The Forbidden Kingdom by Jan Jacob Slauerhoff Read Free Book Online Page A

to continue the inferior Ronquilho dynasty.”
    “So from what exalted dynasty was your yellow mother descended?”
    “From one that existed when Portugal was still a Moorish province and its inhabitants slaves of the Muslims.”
    Campos had to restrain himself. He supported himself with his hands on the table, and the thin rosewood topcreaked. He didn’t fit into this room; it was as if a bull had charged into a lily garden. But soon his colour returned to normal, a smile that exuded a sense of power curled his lips, and he went slowly over to her.
    “Don’t touch me. You accuse me of consorting with the Dominicans. You’re the one who forces me to seek protection, and I may yet end up doing what I don’t want to do: entering a convent.”
    “In that case from now on you are the prisoner of your father and of the highest authority in Macao, that of the Procurador.”
    He left the room and screamed an order. Pilar heard the shuffling step of two servants.
    “You’re under guard!” shouted the Procurador as he went downstairs. She moved to the window: there was already a soldier on guard by the olive tree. Dispirited, she sank down onto the hard window sill.
    After a few hours she crept to the door, but it was immediately pushed shut again. Standing out against the dark wood she again saw, more clearly this time, the face of this night: in one part of the sea, closed off by a layer of cloud lashed by driving rain as in a clash between an army of dwarves and an army of giants, a large ship reeled and sank, stern last. Then the man leapt off and swam through the raging waters, hand still in the air, toward the steep black coast. And now shesaw further: a rolling yellow beach in the foreground suddenly slid beneath the swimmer, who lay there motionless ; then the clouds obscured everything, the door suddenly opened and struck her on the forehead. She leapt back and went back towards the window, while a servant brought in a dish. She did not look round and the servant, imagining himself unobserved, calmly picked up a silver clasp lying by a table leg.
     
    Campos could not rest after his meal that afternoon. He went on debating whether he had behaved too harshly or too indulgently with his daughter.
    “Don’t startle the bird too much, or it will fly away,” he muttered. “Is there no chance of her escaping?” He determined to post sentries at the gate too, but still feared the power of the priests. He got into his litter earlier than usual. Close to the Senate building the clatter of hooves startled him out of his reflections , he was dropped abruptly to the ground and among the bewildered bearers he saw a horse and on it Ronquilho.
    “What has got into you, running me down in the middle of the street?” Campos climbed with difficulty out of the lopsided litter, blinking at the sun and at Ronquilho, trembling with annoyance. Ronquilho dismounted, had his horse led away and pulled theProcurador along; after his opening words Campos listed in rapt attention.
    “At lunch I was drinking a bottle of green wine from an old supply with Alvarez and Brandão. Alvarez, who has a sensitive throat, pushed his goblet away, saying: ‘This is like the wine that Velho will be given at his last supper.’”
    “Well, what’s that got to do with me?” the Procurador interjected.
    “As much as you want. Don’t you want to make it a matter of life and death tonight at his installation?”
    They went on talking. When they reached the Senate building, Ronquilho leapt back on his horse and rode down a steep cross street. Campos went through the gate, deeply bowed, as if what he had just heard had been the last straw.

I
    P EDRO VELHO WAS bigger and calmer than his fellow-countrymen. He had been born north of the River Minho and was one of the few to set sail from Porto. His appearance seemed to have served as a model for the warning posted above one of the gates of Canton: None may enter here who has a red face, blue eyes, blond