Not only Londônia, but his father and relatives in high places found his circumstances intolerable. He was a Figueiras, strings must be pulled. But there were, oddly enough, no Figueirases among the upper hierarchy of the army. But there were many Figueirases who had the ear of the Church, the Crown’s representatives, among the sugar-growing and ranching aristocracy not only of Bahia, but also of Parahyba, and Rio de Janeiro. But making an exception on behalf of this Londônia without the appearance of even a pro forma hearing might possibly harm morale among the officer corps during this critical period, as the Crown was engaged in a difficult war against the Dutch. But who was this Viana anyways, the son of unknown bumpkins from the south? But those same Vianas were landowners as well, had contacts. But Figueiras Henriques, his brother-in-law, was already on a frigate bound for Iberia, and would request an audience in Philip’s court in Madrid, if need be. But there were witnesses. But, a war hero? But honor, duty, esprit de corps?
While the councilor consulted with knowledgeable parties, Londônia remained impounded. His connections, being what they were, insured that he would not suffer undue privations. He had to keep busy, so he had prisoners write letters to his parents, his elder brother, his nieces and nephews, members of his regiment. He organized athletic contests, drills. He assisted in the disciplining of slaves. His sister was permitted to visit him regularly, former classmates and fellow trainees sent tributes. Figueiras Henriques, on his return, met with members of the military command. The Bishop of Bahia received another influential relative. Some time passed, and the brouhaha waned, while the sequestration, though inconvenient, grew almost pleasant.
A closed tribunal of officers was finally seated at the urging of several key parties. A military lawyer from a less-distinguished family opened with his argument on behalf of the army, which is to say, Viana. He seemed, it struck all present, to be whispering into his chest, as if trying to perform an act of ventriloquism. One member of the tribunal had to be awakened twice. Then Londônia’s councilor, deputized to appear before a military panel, delivered his defense. Such an elegant wig, such golden perorations, such learned command of the royal law. There was much nodding and noting of the councilor’s key points. So it went. Viana’s lawyer presented his rebuttal. It was noted that his Portuguese evidently carried fewer Latin eloquences than was common in continental courts of law; where on earth had he received his training? The tribunal broke for the Sabbath. When it resumed, the councilor intended to call Viana as his witness.
Meanwhile, Fonte da Ré’s replacement, Nogueira, had reassigned most of Londônia’s men to Viana’s regiment, now reconstituted as part of a larger military unit which was to take up a position north of Olinda, close to the Dutch fort at Itamaracá. Capturing the fort would, Nogueira’s superiors thought, prove decisive. Though Viana hoped that the tribunal would rule swiftly on what was by now an oft-mentioned punch line of his infamous humiliation (“tied up by that crazy nigger Figueiras, no less!”), there was a war to wage. The men shipped out on a navy vessel from the deep harbor at Salvador on the day the trial began; the winds were in their favor and only a short while later they had anchored off the coast of Pernambuco, as the general in charge deliberated on their plans.
Viana’s lawyer, seeking to have him testify, learned that he had been mustered out. An order must be issued not to send him into battle; his case was underway. His commander, Nogueira, for his part, had not received word of the trial, though it was taking place on the other side of the garrison. The lawyer requested a stay, until he might present further testimony. The tribunal, however, wanted to conclude the trial as soon as possible, as it was, by any measure, a distraction — the officers were needed for the ongoing campaign, and there were pressures from other quarters, in any case. Several of Londônia’s men — Dos Santos, Pereira — testified: they were rough-hewn characters, not entirely reliable, the members of the tribune conceded, but their tales of their commander’s determination and valor would have persuaded the devil. Viana’s lawyer elicited no counter claims; he returned to study his written commentary. Again, he requested an appeal to be delivered to Nogueira, then rested his case.
Londônia sat to testify. The panel found his narration of heroism during the earlier Bahian conflict, followed by his campaign in the wilderness, enthralling. There was so much to hear, those Figueirases have a way with the word. Despite the seriousness of the affair, a current of easy familiarity passed among the men. Several laughed at Londônia’s account of the circular march through the jungle; his route, he suggested to them, would eventually make a fine cow path. There were those Indians, of course, and other hardships, which need not be elaborated upon. He was no Jesuit, mind you. All he had to show for his exertions, however, was the unmistakable burnt-cork tan from wandering in the sun and forest for so long, and an amulet, which his councilor requested be entered into the record. Londônia even mentioned that he would have brought them back his pet monkey to exonerate him, only he’d forgotten it in his parents’ home in Sergipe. When the session concluded, several of them thought he ought to be promoted on the spot, until they were reminded of the full slate of charges against him.
Back in Pernambuco the order came: Viana and his men boarded and launched small craft to reach the shore. The Dutch, surprised at the gross lack of subtlety, began their fusillade. The cannons at the fort let loose, while sharpshooters took aim, supplemented by a team of archers. Whatever men were not drowned and made it to shore fell quickly to the sands — Viana, who had never set foot on Pernambucan soil, was at least able to register this new achievement momentarily before closing his eyes for the final time.
Back in Bahia, the military lawyer waited; still no Viana. Nor did any other witnesses come forward. The head of the tribunal was losing patience; was this Viana unaware that the Dutch held territory as far north as Rio Grande do Norte? Things proceeded, arguments…. The councilor gave his final plea on behalf of the hero, which stirred nearly all present. Then the military lawyer spoke, so rapidly one had to strain to hear him. Arguments ended, the panel ruled. Londônia had grounds, there was the necessity of following his orders and the insult, so he would keep his commission, but he would be assigned, at least for a while, in a training capacity to a garrison near the city of Rio de Janeiro. Until such time, he should relax and reacquaint himself with civilization. All shook hands, the Colonel was released. Several slaves carried his numerous effects to his sister and brother-in-law’s home, in the upper city above the Church of the Bonfim, where he would lodge until he set sail for Rio. Friends of the family paid visits; in his honor Mrs. Figueiras Henriques threw a sought-after farewell dinner, which concluded in dawn revels.