The Frost on His Shoulders by Lorenzo Mediano

Author:Lorenzo Mediano
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Europa Editions
Published: 2012-05-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VII

Ramón was going to become a smuggler.

Since before the time of the Celts, there have been traders on both sides of the Pyrenees, people taking animals and all manner of products from one side to the other, undeterred by the high mountains. When borders put an end to their early unity and the monarchs issued prohibitions and tried to hinder trade, mountain folks simply ignored any decree that flew in the face of their ancient customs.

In time, the monarchs gradually sent soldiers to force the people to respect their orders, and they in turn—also in time—began marking out secret routes that enabled them to outwit those attempting to sabotage their rights. Since that time, border guards and smugglers have played cat-and-mouse all through the mountains, the former fighting not only the harsh elements but also the animosity of the locals, who have never understood—and still don’t—why they should have to pay anyone, even the King of Spain or President of the Republic, for the privilege of bringing a mule or a cowbell from Pau across the border.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this in an attempt to justify smuggling; I’m simply trying to point out that neither Ramón nor his neighbors find smuggling in any way reproachable as a profession. To them, a smuggler is simply an honest trader who can get them some products cheaper on the other side of the mountain. They have no knowledge of, nor interest in, the treasury: look how much tax they pay on their land as it is! And what do they get for it?

A smuggler’s job is dangerous and only the most daring or desperate dare take it on. But they earn money, good money, and Ramón was well aware of that when he decided to risk his life.

He was fairly knowledgeable about his new job, because shepherds and smugglers tend to be on very friendly terms. On the one hand, shepherds alert them to where the carabineros–the Spanish border guards—and Guardia Civil are, and play dumb when the forces of law and order interrogate them; in exchange, smugglers always have a spare bottle of cognac or a cowbell on hand with which to thank them.

The first thing Ramón did was to buy a few decanters of anís from a Spanish merchant whose name, I’m sure you’ll understand, I have omitted. For the first time in his life, he had to argue and haggle aggressively: he didn’t have enough money to pay for them, since he’d spent almost everything on the shotgun and mule. In the end, he managed to close the deal: the anís in exchange for half the cognac he brought back from France. Needless to say, it was a terribly unfavorable deal that slashed his profits considerably, but when it comes right down to it, if you start a business with no capital you can’t be too demanding.

Ramón’s first border-crossing was grueling and dangerous. He knew where France was only from the merchant’s directions, and the coalmen and shepherds he met along the way were vague with him, not trusting a stranger.

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