Since the war was over and our presence there was just a precaution, I went to the convent everyday to visit Luz. Luz never told me but Eugénia said to me that she was having complications with her pregnancy. I was worried, for I had already noticed she didn’t seem well, but when I mentioned to her, she just said: «I just felt indisposed a few times. It’s normal. Eugénia shouldn’t have worried you with that». At first, I again insisted with her to go to Oporto, but I ended up letting her convince me that Eugénia was in fact exaggerating. However, I would soon discover how wrong I was.
That day, it was before eight o’clock in the morning when I headed to the convent. The nuns started their day early and the girls also rose at first light, so I wasn’t worried about interrupting their rest. When I passed the gates that led to the garden, I saw a woman lying in the ground, near the convent. I didn’t need much time to realize it was Maria da Luz. I ran to her in order to help her. Luz was lying on her side, bent with her knees to her chest, crying in pain. I knew it wasn’t time yet, so that could only mean some serious complication. «Luz!», I exclaimed, trying to lift her up. But she yelled in pain and I instinctively let her go. «Pedro...», she sobbed. I noticed her dress was stained with blood. She was bleeding. I felt as if the ground was running away from underneath my feet. Diogo was already gone. It wasn’t possible that God wanted to take Luz away from me too. «I’m going to get help», I said. «Don’t leave me...»
I felt terrible having to leave her alone like that, even if for only a few minutes, but I had to go and get someone who knew what to do. «I’ll back in a second», I assured her. I ran through the corridors of the hospital until I found Eugénia, who declared: «If the Sisters see you running in here, you’ll never hear the end of it. Is something the matter?» «Luz... I think it’s the baby». «Where is she?»
In a few words, I reported the situation and both Eugénia and some of the other girls who had heard us ran to the garden. With Eugénia’s help, I carried Luz inside the convent and took her to her bedroom. Eugénia and the other nurses made me leave the room and locked the bedroom’s door. «Where is the surgeon?», I asked a nun who had meanwhile been warned about what was happening and arrived in that moment. «He has already left. Almost all the patients have been transferred to civilian hospitals. The ones who remain are tended only by the girls». «Is there no way to call him?» «Even if you had a horse, it would be nine hours before you got there and nine more to return. Anyway, Dr. Rocha may be an excellent surgeon but I’m sure he doesn’t know that much about childbirth. Eugénia assisted two of her sisters when they gave birth».
From inside the bedroom, besides my sister’s screams, came the voices of the other girls who were in there with her. They talked at the same time, giving the impression that they were extremely busy. Unfortunately, I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Only Maria da Luz’s screams were loud and clear and they were giving me the creeps. The Sisters tried to make me sit down in another room but since they couldn’t move me from there, they brought me a stool so that I could wait at the bedroom’s door. But nervous as I was, I ended up pacing most of the time.
The hours passed and from the other side of the door, I still heard my sister; sometimes crying, sometimes screaming. As time dragged on, the fear of losing Maria da Luz became more and more powerful and six hours must have already passed when I whispered in despair: «Please, God. If you have to take someone, take the child. Don’t take Luz away from me...»
Maybe God wanted to punish me for having turned my back on Him lately. Or for my selfishness. What right had I after all to decide about the lives of one or the other? Shortly afterwards, Eugénia opened the door and came out. Wrapped in a sheet, she carried the lifeless body of my nephew. «Can I hold him?» «He’s dead, Mr. Pedro. He never even breathed». «What about Maria da Luz?» Eugénia sighed and I could perceive a certain pity in her expression. «Luz is dead?», I asked, shaking her with such violence that she seemed scared. «No... Not yet...» Alarmed by those words, I pulled her out of my way and rushed inside the bedroom. The other nurses left as they saw me. Luz lay on the bed, with her eyes closed and her hair in disarray. In a corner of the room, there was a bunch of bloody sheets and the dress Luz was wearing before the nurses changed her.
Her eyes were closed, her arms spread out on the sheets. She had never looked so fragile. When she heard my steps, she opened her eyes, which became filled with tears when she saw me. «My baby...», she sobbed. «My baby is dead». Her body was shaken by a soft, silent weeping. She was crying bent over her womb, partly still because of the pain but also because she didn’t want to believe she had lost her child. I tenderly caressed her forehead, but her tears redoubled instead of stopping. Luz tried to sit up in bed. I protested because she was too weak but since she wouldn’t give up, I helped her. Immediately, she hugged me and said: «Only you remain, Pedro... Be happy for us...»
I realized that meant she knew she was going to die. I knew it too, for Eugénia’s words and my sister’s feeble look left no room for doubt. And so, something happened that I no longer expected to happen. The tears that for so long I had searched for in vain started rolling down my face as Luz cried with her arms around me. We remained like that for a while until I realized in alarm that I no longer felt her sobbing, the beating of her heart next to my chest, her breathing. Maria da Luz was dead. I lay her down carefully and kept crying... for her, for Diogo, for my nephew, for all those for whom I had not yet been able to cry. But unfortunately, it didn’t make me feel better. It only allowed my anger to grow. Anger against the war and against the world... Anger against God, who had now deprived me of all those I had cared for.
Noticing my delay, Eugénia came in again. As she saw me crying next to my sister’s bed, she immediately realized Luz had died. She approached, touched my shoulder gently with her hand and said: «Maria da Luz is next to God. With her son and the man she loved». I had no doubt that Eugénia was right about Luz and the child. My sister’s only great sin had been committed for love and I was sure that God would not refuse her admittance because of that. But Diogo, who, like me, had spent his youth killing other men, could he be with them? «Do you really think that Diogo is with God?» «I’m sure», Eugénia replied with a gentle smile.
A few days after Maria da Luz’s and the baby’s burial, D. Miguel left for his exile, as it had been agreed in Évora Monte. The soldiers were then able to return home. D. Pedro was generous to those who had fought at his side and some received rewards which allowed them to support themselves until they found another way of living. Some returned to their families – to their parents or wives, – others, having lost their homes, decided to remain in the army. Others still, disheartened for some reason, with no place to go back to and without the will to start a new life, became vagrants and beggars. They lived in the alleys, waiting near the taverns for the patrons to give them some money to eat.
That’s how it was with me. Unable to go back to the Roseiral, ashamed to ask Aunt Francisca to take me in again, and without any will to fight, I wondered about the streets, living on alms that people gave me without me even asking, for all I wanted was to die too, as soon as possible.
But when I already thought that God had forgotten about me, He sent one of his angels to me. I was wondering about aimlessly when a young woman passed by me. But after she had passed, she turned around, as if recognizing me. It was Eugénia. I thought that seeing my worn out clothes, my grimy look, my untrimmed beard, she would prefer to pretend that she hadn’t recognized me, but that didn’t happen. Eugénia came back, and without hiding her astonishment, she asked: «Dear God! What happened to you?» I didn’t really know what to answer. «Why didn’t you return home?» «Didn’t Luz tell you? Our house was sold and my Father had already cast me out anyway. I never acquired my own house before the war». «Weren’t you entitled to a reward? I know that many soldiers...» «I don’t know», I interrupted. «I never bothered to find out...» «Don’t you care?» «Since the deaths of Diogo and Luz I don’t care about anything». «You shouldn’t talk like that. I knew little of your friend but I know Luz would be sad to hear you». I didn’t reply. Eugénia said: «Come with me to my house. How long has it been since you’ve had a decent meal?» «No... I better not...»
I turned the offer down out of politeness, but the truth was my empty stomach was tempting me to accept the invitation. Besides, it was the first time in a long time that a human being addressed me not to give me alms without even looking at my face but offering to help out of friendship. «Come on», she insisted. «Do it for me». I ended up letting her take me.
Eugénia lived alone in a house she had inherited from her paternal grandmother. She had lived there with her while she was alive and was now alone. I felt a little ashamed for being there, with my clothes in tatters, in the presence of such brave a woman.
Eugénia had already eaten but she sat and talked with me while I swallowed the meal she was offering me. We talked for quite a while and then I said: «Well, I better go. I have no words to thank you...» «Don’t go yet. I’ll warm up some water for you to wash and shave. Then you can put on some of my husband’s clothes. Unfortunately, he died some time ago, so he doesn’t need them». «I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness». «Please. If I let you go like that, I would feel I hadn’t behaved like a good Christian woman».
Eugénia talked in a way that made you feel she would be offended if you disobeyed and so I acquiesced. When I finished and looked in the mirror, I rediscovered my own youth. I was no longer an anonymous beggar. I was Pedro Ávila again. However, I was afraid I wouldn’t have the courage to go back to the streets. When I left the room, already cleaned and dressed, Eugénia asked me to sit down and listen to what she had to say to me. Now that I was cleaned and well dressed, I no longer felt ashamed to accept the invitation. I no longer felt like a beggar accepting the kindness of a compassionate woman, but like a friend. «Pedro», she said. «You should find a place to live... You understand I can’t invite you to stay at my house. If my husband was alive, things would be different but as it is...» «Listen, Eugénia», I interrupted, taking her hands with affection. «I am forever grateful for what you did. But you don’t need to worry. I should go now». «Wait, let me finish. As I was saying, I can’t offer you a room in my house, but I know a small inn nearby. It’s not luxurious but at least it’s not expensive». «But I can’t afford it». «Then allow me to lend you the money». «I couldn’t...» «Please». «No! I can’t! It wouldn’t be right...» «Pedro, I’m not offering you anything. It would only be a lone». «But you know I don’t have the means to pay you back». «Well, you’re a liberal, aren’t you? Isn’t it the liberals who claim that a man’s worth is in what he is able to produce through his own effort and labour? Find an occupation, Pedro. My husband was a caretaker. What can you do?» «To be honest, I don’t think I can do anything... I was only 17 when I left the Roseiral. During the time I lived in my Aunt’s house in Oporto and in the IlhaBela Inn in the Azores, I managed with my share of the inheritance my Mother had left. Diogo lived on the money that Cecília used to send him... Probably, most of what she earned. All of those things seem so far away now... Then, the war came. While we were in the army, we didn’t need to worry about providing for ourselves. So as you can see, I never learned how to do anything except fight». «What about that inheritance your Mother left you?» «It ran out shortly after the war. There wasn’t much left anyway. After all, my Mother’s family may have been well-off but they weren’t exactly rich». «Well, the fact that you never learned a trade doesn’t mean you can’t do anything. I have an idea. First of all, find out if you are entitled to a reward for your war effort and if it’s significant. Maybe you can buy a small land or if it’s not enough for that, maybe you can work in someone else’s land, like my late husband did. I know that for someone who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it’s probably not a very appealing prospect, but it is no shame. At least, you won’t have to beg.
In the beginning, I didn’t give much credit to Eugénia’s proposition, for I didn’t really think I could overcome all difficulties. However, I had nothing to lose and so I decided to give it a try. I started by accepting the lone and checking in the inn she had recommended. Then, I went to find out if I was entitled to some reward for the part I had played in the war. It wasn’t easy, for a long time had elapsed and the people in charge weren’t sure my claim was still valid. They decided that it was. I could choose between a small amount of money or a small piece of land. At first, I thought that it would be wiser to go for the land, but after I paid a visit to it, I decided it wasn’t worth the money I would receive and so it would be better to take the money and buy land chosen by me.
The land that I bought wasn’t very big but it served the purpose I wanted it for: to build a house where I could live and have some land to sow and reap enough to get by.
When the harvest was good, I would pay one or two boys to carry the surplus and sell it in the market. And so I saved enough money to pay Eugénia and even to fulfil some of my more superfluous needs. Once I had paid my debt, I became a more regular visitor in Eugénia’s house, for nothing I did felt enough to express my gratitude and friendship.
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