors were a reality and a steady presence in the rural life of Portugal.
  2561. Before the driver could answer, the car veered around a sharp bend and there in the distance Duarte saw the sprawling grounds and building of the Mafra Palace-Convent. He was enthralled. Its splendor, graced with its age of over two hundred years, was evident in its entire design. The towers and Basilica lay shimmering in the June sun. To his left, he then saw a low, rambling, rectangular building, surrounded by olive trees and his heart thumped. He knew it was the Cabral manor, where his father had been born, where he too had first seen light, and in a few moments he would meet his cousin.
  2562. Instructing his guide to take the dirt road to their left, his heart began to beat erratically as the motor car began its long ascent. For reasons he could not articulate, he suddenly felt as if he had walked up this very road many times in his life. Yet he knew this was impossible. Spread out before him were hills and valleys cascading towards the distant shore line. On his right was the Mafra Palace-Convent, shimmering in the afternoon sun. Behind the building, constructed in a large square about the main Basilica, he saw the royal hunting grounds rising towards the horizon. All this was his heritage and he blessed himself that he had kept his promise to his father.
  2563. He ordered the taxi to stop some distance from the house as he wanted to walk the rest of the way. “There will not be,” he thought, “a day such as this.” After discharging his debt to his driver, he picked up his baggage and started the climb to the manor. On either side of the dirt road were olive trees. Beyond them, he saw the lemon and orange groves. The pungent smell of their flowers reached his nostrils and intoxicated him.
  2564. The beauty and sweetness of his homecoming was increased by his
  2565. understanding the symbolism of his return. It occurred to him that
  2566.  
  2567.  
  2568.  
  2569.  
  2570.  
  2571. perhaps his father wanted him to reclaim more than just his inheritance. Yet he could not say what it was but the thought mulled about in his mind as he lumbered towards the stern and simple manor house at the top of the hill. Nearing the crest he paused, and at that moment the main door opened.
  2572. As he moved towards the steps of the ancient manor house, Duarte saw waiting for him, a large, fleshy woman, whose body was draped in sensuous repose over a strong, muscular frame. Her heavy bosom rose and settled in gentle harmony with her breath, which appeared to quicken the nearer he approached her. Standing before her, the warmth of her thighs reached his nostrils and he found himself whispering in the spell of her carnal perfume. He was not used to such feelings and he spoke in awe.
  2573. “I am Duarte Cabral,” he said softly.
  2574. Liliana merely smiled and approached him. Kissing him lightly on each cheek in the local tradition she replied, “I have been expecting you, cousin Duarte.” As he followed her into the manor, her haunches swayed in rhythm to his pulse. Once he crossed the threshold, he saw before him a long stairway rising towards the first floor.
  2575. He was sure he had seen the staircase before. He believed he remembered his mother carrying him down those very steps. He turned towards Liliana and saw her lips pursed as she stared at him.
  2576. “This is your home, cousin Duarte,” she murmured.
  2577. Unexpectedly, he felt a surge of fear sweep over him. He had come too far. He was in alien country. The hot smell of his cousin burned into his flesh, sprung into life a throbbing he had not experienced before, and he stood there, helpless, waiting for instructions.
  2578. “Come,” Liliana spoke, “you are tired from your journey. Tonight over dinner you will tell me all about my dear uncle Ricardo and your life in America. I am afraid I have few stories to relate about our life here on the manor. Tomorrow I shall show you all the Cabral lands. After all, you are Duarte Cabral. We are a family.”
  2579. That evening, after dinner, lying in his bed, he recalled the day’s events. They appeared uneventful yet they stirred in him fresh and different emotions. As he closed his eyes, his last thought was an interruption to his repose. He suddenly remembered that not once had Liliana ever
  2580.  
  2581.  
  2582.  
  2583.  
  2584.  
  2585. mentioned or asked about his mother. But then, he thought, no doubt
  2586. Liliana had no knowledge about her.
  2587. After settling him in his chambers, the very suite occupied by his mother and father, Liliana had left him alone. He had retired to bed early. He was not hungry. For reasons he could not understand, his heart was racing and a slight tremor overtook him. He must have dozed off, for when he awoke he heard the whispering of voices outside his window. The night was well in progress and a dim light cast by the moon barely illuminated the gardens. He did not know if he were truly awake or if he was still in the throes of a dream.
  2588. The whispers in his mind became a call and he slowly arose from his bed, dressed lightly, for the evening was warm, and descended the stairs leading to the flowered paths. Once outside he ambled slowly, in a trance, towards the nearby olive grove and stopped. Beneath the branches he saw some people; they were two women and a man. For a moment he was frightened but then the woman, the one who was younger stretched out her hand and signaled for him to approach her. He did so, hesitantly. And then suddenly, the three of them began dancing in a circle around him, holding hands, and laughing silently.
  2589. He was about to speak when he froze with alarm. The women and the
  2590. men were beginning to undress and before he could stop them, they were all naked and circling ever faster, the sweat from their bodies pouring forth and casting a dim reflection from the moonlight.
  2591. Wanting to flee, he turned around and stared at the front door.
  2592. It was open. Standing in the framework was Liliana. She was dressed in her night gown. Ashamed of the sudden flush of heat which swept through his body, he stood still until the three companions descended upon him and dragged him in protest to the doorsill, casting him at the feet of Liliana.
  2593. He lay there panting and trembling until he felt a soft hand pull him gently upwards. He came face to face with Liliana. Before he could speak, her arms embraced him and he fell into her flesh with the softness of desire.
  2594. And they passed the night together, and the days and the heat of their bodies seared their fates so that Duarte was consumed and possessed and he never returned to America. From their mounting and subsiding
  2595.  
  2596.  
  2597.  
  2598.  
  2599.  
  2600. union, they felt their bodies tremble in harmony with nature while pain seized their limbs only to be followed by an unfathomable peace.
  2601. The once dull, pale red blotches on their breasts shone with a searing light, a cross when their lips silenced their cries, at other times a circle as they slept from physical fatigue.
  2602. The surge and pounding of their physical passion was only a manifestation of a spiritual holiness. Their coupling was not a sin as social morality can never affect the wellspring of true ardor, nourished and bred within the confines of the same home.
  2603. Social laws have prohibited the union of brother and sister for
  2604. proprietary reasons now lost to us in history but its expression will never be vanquished. The underground, occult episodes of fraternal incest shall never be eliminated.
  2605. As long as humans maintain a social organization, fraternal incest shall
  2606. remain a cabal, social constant. From the union of Duarte and Liliana, there were born two children, carrying the Cabral birthmark, in homage to Christ and Satan. The family cult was honored and, of course, continues to the present day.
  2607. Visitors to Mafra marvel at the imposing monument erected by D. João
  2608. V. in fulfillment of his vow. The façade decorated with greater-than-life sculptures shaped by the hands of Italian craftsmen are an illumination of 18th Century art.
  2609. Yet there is another edifice, invisible, but as permanent as the Palace- Convent of Mafra. This is the cult of the family Cabral, the work none other than of Satan, determined to defy the icon of Christ. If Christ exists, so does Luther.
  2610. Social reality can not be obliterated by the propagation of moral laws,
  2611. no matter how sensible. The true nature of our species is Eros and it has many, varied forms. The cults of the occult shall always persist. Nature can not be duped by the icons of innocence.
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