New Lands

De Paulo De Araujo

Villa Rica, Minas Gerais, 1777. The gold is gone. The majority, who stayed here, were poor. Left in helplessness, the men of this place would have another life to claim. Weaves of love and war intersect on the paths of ground and souls. Death, so routine, rides beside these warriors who look to God but know they are forgotten. In this scenario of drama and adventure, the history of the New Lands is built, a place where men and women will measure their size and challenge their destinies. Many, driven by greed and hatred. And few, very few, guided by honor and the search for a great good. Everyone, then, will know how to learn: the safe world is a place that does not exist.

• Idioma: Português
• Editora: Clube de Autores
• Data de lançamento: 4 de jun. de 2021

Pré-visualização do livro

The wars we forget

There were many deceased. As the blood and as the waters of the great floods.

The gold is gone. The majority who stayed here stayed poor. Small and large stones roll, but they are not gold.

Nothing else here, everything there. Damn Portugal.

The morning hastened the steps and came fogging up everything: houses, churches and few people walking the streets. A whitish dawn of cold is coming, startling the quiet and putting yoke on some people who were already experiencing, wanting to rest.

Airs of leaving everything uneasy, like a child's cry in the dark. The lands of Minas Gerais were exploding. Lives mutinied in that which degrades most when we suffer: abandonment.

The pain, in its overwhelming nature, makes it clear that it will not forgive any insult. No one will be given the privilege to covet rest. The truces of this life took off their sleeping robes and lined their chests with the armor of battles. Let the good men of war be trained. It was coming like this morning, still early, but coming. Coming soon.

The rose bushes in the backyards will soon learn more about the bleeding thorns and less about the blessed hands of those who planted them.

Everything will come in the formation of storms, which are going to do a great night. Night widow of light to come without mercy, stamping the bodies and souls of those who were forgotten by pain. It will be all abyss to walk.

*****

An emergency meeting had been arranged by the Governor himself. That was rare. Something very serious was happening or about to happen. All those who made up the Council were hastily summoned.

Governor Don Celso D’Ouro was tired of everything. There was never rest, there was never peace. All the time, he was helping to someone. He thought it was time for give governance to another, but there was no way. He was the Crown's trustworthy man. Those who intended to fight for his place to possess, did not deserve or his trust, much less his respect. To these, his place was only in a state of death. And the Governor warns:

– I'm only tired, but alive! Whoever wants my place, pay attention: I am a desert that devours whoever enters it.

The thorn of death always scratched him. The fences that limit old age were already surrounding his garden. He said:

– Suffering hurts, but it does not prohibit life. However, when death and old age, old hyenas, come to stalk us, we ask that they leave us for later. As more they refuse us, as better!

The truth is that he was already showing signs of wanting to rest and recover himself somewhere. However, this was far from being possible, as about many lands and skies he was still deciding.

He became attached to the misfortune of not having children. He wanted a boy, someone who would continue to wield his sword to defend the family name. His wife, Dame Cecília, wanted a girl to be her company in these lands of great solitude. Life did not attend to them and arbitrated: Nothing will come of you from this experience. You will not be chaste. You will be infertile.

If the issues themselves weren't enough, it was a much bigger one to intervene. Besides, more often, he was surprised looking away, as if wanting to go home.

– There is no wretched in this life who, at the time of despondency, does not want to return to his mother's lap. If Dame Luzia, my mother, is alive, her lap; if she is dead, the lap of the born place.

He was always, in his memories, strolling on the Gold River. Walk from basement to basement in the company of childhood friends, be enchanted by the stories of the new world, look at the horizon, which brings what is far away, and saying:

– I will one day conquer everything.

He loved to stroll among the vineyards, to look at the planted lands. His family produced one of the best wines in the Porto region.

After seeing everything, going home to rest and in Gaia sleeping. There he was born and wanted to die there one day. But deep down he knew that Portugal was already impossible for him. Sometimes he even wanted to go. His bones would stay here, and in place of the wines he would tell his life with the bags of these abandoned lands in his hands. This memory was like an ever– present boredom, like nausea that never went away. He longed for these lands, and now, if he could, he would give much to abandon them. But, in a way, he never let go of it.

The Governor said:

– The heart, someone will take it to Gaia. May Minas be content to gnaw on my bones.

Yesterday, before everything started, it wasn't even night yet. It felt like that time in the afternoon when nothing else is going to happen. But happened. Is very.

The Governor had been warned of news laden with tears. If he wasn't insomniac, it would certainly be another night to justify not sleeping. Besides, he didn't want to die in his sleep:

– I want to see her coming, look her in the eye. I'm going to spit in her face. All because I know that after death there is no glare, it is all just one thing. – None of that courage was true. He was afraid of death, but let it be clear: not to die. He knew it was the right thing, more than what came later, it was the uncertain thing. He said, to anyone who could hear, that his eternity would be clothed in darkness. Although, inside, he expected at least some light. Who knows, instead of eternal solitude, he would come to another life to experience. He didn't count on that. He lived against those who thought it was better to suffer than to make someone suffer. He amended:

– There is no honey sweeter than stinging people we don't like.

In the things that arrive, he would once again be tested on strength, on political skill and religious care. He had immense strife before him.

Soon he would have to decide: to be bigger or smaller than he was. His decisions would give him the measure of that stature. They would say if what was left of his body would rest under a church floor or if it would be thrown to mangy dogs.

His summons were never an invitation. They were always an order. The meeting had been scheduled for the early hours of the next day. They were already in the year 1777, the year of the death of King Don José I.

The Governor was short and stocky. He said to those closest to him: I am a thick pillar of candlestick in these lands of the king.

He had eyes with the color of brown bears. Small hands. He possessed a force of brute rock. He was always on guard; he was a guardian of himself and everything that his Crown expected. He spoke what was to be said, and when he was saying, it was to be more than heard: it was to be obeyed.

He never drank, but black women and their warmth, more than weakness, were an addiction.

He had been the first to arrive at Royal House. He was restless. He was Governor, commander of the troops and everything else that needed was.

Once, he showed his boredom to his childhood friend, Paulo Silvério, from Porto, and in a letter, he revealed:

Friend Paulo Silvério:

Around here, what seemed insatiable, spent. The valleys and caves do not seem to support it anymore. The waters no longer give gold, they are just satiate the thirst. The turned and overturned lands no longer show any shine.

There is nothing to be done to appease the wrath of these men poured out of their dreams of wealth.

They infest the streets, bandits who continue to plunder what they are happy with. In reality, they are never satisfied. Intractable people. They sleep and wake up wanting to steal belongings and lives from the other. They always want what cannot be given to them.

Were it not for a few reigns, living together would be unbearable.

Everything calls for rest and this one will not come. Everything calls for peace and this does not reach us and each day farther away from us it goes away.

Whatever the war does not take, disease and hunger will take care of doing so. What will become of these lands without gold, which has run out? What to do with these men summarized in batteries, whose homeland is only the bed of streams and the caves in the woods?

I, who never thought of God, now believe that He does not look at these people as children. They live apart from heaven. To them left a divine usury. They seem to be stranded in a world ingrained with pain. It is beginning to lack me courage. The views begin to darken me.

Things here seem to grow in measures contrary to my strength. Everything over our heads is severe. Winters seem longer and colder. Summers continue to set forest and fields on fire.

Death comes on horseback to charge everyone. There is no forgiveness for debtors. So, the Unwanted will come knocking on my door. Until she finds me, I am in this world on this side, in this corner of men empty of themselves and full of hatred. We are, dear friend, left to our own devices; not born here, but brought, by the force of destiny or by our gluttony of wealth and power.

Bad days come to bitter low hopes. Place where God spat to the side and never came back. If he ever was in those parts. This became a place of spies among the bushes and daggers always awake. Whatever is born with gold, will always have accounts to settle with the ambushing dawns. This is a place to never be careless. Now and further afield, outside and inside, we will often have to de– ratify the colony of Brazil, this land of men without honor and greed, without wanting to make an effort. Life is surrendering. Now it is up to me to decide what to live: if I give myself to pleasure in those days that I have left or the duty to give myself. Or, who knows, it give me the right to live neither. Then, I think what we cannot be nothing, the rest we can do everything. That's it, my friend: we can't be anything, the rest we can do.

Brotherly greetings. From the friend, Celso D’Ouro.

The Governor never took off his black tricorn, which already had some stains, left by sweat. Some said it was to hide his few hairs. Vain attempt, because in fact there were almost none. In any case, Governor and tricorn were only one.

He was limping on his right leg, the result of a horse fall when this land was arriving. His wife, Dame Cecília, took this as a bad omen, and for everything that made them suffer, she always looked at his leg. As time went by, I didn't need to say anything. He just looked and the leg complained about it.

*****

He signed some papers when him was told that everyone had already arrived.

The meeting room had nothing to do with those of the Court. Special remembrance to that of Mafra. He was there before coming to Brazil. He went to pray, as it was a convent. He dreamed of the riches that were there, because it was also a palace.

He imagined that he could tell one day that, inspired by this place, he would walk in rich marbles, have French furniture and carpets from the East too. Floor mats and walls decorate. He would have gardens as far as the eyes can see.

He dreamed of works of art scattered throughout the house. On his tables he would have spices, tableware, gold kettles and, in the most intimate desire, even a silver urinal would have. He would have well– dressed black women serving him and black women with broad rumps to entertain him. He would also have endless land to belong to him.

There was he, in that hall. Stripped furniture made from braunas and rosewood. A few rugged fair rugs. No upholstery and armchairs; just chairs, hard chairs to sit on. Many times, he was saying, either because he resigned himself or because he understood:

– What am I missing? Nothing. Wealth is not a cause for living.

A piece of furniture drew attention. Not only because of its beauty, but because it was a gift: a beautiful cabinet, with two doors and three drawers. Golden carvings on the doors; the sides, arched in smooth curves. Fine silver handles and a pink marble top with white ribs. It had been made by a Florentine master who was in Lisbon at the service of the Crown. What made the arcade special was that it had been a gift from the Sun King to his person.

He liked to walk in that room, and every time he went or came back, he ran his hand over the chest. He enjoyed the feeling of that possession. On this piece of furniture, a gift from his mother: a huge silver tureen, which he never let go to the kitchen. It was to look and remember where it came from, as if wanting to remember the soups in winter, which only warmed less than his mother's embrace.

On the walls, only one painting, a landscape of Portugal: dogs and hunters surrounding prey. In addition, everything was shown in almost poor simplicity.

In the hall were some well-known people. The Ombudsman Camilo Friar as, responsible for justice matters. Provider Luiz Caetano, being responsible for the finances of the province. Captain-General Alexandre Neto and the representative of the Chamber, Counselor Gustavo Dias, a wealthy merchant from Villa Rica and a trusted man of the Governor.

However, what stood out the most was the presence of Friar Sebastião Abrantes, who was at the left corner of the table, almost wanting to be invisible. Only something very serious would justify his presence in the Royal Room. It had been a long, long time since he had appeared in these lands.

What would a Jesuit be doing here? Had they not been banned from the kingdom of Portugal? Since his arrival in Villa Rica, a climate of revolt and fear has erupted. A start of astonishment grabbed everyone. Nobody could forget the Auto da Fé practiced by him in the Church Square of Nossa Senhora do Pilar. He and whoever was with him burned an entire family, suspected of heresy.

It all started with the woman, who was a midwife in the city and blessed the children with branches of rosemary.

Dame Mother was a black woman believed to be a saint by everyone there. She brought secrets and prayers from African priests from overseas. Everything she did was for good. The door to her house was never locked. Anytime someone can arrive kept she say. She had another habit, that of always leaving a bowl with something to eat next to a fern in a window frame, which she herself had made. It was on top, and animal could not catch it. Below was a bench for those who wished, in addition to eating, to be able to rest in it. She said: Hunger and tiredness do not choose time or place. To everyone she had a word of help. She blessed and helped without distinction: For children, angels from heaven, branches of rosemary; for adults, branches of rue.

Evil of the air, evil of the sea, evil of the moon, evil of the stars, evil of the midday point, evil of the midnight point: if you have broken, evil eye, sorcery and witchcraft, leave this body for never to return. With the help of the priest, it went like this: evil of the air, evil of the sea, evil of the moon, evil of the stars, evil of the midday point, evil of the midnight point: if you have broken, evil eye, sorcery and witchcraft, leave this body for never to return.  With the help of God and the Virgin Mary, with the grace of the Son and the Holy Spirit. What God protects the Devil does not take."

When a child was born, she blessed: This angel came to us from God. May your table never lack food, nor a house to live in, nor health to live in; that between the mountains and the sea angels will always help. She rubbed the child's eyes and blessed: May these eyes not be blind and be able to see the mornings that are born and the stars that shine. She would pass her hand over his chest and say: Father in heaven, protect this heart and ward off the evils of the pain of liking, and let it grow strong and give joy to your parents. He passed his hands on her legs: May our Mother in Heaven make you walk and never forget that life is a way back to the Father's house. Finally, she passed an oil and blessed the sign of the cross on the child's forehead, asked the chosen name and handed it to God, saying: If you came into the world, something you came to do; it leaves neither strength nor courage for this child to fulfill her mission and life to shine. One day, returning to the house of heaven, she can say: ‘Father, I did my bidding, now let me rest on Your lap’.

When an adult appeared there, demonized, she blessed:

"It can be one, it can be more, but it is less than God the Father.

You may want to kill, you may want to steal, but nothing will have power against Jesus, son and savior.

It may be a snake, it may be a scorpion, it may be envy, it may be discord. It can be a sword, it can be betrayal, but they can do nothing against the Holy Spirit of God.

Come the warrior angels of heaven shouting in the name of the trinity: No one can against God and his son Jesus Christ, in the grace of the Holy Spirit, amen.

The Lord, who is in heaven and on earth, now orders that evil be expelled from this body, for never to return.

It may be one, it may be more, but now it is none."

Dame Mother did everything so that people's sufferings were not abandoned. Love everything to you, forget; to others, always remember.

But none of this was enough to free her, and all of her, from the tyranny of Friar Sebastião. All were condemned to the slaughterhouse.

The sufferers arrived before the fire in pieces: eyes gouged out, bones crushed, hands without nails, exposed genitalia. Those who could still walk, crawled and were pushed without mercy. Others, in a cart, almost lifeless. An entire family was killed.

Before lighting the fire, the friar said:

– To the people of Villa Rica, who listen to never forget: you cannot serve God and the devil at the same time. This woman was a witch. She transformed her home into a place of worship for the devil. she adored a god who is not ours. She convinced her family to participate in rituals that are prohibited by the Holy Mother Church, not to confess their sins or to acknowledge their crimes. Now they will be held accountable in hell.

He screamed and set fire to the dry logs. Soon, the flames took on the size of a high hill.

There was not even a moan. It is not known whether the dying lack strength or if a good angel came to nurture them and immediately take them to heaven.

The people bowed their heads and returned to their homes. Many of those who were there had children who came into the world at the hands of the one the friar had just murdered.

Someone shouted:

– Murderers! Murderers! God wants mercy, not sacrifice!

It was a female voice, and by the noise of footsteps she ran too far to be found.

The friar ordered the search, and shouted:

– Search the houses! There's another witch on the loose! Let's enjoy that the fire is still burning. Bring it to me!

No one was found and that Jesuit's wrath that night would be content with those who had already been sacrificed.

Later, the friar had been called to a meeting, as he had given the death order without the presence of the Governor, and this was not allowed. Heaven and hell, that the Church should be held accountable. Life and death, only the State decides.

Charged for his behavior, he defended himself, saying:

– Evil, Mister Governor, does not sleep or rest. What I did was not a hate crime; if there was an exaggeration, the sin was the excess, not the reason. Caused by disgust or disobedience, allow me to face remorse, which in itself is a great punishment, although I do not consider my action to be an error. It is always appropriate to remember that God writes correctly on crooked lines and that his will is beyond our comprehension. For everyone to be in comfort, let's see this: they stopped being heretics to become martyrs.

Don Celso, after listening to him:

– Friar, what I am going to say now is not to be forgotten: the ruin of a man is to live far from his conditions. I will repeat it so that you can always remember: the ruin of a man is to live far from his conditions. Am I clear?

– Don't worry, Governor. I will be aware of my limits.

For the Jesuits, the forgiveness of these lands was never given. On their way out, they tried to stone them. It was prayed in all churches that they would never return. There was no such big party on the occasion of his expulsion from the lands of Portugal. They were exiled by Don José I. A real gift to Villa Rica. Present never forgotten. The dead King was very much loved, also for that reason.

Indeed, Friar Sebastião was a person to be far away. Preferably, far away. It was even better for him to go back to the place he came from, a place that should have been the fifth of hell. For all these reasons, his presence there was a provocation.

The Governor would explain. Now, what everyone would decide would move mounts and mountains, shallows and river bottoms. However, they would have to know how to choose, because the necks of some would have to straighten the steps of others.

The lands of that place plunged into ruins as they gathered. The wars there to be decided were nets that came to everyone. The birds– men of evil were already spreading visions of hells and betrayals. Everyone, somehow, would be in foreclosure.

Mothers could already cry for their children who would never return to their homes. Women were already complaining about the cold in the widow beds in winters in Minas Gerais.

God's hyena

The month of August was already days ahead.

The mountains were still embroidered with the lilac vein, of the honeyed grass, which, later on, moved in the winds, waltzing as brunette butterflies, the color of women from Minas.

When the door, which leads to the living room, opens, the Governor appears with the face of someone who is going to kick.

Everyone gets up and he waves with his hand to keep them as they are.

He is going to say, even before sitting down:

– I do not need to remind anyone that this meeting is under the order of the silenced. We are having problems, and one in particular will set fire to what is already burning. If before it was killed for a few sticks of land, today it is killed for none. Bangs are played on the banks of streams and large rivers. They say that everything is coming to an end. Gold is in agony and there is nothing to put in its place. Can this land now satisfy another hunger? Instead of plucking gold, can we plant it?

Get up. Sit down again.

– What to do when men feel unsuccessful in their desires? Hell, gentlemen, is not having a right afterwards. It is to disappear with life in crossings and hugs that were never worth it. The men who are on these lands came from many places, wishing that life could serve them in their yearnings for wealth and contentment. They left things and people behind. Everything bet on this land. Now to them, it denies what they came here for. Nothing brings the man closer to his animal state than the deprivation of his expectations. It is not by luck that they were abandoned, but by life. I say that it is at this time that they make themselves known, whether they are for good or if they are for evil. They support themselves waiting for something to improve or they hurry to kill or die. I dare say that if we do not take the iron from the abandoned bangs and make them plows and hoes, we will all – everyone, have you heard? – instead of food, shit we're going to eat.

Talk and think at the same time:

– Those people who are always walking, how to tell them about seeds and plantings? They are wandering. If they have to dig the fields to eat and care for the animals, they won't be the ones to do it. They will always be looking at the bangs longingly. Rather than counting luck, will sweat from the grubbers bring them any trouble? Perhaps it would have been easier for them to transform the empty bangs and widows of gold into spears and daggers, since more than homemade violence was already their daily bread.

The Governor now thinks without being slow and speaks without being a runner:

– The subject, known by all, but which was already being forgotten, decided to wake up and came in the form of a storm. We are being taken to unseen things, as if gunpowder were scattered across our lands; the fire in the hands of some and the Devil blowing.

Friar Sebastião, in his corner, makes the sign of the cross.

– It is common knowledge that, in addition to the troops we sent to the Capital, the Viceroy demanded that we send the best people and weapons we had to face the Castilians who conquered an Island there in the south. Our major sergeants, our road cables, almost all were accompanied by blacks, mulattos and mestizos, all good at war. They demanded the strong and knowledgeable about the forest and the countryside. No sick. Only the best, leaving a few men and old weapons here.

– Gentlemen, gold is running out. The troops are going. Gangs scour the streets without knowing what to do. Insatiable in the drink and uncontrollable in the disturbances. Fierce screams can be heard at dawn. Bodies dawn in the corners. Dogs bite what is already dead. Define what took so much to build. We see squatters rioting more and more often. Buggers that do not surrender and bandits that are taking assault of the muleteers, their goods and their mules. We are not even receiving the registration anymore. Without the gold to enrich and without the food to fill the bellies, the slowdown, which was already little, remained none. The worst of men infests us. They are more like wild beasts. There are few weapons, good war soldiers are lacking, and when I complained to the Viceroy, he just said that the greatest interests in the defense of the Empire were above private concerns. I should deal with the land issues entrusted to my care. What was already bad, gentlemen, has gotten worse. Much worse.

With an increasingly serious expression, he continues:

– We received a mission, under orders from Queen Dame Maria I, daughter of our always King José I. The order came at the hands of Friar Sebastião, which is why he is here. I immediately called Counselor Gustavo Dias and we spent the night looking for ways out. Spending on everyone will cost. These are tough orders. In another time it would not intimidate us, but today it is a task that will require a lot of strength, a strength that, if we do not have it, we will have to find. I am concerned about having to do more than we can, but from that concern I will not die. I count on everyone to find outlets. But I confess to you: I am getting tired of seeing pain help people. It's all wintering inside Minas Gerais. As a drag, the anguished life will make people who neglected to take an interest in giving way to what they feel disappear.

The voice of the friar can be heard:

– God will provide for all our needs, Mister Governor.

The friar had a large head, but it tapered towards the nose, resembling a weasel. Big Adam's apple. Thin fingers and heavy ring on the index finger, bearing the mark of a cross. Kissing that ring meant forgiveness and saving mistakes. It was a ring of very rare kisses. The friar was not given to forgiveness, nor to letting the justice of the other world judge. He was the one to decide heaven and hell, almost always hell. Between life and death, almost always death. He did not love, the way of the saints; he loved hatred, fate of the wicked. It was neither tall nor short. He wore a black robe and a huge hood, which seemed to hide the curved shape a little. On the belt, a beige cord and a huge rosary of shaded wood. His eyes seemed to see everything. His biggest mark was ferocity. In the midst of the clergy himself he was called the hyena of God. Wickedness dressed him, from head to toe.

At that moment, nobody cares what he said. All they're really interested in knowing what the Queen's order is.

Before the Governor returns to speak, there is heard a knock on the door.

– Did I tell you it wasn't supposed to interrupt?

The slave, with a trembling voice, announces the arrival of a person named Eugênia Paixão.

– Who? – asks the Governor.

Counselor Gustavo takes the voice and clarifies:

– It's the girl I told you about. Don Celso, irritated says:

– Tell her to wait a while.

Everyone looks at each other. What would a woman be doing there?

– An inquisitive friar and a woman? – Camilo joked, asking to Provider Luiz with a small mouth if the logs were already on the fire.

Who speaks is Friar Sebastião himself:

– Sorry, Governor, but where would a woman be useful if not in your house? Would she be here to serve us?

– Gentlemen, the rings are lost, all of gold, gold from our mines. We are here fighting for the fingers. The girl's idea came from Counselor Gustavo and I thought it would be good value for her to come here.

– Excellency, women do not keep secrets, and what we do here today will only be successful if we are imperative in secrecy.

– Friar; let's give time to time. This woman does not drink from the same glass as everyone else.

– All are the same. What can be different about one woman from another?

Daughters were born to die mothers, and that in their path is everything.

– Mister Governor, perhaps the friar is referring to his practices of cruelty, where he boasts of making everyone speak. He always boasted, to anyone who heard of him, that women are embarrassed in torture, because they speak too early – said Gustavo, without care. The friar's eyes flashed. It was old hatred, but not over; it was hate that had many legs to walk. He and Counselor Gustavo never liked each other, and before more problems should arose, the Governor intervened:

– Enough! Ask the girl to come in.

Eugênia enters. She didn't seem to fit with anything or anyone in that place. She looked fragile, or rather delicate, like the hands of a mother holding her first child in the first steps, but she also showed strength, a strength that would not let her son fall. The looks of those present seem to measure the girl. No hair on plumbs, go out with a balloon, rice powder whitening the face or red lips. Her face was bare of any props. She was for brunette, while still being white. Her skin was white, very white. It contrasted with her eyes, which were dark and already very black, but with a glow that looked like the hour when the night goes on and says goodbye to the dawn of the morning. Those eyes had that glow of the rising sun, not of the setting sun. Her eyebrows were half– closed. Erect body. Hands that didn't make jumps. Her black hair had an indecisive lace, kind of slipping, like those clouds that look like they are going to fall, but those don't fall, they just slide across the sky. No fans or handkerchiefs, just a little dress, light blue, with a white lace around the neck. She wore a cord with a dove–shaped pendant with open wings. Two pieces of small pearls as earrings were so small that they were barely noticeable. On the feet, of the little that was visible, due to the dress almost dragging, sandals, instead of shoes. She was of an embarrassing beauty; she far transcended the place of rude men and ugly pieces. Her presence seemed to give a little relief to an environment that was already known to be tense and whose intensity could not yet be measured.

There was a delight by the presence of Eugênia, and some, without being shy, began to contemplate her.

Don't be fooled by the beauty of Eugênia. More than tempting features, she, if necessary, muscles, nails and intelligence would use against anyone who deserves anger.

Luiz, the Provider, tried to pull the chair out so that she could sit down. The friar pretended to cough, calling for the meeting.

Recomposed, the Governor did not miss the opportunity:

– If there is a next time, the lady must arrive on time. I don't appreciate delays! Except for you, everyone here is old acquaintances. To save time, Counselor Gustavo could introduce the girl.

Before anything was said, Eugênia's voice was heard:

– Please, let me speak for myself. What do you want to know?

A climate, mixed with silence and awe, was formed. Sensing heavy clouds, she tries to compromise:

– Eugênia, we are happy with your presence and... – interrupts the governor:

– Gustavo, let the girl talk.

He asked Eugênia:

– What do you think it was worth knowing about you?

– First, I like to be called by my name, and it you already know. Second, I would like to know why I am here.

As no one said anything, she continued:

– I face life in entrusted responsibilities. Different from playing the dice. Some think that destiny is a gamble, but I, who hate games, discard the stakes because I give myself the right to make my destiny. So, I'm not here because I had to be. You made me come, and it bothers me. Perhaps we would start better by knowing why I was forcibly brought here.

Saying this, she looked at everyone, and even before anyone spoke, she said:

– If there is a next time, maybe we can get to know each other better – concludes she the speech, looking at the Governor.

He slammed his hand down on the table, not in anger, but in amazement and joy. He looked at the friar and said:

– Friar, there are women who endure pain more than many men. I do not doubt that Dame Eugênia is one of them. But now let's get to the facts. At the right time, you, or rather you, Eugênia, will find your answers. A little patience, because the subject is government. The duty of State obliges us to secrecy, and just as I demanded it of all, the same applies to you. Whether or not you have a next time... The meeting's inventory will be read by the Chief Ombudsman.

Camilo received the task as an honor. He took some leaves in his hands and was ordered by the Governor to read only the leaves marked in red.

– We are being demanded by the little time we have. It is worth remembering once again the close observance that what is said in this room will never be able to leave it. More than a pact between people, we will be governed by the Empire's strict code of silence. You can start reading now, Mr. Camilo.

Before something is said, Eugênia asks:

– One moment please. What code is that?

The friar, who was constantly moving around on his chair, summed up:

– It's quite simple: if you break the code, you pay with your life, or, at best, if you get lucky, you go to African exile.

– What if I don't agree and don't sign this pact?

The Governor calmly ponders:

– Dame Eugênia, everyone lost the chance to choose when they went through that door.

– But you said that if there was a next time ... I thought you were talking about the exercise of my freedom. Besides, I already said that I didn't choose to be here, I was brought over.

Almost like a sentence, the Governor says:

– Everyone in this room must submit to the said code. This is no longer spoken of. Sacrifices will have to be made and this conversation is enough. And you see how it behaves, because depending on what is applied here, you don't even go back to your house again.

– For God's sake, what are you talking about? asked a frightened Eugênia.

– If you no longer interrupt reading the report, you will soon know. If you help, have your coming here – as you said yourself – as a trusted responsibility. This will be useful.

– Although many were aware of what it was about, new facts emerged. We are digging up the dead. It was really good to leave it the way it is, but at the command of a Queen, the load is not measured: the weight is carried, it is fulfilled and shut up.

Eugênia was a woman to make her own life, but she was there in a fight that was not her own, in a place that was not her own and with people that in no way related to her.

The worst was yet to come. Something, however, must be celebrated. Until that moment, a woman in the room of the Royal House was unimaginable. Even more: being heard. The terrain, however, was not tamed. One would have to be careful with the quicksand that each one had to throw there. Repudiating Eugênia would be a mistake? Having she in salvation importance would be another? At least for the time being, life is left to do its work. Only time will tell who has steps to take for himself.

The Governor orders silence:

– Let everyone pay attention to the reading of the Report.

Wolves feel also fear

What was to come would give the men of this place a chance to measure their shoulders. Those who move by force must listen to those who discern with their minds.

There will be no right or wrong, good or bad side.

Past and future will be colliding, because the present, in great fright, will leave no mark or space for anything but the risks.

The word is with the Ombudsman.

– We let everything happen, because the orders were for it to be so. We should protect the religious, so we did. As far as we know, they have grown and multiplied; and we have seen and consented to this. They seem to have grown in disproportionate count, and nothing has been done, leaving everything in plain view. This doing has given rise to what is today. There are no culprits to look for. They were commanded to obey.

Sir, sir, here said Captain-Major, wanting to justify what the facts gave him to understand.

– When we heard about the progress of these facts, the troops were all still here. Our purpose, if it were the case, was to campaign in immediate action. Everyone thought it best to do nothing. It was what was done. Weapons sleep or walk under orders. It is what we know how to practice. We are men of orders to carry out. If it were in other times, the service would be of little consideration.

The Captain was highly respected by his troops. He was tireless in fighting, to whom he never saw escape from war. He wasn’t of many letters; he was one of the best weapons. He was to be done and was beside the Governor, who he saw as a man undoubtedly hovering.

– Captain, those under the protection of the King are not attacked. Besides, those people, as far as we know, only brought good things to our region.

– What good things does Mr. Gustavo refer to? – asked the friar.

– Order and work, freeze. We were never informed of any crime of death or theft that deserved the intervention of the Governor.

– Ignorance does not prove that there are no such crimes. The best killers are those who make it difficult to be discovered.

– Are you calling those people murderers?

– Of