Never an Empire Read online

  Ide didn’t like it but he had to admit it was pretty much what had happened. Sakay had sent Gomez packing with no return invitation and none likely to be forthcoming. The whole thing had been hurried and badly botched. But he wasn’t going to admit that to this man.

  ‘And what alternative was there? The Philippine police with army support have done all they could and got nowhere. Should I have thrown the full weight of our military at him and started another Philippine-American war?’

  ‘No. You were right. Gomez was your only choice. He’s still our only choice.’

  ‘Oh? After your analysis I would have thought Sakay would be more likely to listen to me than Gomez.’

  The man gave Ide a look of false surprise.

  ‘Well done, Governor, just what I was going to say. Sakay will listen to you, and he will listen to Gomez this time.’

  Ide managed to contain his anger at the patronising insult. Despite himself he was interested.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I have arranged to put someone close to Sakay, someone he can trust absolutely, someone he’ll listen to. My man will persuade him that even if Gomez is working for the Americans, which this time Gomez will freely admit, the offer he brings from you is genuine. It will take a little time, it can’t be rushed, but I think that before too long talks between Sakay and Gomez may very well resume and with a fair chance of a suitable outcome.’

  ‘And Gomez will offer Sakay what on my behalf?’

  ‘Whatever he wants.’

  ‘What he wants is Washington to guarantee Filipino independence. Should we offer him that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought not.’

  ‘The offer won’t be from Washington. The offer will be you as governor general.’

  Ide sat back. He had heard the words clearly enough but they made no sense and whatever else this man was, he was no fool.

  ‘Explain yourself.’

  ‘The new Philippine Assembly will have to be convened before very much longer. The main stumbling block delaying that event is General Sakay. Gomez will point out that if Sakay gives up the armed struggle and allows the political route to open and function independence must and will inevitably flow from the new Assembly.’ The man’s tone undertook a slight but noticeable change. It became slightly oratorical, as might be heard from any populist politician. ‘Once a people set foot on the road to democracy their journey cannot be stopped, nor can they be turned aside. We, as Americans, who had to fight for our own emancipation from colonial oppression, know that better than anyone. Could anyone really believe that our president, Theodore Roosevelt, would stoop to offer a country only half its independence, the form but not the substance? Once the Philippine Assembly is a reality the next logical and unavoidable step must and will be full independence.’ His tone and manner reverted. ‘Or something along those lines. Gomez will make General Sakay see that he’s not promoting the Philippine independence by his resistance: he’s delaying it.’

  Ide thought about it for a moment, but only a moment.

  ‘Fine. Except that it’s nonsense. The Assembly will have two houses and the Upper House will be run by us. The Filipinos will get the Lower House which will be no more than a talking shop. All the real legislation will be done by the Upper House and remain in our hands.’

  ‘I know that and you know that, Governor, but to the wider world it will look like the real thing, show them that we have no imperial ambitions in any lands that, for whatever reason, come under the Stars and Stripes. No American Empire.’

  ‘Never, never an empire.’

  ‘Of course. The very words I used myself only the other day to a priest in San Juan.’

  Ide, annoyed at having the obvious spelled out for him, allowed himself a rare excursion into strong language.

  ‘And what the hell has a priest in San Juan got to do with anything?’

  ‘Quite a lot as it happens.’

  ‘Is he your man, the man Sakay is going to trust?’

  The man paused for a second as if the question had raised a new idea.

  ‘In San Juan and the surrounding villages they say he’s a saint even though he’s still very much alive.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. These Filipinos have been under Rome’s thumb so long they’d believe anything their Church tells them, but it makes a priest a good choice for you.’

  ‘Yes, a priest would have done, but a priest couldn’t easily be close to the general often enough to work on him so, no, he’s not the man.’

  ‘Then who?’

  ‘A man already in Sakay’s army, a young officer who’s been passed over for promotion once too often and has decided to make a future for himself by helping us.’

  ‘And Sakay will trust him?’

  ‘Oh yes. You see he’s just brought off rather a grand coup. Four of Sakay’s men were in the San Juan gaol waiting to be sent to Manila for trial and execution. I arranged that my man would be able to capture two policemen from San Juan and swap them for the men in gaol. It all went very smoothly and I’m told Sakay was impressed, very impressed indeed.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Of course I needed local help but the chief of police was most co-operative. He even agreed to use his nephew as one of the two men captured. There was never any risk of anything happening to the nephew but it made the whole thing look so much more convincing. Then there was a young woman.’

  ‘A young woman?’

  ‘A very pretty young woman, very attractive.’

  ‘And what sort of help did she give.’

  Ide, a prude by both upbringing and inclination, immediately regretted the question as the man sat back and gave him a knowing leer.

  ‘What sort of help do you think she gave, Governor?’

  ‘I see.’

  And, regrettably, he did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was mid-morning, Father Enrique was on his morning routine of visitations and Maria, as she did almost every day, was in the market doing her day’s shopping. She bought the usual things, met the usual friends, heard the usual gossip. She departed only slightly from her routine by stopping in front of a woman from the countryside who had laid out some pale green fruits which looked like small mangoes. This bitter fruit had different names in different parts of the country. In Tagalog it was the paho, elsewhere it was the poupuan or the pangi. The tree which bore the fruit grew abundantly in the wild and was harvested by country people. In the towns it was less popular but still commanded a small following among those who had been brought up on it as children before they or their families migrated to some larger centre.

  The woman sat while Maria stooped down and examined the fruit. The market had been bustling since early morning but there was still plenty of fruit in front of the woman. She must have walked in from the countryside in the very first light and Maria was impressed that so small a woman could have carried the load which was now neatly laid out on a straw mat in front of her.

  ‘Did you bring all this yourself?’ The woman nodded. ‘Do you not have a man who could carry such a load for you?’

  ‘I have a son but he is too busy.’

  ‘A good son should never be too busy to help his mother.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Perhaps your son will bring in the paho next time you collect it.’

  ‘He might.’

  ‘When will you collect it again?’

  ‘There will be paho in the market here on this day next week.’

  ‘And your son will bring it?’

  ‘I will ask him.’

  ‘Good.’

  Then they haggled about the price until Maria finally bought half a dozen of the fruit, put them in her basket, and went on her way.

  She knew what would be Father Enrique’s response when she put his plate before him.

  ‘What’s this, Maria?’

  ‘Fried fish.’

  ‘Not the fish,’ he picked up his fork and poked at the pahos, ‘these things
. I’ve told you before I don’t like them.’

  ‘They’re good for you.’

  ‘So is fasting and I prefer that to these things.’

  ‘You should eat them; they’re paho, a national food.’

  ‘Perhaps, but not liking them, whatever they’re called, isn’t insulting the national flag.’

  ‘Well they won’t taste any better cold so stop poking at them and eat them.’

  Father Enrique picked up his knife.

  ‘I’ll eat the fish.’

  ‘What was I supposed to do? The woman was small, a thin thing, probably older than me. She must have set out before first light to bring the fruit to the market and it was a load you probably couldn’t lift never mind carry. Should I have passed by on the other side, ignored her, made excuses?’ Father Enrique knew at once he was beaten and would have to eat the bitter, salty things. Her words, of course, were an echo of the parable of the Good Samaritan which had so often been a theme of his when he preached from the pulpit on Sundays. He knew what was coming next. ‘And if you leave them it will be a waste, a sin, good food being thrown away because you are too faddy to eat it. Isn’t that a form of pride, Father, picking and choosing from among the abundance of God’s good creation to suit your own selfish tastes?’

  ‘Oh very well,’ and he took a forkful, ‘but I still don’t like them.’

  Maria smiled, left him and returned to her kitchen.

  Standing by the open back door was Carmen. Maria walked across, took a good hold of Carmen’s upper arm, led her a few paces out into the garden, then let go of her.

  Carmen looked at her sullenly, rubbing the place Maria’s hand had held her.

  ‘So you’ve turned up, have you? I wondered how long it would be.’

  ‘Why not? Father Enrique asked me to come and it’s his house.’

  ‘It is, but I’m his housekeeper.’

  Carmen’s attitude changed. She didn’t want to oppose this woman or be opposed by her.

  ‘Look, he wants me, you know that, why not let him have me? What harm is there?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’

  ‘None. I know what he wants and I know how to give it to him. He’s a priest but he’s also a man like any other, so why not please him? Is it so terrible?’ She waited. ‘You didn’t seem to mind so much last time. You could have stopped it easily if you’d wanted to.’

  ‘Oh I don’t mind him having a roll around in bed now and then but I might mind a great deal having a woman living here cluttering up my arrangements.’

  ‘I won’t get in your way.’

  ‘I know; I won’t let you.’

  A thought occurred to Carmen.

  ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’

  That brought a quiet laugh.

  ‘Of having him poking me? If I’d wanted that sort of thing I could have had it long ago and with better men than him. But you see, I’m not the whore type.’

  Carmen blushed angrily but didn’t reply at once. With an effort she controlled herself. She needed this woman as an ally, not an enemy.

  ‘That is a cruel thing to say.’

  ‘Why, isn’t it true?’

  ‘No. I’m not a whore. I need a home for me and my daughter. I need food, shelter, and a future for us. Father Enrique can give us that and in return I can give him what he wants. That’s fair, isn’t it?’

  ‘Who to? Your husband?’

  The flush returned but again she held her tongue. The words used against her meant nothing; she could more than hold her own if it was just a matter of words, but not being able to respond in kind, having to toady to this woman was a very bitter thing for her to have to swallow.

  ‘My husband left me. He went into the mountains. When he comes back it is like the other men, for sex and a good meal then, when he’s had his fill he’s off to his beloved army again. What sort of marriage is that? What sort of father is he? I need a friend, a protector to watch over me and my child.’ It wasn’t easy but she tried to get as much humility into her appeal as she could. ‘Won’t you allow me my chance? Where else could I go?’

  Maria didn’t answer at once and Carmen waited.

  ‘I’ll think about it. For the moment you can stay but keep out of sight until tonight then come back after he’s gone to bed and tomorrow, early, slip into his bed like you did the first time. Make him remember the first time. If you’re married you know that men soon get used to sex and begin to take it for granted. When he’s got over the first rush of his passion and calms down a bit he’ll start to think and when he does he might decide he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s started thinking like that already.’

  Carmen smiled.

  ‘He’s a man. When they’re in bed it’s not their heads that do the thinking, is it?’

  ‘He’s a man, yes, but he’s also our priest. We had to wait long enough to get any sort of priest and now we’ve got a good one. I don’t want him unsettled and it’s not going to be easy for him to adjust.’

  ‘But you’ll help? You’ll help him to adjust?’

  ‘We’ll see. It depends on how things work out. Now go. I’ll open the back door and show a light in the window when he’s gone to bed.’

  ‘You mean stand about or walk streets? Why can’t I come into the kitchen?’

  ‘Because I say wait, where you go and what you do is your own business so long as he doesn’t know you’re back and if you want my help you’ll do as I say.’

  Carmen didn’t like it but she knew she’d have to accept it.

  ‘Very well.’

  She turned and walked away. Maria watched her go. She found herself feeling unsettled, uncomfortable. It wasn’t right. Odd things had been happening and all happening too quickly. First Carmen wheedling herself into the house, then the trouble at the village with the police, then the American turning up. Now Carmen was back and looking for her help to get back into the house. It was obvious to Maria that she hadn’t liked asking for her help, hadn’t liked it at all, but she had forced herself to do it. What was it she wanted? Not just a roof over her and her child’s head, that was for sure. She seemed more than ready to leave her child at her village when she first came to San Juan. No, something was wrong. She couldn’t be sure what it was but she felt it was all somehow connected and if that was the case then it might very well be something to do with the general. What else was there in this part of the world to make the American interested in their town? And why did Father Enrique interest him? Which brought her back to the thing with the police, which brought her back to the village, which brought her back to Carmen. But there, full circle, it stopped. She could get no further. She was glad she had arranged a meeting for next week. She would make a full report and when the general heard it he would know what to do.

  A voice came from the house behind her.

  ‘Maria, what are you doing idling out here? I’ve finished my lunch. Where’s my coffee?’ Father Enrique stepped out into the garden. ‘Has there been somebody? Were you out here gossiping?’

  Maria gently shepherded Father Enrique back into the kitchen.

  ‘No, I had the beginnings of a headache and I came outside to see if it would help.’

  ‘A headache?’

  She kept him moving until he was back in the dining room.

  ‘Yes, not too bad but I’ve been getting them lately.’

  Father Enrique’s voice was full of concern.

  ‘Really? You should have told me. I would have gone to the doctor and got you something.’

  She sat him down and picked up the empty plate.

  ‘I see you finished them all.’

  ‘Yes, but I still don’t like them.’

  ‘I’ll get you a coffee and I’ll pour you a small brandy to take away the taste. How’s that?’

  She was like a mother fussing over her son. Father Enrique rather enjoyed it. His mother had often fussed over him in much the same way. It brought back fond memories.

  ‘That will be nice.’

&n
bsp; Maria turned, went back into the kitchen, and poured a coffee, then went to a cupboard and took out a bottle and a small brandy. She took both drinks in and put them on the table.

  ‘Relax a while, Father; you work hard, you need to rest and relax occasionally.’

  ‘Thank you, Maria, I think I will.’

  Maria went back into the kitchen, then to the back door and looked out into the empty garden. He was a good priest. If he wanted a pretty woman in his bed, well, why not? But she didn’t want him unsettled. Her mind moved on to other things. Next week she’d send her report to the general and whatever it was, whatever the American was up to, the General would know how to take care of it.

  Chapter Twenty

  On the same day the following week and at her usual time Maria was in the market. She stopped in front of the paho seller who was sitting in the same place, her wares displayed in front of her on the straw mat.

  ‘Well, mother, did you carry it all yourself or did your son help this time?’

  ‘My son is a good boy.’

  ‘He helped?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And where is he now?’

  ‘In church praying for me. He is a good son, very devout; he’ll stay in church for an hour, no more, then he must leave. He has other work to see to besides helping his mother.’

  ‘You are lucky to have such a son.’

  Maria turned to go but the woman called to her and she stopped.