THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

José Macias returned, that afternoon, from a punitive expedition to the wilderness between Tituc and Sacalaca, where roving bands of displaced Cruzob were making the lake of Chichancanab unsafe for travelers and convalescents. It had been, in many ways, a long, unsatisfying journey. No sooner was a village pacified than reports of insurrection in another part of the territory arrived. But when the Mexicans appeared, they found the sublevados long gone, and orders waiting to proceed to somewhere else where the mummery was repeated. So, if a prisoner was taken, or corn or chicle seized, or if an indian villager was shot without confirmation that he was of the rebels, these actions, howsoever reprehensible, were at least understandable in the light of the peril... worse, the frustration... that dogged the Captain's troops. Anyone... the humble old man who brought water for their horses, the boy who tried to sell them oranges or a dead monkey, all could be the enemy, showing to the company only their mask of acquiescence, while misleading them or searching out a place of weakness.

José was especially fond of Chichancanab and, in the time of his recuperation, had occupied himself by learning of the villages there and of their chiefs. And this had caused a plan to come to him to, one day, turn the indios mancos against the Cruzob. Although he had resolved never to exhibit or to flaunt his wealth, he deemed it justifiable to make the occasional small request to don Antonio for funds to be spent on gold chains, silk and metal tools, which he disbursed as rewards for those of the Maya who would inform on their neighbors suspected of being soldiers of the Talking Cross.

"It's a fool's errand," Major Andujar said dismissively, "these people are all sublevados, whether or not they do something you can catch them at. All that will occur is that they will inform upon those with whom they have disputed another matters. These people are vengeful and suspicious. They are not honest Mexicans, like ourselves. You will gain nothing save the reputation of a grand Mexican buffoon."

"Still, I can afford it," José said and the Major walked away in disgust, but without issuing an order prohibiting such contacts. Actually, the fact that Andujar was right only made the plan more attractive. José had calculated that, if the indians believed rewards could be obtained for identifying a neighbor or an enemy as of the sublevados, they would also know and fear that somebody might do the same to them. And in this way, village would be set off against village, family against family, brother against brother.

Every schoolboy of the Yucatecan gente decente had been taught how the chief of Mani, Tutul Xiu, had allied his soldiers with Montejo to defeat a rival, giving the Spanish conqueror the means by which to subdue all of Yucatan nearly four hundred years ago. What had been could, again, come to pass!

But after seeding the villages around Chichancanab with his poisoned fruit, José was obligated to return to Santa Cruz with Andujar's party, bearing the loot and the captives they had taken. He understood clearly the insatiable hunger Bravo had for victories, even those achieved against the hapless farmers and chicle gatherers, for the Porfirian pacification was costly and demanded evidence.

The capital to which he returned now seethed with spicy rumors. The General had been observed purchasing scents and sweetmeats from a traveling vendor who serviced the military encampments up and down the road from Peto. One Captain Bernal, who occupied himself by training parrots to speak, swore that the General had acquired a Parisian concubine. Another denounced him as a liar; the truth was that Bravo had rescued one of the arriving prisoners, the niece of a liberal senator, from certain disgrace.

"I will tell you this," said Andujar, who had returned from Bravo's office after giving his report, "the General's in love and there is not a man who knows with whom, except the doctor. I saw them leave the offices this morning, chattering like monkeys. But you won't get a word from Rosario, he is where he is for love gone wrong, and knows better than to dig himself a deeper grave for another's problem."

Of course the mystery of the situation only strengthened José's determination to solve it. Accordingly, he made his way to the hospital as soon as possible on the following morning, constructing, in advance, a whole metropolis of arguments and grimaces, besides, to bolster his deception.

"To what do I attribute the pleasure of your company, Captain?" Rosario hailed him as he entered. They went into his private office, the morbid table between them, the bottle locked in the doctor's cabinet.

"Garrapatas," José answered, and with a mournful expression, he placed both hands over his genitals.

"Ah, that's nothing. All you do is place a lighted cigar to the pests and out they come."

"I had anticipated, perhaps, that I would have sons one day to take my name," José demurred. "The cure that you propose might cause some difficulty with that."

"Hmmmm, you may have a point there." Dr. Rosario motioned for the Captain to wait while he open his cabinet and selected a dark brown paste with a strong odor of carbolic. "Try this," he suggested. "It's nasty stuff but the effects are temporary and out here... who's to know? Better than a cigar."

"Thank you," José said. "After all, I hope to keep my little man in good standing as long as our General, who does seem to have made his own discovery about how long a man can keep the home fires burning."

"Bravo?" the doctor wondered. "It's the first I heard of that. Perhaps he is expecting visitors from Guadalajara, that's where he came from. Or one of his sons... I know only Tomas, the idiot," Rosario shrugged.

"Well I have heard that he has company, and it has nothing to do with his family."

"That old General?" Dr. Rosario smiled. "I see him often and, believe me, his favorites are Colonels Huerta and Blanquet, hardly a couple of beauties, eh? Perhaps a generation ago. Nobody else is there except some new indian to do the cleaning; did you know that that old woman he brought with him from Guerrero dropped dead?" He snapped his fingers.

"Well, you know rumors are," José shrugged, thanking him again for the vile concoction.

"If it doesn't work," the doctor counseled, "don't give up on the cigar. Your little man is young and stronger, perhaps, than you might imagine. I could tell you of a night in Coyoacan, but... well, it might be indecent. Although perhaps the garrapatas would come out and stand to listen. But then again they may be decent fellows, Christians... ours is a Christian territory, you know, it's in the proclamation... they might be offended and bury themselves even deeper..."

José nodded by way departure, leaving Dr. Rosario to his etymological speculations, having learned absolutely nothing concerning the adventures of his military governor.

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