On a small plot of land situated behind the convent walls lying to the east, the friar in charge of the kitchen-garden attached to the hospice had planted fruit trees and laid out beds with a variety of produce and borders of flowers, the mere beginnings of a fully established orchard and kitchen-garden. All of this would be destroyed. The workers watched the Inspector General go past and the Spaniard in charge of the mines, then they looked at the mountain looming up before them like some apparition, for the news had spread at once that the convent was to be enlarged on that location, it is incredible how rapidly news is leaked about royal decrees that are supposed to be confidential, at least until such time as a formal statement is issued by the Inspectorate General. One might be tempted to believe that even before writing to Dr Leandro de Melo, Dom João V had forewarned Sete-Sóis or José Pequeno, telling them, Be patient, for I have just decided to provide accommodation for three hundred friars instead of eighty, as agreed previously, good news for all those who work on the site, since their jobs will be guaranteed for an even longer period of time, for there is no lack of funds, according to the report submitted by my reliable treasurer several days ago, and bear in mind that we are the wealthiest nation in Europe, we are indebted to no one and pay everyone what we owe, and we have no financial worries, give my regards to the thirty thousand Portuguese who are trying to make a living and who are making strenuous efforts to give their King the supreme satisfaction of seeing built, for all posterity, the greatest and most beautiful sacred monument in history, which will make the Basilica of St Peter in Rome look like a tiny chapel, farewell, until we meet again, convey my best wishes to Blimunda, of Padre Bartolomeu Lourenço's flying machine I have heard nothing, and to think how I encouraged the venture and provided so much money to ensure its completion. 'The world is full of ungrateful people, that's for certain, farewell.
Dr Leandro de Melo feels somewhat overwhelmed as he stands at the foot of the mountain, the monstrous projection that will tower over the convent walls that are under construction, and since he is merely the magistrate of Torres Vedras, Dr Leandro de Melo relies on the expertise of the engineer in charge of the mining, who, being Andalusian and somewhat given to exaggeration, declares boastfully, Even if it were the Serra Morena, I would pull it down with my own bare hands and throw it into the sea, words that should be translated thus, Leave it to me and soon you will see a square laid out on this location that will make even Lisbon sit up with envy. For some eleven years now the slopes of Mafra have shuddered to the reverberations of continuous blasting, although these have been less frequent of late, and occurred only when the obstinate projection of some spur or other has impeded progress. A man can never tell when the battle will finally be over. He says to himself, It's all over, and suddenly it's not all over and fresh hostilities break out, for if yesterday it was the brandishing of swords, today it is the thundering of cannon balls, if yesterday it was the demolition of ramparts, today it is the destruction of cities, if yesterday it was the extermination of countries, today worlds are shattered, yesterday it was thought to be a tragedy if a man lost his life, while today no one gives a damn if a million men go up in smoke, this is not exactly the situation in Mafra, where we shall never see quite so many people gathered together, numerous as they are, but for anyone who had become accustomed to hearing some fifty or a hundred blasts every day, it now sounded like the end of the world, with this thundering explosion of a thousand discharges lasting from dawn until dusk, occurring in sequences of twenty, and with such violence that the air was rent with soil and stones, so that the workers on the site had to take shelter behind walls or underneath the scaffolding, and, even so, some of the men were seriously injured, not to mention the five charges that exploded unexpectedly and blew three men to pieces.
Sete-Sóis has still not replied to the King, and he continues to postpone doing so, he feels much too shy to ask anyone to write a letter on his behalf, but should he succeed one day in overcoming his embarrassment, this is the reply he will dictate, Dear King, I've received your letter and taken careful note of everything you have told me, there has been no shortage of work here, we only stop working when it rains so heavily that even the ducks complain, or when the stone was delayed along the way, or when the bricks turned out to be of poor quality and we had to wait for replacements to arrive, now there is a great stir here with the news that the convent is to be enlarged, for, dear King, you cannot imagine how big the mountain is that we have to raze, or the number of men it will take to do the job, they have had to abandon work on the church and the palace, and nothing will be finished on time, even the masons and carpenters are helping to load the stone, and I myself transport it, sometimes with the oxen, sometimes with a hand-cart, I felt very sorry for the lemon and peach trees that were uprooted, and for those pretty little pansies that were destroyed, there wasn't really any point in planting flowers only to see them treated with such cruelty, but, then, as you yourself have said, dear King, we don't owe anyone anything, and that's always reassuring, for, as my old mother used to say, Pay your debts no matter who you owe them to, poor woman, she's now dead, and will never see the greatest and most beautiful sacred monument in history, as you said in your letter, although, to be frank, in the legends I'm familiar with, no one ever speaks about sacred monuments, only about bewitched Moorish women, and hidden treasure, Blimunda is well, thank you, she's not so pretty as she was when I first met her, but there's many a young girl not half as pretty as she is, José Pequeno has asked me to inquire when the marriage of the Infante Dom José will be, for he wants to send him a present, probably because they have the same name, and thirty thousand Portuguese send you their greetings and thanks, their health is so-so, the other day there were so many men with the runs that Mafra stank to high heaven for three leagues on all sides, we must have eaten something that didn't agree with us, weevils rather than flour, botflies rather than meat, but it was funny to watch all those chaps with their bottoms up in the air to catch the fresh breeze coming in from the sea, and no sooner had one bunch relieved themselves than another took their place, and sometimes they were so desperate that they squatted down on the spot, ah, it's true, I almost forgot to mention that I've heard nothing more about the flying machine, it's just possible that Padre Bartolomeu Lourenço took the machine with him to Spain and perhaps the King over there now has it, for rumour has it that he'll soon be a relation of yours, be careful, I'll say no more and leave you in peace, give my regards to the Queen, farewell, dear King, farewell.