The Mountain Shepherd
The
Mountain Shepherd
A Story Told
by Marcos, Forty-Five Years Later
Part 1 : The
Family
My name is Marcos. I grew up in a small house, in
the countryside. We didn't have much. We had goats, that was all. And those
goats were our life. If we lost them, we lost everything.
We lived with my father, my stepmother, and my
little brother Juanillo. We called my stepmother "the old woman." She
wasn't kind to us. She shouted a lot. She hit us sometimes. She didn't love us,
me and Juanillo. We knew it. We had always known it.
My father said nothing. He never defended us. I
think he was afraid of her. Or maybe he was too tired to fight. We were poor.
We owed money to the landlord, a rich man named Don Honesto. We kept his goats,
we lived in his house, we used his horse. We didn't belong to him, but almost.
Me and Juanillo spent our days in the mountains
with the goats. We knew them all by name. There was Lucero, Lunara, Minero, and
many others. We loved those animals. We loved the mountain. We loved the stream
where we went to swim in the morning, even when the water was cold.
One day, Juanillo asked me : Do you think
she's watching us ?
I asked : Who ?
He said : Mama.
I looked at the sky. I said : Of course. From
up there, you can see everything.
He asked : And how do you know ?
I said : Father Antonio told me. The one who
behaves well on earth goes straight to heaven.
Juanillo thought for a moment. Then he said
quietly : That's going to be complicated for the old woman.
We both laughed, in the cold water of the stream,
under the mountain sun. It was one of those moments that stays with you
forever. Simple. Clean. Real.
We were happy then, in our own small way. We had
nothing, but we had each other. And sometimes, that is enough.
Part 2 : The
Wolves
That day, everything changed.
We were watching the goats as usual. Everything
was fine. And then, all at once, the wolves attacked. They came fast, without
noise. We shouted, we ran, we tried to chase them away. Lucero was in danger.
We fought as best we could.
But in the end, five goats were dead. Five.
We walked home with our heads low. The old woman
was waiting. When she heard the news, she went wild with rage.
Five ? Good God ! What are we going to eat now ?
The dog ?
She shouted, she insulted us. She said we were
two idiots who weren't even good enough to watch goats. She threw us out. She
didn't want to see us anymore.
My father came home later. When he heard what had
happened, he said it was serious. Very serious. If we didn't pay the landlord
for the dead goats, we would have to leave. Leave the house, leave the land.
The old woman said she wasn't going anywhere.
That she was born here and she would die here.
My father thought for a while. Then he looked at
the old woman and said : Throw them out. They're big enough now.
The old woman said : Easy to say when they're
not yours.
That night, I didn't sleep.
Part 3 : The
Separation
The next morning, my father came into the room
where we slept, me and Juanillo.
He looked at me and said : Boy. Pack your
things. We're leaving.
I asked : Where ?
He said : To the landlord's. To work. To pay
for the goats.
I looked at Juanillo. I said : Fine. But
Juanillo comes with me.
My father said : Out of the question. He
stays.
I said : Without Juanillo, I'm not going.
My father got angry. He said I would obey. That I
had no choice. That this was how it was and not any other way.
Juanillo started to cry. He held on to me. He
said : Please, don't let them chase me away.
My father tried to separate us. I resisted. We
both shouted. We didn't want to be separated. We only had each other in this
family. Without Juanillo, I was alone. Without me, he was alone.
But my father was stronger. He grabbed me by the
arm. He pulled me toward the door.
I shouted : Juanillo ! Run ! Don't stop !
Juanillo ran into the mountain. My father tried
to catch him, but he was already far away.
We left without him. I didn't cry in front of my
father. But inside, something had broken.
I turned around one last time. The mountain
swallowed him. And I thought : I will find him again one day. I have to.
Part 4 : Don
Honesto and Ceferino
We arrived at Don Honesto's house. It was a big
house, clean, well furnished. Don Honesto was sitting in an armchair. He
watched us come in without standing up.
My father said he was bringing me to work. That I
knew how to keep goats. That I had grown up with them.
Don Honesto looked at me. He asked : What's
your name, boy ?
I said : Marcos.
He called his man, Ceferino. He told him that the
next morning, he should take the horse and bring me to the old man in the
mountain.
Then he told my father that for this time, the
dead goats were forgiven. But that next time, he would be thrown out. That was
clear.
My father thanked him. He said : May God keep
you for a long time. And you know, I am here if you need anything, to serve
you.
Don Honesto didn't even answer. He just said : Get
my horse ready.
My father left. Before going out, he turned
toward me. I asked him : And me ?
He didn't answer. He left.
I stayed there, in the middle of nowhere, in a
big house that wasn't mine, with people I didn't know. I was a boy who had been
handed over like a goat, to pay a debt he hadn't made.
That was the first time I truly understood what
it meant to be poor.
Part 5 : The
Road into the Mountain
The next morning, Ceferino put me on his horse
and we left into the mountain.
Ceferino was a hard man. He didn't talk much. But
on the road, we crossed some civil guards. They were looking for a bandit they
called el Balilla. They asked Ceferino if he knew anything. Ceferino said he
knew nothing. The guards said there would be a big reward for whoever turned el
Balilla in. Twenty thousand duros.
Twenty thousand duros. That was a fortune.
After the guards left, I asked Ceferino who el
Balilla was. He told me he was a bandit. The biggest son of a bitch in the
whole region. That during the war, he had hidden in the woods. And since then,
he attacked everything he could. He told me to pray I would never cross his
path.
We continued on horseback. The mountain became
higher and higher, more and more silent. At one point, Ceferino stopped and
showed me something below : a great valley, deep and green, surrounded by
mountains on all sides. He said : The Valley of Silence. And there are
people with the guts to live there.
We descended toward the valley.
The further we went, the more the world seemed to
disappear behind us. The sounds of villages, of people, of roads faded away.
There was only the wind, the rocks, and the sky. It was the most beautiful and
most terrifying place I had ever seen.
Part 6 :
Atanasio
That was where the old man lived. His name was
Atanasio.
He was tall, thin, with hands as hard as wood. He
didn't smile. When he saw us arrive, he looked at Ceferino with cold eyes.
Ceferino told him he was leaving him some wheat for the summer, and that he
would come back in autumn to take the young goats. Then he said, as if it were
a small thing : And take care of the boy. I brought him to help with the
goats.
And he left.
So I stood there, in the middle of nowhere, with
this old man I didn't know, in this silent valley.
Atanasio didn't talk to me much the first day. He
showed me how to count the goats. He had two small boxes and some pebbles. When
a goat left the enclosure, I put a pebble in the first box. When she came back
in the evening, I put a pebble in the second box. If at the end of the day
there were pebbles left in the first box but not the second, it meant some
goats were missing. And I had to go find them.
It was simple. It was clear. I understood
immediately.
In the evening, he showed me where I would sleep.
It was outside, at the entrance of the cave. He slept inside. He didn't trust
me yet. But I understood that. We didn't know each other.
I lay on the cold ground that first night,
looking up at the stars, and I thought of Juanillo somewhere out there in the
dark. I hoped he had found somewhere warm to sleep. I hoped he was not crying.
Part 7 : The
First Days
The days passed. I watched the goats in the
mountain. I was getting to know them a little by their names. Minero was the
fastest. Lunara was the gentlest. There was one called Pizquilla who liked to
go to difficult places and cause trouble.
One morning, Lunara got hurt. She had broken a
leg on the rocks. She was crying like a child. I called Atanasio. He came, he
looked at the leg, and he didn't panic. He said to me : Bring me two sticks,
a cistus branch, and a little holy wood.
I ran to find everything. When I came back, he
made a splint with the sticks and branches. He talked to Lunara while he worked
: Calm down, Lunara. Calm down. In two weeks, you'll be jumping again.
His voice was soft. Different from his normal
voice.
I thought : this man loves his goats. Truly loves
them.
I watched his hands working carefully and gently
on that broken leg, and I thought : a man who treats an animal this way cannot
be a bad man. Whatever he seems like on the outside, whatever coldness he shows
to the world, inside there is something good. Something that knows how to be
tender.
That was the day I started to trust him.
Part 8 : The
Lone Wolf
Another day, something dangerous happened.
I was in the mountain with the goats. I had
caught a rabbit. I was holding it in my hands, happy with myself. And then, all
at once, a wolf came out of the bushes. He was big, alone. He looked me in the
eyes. And he took the rabbit straight from my hands. Then he walked away.
I came back shaking all over. I told Atanasio
what had happened.
He said : Lucky you had the rabbit. Because
otherwise, he would have attacked you.
He explained that lone wolves were the most
dangerous. That before attacking you, they make circles around you, they brush
close to you, to make you panic. And when you start to run, that's it. They go
for your throat.
I asked : And they never did anything to you ?
He said : At the beginning, when I first came
here, they started killing some of my goats. But then, I managed to come to an
understanding with them. And today, they respect me.
I asked : But how did you do it ?
He said : Exactly like you did today. By
giving them a little food, from time to time.
That day I understood something important. With
wolves, as with men, you must not be afraid. You must be calm. You must give
before you ask. You must earn respect, not force it.
I have never forgotten that lesson. Not once in
forty-five years.
Part 9 : The
Night of Balilla
One night, men arrived in the darkness. They
knocked at the cave door.
Atanasio said : It's all right. It's el
Balilla.
El Balilla. The bandit. The one everyone was
looking for.
He came in. He was a tall man, exhausted, with
eyes that had seen many difficult things. His companions were behind him, just
as tired as he was. They were hungry. They hadn't slept in four days.
El Balilla talked. He said they were accusing him
of killing a farm guard. He was angry. He said : All the birds eat the
wheat, but it's always the sparrow that gets blamed. He had spent his whole
life fighting for justice to exist. And now, he was a fugitive. Fifty civil
guards were looking for him.
He talked about Ceferino. He said Ceferino had
offered him wheat in exchange for information about his hiding place. Ceferino
wanted to betray him. El Balilla was furious, but also tired. Too tired to be
really angry anymore.
Atanasio told him to stay a while and rest. El
Balilla refused. He said : The police could arrive at any moment.
Before leaving, he left some food for Atanasio.
And he disappeared back into the night with his men.
I looked at Atanasio. He wasn't afraid. There was
no judgment in his eyes either. Just something calm, and perhaps sad.
I asked him nothing that night. Some silences are
not meant to be broken.
Part 10 : The
Old Man's Secret
That night, after Balilla left, Atanasio spoke to
me. Really spoke. For the first time.
He asked how I felt here. I told him the truth : Here,
with you, I feel good. I told him my stepmother had never loved me. That my
brother wasn't loved either. That my father never defended us.
Then I asked him why he lived alone, in this
valley. Why he had no family.
He looked at the fire for a long time. Then he
said :
My wife and my children were killed during the
war. I was in the mountain with the goats. Suddenly, I heard a bombing. I knew
something had happened. So I ran back down to the village. When I arrived at my
house, I wanted to die.
He stopped speaking for a moment. The fire
crackled.
He continued : The only one who survived was
my Tomas. The oldest. He had gone out into the street to fight. I lost
everything. Everything I loved. So I came to live here.
He looked at the flames for another moment. Then
he added, very quietly : And I am still here, with my grief. Which I keep
deep inside me.
I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
But I reached out and put my hand near the fire,
close to his. Not touching. Just close. And he didn't move away.
That was enough.
Part 11 : The
Illness
One morning, Atanasio told me to go down alone
with the goats. He wasn't feeling well. He wanted to stay.
I offered to bring him some milk. He said no. He
wasn't hungry. Not thirsty. No appetite.
I left with the goats. But I was worried.
Something wasn't right.
In the evening, when I came back, Atanasio was
burning with fever. His forehead was hot as a stone in the sun. He was
breathing badly. He couldn't get up.
I did what he had taught me. I searched for the
herbs to treat cold and fever. I boiled them. I prepared a tea. I gave him
water to drink.
At night, when he slept, I prayed. I said quietly
: Please let him get well soon. I don't want to leave here.
It was the truth. For the first time in my life,
I felt good somewhere. I didn't want to lose that.
The illness lasted a long time. Many days. I
watched the goats during the day and cared for the old man at night. I searched
for herbs in the mountain. I prepared food. I kept the fire burning.
Little by little, he began to get better.
During those days, I learned that caring for
someone is not a small thing. It takes all of you. Your hands, your time, your
sleep, your worry. But it also gives you something back. Something quiet and
solid, like a stone in your chest that keeps you standing.
Part 12 : The
Last Words
But one morning, very early, I found him outside.
He was lying on the cold ground. He said he was too warm inside, that he wanted
a little fresh air.
I sat down next to him. He had his eyes open, but
he was looking far away, very far.
He said : Boy. I'm leaving.
I said : Where ? You can't even walk.
He said : Very far. And I have wanted to go
for a long time.
I understood. Not going somewhere on this earth.
Going somewhere else. To where my mother was. To where his wife and children
were.
I said : Then I'm coming with you. To be with
my mother.
He shook his head slowly. Then he looked me in
the eyes and said something important :
Listen. If he survived. And if one day you cross
his path. El Balilla's path. Don't be afraid. He is my son. My Tomas.
I opened my eyes wide. El Balilla was his son.
The bandit of the mountains was the son of this lonely old shepherd, who lived
with his goats and his grief, in the deepest valley in the world.
He gave me something to protect me. I won't say
what. It was mine.
And he said, with the last strength he had left :
And above all. Never let the fire go out.
The next morning, he was gone.
I sat next to him for a long time before I stood
up. I didn't cry. I just looked at his face, which was finally peaceful,
without the weight of all those years of grief pressing down on it. He looked
like a man who had finally put down something very heavy.
I whispered : I'll keep the fire going. I
promise.
Part 13 :
Ceferino Returns
A few days later, men arrived in the valley. It
was Ceferino with his men. They were looking for el Balilla.
When they found the old man's body in the cave,
Ceferino looked at it for a moment. Then he said, without sadness or respect : You
died without saying a word, didn't you ?
They grabbed me. Ceferino asked me where el
Balilla was hiding. I told him I didn't know. He didn't believe me. One of his
men hit me. They shouted. They threatened. I said nothing.
I said nothing because I had made a promise
without words, sitting next to that cold body in the cave. I had promised that
I would not betray his son. That was all I could give him now.
They finally left me. They took the goats and
went away.
I stood alone in the valley, in the silence, with
nothing left but the fire and the memory of an old man who had taught me
everything that mattered.
Part 14 : The
Betrayal
But someone else talked.
In a farm in the mountain, there lived a man
called Doroteo. His wife had just given birth. He had many children. He was
very poor. Ceferino came to his house and told him that Don Honesto wanted him
to leave. That he had to pack up and go by the next morning.
Doroteo begged. He said he had lived there all
his life. That his wife and children were buried outside in the ground.
Ceferino said those were the orders.
Then Doroteo said he might know something about
el Balilla.
His son, a small boy they called Pizquilla,
shouted that Balilla spent many nights at the blind man's hut. Where all his
dead friends were buried.
Ceferino smiled. And he left into the night.
I have thought about Pizquilla many times over
the years. He was just a child. He didn't understand what he was doing. He was
trying to save his family. I don't blame him. I blame the world that put a
child in that position, where betraying a man was the only way to keep a roof
over your head.
Part 15 : The
Full Moon
That night, there was a full moon. And a thick
fog in the mountain.
I heard gunshots in the distance. Then nothing.
The next day, I found out that the guards had set
a trap. They had waited for Balilla's men at the blind man's hut. There had
been a shootout. Some had been killed. One had escaped, wounded.
A wounded man came to find me in the mountain. He
said : They got me, the bastards. He showed me his wound. He had only
three bullets left. He told me to stay there, not to move. That the guards
would follow his trail, not mine.
He told me to stay alive. And he went back alone
into the mountain.
I never saw him again.
I stood there for a long time after he
disappeared between the trees. The mountain was quiet. The fog was beginning to
lift. Somewhere up there, a man was bleeding and walking alone through the
rocks and the cold, with three bullets and nowhere left to go.
I hoped he made it. I still hope that, even now,
forty-five years later.
Epilogue :
Forty-Five Years Later
Forty-five years have passed since that day.
I am old now. I have lived many things. I have
known good men and bad men. I have known poverty, fear, and betrayal. I have
known what it means to be handed over by your own father like a piece of
property. I have known what it means to watch someone die and not be able to
stop it.
But if I look back, if I search for what was most
true in my life, what was most real, I always think of that valley. Those
goats. That silent old man who kept his grief deep inside him and who taught me
how to face a lone wolf.
I have met many men since then. Men who shouted
and hit. Men who lied and betrayed. Men who sold other men for twenty thousand
duros, or for a bag of wheat, or for nothing at all.
And I have met the mountains. And the goats. And
the wolves.
The wolves never lied to me.
I have learned little from men in this life. Men
betray. Men hit. Men abandon their children to pay their debts. Men trade their
neighbours for a sack of grain. Men find a thousand reasons to do the wrong
thing and call it survival.
But the wolves respect the one who is calm. The
one who gives without asking. The one who does not run.
I never ran.
And I never let the fire go out.
— Marcos
Forty-five years after being taken away by the
civil guards, Marcos still carries the certainty that he learned little from
men, and the feeling that nothing has ever been as real as those years spent
with the wolves.
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