9
‘Pármeno, bring our cloaks and swords. It’s time to go and eat.’
‘Hurry up. They’ll be complaining we are late. No, not down that street, this way we can pass by the church and see if Celestina’s finished worshipping. Then we can go with her.’
‘Will she be praying at this time of day?’
‘It’s never too early to do what you can do any time of day.’
‘True enough, but you don’t know Celestina as well as I do. When she’s busy, she forgets God and doesn’t have a moment for her saints. When there’s a crust on the table, the saints have to fend for themselves. When she takes her beads to church, there’s nothing in the larder. She may have brought you up, but I know her better. What she’s counting with her beads are the maidenheads to mend, the number of love-stricken in the city and the lasses she’s looking after and the food the palace stewards give her, who gives the best and what she should call them, to make sure she doesn’t speak to them like complete strangers, and which canon is the most lecherous, which the most generous. When she puckers her lips, she’s about to lie and instigate some moneymaking scheme: “I’m not going there, he’ll say this, I’ll say that.” That’s how the woman we so respect lives her life.’
‘I know a sight more than you, but you lost your temper the other day when I told Calisto, so I’ll keep quiet.’
‘It’s knowledge for our own benefit, that we won’t spread around and harm our own interests. Pármeno, if our master knew all this, he’d throw her out and refuse to have anything more to do with her. If he abandons her, he’ll be forced to employ someone else and we won’t get a thing. Out of goodwill or under pressure from us, Celestina will at least give us a piece of whatever she gets.’
‘Wise words, Sempronio. Hush now. The door’s open: she must be at home. Knock before we go in, in case they’ve not painted their faces yet and don’t want us to see them in the raw.’
‘In you go, don’t worry, we’re friends of the house. They’re laying the table already.’
‘My lover boys, my pearls of gold! I hope this year cheers me as much as the sight of you on my doorstep!’ Celestina greeted the two men.
‘What a gift of the gab our noble lady has! There she goes flattering us again.’
‘Let her get on with it. It’s her livelihood. Some devil or other taught her these tricks, Pármeno.’
‘Poverty and hunger are the world’s best teachers, and the best carrot to keep us on our toes. Who, if not Celestina taught parrots and magpies to imitate our talk and voices with her shrieking and cackling?’
‘Girls, girls! Come quickly, you fools. Two men have forced their way in and are trying to rape me!’
‘They needn’t have bothered! So much for advance invitations, my cousin Areúsa’s been waiting three hours. That lazy bastard Sempronio must be the reason they’re so late, because he never gives me a thought.’
‘Hush, lady Elicia, my life, my love, a servant isn’t a free man. My duties show me I’m not to blame. Let’s not get into a temper. Why don’t we sit down and eat.’
‘That’s right, Sempronio, you’re a past master at that. Wash your hands, tuck in and all gratis and for nothing!’
‘Eat now, fight later, say I. You first, Mother Celestina.’
‘No, you sit down, my children, there’s room enough for everyone, thanks be to God. I only hope we get as much space in paradise when we eventually get there! Sort yourselves: each next to his own. I’m the only unaccompanied one here. I’ll sit next to the wine. The high spot in my life is a conversation with a jug of wine. Since I’m so old, my best job at table is pouring out the wine, because honey sticks to the spreader. On wintry nights it’s the best way to get warm in bed. Two little jugs like these before I hit the hay and I never freeze. I line my clothes with it when Christmas comes, it warms my blood and keeps me going. Puts a spring in my step and freshens me up. Always makes me think I’ve enough food at home. I never worry when it’s a bad year, because a crust nibbled by mice can last me three days. Wine chases the sadness from my heart more quickly than gold or coral, strengthens youths, fortifies old men, turns pale cheeks red, gives courage to the cowardly, energy to the weak, soothes the brain, kills the chill in the belly, hides bad breath, fills the frigid with lust, enables tired reapers to labour hard in the fields, cleans out the system, cures colds and toothache, lasts at sea without going smelly, that is certainly not the case with water. I’d say it has more good qualities than you’ve got hair on your head. I think everyone enjoys talking about it. It has only one drawback: good wine costs and bad wine makes you puke. What hits the purse doesn’t punish the liver. So though I’m old and weary I always go for the best and drink little: half a dozen glasses with each meal and I never drink more unless I’m a guest as is the case today.’
‘Mother, the books say three’s good for you.’
‘Pármeno, there must be some mistake, a number missing: “13”, not “3”.’
‘Auntie dear, we all love a drop when we’re eating and talking and no need to worry our heads over our crazy master’s love for the gracious and beautiful Melibea.’
‘Piss off, Sempronio, you stupid git! I hope you spew up your food after the bone you just stuck in my gullet! I swear I’d like to sick up everything I hate it so much when I hear you say she’s “beautiful”! So who’s “beautiful” then? Jesus wept! It makes me furious to see you so brazen! So who is “beautiful” then? I’m damned if she’s at all “beautiful”, although in some eyes leery is beautiful. Your ignorance surprises me. If I were in the mood, I could argue the toss over her good looks! So it’s beautiful and fair Melibea, is it? If she is, then those that say the Ten Commandments go in pairs must be right as well! Her kind of beauty can be bought in a shop for small change. I know four virgins who live in the same street as her, and God certainly gave them finer looks than He ever did to Melibea. If she’s at all lovely, it’s down to her clothes: put them on a stick, and you’d also say it was “beautiful”. I don’t say this simply to praise myself but I do think I’m as fair as your Melibea,’ ranted Elicia.
‘And you didn’t get a close-up of her like I did, sister. I bet if you bumped into her after a day’s fasting, you’d be too disgusted to eat! She’s locked up the whole year with a thousand filthy face paints. The one time she gets out and might be seen, she cakes her face in bile and honey, raisins and dried figs, and other delights I won’t mention so as not to offend you good folk. Wealth makes this lot get praised for their beauty, not for any real charms their flesh has. I tell you that for a young girl she’s got the tits of a woman who’s given birth three times. They sag like two enormous marrows. I’ve not seen her belly, but if her top half is anything to go by, hers must be as flabby as a fifty-year-old’s. I can’t think what Calisto sees in her to drop all the others he could get his hands on much more easily and pleasurably. Perhaps it’s a case of bad taste mistaking sour for sweet,’ added Areúsa for good measure.
‘Areúsa, I reckon every tinker praises his tools, for in town they’ll tell you a different tale.’
‘Nothing is further from the truth, Sempronio, than what the man in the street says. You’ll never be happy if you let the views of the vulgar rule your roost. Listen to this eternal verity. Everything the plebs think is empty-headed: what they say, lies; what they reprove, good; what they approve, evil. And this is always the case, so don’t judge Melibea’s charms by gossip in the street.’
‘Lady, cheap chit-chat doesn’t usually overlook a mistress’s blackheads, so I reckon if Melibea had any, we’d have heard about them from those who’ve most dealings with her. And even if I agreed with what you say, Calisto’s a gentleman and Melibea’s well-to-do, and those born with pedigree seek each other out. It’s hardly surprising if he loves her rather than other women.’
‘You take as you find, and it’s what you do that gives you pedigree. We’re all children of Adam and Eve, after all. We should try to be good in ourselves and not base our virtue on the nobility of our forbears.’
‘Children, please stop all this squabbling. Elicia, come back to the table and wipe that scowl off your face.’
‘So I can sit down and sick up my food? You expect me to eat with that rascal who just spat in my face and said poxy Melibea is lovelier than me?’
‘Shut up, my love, you first made the comparison. All comparisons are odious. It’s your fault, not mine,’ crowed Sempronio.
‘Come and eat, my dear, and don’t play up to these stupid fellows. Or I’ll leave the table too.’
‘You mean, please this enemy of mine and this good company here.’
‘Ha, ha, ha.’
‘What’s so funny, Sempronio? I hope cancer rots your foul gob!’
‘Don’t answer her back, my son. If you do, this’ll go on forever. Let’s get back to our own business. Tell me, how was Calisto? In what state did you leave him? How did you both manage to scarper?’ interrupted Celestina, eager to change the subject.
‘Celestina, he went off in a filthy temper, breathing fire, suicidal, beside himself, half mad, to hear mass at the church of Mary Magdalene and to ask God to give you grace (enjoy gnawing those chicken bones!) and saying he’d not come home until he’d heard you’d returned with Melibea up your sleeve. So your cloak and skirt, and even my smock, are in the bag. The rest can come and go. I have no idea when he’ll deliver the goods.’
‘Whenever, dear Pármeno. We’ll even accept presents after Easter. And cheer anything that comes with no sweat from our brows. Especially, when it comes from where it won’t be missed, from a man’s who’s so rolling in it, I could say goodbye to poverty with his cast offs. They don’t mind spending when it’s in this kind of cause. When they’re infatuated, they don’t give a damn. They don’t grieve, see or hear. And I vouch for that because of others I’ve seen less passionate and absorbed by the loving game than our Calisto, who neither eat nor drink, laugh nor cry, sleep nor wake, talk nor shut up, suffer nor rest, wax happy nor whinge, depending on the side effects from the sweet, suppurating sore eating their hearts out. And if the needs of nature force them to do one of these things, it goes out of their heads immediately and when they eat, their hands forget to raise the food to their mouths. And if you speak to them, you never get a straight answer. Their bodies are with their lady friends, together with their hearts and senses. Love the almighty turns land and sea upside down. Possesses all manner of men. Overcomes all obstacles. Is anxious, fearful and wary. Looks all around. If you’ve ever really been in love, you’ll know I’m telling the truth.’
‘Mistress, I couldn’t agree more, that’s why I’ve been putting up with quite a changed Calisto for some time. He can be out of his mind, physically exhausted, empty-headed, sleeping badly, awake all night, serenading the dawn, wearing carnival masks, jumping over walls, risking his life day in day out, fighting bulls, racing horses, hurling irons, tossing cabers, exhausting friends, fencing, climbing ladders, wearing his arms out . . . and a thousand and one other lover’s acts; writing songs, painting mottoes, drawing cartoons . . . But I think it’s all to the good because they got me Elicia, my jewel, here.’
‘Think again, my lad! I tell you I didn’t see the back of your head when another fellow was here whom I love a lot, and he’s much more gracious than you, and doesn’t try to annoy me. You turn up a year on, late, and make a poor show!’ retorted his jewel.
‘Let her get it out of her system, Sempronio, she’s in a right state. Every word she says shows how much she loves you. It’s because you praised Melibea. It’s the only way she knows how to pay you back, and she doesn’t understand it’s time she ate. But I know this cousin of yours. Enjoy the freshness of youth. Bide your time waiting for something better to turn up, and you’ll miss out and soon be sorry, like yours truly now, for a few hours I wasted when I was young, when I was in demand, and people loved me. And, sinner that I am, it’s been downhill ever since. Nobody loves me, though God knows I’m up for it. Kiss and hug because I can only gain pleasure watching you. When you’re round the table, anything goes from the waist up. When you’re elsewhere, I’ll set no limits, because the king doesn’t, and I know my girls will never accuse you of being coarse. Old Celly will rub her toothless gums on crumbs from the tablecloth. May God bless you, laugh and pleasure, you cheeky devils! That’s the best way to end this squabbling. But watch you don’t knock the table over!’
‘Mother, someone’s knocking on the door. Our fun’s over!’
‘Elicia, go and see who it is. Maybe someone you can add to your romp!’
‘If my ears don’t deceive me, it’s my cousin Lucrecia.’
‘Open up, let her in, and good luck to her, for she might fancy a bit of what we’re talking about here, though she’s locked up most of the time and can’t enjoy her youth.’
‘I swear by all the pleasures in my life that it’s true, women who serve noble ladies never enjoy love’s thrall and sweet rewards. They can never consort with their equals or have close friends they can ask about the simple things in life: “What did you eat for dinner?”, “You pregnant or what?”, “How many hens you got?”, “Invite me to your place for a bite to eat”, “Point out your lover”, “Long time, no see?”, “How’re you getting on with him?”, “Who are the girls next door?”, and so on and so forth. Auntie dear, what a pain, how hard, how painful, to have “my lady” on your lips all the time! That’s why I’ve lived by myself ever since I’ve had the wit to. I only want to be at my beck and call, and never to have to answer to these stuck-up ladies of today.
‘You waste the best years of your life on them and they pay you off ten years later with a torn smock. They insult and mistreat you, criticise you, and you dare not speak in their presence. And when it’s time to marry you off, they badmouth you. You’re doing the stable-boy or their son, or flirting with their husband, or bringing men into the house, or you’ve stolen a bowl or lost a ring. They give you a hundred lashes and chuck you out into the street arse over tit, screaming: “Off you go, you thieving bitch; you’re not going to destroy my household and reputation!” You hope for presents, get sweet Fanny Adams; hope for marriage, get disparaged; hope for clothes and wedding gear, get thrown out starkers on your ear. These are their presents, profit and payment. Obliged to wed you, they shed you.
‘The best you can hope for is to run errands, take their messages from one fine lady to another. They never call you by your proper names, only: “Bitch, do this!” “Bitch, do that!” “Where you off to, you grubby urchin?” “What you done now, you good-for-nothing?” “Why do you eat that, greedy-guts?” “Call that a clean pan, you cow?” “Why didn’t you clean the counterpane, you filthy bitch?” “How dare you say that, idiot?” “Who broke that plate, clumsy?”
“What happened to the towel, thief? Did you give it to your pimp?” “Come here, you evil woman, where’s that plump hen? Find it quick or I’ll dock your next pay.” And on top of that, a thousand slaps, pinches, beatings and whippings. You can never keep them happy. Who could ever stand those ladies? Their greatest pleasure is to shout and their bliss is to find fault. When you do something as best you can, they grouse more than ever. That’s why, mother, I’ve always preferred to live in my little house, free and my own mistress, and not in their luxurious palaces, like a prisoner under their thumb.’
‘Very sensible too, Areúsa: you know what you want, go for it, for as wise men say, “better a crumb in peace than a banquet in acrimony”. But let’s drop the subject now. Here comes Lucrecia.’
‘Enjoy your meal, auntie and company. And God bless you fine, upstanding folk!’
‘Are we so fine and so upstanding? You didn’t know me when I was prosperous twenty years ago. Anyone who saw me then and saw me now would be heartbroken! My love, I remember the day when nine lasses sat round this table where your cousins are now and the oldest wasn’t more than eighteen and the youngest under fourteen. That’s the way of the world, the wheel turns, and the buckets go round, some full, others empty. It’s Lady Luck’s law that nothing stays the same for long. Change is the order of her day. I can’t tell you the great reputation I had then without the tears rolling, although it’s my sins and bad luck that have made me go downhill. Days have passed by and my earnings have plummeted. As the old proverb has it, everything in the world grows or shrinks. Everything has a limit and a level. My reputation reached a peak that was my due. Then it inevitably waned and slid. I’m nearing my end. I can see I’ve little life left. I know only too well that I went up to come down, flowered to wither, pleasured to sadden, was born to live, lived to grow, grew to age, and aged to die. And I know what’s coming. I grin and bear it. But I can’t help being upset as I too am flesh that feels.’
‘Mother, I expect you had your work cut out with so many girls. They take some looking after.’
‘Work, my dear Lucrecia? It was more a rest cure. They all obeyed and honoured me. I was respected by the lot and nobody went against my wishes. Everything I said was good and right. I gave everyone what they needed and they took what I sent: lame, one-eyed or one-armed, they saw the customer who brought in the most money as the healthiest. Mine was the profit, theirs the hard grit. And my dears, were they in demand? Gentlemen young and old, clergy of all kind, from bishops to sacristans. When I entered a church hats were doffed in my honour as if I were a duchess. The man who had least dealings with me felt badly done by. If people saw me half a league off, they’d forget their prayers. One by one or two by two they’d come to where I was standing, to see if I needed anything, to ask after their own interests. When I walked in somewhere, they’d get into a dither and couldn’t say or do anything right. Some called me “Lady”, others “Auntie”, others “Beloved”, others “Old and respected”. There and then they’d agree times to come to my house, times to go to theirs, offered me money, pledges, other gifts, kissed the hem of my cloak, and some even pecked my cheek and kept me even happier. Now Lady Luck has reduced me to this state, you could say, “Your fate’s in your own shoes”.’
‘Your stories of religious men have shocked us. They can’t all have been like that!’
‘No, they weren’t, Sempronio, and God preserve me from slandering them so. I made no money from one bunch of devout fellows who couldn’t stand the sight of me. I think they only envied the people I did speak to. As the clergy were so numerous, there were all sorts. Some thought it was a good idea to support people in my trade, and I think there are still quite a few of that ilk around, and they’d send their squires and servants to keep me company. And I’d hardly get home before chickens and hens, geese and ganders, partridges, doves, legs of ham, wheat-cakes and suckling pigs started to appear on my doorstep. As soon as one received God’s tithes, he’d come to my door and feed me and my blessed gang. I had more wine than I could drink! The best in town, from all over, from Luque, Toro, Madrigal, San Martín and many other places, so many that I can still taste the different flavours in my mouth, but all the different place-names have gone from my head. It’s too much to expect an old woman like me to smell every wine and say where it comes from. But then there were priests with no income from land and they sent wafers and other tit-bits as soon as communion was done and their parishioners had kissed their stoles. Brawny youths built like slabs of stone would come loaded with supplies to my door. I don’t know how I survived my fall from such grace.’
‘Hey, mother, we’ve come here to enjoy ourselves, don’t cry and wear yourself out, God will see us right.’
‘Areúsa, I’ve good reason to cry, remembering the good times and the good life I had, and how everyone looked after me. Whenever there was fresh fruit I was the first to taste some before others even knew it was in season. I had to have it in case some pregnant woman felt like a bite.’
‘Mother, there’s no gain, only pain in reminiscing like this because you can’t claw things back. You’ve killed our pleasure dead. Clear the table. We must go and have fun and you must see to this young lady who’s just popped in.’
‘Lucrecia, dear child, do tell me why you’ve come.’
‘I’d quite forgotten what I had to tell you after listening to you reminiscing about such happy times. I could have missed my food for a year listening to you and thinking of the good life those girls enjoyed, so much so that I feel I’m still with them. As you can imagine, mistress, I’ve come to ask you for the cord back. Apart from that, my lady would like you to pay her a visit soon, because she’s very tired, always swooning, and her heart’s in great pain.’
‘Dear, she’s making a mountain out of a molehill. I’m amazed such a young girl’s heart can suffer so!’
‘I hope they drag you along the street, you treacherous bag! As if you don’t know what this is all about! This wily old woman makes her spells, comes and goes, and then pretends she’s in the dark,’ muttered Lucrecia.
‘What was that, my love?’
‘I said, let’s be going and give me the cord.’
‘All right, but I’ll take it.’
