The messenger returned, mission unaccomplished: the capitão was not available to see anyone. So had he taken her with him to the fort? That was too shameless! Everyone would know how the marriage had been brought about; it did not befit their status! Campos hurried to the fort. It was still early and there was no one in the streets. He would be able to return home with Pilar before the town woke up, as if coming from an early mass.
Ronquilho was lying on the sofa, with a thick bandage round his leg, and received Campos with an angry laugh.
“A failure, the bird has flown, and I was almost caught in the cage.”
“Run away? But why didn’t you wait for me to return home, and then we could have given chase at once?”
“Bear in mind that it’s only a five-minute walk from your house to the Dominican monastery.”
“The monastery? Do you think she’s there?”
“Have you forgotten that masquerade then? Believe me, at the moment Pilar is playing Veronica or Egyptian Mary. Who knows?”
“Then they must surrender her! Paternal authority is higher than the church’s.”
“That would be asking for trouble. The monastery is a recognized place of sanctuary. And hasn’t the father transferred his authority prematurely? Wouldn’t the authority of a father and lieutenant receive a blow harder than that branch received from my boot, from the revelation of this story? No, let’s clear out the whole nest at once, and raze it to the ground. Think of the benefits! We’ll be rid of that brood of Dominicans at last, we’ll embarrass the merchants and we ourselves will bask in the favour of the Chinese.”
“Why?”
“By finding a pretext for the destruction of the monastery.”
“What riddles are these?”
“Listen. The merchant Lou Yat has a son and a daughter who have become devout converts through the Dominicans. They confess, go to church and can already cross themselves, much to the fury of the honourable Lou Yat, who I believe is the deacon of the temple of A Mao. The whole Chinese district is abuzz with the apostasy of his children. Well, today is Tuesday. On Thursday morning he will be found at his counter with his throat cut, and the son and daughter will have disappeared. What will the Chinese authorities think, what will they demand? What will the merchants’ guild not agree to? What will we not do only too gladly to satisfy the mandarins?”
“But won’t we actually find Lou Yat’s children in the monastery?” objected Campos.
“They will never be found. But there will be ex cavations in a monastery garden and children’s bodies will be discovered in an unrecognizable state of decom position and with their eyes gouged out.”
“But that’s going too far!” cried Campos. “That will deal a blow to everyone who calls himself Portuguese.”
“Not to us. Consider the consequences: the clergy driven out, the power of the merchants, who this time cannot hush up the matter with money, curtailed, and the strictly upright Procurador, the armed forces fighting against their own priests for the sake of justice, feared and honoured in every corner of China.”
“But who will carry out the murder of the Lou Yat family, so that we won’t be unmasked as the orchestrators?”
Ronquilho grinned.
“I have three men in my garrison, about whom I know enough to have them strung from the yardarms of all the seafaring powers. They’ll hold their tongues.”
“Won’t they betray us?”
“Never. I myself will run them through in the confusion of the assault on the monastery. The dead tell no tales.”
Campos gave in. He surveyed Ronquilho with respect and remembered in astonishment that only that morning he had called him brave but stupid.
IV
IT WAS THE NIGHT of the Senate session at which Pedro Velho was to be installed. In his suddenly lonely house Campos prepared himself for the onerous task. He had to dress by sparse candlelight.
The fleet from Malacca had still not arrived, so that there was still a shortage of lamp oil. So the vision of Pilar appeared after all to have been a reflection of reality. The house of the Procurador was better lit than any other; many burnt no more than a single candle, but he must not seem to be extravagant. In his mind it was darker still. Still no sign of his daughter, and Lou Yat and his children were still alive. When asked about it, Ronquilho smiled craftily and gave evasive answers. He himself had made a few attempts to unearth some blot or dubious transaction, but Velho was either totally spotless or too smart for them: there was nothing that formed an obstacle to his becoming a senator. This evening would be the ultimate test of whether Velho’s superstition would actually be fatal. If this too failed, he would have suffered a heavy second defeat.
Campos stared out of a window in the back walclass="underline" the dark shape of Macao was stacked against the hills. Why hadn’t they drawn on the oil resources of the Ilha Verde? Then they would at least have light. In this darkness a nocturnal attack by pirates or Spaniards could be disastrous. Again Campos remembered the pleas of Farria in the Senate to occupy the Ilha Verde strongly and colonize it. But Campos had always regarded Farria’s pleas as the stubborn thoughts of a patriarch in his dotage, who thought that one could still create colonies as described in the Bible.
Now, in the dark, Campos saw that he had been right in this too. The island was deserted and unsafe. The town was still short of food; by the gate at the neck of the peninsula they had to trade at a market with Chinese from distant Pak Lang, who stayed away when they felt like it or the governor of Canton ordered them to. Because of the constantly late arrival of the fleet from Malacca, Macao had periodic blackouts, and every evening there were fewer lights burning; Guia, whose light was designed to show the fleet the way, held out longest, and if it was no longer possible to light this lamp, great bonfires were burnt at the entrance to the bay. Things had yet not reached that point, but already everyone was going to bed earlier; nightlife was impossible, one could not read, and talking to each other in the dark was too frightening. People went to bed early; in a few months’ time the birth rate in Macao would have risen again, which was the only advantage. It was ten o’clock. A herald went through the street, proceeded by a drum and a wobbly light.
“The Senate of Macao informs residents that lights may be lit only for the sick and dying, that anyone who still has oil must surrender it to the light patrol. Anyone found in possession of oil will be punished with a fine and the stocks.”
Dark windows leered at this announcement that no one heard. Then it became quiet and dark again. Only Guia shone from on high, and the waves hurled themselves languidly at the sea wall of Praia square. The wind blew into a standard on the Senate building, and the material flapped at intervals. The square remained empty until midnight. Figures in long cloaks hurried across it, entered by a side door, descended a staircase and found themselves in the cellar where a few lamps were lit. The flickering light moved the features of the dead man, who lay in the centre on a bier, eyes not yet closed, body under a flag, and a staff in the right arm crossed over the chest. At the head and the foot of the bier stood a man in the same garb. One after another joined the circle, which was completed with twenty-four. Then the man at the head spoke; he looked much older than the man whose funeral was the apparent purpose of the nocturnal gathering. He stretched out his hand over the body, and from his beard too a shadow fell across it and moved along with his address.