If you eliminate the emphatic expressions, you will observe that these words have been used before, this would appear to be nothing other than one of those declarations intended for posterity, like that well-known phrase, Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit, so take it, which just goes to prove that God is not one-handed after all, and Padre Bartolomeu Lourenço committed a minor sacrilege when he led Baltasar Sete-Sóis astray, when all he had to do was go and ask God the Son, who ought to know how many hands God the Father possesses, but in addition to what João V has already said, we should add what we ourselves have discovered about the number of hands his subjects have and to what uses they might be put, for the King went on to say, I hereby command that all the magistrates of the realm should be told to round up and dispatch to Mafra as many skilled workers as they can find in their regions, whether they be carpenters, bricklayers, or manual labourers, even if they should have to be removed by force from their place of work, and they should not be exempt on any pretext whatsoever, no exceptions are to be made for domestic reasons or because of any other commitments or obligations, for nothing surpasses the royal will, and the latter will be appealed to in vain, because it is precisely to serve the divine will that these provisions have been made, I have spoken. Ludovice nodded gravely, as if he had just verified the constancy of a chemical reaction, the secretaries made rapid notes, the footmen exchanged glances and smiled, this was truly a king, Dr Leandro de Melo was safe from this latest decree, because in his region there were no skilled labourers left who were not already engaged, directly or indirectly, in building the convent.
The King's orders were proclaimed and the men arrived. Some went willingly, enticed by the promise of good earnings, or because they craved adventure or experienced some sense of mission, but nearly all of them under duress. The decree was posted in the public squares, and since there were few volunteers, the local magistrate went from street to street, accompanied by his henchmen, forced entry into homes and private property, and scoured the surrounding countryside in search of recalcitrants, by the end of the day, he had rounded up some ten, twenty, thirty men, and when they outnumbered their jailers, they bound them with ropes, adopting various methods, sometimes the men were tied to one another at the waist, sometimes with an improvised halter, and sometimes fettered at the ankles like galley slaves or serfs. Much the same scene was to be witnessed everywhere. By order of His Majesty, you will help to build the convent of Mafra and if the magistrate was particularly zealous, it mattered not whether the prisoner was a man in his prime, on his last legs, or a mere stripling. The men would start off by refusing to go or threatening to escape, then they would make excuses, one had a wife about to give birth any day now, another had to look after his old mother, or there was a brood of children to be provided for, a wall to be finished, a chest to be mended, land to be worked, but if they started to make excuses, they were not allowed to finish, the henchmen would set upon them if they showed any signs of resistance, and many of the men set out on the journey covered with blood.
The women ran behind them weeping, and the screams of the children added to the uproar, one would have thought that the magistrates were recruiting the men by force for the army or for an expedition to India. Rounded up in the main square of Celorico da Beira, Tomar, Leiria, Vila Pouca, Vila Muita, or in some town known only to those who live there, on distant frontiers or along the coast, around the pillories, in the church squares, at Santarem and Beja, at Faro and Portimão, Portalegre and Setubal, Évora and Montemor, in the mountains and plains, at Viseu and Guarda, Bragança and Vila Real, Miranda, Chaves, and Amarante, Vianas and Póvoas, and in all those places where His Majesty's jurisdiction extends, the men were tied like sheep, the ropes loosened just enough to prevent them from tripping over one another, while their wives and children looked on and pleaded with the magistrate, or tried to bribe the henchmen with some eggs or a chicken, pathetic expedients that proved to be useless, for the King of Portugal prefers to collect any tribute due to him in gold, emeralds, diamonds, pepper, cinnamon, ivory, tobacco, sugar, and precious wood, tears achieve nothing in the custom-house. When there was time, some of the henchmen took the opportunity to rape the wives of their prisoners, the wretched women submitted in the hope of saving their husbands, only to see them dragged off while they looked on in despair and their seducers mocked their gullibility, May you be damned unto five generations, may you be stricken from head to foot with leprosy, may your mother, wife, and daughter be forced into prostitution, may you be impaled from arse to mouth, thricecursed villain. The band of men rounded up are already on their way to Arganil, and the disconsolate women accompany them until they are outside the town, weeping as they go, heads uncovered, Oh, sweet and beloved husband, while another wails, Ah, my beloved boy, who gave lie comfort and protection in my weary old age, the lamentations went on and on until the nearby mountains echoed those cries, moved by pity for these poor creatures, the men are already at some distance and finally disappear from sight where the road curves, their eyes filled with tears, large teardrops in the case of the more sensitive among them, and then a voice rends the air, it is that of a farmer so advanced in years that the magistrate's men were reluctant to take him, and mounting an embankment, a natural pulpit for countryfolk, he calls out, Ah, empty ambition, senseless cupidity, infamous King, nation without justice, but no sooner has he uttered these words than one of the henchmen deals him a blow on the head and leaves him for dead on the ground.
The might of kings. There he is, seated on his throne, he relieves himself as and when necessary by defecating, or ejaculating inside the womb of some woman or other, and here, there, or yonder, if so required by the interests of the state, namely himself, he issues orders that men should be brought from Penamacor, able-bodied or otherwise, to build this convent of mine at Mafra, built because petitioned by the Franciscan friars since the year sixteen twenty-four, and because the queen was delivered of a daughter who will not even become the Queen of Portugal but of Spain, because of dynastic and private intrigues. Meanwhile, the men who have never even set eyes on the King arrive against their will, guarded by soldiers and henchmen, unfettered if they are of a peaceful disposition or have already resigned themselves to their fate, or tied with ropes, as we explained, if rebellious, and permanently shackled if they perversely gave the impression of going along willingly and then tried to escape, and all the worse for him who succeeds in escaping. They make their way cross-country from one region to another, along the few royal routes in existence, sometimes along the roads built by the Romans, and most frequently of all along narrow footpaths, and the weather is unpredictable, scorching sunshine, torrential rain, and freezing cold, while in Lisbon the King expects every man to do his duty.
From time to time they meet up with fellow victims. Some more men were drafted from the northern and eastern regions of Portugal joining up with those from Penela and Proença-a-Nova in Porto de Mos, none of them knowing where these places are located on the map, or about the form of Portugal itself, whether it is square or round or pointed, if it is a bridge for crossing or a rope used for hanging, if it cries out when they beat it or hides in some corner. Both contingents are merged into one, and since the art of detention is not without its refinements, the men are paired up in some mystical way, one from Proença with another from Penela, as a precaution against subversive plotting and with the additional advantage of providing an opportunity for the Portuguese to get to know Portugal, Tell me something about your region, they inquire of one another, and while they are engaged in such exchanges they have no time to think about anything else. Unless one of them should die during the journey. A man might collapse foaming at the mouth after a sudden attack, or perhaps simply topple over, dragging with him to the ground the man in front and the one behind, who panic when they find themselves shackled to a dead man, a man might become ill without any warning in some remote place and be carried on a litter, his arms and legs dangling over the sides, only to die farther ahead and be hastily buried at the roadside, with a wooden cross stuck into the ground near his head, or if he is more fortunate, he might receive the last rites in some village while the men sit around waiting for the priest to finish, Hoc est enim corpus meum, this body worn out by fatigue after marching all those leagues, this body tormented by the chafing of ropes, this body deprived of even the most frugal diet. Their nights are spent on haystacks, in convent doorways, in empty granaries, and, when God and the elements permit, out in the open air, thus combining the freedom of nature with human bondage, and there would be much food for thought here if we had time to pause. In the early hours, long before sunrise, and perhaps it is just as well, for these are the coldest hours of all, His Majesty's labourers get to their feet, frostbitten and weak from hunger, fortunately, the henchmen have untied them, since they expect to reach Mafra today and it would give the worst possible impression if the inhabitants were to see a procession of tramps fettered like slaves from Brazil or a drove of pack horses. When the men glimpse the white walls of the basilica in the distance, they do not cry out, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, therefore that friar was lying who preached, when the stone was being transported from Pêro Pinheiro to Mafra, that all these men were the crusaders of a new crusade, for what crusaders are these, who scarcely know why they are crusading, the henchmen call a halt so that the men may survey from this elevation the sweeping panorama encircling the site where they are about to settle, to the right lies the sea, which is navigated by our ships, sovereign and invincible as they ply those waters, and straight ahead, to the south, lies the justly renowned Serra de Sintra, the pride of the nation and the envy of foreigners, for Sintra would make an admirable paradise if God were to decide to have another go, and that town down there in the valley is Mafra, which scholars tell us is aptly named, but one day the meanings will be modified to read letter by letter, dead, burned, drowned, robbed, dragged off, and it is not I, simple henchman carrying out my orders, who will be so bold as to give such a reading, but a Benedictine abbot in his own time, when he gives his reasons for not attending the consecration of this monstrous edifice, however, let us not anticipate events, for there is still a great deal of work to be done, which explains why you have been brought all this way from your native regions, pay no attention to the lack of concordance, for no one has taught us how to speak properly, we learn from the mistakes of our parents, and, besides, we are a nation in a period of transition, and now that you have seen what awaits you, move on, once we have delivered you, we must go in search of more men.