THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

BOOK FOUR: THE BOOK of SCIENCE

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

Don Antonio awakened in the middle of the night and pulled a pair of slippers over his feet, opened the door and plodded out to the balcony overlooking the reception room. There was just barely enough moonlight cast through windows for him to detect the dark forms of indians asleep on their mats below him; their presence did not disturb him much, for he knew that he still slept and was merely revisiting the dreams of his troubled youth. Nearly sixty years ago, a nurse of the household had taken the frightened boy into the monte to hide in a tree while the sublevados massacred his family and set the estanción afire before the arrival of a small military party. He had followed the nurse into the ruins to search for food - the house was strewn with the corpses of those who served there and in the fields, and a few of those stricken by a fortunate blow of a shovel or andiron. Upstairs, his family lay in their blackened, charred repose, a sight that had never left him. From that time, he had accepted the protection of don del Muerte - as a man he never failed to amuse his colleagues by declaring "I shall outlive you all"; he'd even refused to punish his sons for their boyish escapades of carnage and torture committed upon rats, rabbits, unwanted dogs and other small beasts. Rigoberto had grown out of such adventures, José had not, but his father still believed that good might come of it, that José was preparing himself for a doctor's career. And even when this hope was no longer reasonable the Patrón, who walked, in dreams, with don del Muerte, continued to protect his willful, wayward son from the consequences of his deeds.

"Sleep, memory," don Antonio now whispered over the balcony and returned to bed. He would not wake until the sun was high and the ball players gone to their theatrical appointment.

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