Pirate Freedom by Gene Wolfe Read Free Book Online

son. Our foolishness is His wisdom, in this and many other things."

    He did not look like the priest in Mexico, or even remind me of him much, but I said I did not have much to do that day and would do some work for him around the church if he wanted me to.

    He shook his head. "I cannot pay you, my son."

    "I've got money, Padre. Not a lot, but some."

    After that we talked a lot more. I told him about being an altar boy, not saying it was at Our Lady of Bethlehem, and he wanted to know if I had ever learned to play the organ.

    I said sure.

    "Really? Would you play for me, my son, if I find someone to pump for you?"

    So he got his servant to pump and I played three or four pieces I knew by heart, trying my best to keep them slow. After that he showed me a lot of church music. The notation was a little different, but he explained that, and Iplayed a couple of the easy ones. That made him really happy, and he made me promise to play for his mass next morning.

    "It is a shame, my son, that you cannot play strings as well. You might play and sing beneath the window of the señorita you speak of. It is how women are won here, more often than not."

    I said anybody could play the guitar, but that my voice was not much. Which is the truth.

    "You err, my son. Few can play a guitar as well as you play this organ. It may be you underrate your voice as well."

    After I left there, I looked at guitars in some shops. I did not want a cheap one, and even the cheap ones cost a lot. The good ones cost more than I had, and if I had bought one I would not have been able to eat or pay next day's rent. That night I went back to the house and around to the alley, and waited for three or four hours, hoping to see the girl I had carried the parrot for. I never did, and when the lights went out I went back to my room.

    Next morning I got up early and went to the padre's church. The padre sang the mass, his servant pumped, and I played whenever the padre told me to. After mass he heard confessions, mine included. You already know everything I confessed to. When he had given me my penance (which was not much) he asked me to wait until he had finished.

    I did, of course, and when he had heard the last old lady he wanted to know whether I had a guitar. Of course I said I did not.

    "I have my father's. It is precious to me."

    "Sure," I said. "I'd love to have anything my father owned."

    "But you do not? There were many children?"

    I said no, but I did not want to talk about my family. I knew he was about to ask if my father was dead, and I did not want to have to say he had not been born yet, which by then I was pretty sure was the truth.

    "Very well, my son, I will ask no more. Will you play my father's guitar for me? I would like very much to hear it sound again."

    It was out of tune, which I expected, and I had to tune it by ear. But it was a good one, with a good, rich tone. I played some songs that had been old when I was a kid. He sang a couple of the songs his father used to sing for him and his mother. The tunes were pretty easy, and I could play along without much trouble.

    That night I was walking past a cantina when I heard somebody playinga really good guitar inside. So I went in and got a glass of wine, and sat around and listened. He played a song all the customers knew, and they sang it. A lot of them could sing pretty well—more than I would have expected.

    After that he passed the hat, and just about everybody put something in. He was a gypsy, and played gypsy style, but I did not know that then.

    The next day I played at mass again, and when it was over I asked the padre to loan me his guitar, just for that night, promising to return it the next morning. He would not, and would not even speak to me after that, just going into the confessional and shutting the door.

    After that I wandered around quite a bit, wondering how I could get him to lend it. So after mass the next day I waited until he was through hearing