Never an Empire Page 10

Father Enrique turned to him and spoke slowly.

  ‘You seem very sure. In fact you sound as if you know exactly where he is. Do you?’

  The head man immediately saw his mistake and tried desperately to recover lost ground.

  ‘It is what people tell us. The rebels are in the mountains. I don’t know where or even which mountains. I am only repeating what people tell us.’

  ‘What people? Maybe they could take my message? Maybe you could ask them?’

  ‘No, no, they were strangers, passing through.’

  ‘Where did they come from? Where were they going? How long ago was it?’

  The head man was crumbling under the questioning and Father Enrique decided he had done enough. ‘Or perhaps I should do as this young woman has suggested: leave my message with her and be on my way.’

  ‘Yes, Father, perhaps that would be best after all. I was foolish to disagree. Forgive me.’

  Father Enrique raised his hand and made the sign of the cross. The head man hurriedly blessed himself.

  ‘There, my son, you are forgiven.’ He turned to Carmen. ‘Now young woman, I will go to your hut and give you my message.’

  Carmen turned and Father Enrique followed her through the people who stood well back to let them through. The priest had shown his authority. He had humbled their head man. It was always foolish, even dangerous, to oppose a priest. The head man watched as Carmen led Father Enrique away. This was the second time he had lost face and been humiliated in front of his people. Last time it was the rebel Lieutenant bringing General Sakay’s money and making it look as if he was too mean or too poor to pay for the services of the priest. Now it was the priest himself. Without meaning to and without knowing it Father Enrique had achieved something for himself on this visit.

  He had made an enemy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The hut Carmen led him to on the edge of the village looked in a state of poor repair. The interior, however, seemed clean and well cared for. The hut consisted of two rooms: the larger one for the daily business of life and a smaller one for sleeping. There was little in the way of furniture but sitting at a table was an older woman with a baby on her lap. When Father Enrique entered the woman stood up and the baby, seeing them, put out its arms and Carmen took it. The older woman, now free of the child, took charge.

  ‘We are honoured, Father, that you come into my humble home.’

  ‘Yes. Of course. And you are?’

  Carmen answered his question.

  ‘This is my husband’s mother. This is her house.’

  Father Enrique was unsure what to do. He wanted to talk to Carmen by herself but he could hardly begin by dismissing this woman from what appeared to be her own home.

  ‘I see.’

  The older woman gestured to the chair she had just vacated.

  ‘Please, Father, will you sit down? Perhaps a drink of water?’

  He stood, not sure how to proceed. He needed to be alone with Carmen to deliver his message, he wanted no other witnesses as to what passed between them. He didn’t count the child of course, but the woman would have to go and at the moment she seemed to want to play the host. Why not? It was her house.

  ‘No, nothing.’

  The woman came a little closer and her manner changed.

  ‘It has never been blessed, Father. No priest has ever set foot in it. You are the first.’

  It took a moment for Father Enrique to realise that the woman was getting ready to ask for something, that much he could tell by the way she spoke.

  ‘Never been blessed?’

  ‘Never, Father, none of the homes in the village have ever had a priest near them except the home of the head man where you slept when you came. He is fortunate to have had a priest under his roof. It was a great honour. But you didn’t bless his house did you, Father?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘I thought so. He would have told us all if you had. It would be a great thing to have your house blessed, properly blessed. It would bring the people who lived in it closer to God, wouldn’t you say, Father?’

  ‘You want me to bless your house? Is that what you’re asking?’

  The old woman tried to pretend surprise but the obvious satisfaction in her voice gave the lie to her words.

  ‘Father, I would never presume to ask such a thing. I am a poor widow who lives on the charity of others. I am lucky to even have a roof over my head. How could a woman such as I am ask a holy priest to do me such an honour?’

  Father Enrique now understood the woman. He’d met her type many times before and they hadn’t all been poor widows who lived in remote villages. Not a few had been well off, even wealthy, and with husbands very much alive. She wanted her house blessed but she didn’t want to pay. She wanted something for nothing.

  But he wasn’t here to bless houses or perform and other priestly functions. He was here to leave a message and get on his way.

  ‘I am not here to bless houses. I have a message to deliver to your daughter and that is all.’

  She woman shot a look at Carmen. Not a nice look.

  ‘She is my daughter-in-law, Father, no blood of mine. She is the wife of my son.’

  ‘I still have a message for her and for her alone.’

  ‘To give to my son?’ Father Enrique nodded. ‘Then give it to me, Father; I am his mother, he is blood of my blood. If there is a message for him I should be the one to have it.’

  Father Enrique decided to treat her in the same manner as the head man.

  ‘So you know where your son is?’

  ‘No, but he knows where I am.’

  ‘And you can find a way of bringing him to you?’

  ‘A good son will always find a way of visiting his mother.’

  Unlike the head man she seemed not in the least discomforted by his line of questioning but he pressed on.

  ‘To aid the rebels is a serious crime. If you know where your son is or can contact him you must inform the authorities.’

  ‘I know exactly where he is.’

  ‘You do?’

  The woman put her hand on her chest.

  ‘He is here, in my heart as I am in his.’

  Father Enrique gave up. This woman would not be intimidated, but she could be bought.

  ‘I will bless this house, but when it is done I must be left alone with your daughter-in-law to give her the message.’

  ‘But I am his mother.’

  Father Enrique held up his hand.

  ‘Enough. I have spoken. It will be as I have said.’

  The woman was silent for a second then bowed humbly.

  ‘Of course, Father, it must be as you say.’

  Father Enrique raised his hand and made the Sign of the Cross.

  ‘In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.’ Both women intoned the Amen. ‘There, it is done. Now leave us.’

  But the woman, having got what she had wanted and having got it for nothing wasn’t inclined to be ordered from her own home by a priest who could be so easily manipulated.

  ‘I will go into the bedroom, Father, if your message is so secret.’

  ‘No, we must be alone.’

  The woman hesitated. She didn’t want to leave, she wanted to eavesdrop on the message. For anyone to come so far it must be important, and for a priest to be the one it must be very important, valuable. But she wasn’t prepared to go so far as to defy the priest to his face. That would be going too far. If priests could bless things they could also curse them. She stood undecided.

  Carmen’s voice when she spoke was sharp.

  ‘Clear out, you old crow, clear out altogether. You heard what Father said: the message is for me and me alone.’

  The old woman might have to defer to a priest but never to her daughter-in-law and certainly not in her own home.

  ‘And who do you think you are to order me about? You who live under my roof, eat my food and …’

  ‘I’m the one who does the work, remember? The one w
ho keeps everything clean, who fetches and carries, who cooks and does all the things you’re too lazy to do.’

  ‘And why not? Without me there would be no home to keep clean, nothing to fetch and carry, nothing to cook. Without me you would be a homeless beggar.’

  Both women had raised their voices and now the baby joined in by beginning to cry. The women ignored the child but its noise above their voices was too much for Father Enrique. Women quarrelled, he knew, especially mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law, but never before in his presence. Such things were for within the privacy of the family.

  ‘In God’s name, stop.’ It was a command and silenced both of them at once. He looked at the mother. ‘Leave us now.’ She was about to speak but got no chance. ‘Now, I say.’

  The woman looked at him and saw that he had changed. It would be no use trying to manage him now.

  ‘You see how she treats me, Father, her husband’s mother.’

  ‘Get out.’ The woman slowly went to the door, looked back, then left. Father Enrique turned back to Carmen who was gently rocking the baby and quietly cooing to it. He went and stood beside her and in a low voice began. ‘This is the message,’ and, as clearly and briefly as he could he told her what the chief of police wanted. ‘Can it be done? Can the message be sent to your husband?’

  ‘Of course, we are in touch with the General’s army all the time. Without the support of villages like ours they wouldn’t last more than a couple of months.’

  ‘I see. So I can go and tell the chief of police the message will definitely be passed on? He has only been given a week.’

  ‘Tell him that you have left the message, but don’t say that we are in contact with General Sakay’s army or that we support them. If you tell him that, once this business is over he will bring his police and punish us. Just say you left the message with the lieutenant’s wife and she said she would help if she could.’

  ‘No more?’

  ‘Tell him you are hopeful.’

  ‘That I am hopeful?’

  ‘There can be no message taken to him from me or anyone from the village. That is too dangerous. Just say that you are hopeful. It will be enough.’

  ‘Very well.’ Father Enrique paused. He didn’t want to ask the next question but he knew he couldn’t help himself. ‘Will you come back to San Juan?’

  ‘Perhaps. Things are bad for me here. You see how that old crow treats me.’

  ‘But you are the mother of her grandchild. Why do you fight?’

  ‘Because I am her son’s wife, that’s why she hates me.’

  ‘I don’t understand.

  ‘Her husband used to be the head man here and that made her the most important woman in the village, but he died and when the man we have now took over she had to try to find some other way of keeping her place. The new head man had a daughter, his only child, a plain, fat girl. The old crow wanted her son to marry the daughter so that they would have a position of importance again. She even thought that as the head man’s son-in-law he might succeed as head man himself. She had almost reached a private agreement for the marriage when her son told her he had chosen me and when he announced to everyone that we would live together as man and wife the head man took it badly and blamed her for falsely leading him on. I think perhaps money had already changed hands. While my husband was still here nothing could happen but then he and the other young men went into the mountains and I was left alone and had to live with her. All she has is this house and, since her son left, the head man does all he can to make life difficult for us.’

  She gave a small shrug. ‘You can’t really blame her – she has lost almost everything – but it doesn’t make life any easier when your mother-in-law hates you and you have to live under her roof.’

  ‘I see. So does that mean you might come back to San Juan?’

  Carmen gave him a smile and a look.

  ‘Do you want me to come?’

  Father Enrique had never been flirted with before and it confused and unnerved him.

  ‘It would be for you to decide.’

  ‘I couldn’t come without Jacinta.’

  ‘The baby?’

  ‘Yes. That is why I had to leave last time, to come back to her.’

  ‘I’m sure a mother’s place is with her child.’

  ‘It is. But she is old enough to travel now. I could bring her if I knew I had a place to live and someone to take care of us. Do you know of such a person in San Juan, Father?’

  The smile and the look were still there.

  ‘As I said, it is for you to decide.’ He paused unsure whether to stop or go on. Then he looked at the smile. ‘But there is at least one person in San Juan who would not see a young mother and her child left homeless.’

  Carmen turned to her baby.

  ‘You hear, Jacinta, there may be a home for us in San Juan Bautista. Would you like that? Soft beds and plenty to eat?’ She looked back at Father Enrique. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘What about your husband?’

  ‘He has made his choice now I must make mine. He chose to leave me and the child and go off to the mountains. He chose to fight for freedom. I must choose whether to stay here and be faithful to him or to go somewhere where Jacinta might have a future. My choice is to be a good wife or a good mother. I cannot be both. Which should I choose, Father?’

  Of course Father Enrique had no answer and spoke rather lamely.

  ‘As I said, the choice is yours.’

  ‘Yes, and I will make it when I am ready, when I am sure that what I have to go to will be a better life for me and Jacinta.’

  A voice came from the doorway.

  ‘Well? Is all the secret message-giving over? Can I come back into my own home now?’

  And without waiting for an answer Carmen’s mother-in-law entered and began to busy herself. Carmen ignored her.

  ‘I will remember what you have told me, all that you have told me. Now you had better be on your way.’

  There was nothing more to say, so Father Enrique left and walked through the huts back towards his horse.

  He didn’t like the way she had spoken to him when her mother-in-law had come back in. She had not called him Father. It was more like a wife speaking to her husband, sending him off to work. It lacked the proper respect.

  He came to the centre of the village, the open space where he had heard Confessions and said Mass. The same woman who had taken the reins when he had arrived was still standing holding his horse.

  ‘He has been watered, Father, but we have no feed for him.’

  Father Enrique took the reins and, with a helpful push from the woman managed to get himself into the saddle. People were standing at their doorways looking at him and in the doorway of his hut he saw the head man, looking. He didn’t come across and make a suitable farewell. That was also disrespectful, especially after all he had done for them. Father Enrique turned his horse and kicked it into a walk.

  A poor place, he thought, and ungrateful. I’m glad this is the last I’ll see of it. He urged his horse forward into a slow trot. No wonder Carmen wanted to leave.

  Father Enrique’s escort was in the saddle, waiting.

  ‘All went well?’

  ‘I did what I came to do.’

  The escort turned his horse, kicked it on, and they set off to return to San Juan.

  On their arrival Father Enrique was led by his escort to the police station and went straight up to the chief of police’s office where he delivered Carmen’s message.

  ‘She told me to tell you to be hopeful.’

  It wasn’t a complete lie. The words might be slightly different but what they were meant to convey remain the same.

  The chief, however, was not altogether satisfied.

  ‘To be hopeful? That was all?’

  ‘No, nothing more. Just to be hopeful.’

  ‘You got no guarantee that the message would be delivered?’

  It was a direct question and required a direct
answer, so Father Enrique did his best, but he wasn’t comfortable. He was getting more and more involved when all he wanted was to be free of the whole sorry mess.

  ‘I am confident your message will be delivered.’

  ‘Wonderful, Father. I’m glad you’re confident. But I’m not, and I’m the one with the problem, not you.’

  ‘I am sure it will be delivered.’

  ‘And in time? You know the bastards only gave me a week and two days have already gone.’

  ‘It will be delivered. You have my word.’

  The chief of police sat back, took a cigar from a box on his desk, lit it, and smiled. Somehow the chief’s sudden relaxed manner and his smile unsettled Father Enrique. He was sure he had said nothing directly about the village supporting the rebels but even so, had he said too much?

  ‘Now I am also confident. Your word, Father, the word of our priest who, as everyone knows, is almost a saint, is good enough for me.’

  ‘Then can I go?’

  ‘Of course; you have done your duty and I thank you. Go, Father, go back to your people. I will see to everything from now on.’

  ‘So it is finished and done with as far as I am concerned?’

  ‘Unless you have anything more to tell me. Have you anything more, Father?’

  ‘No, nothing. What else could there be?’

  The chief gave him a big smile.

  ‘Nothing. As I said, you have done your duty. Good day, Father.’

  Father Enrique left the chief’s office still uncertain as to whether he had compromised Carmen’s village or not, but as he stepped out into the sunshine and the familiar surroundings of the town he put his concerns away. He was finished with the village, and whatever happened to them was of their own making. He had not asked to be involved in any of their political intrigues and now that he had done what the chief of police had asked him to do he was free of him as well. He could go back to being a simple parish priest. That was enough; he wanted no more. No more at the moment anyway.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Four days after his return Father Enrique had an unexpected visitor; an American was waiting in his house when he returned from morning Mass to have his breakfast. As he came in the American stood up.