THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

BOOK FOUR: THE BOOK of SCIENCE

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

The hand of Porfirio Diaz was cold and firm beneath a gauntlet of congeniality, like a velvet cloth filled with ice. José could not help but feel the presence of unearthly forces, cold and damp as the President himself; masterful currents that directed the affairs of men. Diaz withdrew his hand and gestured now to the foremost of the onlookers.

"Young Mendez, whom you undoubtedly have met, and Mr. Osborne, an American journalist. And my beloved wife." José kissed the ring of Doña Carmen.

"You, Captain, were present at the great work of our General in the creation and pacification of Quintana Roo," the President declared. His was no question but a statement.

"I was."

"Then you have participated in an enterprise for which you have no need ever to humble yourself before another, least of all myself. Straighten yourself, Captain, stand tall. Into that benighted jungle you have carried the lamp of civilization."

"Thank you, my President."

"Now tell me of yourself, and your experiences. Generals I have at my command, and though I value Don Ignacio almost above all, his counsel to me is that of a General. I wish to hear the words of soldiers. They say that the British..."

Bravo had opened his mouth to comment, but a brief, sharp look from Diaz stilled him utterly. Porfirio Diaz would not be diverted from his objective. He coughed slightly and resumed.

"It has been more than a dozen years since our treaty of Mariscal-St. John established the boundary. If Belize is supplying arms to the rebels, perhaps they have designs on the establishment of an official recognition of this indian insurgence. Is this possible, Captain?"

"Anything is possible in the territory." José felt the acute presence of General Bravo's eyes and those of the President, boring in upon him from either side.

"Since it has been almost two years since I have walked the territory, I cannot account for many changes that have taken place,” he added. We know Quintana Roo, now, to be one, united possession of the Republic, under one authority, but directly accountable to the Federal Government. There is no further question of division of command, and the possibility that a foreign colonial power might see opportunity in driving a wedge between conflicting commands has been forestalled. This clearly reflects the wisdom of your decision to terminate the southern command."

"Perhaps. Perhaps. And yet," the President suggested with the first trace of a smile, "José Maria Vega has performed excellently as Governor of Chihuahua."

"Which state," José responded, "is not in revolt against Mexico, nor is it likely to be consumed by civil conflict in the foreseeable future. May it remain so."

The President nodded, turning to Bravo. "The ability to maintain loyal officers, even among those no longer in service, is no small virtue. But, as for this British issue..." and he paused, turning back towards José.

"We are not, nor can we be, so ignorant of world events in Mexico as others would believe us to be," the President said. "I, for one, have endeavored to trace the skein of history before it unfolds. And, gentlemen, the undeniable fact is that the European states are beginning to maneuver against one another, a development which, in the past, has almost invariably resulted in war. Take note especially of Britain and the German and Austrian states; it may not come tomorrow, nor even for some years but, within a decade, I should think, there will be war. And, when that time occurs I... or more probably my successor, shall be faced with a decision. Do we make cause with England, which by affinity of language has the power to bring the United States and its ambitious leader in on its side? Or do maintain an amiable relation with Germany, which has been most helpful to date. Do we remain neutral, observing the conflict, seeking signs of direction we may take, or...."

"Excuse me," José interrupted, elbowing his way back, away from those who had gathered around the President as moons, planet and rocks will circle a brilliant star. It was not an inclination to make public his sentiments, nor even to repeat, for example, certain opinions as he had learned from Herr Katzenlöden in St. Louis, or others of his Geselleschaft who occasionally wrote him from Berlin... it was the movement of the Senator from Campeche that had caught his eye; a knot of young women having briefly parted to reveal a flower... Elena.

"What a rude man," somebody muttered.

The President removed his handkerchief and coughed. The handkerchief would hide his smile, for Porfirio Diaz was known as a formal man and such a lapse of gravity would not seem proper. He had observed a sudden distracted expression smite the young officer's face and, out of the corner of one ever watchful eye, discerned the Señorita Villareal. Very little of substance escaped Porfirio Diaz.

The Senator had exchanged a few words with his daughter before moved on and Elena's head was still turned towards him. She consequently turned upon hearing her name but, seeing José, she stepped away as if to repel an ambush. Loathing was plainly written on her face.

"You!" she cried. "I was told the jungle had swallowed you whole, or have I been mistaken? Has it spat you up before me? Go!" she added, motioning to the young ladies of Campeche and Yucatan who took a quick and shamefaced leave, but regrouped at several meters' distance where they could observe the confrontation. Elena stepped back again, but struck the wall and had no further avenue of retreat. José moved closer.

"You never answered any of my letters."

"What letters?" Elena began to sink against the wall, crouching like a cornered animal, baring her teeth to strike... or scream.

"Why... those I've written to you every month for nearly two years and more, besides." Anger replaced José's sense of loss and he felt his shoulder twitching. "I never..." she said, then seemed to take encouragement from something and straightened herself to face José. "You lied to me," she accused him. "I thought you loved me, but I was only intended to be another fruit of your ridiculous campaña. Everything has been made clear to me; let us remain civil for the sake of our families, but after... Bert!" she cried out, as if seeking protection, "Berto!"

And who, José observed with horror, should approach but his own brother and, from the solicitude upon Rigoberto's face, the origins of treachery became clear.

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