Edgar Brau

Bárcena’s Dog

Translated by Donald A. Yates

(excerpt)

I

“So, my Colonel, what do we do with the savage?”

One-Eyed Bárcena, officer in charge of a division of Oribe’s forces that was bivouacked at that moment in San Nicolás de los Arroyos, felt a twinge of anger and with his one good eye sought out the insolent fellow who had broken the silence. But as he looked up and down the orderly line of red uniforms, he realized that in truth it had been less the result of impudence than the desire on the part of the entire camp to know once and for all what their leader´s decision would be. He suspended his search and turned again to the man, guarded by two soldiers with lances, who stood a few paces away before his tent. Once more he scrutinized the blue eyes, the long graying hair that was plastered to his sweaty brow, the beard trimmed in the shape of a “U”, which labeled him as a Unitarian, the clothing of a man of breeding, and thought to himself that if it were merely a matter of punishing him for the poisoned bread that he had delivered to the camp that morning, just a few jabs with the tips of those lances would do, producing a slow loss of blood, or perhaps the best solution might be simply having his throat cut.

But there was something other than just the question of the bread, something so serious that no one in the camp was unaware of it. Several months earlier, this man (whose name was Suárez, a doctor by profession) had refused to interrupt the pregnancy of a girl who, on leaving La Rioja to be with Oribe’s forces, had been received by him —Bárcena— as a gift from General Quiroga himself. And even though the matter had finally been settled, that affront now required a special form of torture. This was what was disturbing the troops, for Bárcena had not yet settled on just what that punishment would be.

Suárez, the prisoner, looked about absently at the woods surrounding the camp. That morning, when the party of soldiers sent by Bárcena broke into his house and accused him of poisoning the bread that as a well-off local resident he was obliged to send every day to the federal army, he had said goodbye to his servants (he had no family) with words of reassurance. It would be a simple matter to clear up the misunderstanding. But later at the camp, when he faced those who accused him of the poisoning, he understood that although the charge was completely false, Bárcena was not going to let him go. From that moment on, he no longer attempted to defend himself and would not speak. Unshaken, in spite of the jeering and the threats, he remained impassive, even when Bárcena, as he was doing now, stood before him and dug into his very soul with that ferocious eye.

                                         Long live the Federals.

                                         Their time has come.

                                         Down with Unitarians,

                                         Nothing but scum.

chanted a woman’s voice at that point and the troops enthusiastically responded with a chorus of approval. Off to one side, a tied-up dog began barking.

Bárcena stepped away from Suárez to accept a maté that one of his aides had brought to him and signaled for someone to silence the dog. A soldier misunderstood the gesture and instead of quieting him, set him loose. The animal ran directly at Suárez and clamped his jaws on the calf of one of his legs. Suárez, who had his hands tied behind him, cried out and in the attempt to free his leg lost his balance and fell to the ground. The dog did not release his hold, even though its breathing was restricted by the fabric of the trousers. Leaping forward, Bárcena´s aide grabbed the rope tied to the dog’s neck and yanked it back. But he had to lay on the dog with his horse whip before the animal would let go. For his part, Bárcena did not intervene in the incident. When they took the dog away, he continued sipping his maté and eyeing Suárez, whose leg, on examination, was judged not to be seriously injured. When he finished the maté, he gazed thoughtfully at the ground and then took a dagger from one of the soldiers, approached Suárez, now standing, from behind and with one slash severed the rope that immobilized his arms.

“This way you’re equal,” he said scornfully and went over to where the dog was still barking, in spite of the efforts of the soldier who was holding onto his collar.

“Put him on a leash,” he said to the soldier. “And you, defend yourself,” he ordered Suárez bluntly.

Suárez looked at him incredulously, but seeing that the dog was approaching him again, he planted one leg and kicked out menacingly with the other. The dog became more enraged.

“Not that way, my friend. Do it like a dog,” Bárcena interjected, in an almost fatherly voice.

Suárez stared at him as if he didn’t understand what he was asking.

“The way a dog would. You bark and bite, too. Go on!” insisted Bárcena, who was now warming up to the idea.

“Come on, down on the ground! Didn’t you hear the colonel?” said an officer, poking Suárez’s shoulder with the tip of his lance.

“Right, down on the ground like a dog,” urged the surrounding soldiers, closing in on them.

Suárez set his knees on the ground first and then, prodded by the tips of several lances, had to place his hands down as well.

A noisy circle of red appeared to swarm over him and the crazed dog.

“Bark! Bite him! Attack! Come on, savage,” they heard Bárcena cry out.

“Yes, go ahead. Bark! Bite him!” the others immediately shouted in chorus.

Suárez looked at the dog’s foaming muzzle and an expression of horror twisted his features. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists tightly and his body began to tremble. He recovered quickly, however, and when he looked again at the dog, Suárez’s expression had turned to one of determination. The cries of Bárcena and the soldiers together with the dog’s barking now seemed to be reaching him from a distance. Suddenly, he drew his head down into his shoulders, and then when he raised it again a kind of whimper came from his mouth that seemed to surprise the dog and compelled the men to silence. He moved forward very slightly and repeated the sound. The observers gave out a howl that caused the dog to turn around in fright. Suárez, his back streaked with blood, crawled ahead a bit farther and with a grimace uttered twice a syllable that for its hoarse resonance could have been a bark. The soldiers screamed their enthusiastic response and the dog, now totally terrified, shrank down close to the ground, whined and then desperately made for an open gap in the circle on men. The man holding the rope tied to the dog looked at Bárcena who, with a gesture, indicated to him to drop it. The dog, falling over his own legs, stumbled away amid the laughter of all.

“Savage!” they exclaimed as the dog ran off, and then they turned toward Suárez, who was looking in the direction the dog had taken. The lances had ceased to prod at his back, but the tears in his shirt revealed that he was still losing blood. Bárcena circled him thoughtfully.

“It seems to me that a dog like this one is exactly what we need here,” he said to the corporal, as if just speaking to himself but also expecting at the same time some reaction from the troops.

A mumbled agreement was the response he received.

“Of course,” he hastened to add, “something has to be done to improve his bark. But we can work on that.”

Standing before Suárez, he said:

“It’s settled then, doctor. You are going to be my dog. The other one is worthless. Although, you understand,” he added, moving closer to Suárez’s head to speak, “you have another choice, if you want it. Be my dog or…”

“The painkiller,” said one of the soldiers when Bárcena looked in his direction.

“The painkiller, yes. Very good. But the one with the dull blade, since we don´t want people dying on us too quickly,” said One-Eye, acknowledging the soldier’s suggestion. He turned to an officer.

“All right then, captain. Lock this man up with a couple of dogs, so he can learn how to bark. And train him properly. The only people here who go around on two feet are federals.”

A mixed reaction of amusement and surprise was the response to this statement of Bárcena, who promptly headed off with a few of his men toward his tent.

“Oh, yes,” he said, turning back at the tent’s entrance, “so that no one will mistake him for another dog, he’ll have his own name, too. We’ll call him… ‘Scum!,’ he exclaimed as his gaze crossed that of a woman who was grinding corn and humming softly.

“Scum,” the soldiers repeated as they watched Suárez being placed into a makeshift cage together with several dogs.

“Scum!” And with the uttering of that word, the first piece of raw meat was tossed into the cage.  

………………………..

From Casablanca and Other Stories, MSU Press, 2006