Cain (5 page)

Perhaps
my truth is your lie, Perhaps, but doubt is the
privilege of those who have lived
a long time, that's why you
couldn't persuade me to accept as
truths what seemed to
me more like falsehoods, Who are
you, asked cain, Careful,
lad, if you ask me who I am,
you'll be acknowledging my
right to ask you who you are,
Nothing will force me to tell
you that, You're about to enter
this city, you're going to stay
here, sooner or later everything
will be known, Only if
there's no other way and
certainly not from my lips, At least
tell me your name, My name is
abel, said cain.

While
the false abel is walking towards the square where,
according to
the old man, his destiny awaits him, let us
attend to the extremely pertinent
observation made by a
few of our more vigilant and
attentive readers, who consider
that the dialogue we have just
set down would be historically and culturally impossible, that a farmer with
little and
now
no land and an old man with no apparent means of
support would never think or
speak like that. They are quite
right, of course, however, it's
not so much a question of them
having or not having the ideas
and the necessary vocabulary to express those ideas, but of our own capacity
to accept,
even
if only out of simple human empathy and intellectual
generosity,
that a peasant from the very earliest times and
an old man leading two sheep
along by a piece of rope, with
only a limited knowledge and a
language that is still only
taking its first tentative steps,
were driven by the need to try
out ways of expressing premonitions
and intuitions apparently beyond their reach. Obviously, they didn't say those
actual words,
but the doubts, suspicions, perplexities,
argumentative advances and
retreats were nevertheless
there. All we did was put into a
modern idiom the twofold
and, for us, insoluble mystery of
the language and thought
of the time. If the result is
coherent now, it would have been
then, given that we're all of us
muleteers travelling down
the same road. All of us, both
the learned and the ignorant.

There
is the square. Calling this place a city was something of an exaggeration. A
few higgledy-piggledly earth-built
houses, a few children playing
some game or other, a few
adults moving about like
sleepwalkers, a few donkeys that
seem to go wherever they wish and
not where they're
supposed
to, no city worthy of the name would recognise
itself in the primitive scene
before us now, there are no cars
or buses, no road signs, no
traffic lights, no underpasses, no
billboards on the frontages or
the roofs of houses, in a word,
no modernity, no modern life.
They'll get there though,
progress, as it will come to be
known later on, is inevitable,
as inevitable as death. And as
life. At the far end of the
square, a building is under
construction, a kind of rustic
two-storey palace, although
nothing to compare with the
likes of mafra or versailles or
buckingham palace, on which
dozens of bricklayers and their
assistants are labouring, the
latter carrying adobe bricks on
their backs, the former laying
them out in regular lines. Cain
knows nothing about building
work, advanced or otherwise, but
his destiny is waiting for
him here, however bitter it may
turn out to be, but that's
something you only know when it's
too late to change and
you have no option but to
confront it. Like a man. Doing his
best to disguise his nervousness
and the hunger that was
making his legs tremble, he went
over to the building site.
At first, the workmen, who didn't
know him, assumed he
was one of those idle individuals
who, throughout the ages,
have enjoyed watching other
people work, but they were
quick to realise that he was
simply another victim of the
crisis, a poor man in search of
work and salvation. Almost
without cain having to say why he
was there, they directed
him to the overseer in charge,
Talk to him, they said. Cain
did as they advised, climbed up
to the observer's perch and,
after exchanging the usual
greetings, explained that he was
looking for work. The overseer
asked, What can you do, and
cain answered, I'm a farmer by
trade, but I imagine you
could always use an extra pair of
hands, Not a pair of hands,
no, given that you know nothing
about laying bricks, but a
pair of feet perhaps, Feet, asked
cain, uncomprehending,
Yes, a pair of feet to tread the
mud, Ah, Wait here, I'll talk
to the clerk of works. He was
already walking away when
he turned his head to ask, What's
your name, Abel, answered
cain. The overseer was not gone
long, You can start work
right away, I'll take you to the
treading pit, How much will
I earn, asked cain, The treaders
all earn the same, Yes, but
how much, That's not my business,
besides, if you want my
advice, don't ask, they don't
like it, first you have to show
what you're worth, in fact, don't
ask anything, just wait until
they pay you, Well, if you think that's
wisest, I'll do as you
say, but it doesn't seem fair,
It's best not to be impatient
here, Who does the city belong
to, what's their name, asked
cain, What, the name of the city
or its owner, Both, The city
doesn't yet have a name, some
call it one thing and others
another, but this area is known
as the land of nod, Yes, an
old man I met when I arrived told
me, Was he an old man
leading two sheep by a piece of
rope, asked the overseer, Yes,
He turns up now and then, but he
doesn't live around here,
And the owner, who's that, The
owner is a woman, and her
name is lilith, Doesn't she have
a husband, asked cain, Well,
I've heard tell his name is noah,
but she's in charge of the
flock, said the overseer, and
then announced, Here's the
treading pit. A group of men with
their tunics tied in a knot
above their knees were trudging
round and round on a thick
layer of mud, straw and sand,
determinedly trampling it
down, in the absence of any machine,
to make it as homogeneous as possible. It wasn't a job that required much
knowledge,
just a pair of good, solid legs, and, if possible,
a full
stomach, which, as we know, was not the case with
cain. The overseer said, In you
go and just do what the
others do, Look, I haven't eaten
for three days, and I'm afraid
my strength might give out and
I'd end up in the mud, said
cain, Come with me, But I haven't
any money, You can pay
later, come with me. They went
over to a kind of kiosk on
one side of the square, where
they sold food. Not wishing
to overload the story with
unnecessary historical detail, we
will not describe the modest
menu, whose ingredients, at
least in some cases, we would be
unable to identify. The
food seemed tasty enough, though,
and cain tucked into it
with a will. Then the overseer
asked, What's that mark on
your forehead, it doesn't look
natural, It may not look
natural, but it is, I was born
with it, It's as if someone had
put it there, That's what the old
man with the two sheep
said as well, but he was wrong,
as are you, If you say so, Yes,
I do and I'll repeat it as often
as I have to, but I would prefer
to be left in peace, after all,
if, instead of this mark, I was
lame, you wouldn't keep pointing
it out to me, You're right,
I won't bother you again, You're
not bothering me, indeed,
I should thank you for all your
help, for the job, for this
food, which is rapidly setting
body and soul to rights, and
perhaps for one thing more,
What's that, Somewhere to sleep,
Oh, that's easy enough, I can get
you a mat and there's an
inn over there, I'll talk to the
owner, You really are a good
samaritan, said cain, A
samaritan, asked the overseer,
intrigued, what's that, You know,
I'm not sure, the word just
came out, I don't know what it
means either, You obviously
have more things in your head
than one would think to
look at you, You mean this filthy
tunic, Don't worry, I'll give
you a clean one of mine, you can
use the one you're wearing
to work in, From what I know of
the world, there can't be
many good men in it and yet I've
been lucky enough to
meet one of them, Have you
finished, asked the overseer
somewhat abruptly, as if he
disliked compliments, Yes, I can't
eat another mouthful, I don't
remember ever having eaten
so much, Now, to work. They
returned to the palace, this
time walking past the section
that had been built before the
wing that was currently under
construction, and there, on
a balcony, they saw a woman
dressed in what must have
been the height of fashion at the
time, and that woman,
who, even from a distance, seemed
very beautiful, was staring
at them, as if she were looking
straight through them, Who's
that, asked cain, That's lilith,
the owner of the palace and
the city, just pray she doesn't
take a fancy to you, Why, asked
cain, There are stories going
around, What stories, People
say she's a witch and that she
can drive a man crazy with
her spells, What spells, asked
cain, Don't ask, but I've seen
a few men after they've had
carnal commerce with her, And,
They looked terrible, the poor
wretches, like spectres, like
ghosts of the men they were, You
must be mad imagining
a treader of mud ending up in bed
with the queen of the
city, You mean owner, Queen or
owner, it's all the same, You
obviously don't know much about
women, they're capable
of anything, of the best and the
worst, they're as likely to
scorn a crown and go down to the
river to wash their lover's
tunic as they are to trample on
everything and everyone
in order to get to sit on a
throne, Are you speaking from
experience, asked cain, From
observation, that's all, that's
why I'm the overseer, But you
must have some experience,
Yes, some, but I'm a bird with a
very short wingspan, the
sort that flies low, Well, I've
never even flown once, You've
never known a woman, asked the
overseer, No, You've plenty
of time, you're still young.
Ahead of them lay the treading
pit. The men were more or less
lined up from the centre to
the edge and now and then changed
places, those on the
inside moving to the outside and
those on the outside
moving to the inside. The
overseer and cain waited for them
to turn round and draw alongside
them. Then the overseer
tapped cain on the shoulder and
said, Enter.

Like
everything else, words have their whys and wherefores.
Some call to
us solemnly, arrogantly, giving themselves airs,
as if they were destined for
great things, and then it turns
out that they were nothing more
than a breeze too light
even to set the sail of a
windmill moving, whereas other
ordinary, habitual words, the
sort you use every day, end up
having consequences no one would
have dared predict, they
weren't born for that and yet
they shook the world. The
overseer said, Enter, and it was
as if he were saying, In you
go and tread that mud and earn
your daily bread, but weeks
later, lilith will pronounce that
very same word, letter for
letter, when she summons the man
whose name she has
been
told is abel, Enter. In a woman with a reputation for
being very
prompt when it came to satisfying her desires, it
might seem strange that it had
taken her weeks to open the
door to her bedroom, but even
this has an explanation, as
will become clear. During that
time, cain could not have
imagined the ideas fermenting in
the mind of that woman
when she began visiting the
treading pit, accompanied by
an entourage of guards, slaves
and other servants. She was
like one of those jolly
landowners who goes to the harvest
to see for himself how hard his
people are working, hoping
to encourage them with his visit
and offering a cheery word
and even a comradely joke which,
whether intentionally or
not, will make everyone laugh.
Lilith, however, didn't speak,
or, rather, only to the overseer,
whom she questioned about
how work was progressing and
asked repeatedly, seemingly
just to make conversation, where
the various workmen came
from, those not originally from
the city, that one over there,
for example, I don't know, madam,
when I asked him,
because
if you don't ask you don't know who you're dealing
with, he just
pointed over towards the west and said three
words, no more, What three words,
He said, from over there,
madam, Did he mention why he left
his homeland, No,
madam,
And what is his name, Abel, madam, he told me
his name was abel, Is he a good
worker, Yes, madam, he's
the sort who talks little and
works hard, And what's that
mark on his forehead, Oh, I asked
him that too and he says
it's a birthmark, So we know
nothing about this man called
abel who came from the west, He's
not the only one, madam,
apart from those men who come
from around here and
whom we more or less know, the
others are all untold stories,
wanderers, fugitives, and men of
few words, they might open
up to each other a bit, but I
can't even be sure of that, And
the man with the mark, how does
he behave, In my opinion,
he acts as if he wanted to go
unnoticed, Well, I've noticed
him, murmured lilith to herself.
A few days later, a palace
envoy came to the treading pit
and asked cain if he had a
skill. Cain replied that he had
once been a farmer, but had
had to leave his lands because of
the bad harvests. The envoy
took that information away with
him and three days later
returned with an order for the
treader abel to present himself
immediately at the palace. Cain
followed the envoy just as
he was, in his filthy old tunic
now little more than a rag,
and having cleaned off as much
mud from his legs as he
could. They entered the palace
via a small side door that
gave on to a hallway where two
women were waiting. The
envoy withdrew to report that
abel, the treader of mud, had
arrived and was in the care of
the slave-women. Cain was
led by them into a separate room,
his clothes were removed
and he was then washed with warm
water from head to toe.