Never an Empire Read online

  The chief answered.

  ‘Bring him in.’ He didn’t need to be told who the American was. ‘Leave us, dear, this is business, private business.’

  His wife rose and was by the door and the visitor came in. He stepped to one side, smiled, and gave a small bow.

  ‘Sorry to intrude at such a late hour but I’m afraid it’s business and won’t wait.’

  ‘Not at all. You are most welcome.’

  At that moment she could have been her mother and her look would have frozen most people. The American, however, maintained his smile as she left then sat down at the table, and filled a glass from the chief’s wine bottle.

  ‘Thanks.’

  The chief ignored this gross departure from good manners and waited. He didn’t want to hear the reason for this visit: it could only be bad news, but neither did he want this man in his house any longer than could be helped and the sooner he knew what it was about the sooner the man would leave. A moment passed and the American sat staring down at the empty glass in front of him, saying nothing. The chief became unsettled. This was odd behaviour even for an American. ‘What it is that you want?’

  The American lifted his head. There was an odd vagueness about him.

  ‘To chew the fat.’ The chief looked at him puzzled and the American grinned. ‘An American expression.’ He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. ‘To indulge in friendly conversation.’

  He stayed in that position for a moment then sat back, silent once again.

  ‘I see. To talk about what exactly?’

  The American reached forward, took the wine bottle, and re-filled the glass.

  ‘I talked to the priest today. Told him his little whore was a spy for General Sakay, that the general was up to something here and she was his agent.’

  The words weren’t in the least slurred and the hand holding the glass was steady. The chief was impressed. He had already come to the conclusion that his visitor was drunk, very drunk, yet he could walk, talk, and to all intents and purposes function. However, it didn’t help the delicate balance of the situation that his visitor could hold his liquor so well. At any moment, especially if he drank much more wine, something truly unpleasant might happen. Even more than before he wanted the man out of his house.

  ‘You told him you knew he was sleeping with her? You called her his whore?’

  ‘Hell, no. I told him the opposite. That no one would dream of thinking such a thing. He’s not bright so he believed me.’

  ‘And why did you say she was a spy for the general?’

  ‘So we would have a reason to watch the house, to get reports on who does what and when.’

  ‘Why do we want to watch the house? All that business is over isn’t it?’

  ‘The swap? Building up the lieutenant? Yes that’s done. But we do have an agent for Sakay here in the town.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The priest’s housekeeper.’

  ‘Maria?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Carmen told me.’

  ‘How did she know?’

  The American frowned and his voice became truculent.

  ‘Look, I’m the one in charge so I ask the questions and I give the orders, understand?’

  The chief immediately became pacific.

  ‘Of course, of course, you’re the one in charge. No one questions that.’

  ‘Good, and they better not.’ He took a sip. ‘She told me something.’

  ‘The housekeeper?’

  ‘No, not the housekeeper, Carmen. A meeting in the church, a young man, throwing fresh fruit away, her basket almost empty. It wasn’t much but it was enough. I couldn’t take the chance.’

  The American stopped, looked down at his glass and remained silent for a moment. When he finally spoke he was still looking at the glass and it seemed to the chief that his remarks seemed more addressed to himself than anyone else so he kept silent. ‘Too much at stake to miss anything. No real proof but who the hell can afford proof? Do what has to be done to get the desired outcome. Desired outcome is all that matters. Always the desired outcome.’ He suddenly looked at the chief. ‘You understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Too much at stake.’

  His answer brought a derisive laugh. The chief didn’t like the laugh or the look that accompanied it. Maybe the man wasn’t holding his liquor so well after all. Drunks at some point usually became maudlin then aggressive. Maybe that latter stage had arrived.

  ‘And you would know, would you?’

  The chief proceeded cautiously.

  ‘When you tell me I will.’

  That seemed to satisfy the American. He finished his wine, pushed the glass away, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his mouth.

  ‘Sakay is going to surrender and bring his men in. We know that because we’ve put our man alongside him, a man he trusts and will listen to. When we’re ready Dominador Gomez will go back to him and promise him whatever he asks. When he comes in and his men have laid down their weapons we’re free to do what we like with them. Nobody will care because everybody will be busy with the new Assembly and as far as the rest of the world is concerned we will have begun the process of handing out independence to the Philippines. Sakay is nothing more than a sideshow. Not part of the desired outcome. He needs to go so we’ll get rid of him.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But we can’t hurry him.’

  ‘No, I can see that.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Well, we can’t leave it too long either.’

  ‘No, not too long either.’

  ‘It’s all a matter of nice judgement. What we don’t want is Sakay smelling a rat here in San Juan. Maria tried to get a message to him and it had to be stopped so I did what I did.’

  ‘What was the message?’

  ‘I don’t know; there wasn’t time to find out.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have questioned the woman and the man?’

  ‘No. Robbed and murdered. People would accept. They wouldn’t like it but they’d settle for it. If we’d taken them into custody people would have asked questions. The housekeeper would have asked herself why we had picked them up so soon after she had passed on her message. She wouldn’t have to be too smart to work out someone tipped us off and that someone had to be Carmen. I don’t know how much she knows about Carmen working for us but if we’d arrested them or even held them any doubts she had would have gone out the window, she’d know for sure. And let’s say we questioned them and found out what the message was, what could we do with them? Let them go? Keep them in prison? Hang them? Whatever we did would show our hand. No, it had to be bandits.’

  The American seemed to have settled down again but the chief remained cautious and silently prayed he wouldn’t ask for another drink.

  ‘I think you acted wisely.’

  ‘I did what I had to do. That’s my job, to do what has to be done. Now we have to make sure the housekeeper doesn’t try again. I want you to pick up someone for the killings; we’ll give them a trial and hang them. That will finish it for most people but I doubt Maria will believe it. Still, even if she doesn’t there’s not much she can do. I can get a report on everything that goes on in the house from the priest and I want you to make sure the woman is watched closely wherever she goes. We sit on her good and tight until this thing with Sakay and Gomez is finished, understood?’

  ‘Yes. But why not just arrest her?’

  The chief was relieved to see the American reach for his hat.

  ‘Because, my friend, Sakay would be told and he’d ask himself why we’d arrested her and the whole damn thing would start to come apart. God knows it’s not much better that a house of cards as it stands but so far it’s working and I have to see that it stays that way.’ He stood up. There was no great sign of unsteadiness. ‘Don’t think, don’t ask questions, just do as you’re told.’ He put his hat on. ‘Oh, and make sure that nephew of yours keeps his trap shut. I meant what I
said: I do what has to be done. If I find he’s been shooting his mouth off, well, you’ve seen my methods.’

  The chief stood up. He’d seen them.

  ‘I’ll see to it myself.’

  ‘Good.’ The American looked vaguely round the room. ‘I won’t have another drink. Say thanks and goodbye to your wife for me, will you?’

  The chief went to the door and opened it. The American looked at him blankly for a second as if unsure what to do. The chief tried to ease things along.

  ‘I will, I will say goodbye to her for you.’

  The American revived.

  ‘Good.’ He walked past the chief into the hallway. ‘I’ll let myself out.’

  The chief stood and watched as his visitor opened the front door and went out into the night, then he walked to the door and closed it quietly. When he turned round his wife was in the hallway looking at him.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘No, everything is not all right, but there’s nothing I can do about it, not a damn thing.’

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Evening. Dinner was finished and the house quiet, the time Father Enrique tried to keep for himself which was why Maria was surprised when he came into the kitchen.

  ‘You are alone, Maria?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where’s Carmen?’

  Maria was annoyed. So far things had managed to keep more or less to a pattern. During the day he was a priest, polite, correct. At night Carmen went to him, and he could be a man and have his woman. Maria wanted it to stay that way so long as the whore was in the house. She didn’t want him coming looking for her. Soon enough she could be in his bed. When she answered she made no effort to disguise her feelings.

  ‘Out. Gone for a walk in that new dress of hers.’

  ‘I see. May I sit down?’

  Maria’s tone changed at once. Something was the matter and her voice filled with concern.

  ‘Of course, Father.’ He sat down and Maria waited, but he just sat and said nothing. ‘Do you want anything?’

  He seemed to come out of a daydream.

  ‘Want? No, nothing.’

  ‘I see.’ She waited. Her concern began to build. She’d known him long enough to understand his moods but this was something she had never seen before and that worried her. These were uncertain times. Things she didn’t understand had happened so she had tried to contact the general, then there had been the murders. With the death of her contacts she knew that the situation had become dangerous for her. That she could deal with. She served the cause and if danger came, well, in war there were casualties. If she had to be one so be it. But for Father Enrique things had become difficult as well and it was beginning to tell. ‘Perhaps a brandy, Father?’

  He ignored the question and looked up at her with eyes that had the beginnings of tears in them. He was indeed troubled and her heart went out to him.

  ‘Tell me, Maria, tell me honestly, am I a good priest?’

  Maria almost let a sigh of relief escape her. It was nothing, nothing that mattered that is, only his conscience. He was like a little boy, an innocent little boy who took it all too seriously as children will. All he needed was a little guidance, a little assurance, a little affection: mothering.

  ‘Yes, you are a good priest.’

  And at once she could see from the look on his face it was not the answer he wanted. He was a holy little boy who had been proud of his lovely, clean, white soul, but he had been playing in the mud with a dirty little girl and his soul had become stained. He was ashamed and wanted to be punished, punished then forgiven. Now she knew what he wanted. He wanted her to wash his dirty soul clean again for him. To make it once more white and shining as it had been. He was too ashamed to take it to another priest to be cleaned. He wanted the nasty stain taken away, but he wanted it done in private. It was as she had said to Carmen: he had been thinking and found that he was tired of her, wanted her gone. He wanted things to be as they were. Thank God for that.

  ‘Let me ask you a question, Father.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Am I a good housekeeper?’

  ‘Yes, very good.’

  ‘Why?’

  The question puzzled him.

  ‘What do you mean, why?’

  ‘What is it that makes me a good housekeeper?’

  ‘The way you keep house. The way you look after it, keep it clean. The cooking, the washing,’ but there his knowledge of domestic routines gave out and he paused for a moment, ‘the way you look after me, your kindness.’

  ‘I see. Now tell me, Father, would you say that I was a good woman?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A good woman. You’re a priest, you’ve studied these things in the seminary, you’ve read the books and listened to the teachers. You’re educated. Am I a good woman?’

  ‘Of course you are, a very good woman.’

  ‘And if I told you that I lied?’

  Her question didn’t even get a pause. He’d heard it too often in Confessions to do other than trot out the usual sort of answer.

  ‘Well, everybody has small failings. Telling lies is a sin of course, but not necessarily serious. It depends on …’

  But she wasn’t making a Confession so she cut him short.

  ‘But my lie is a big lie, one that I live with every day, one that I care for, look after, cherish.’

  That got a pause.

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘Do you, Father, do you see?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What if I told you that every Tuesday when I say I’m going shopping in the market I am lying to you. That on Tuesdays I meet somebody, a man, we go to a room and have sex. Sometimes we lie together, he does things with his tongue and I do things with my mouth, terrible things, immoral things. We behave like animals and we enjoy it. And we’re careful that there will be no chance of children, all we want is to enjoy ourselves, to roll in the mud for a little while. What then, Father, would I still be a good woman?’

  ‘Why are you telling me this? Do you want me to hear your Confession?’

  Maria laughed.

  ‘No, to confess I would have to be sorry and I’m not sorry. Next Tuesday I will be there and will take off my clothes and we will …’

  Now it was his turn to cut her short.

  ‘Stop it.’ Maria stopped. ‘Is this true?’

  Maria waited a moment.

  ‘No, it’s just a story. But if it was true and each Tuesday I did what I said, would I still be a good housekeeper?’

  Father Enrique began to understand.

  ‘Yes, you could still be a good housekeeper.’

  ‘But not a good woman.’

  Father Enrique gave a small shrug.

  ‘Sin is rarely simple. Those who think it is usually haven’t thought about it much, if at all.’

  ‘Very well, then answer me this, would you rather have a good housekeeper looking after you or a good woman?’

  ‘Why not both?’

  ‘True, but if it could not be both? If it had to be either a good woman who couldn’t cook or clean or wash or get everything done that needs to be done and got cheated in the market and wasted the money you gave her. Or a woman who knows how to look after things, how to get things done and do them well, but who also liked things that the Church says are sinful. A woman who was a good housekeeper and could keep her sins to herself. What then? Which would you choose?’

  ‘Are you saying you think I should be the sort of priest who gets things done and keeps his sins to himself?’

  ‘No, I think you’re a good priest but still a young man, and the young must learn and to learn means sometimes making mistakes. Carmen came into your bed and reminded you that you’re a man, she let you see what you had given up to be a priest. Well, it would probably have happened one day with some woman and that’s not a bad thing. If you never had a woman you would never know what it is to be fully a man. Now you do know, you’
ve learned. Whether it was a mistake, something wrong, sinful, I leave between you and God. That’s who we’re all supposed to answer to after all. But if you think it was a mistake and a sin then you must learn from it and use it to become a better man and a better priest.’

  ‘But to turn my back on God, to put a woman’s body before the sufferings of Jesus.’

  Maria sat back and relaxed. It was over. He had been forgiven and told what his penance was to be, to use his mistake in the service of God and the Church he still loved, to humbly accept his weakness and use it to give him the strength to become a better priest. He was a holy little boy who had fallen down and hurt his little white soul and he had brought it to her to kiss it and make it better. That part was done. Now all he needed was a hug and to be put back on his feet again.

  ‘Oh, are you so much more important than St Peter, the greatest of the Apostles?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Didn’t he turn his back on Christ? Three times, wasn’t it? But he accepted forgiveness and used his weakness to give himself strength so he could do what needed to be done. Or are you a Judas? He betrayed Christ but wouldn’t accept forgiveness so he hanged himself. Shall I go out tomorrow and buy some stout rope, Father? Is that what you would like me to do?’

  She was smiling as she said it and her voice was soft and caring. In reply Father Enrique also smiled.

  ‘No, Maria, no rope.’

  He stood up.

  ‘It really wasn’t true was it, about Tuesdays?’

  ‘Does it matter what I do on Tuesdays so long as I’m a good housekeeper?’

  ‘No I suppose not. Good night, Maria, and thank you. You would have made a good priest.’

  ‘Perhaps, but not as good as you, I think.’

  Father Enrique left the kitchen and closed the door quietly behind him.

  Maria sat for a moment, then got up, went to the cupboard, poured herself a brandy, and sat down with her thoughts.

  He has grown up a little, or maybe he’s grown up a lot. Either way it looks like I can kick that slut Carmen out now, send her packing to her village and tell her she can stay there and rot as she deserves and next time he needs a woman, if there has to be a next time, I’ll take a bit more trouble to see that he gets the right sort: one who understands men, who knows how to behave like a good woman and a good Catholic.