THE INSURGENCE of
CHAN SANTA CRUZ
BOOK NINE:
BOOK of the JAGUAR PRIEST
CHAPTER ONE
"And
like young lions we ran after Death, its dark pelt blotched with pale crosses
as it escaped down the vast violet living and throbbing sky." |
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Filippo Tommaso Marinetti |
Vain
as an archbishop in the full regalia of his office, the zopilote
strutted to and fro upon a table in the General's quarters in Santa Cruz del Bravo. The mirror that Bravo had erected and
subsequently cast down had been replaced and repositioned by Manuel Rivera for
his use and that of the territorial commanders succeeding him... the dashing
but tragic Garcilazo, who had passed many hours
admiring his features ruined, now, by infection, bullets and the grave... aged
Carlos Plank, who had measured the lines of time growing longer and deeper. But
these and the rest were gone, now, and the only remaining inhabitant of Santa
Cruz was this ungainly buzzard, plump with carrion and still holding a scrap of
bloody meat in its beak, drunk with infatuation for its replica reflected in
Bravo's mirror. "What a beautiful bird that is," the buzzard thought,
for such have little understanding of the concept of a mirror; it approached to
fight or mate depending on the circumstance but, from somewhere outside, came
an interruptive clatter of wood and metal. The zopilote
hopped a few inches but settled down... nothing living ever came to Santa Cruz,
nothing dangerous, at any rate. True, there were a few pigs and some dogs and
chickens that remained behind... seeking the memory of a meal, perhaps...
although such meals were now only to be made upon one another. Far more
wonderful was the city for a zopilote... a playground
of mirrors, shiny buttons, interesting mounds of twisted metal for endless
amusement and, for a creature who ate dead flesh
without consideration as to what its cause of death had been, an endless, varied
banquet.
Fortunate
bird in Paradise! How had this come about?
Many
events and many persons had passed in the months since the arrival of Rivera...
whole empires in distant Merida and Mexico City had risen and fallen, mighty
armies clashed... and battled, still. Enemies became allies, old friendships
dissolved into mortal opposition and finally, swooping down on black wings to
gather the weary warriors came Santa Viruela and Lord
Blood Vomit. The whites had fled back to the battlefields of central and
northern Mexico, the mazehualob to their villages in
the monte, but both groups carried away plague as
their souvenir of the territory. In Quintana Roo
whole villages lay desolate; the dead and dying abandoned in hammocks to face
don del Muerte or the zopilote's beak, whichever found them first. Two
generations of the Cruzob fighters and priests were
swept away; children beneath the age of seven... for whom the freedom of the
Maya had been so fiercely pursued... and those old men and women who remembered
Felipe Yama and other heroes of resistance to the Mexicans. The old chiefs who
died in the company of their fellows were at least buried decently, but
authority over the mazehualob and, ultimately,
possession of the Talking Cross was delivered into the hands of younger,
stronger men who clung to life with desperate fingers, surviving with
pockmarked faces and fevered brains... contending for position with that
special fury which is found among those stranded between worlds.
So, to
the tribulations of nature and smallpox were added the depredations of civil
war, in the territory as in Mexico. The rifle spoke its orders... the trembling
finger of a fevered brain pointed out the target.
The katunes of the ahauob had
rotated to the days of treachery, echoing the fifteenth century fratricide of Cocomes and Xiu, the contentions
of the eighth century between Bacalar and the Peten.
Wheels
of grinding, crunching stone...
Pascual Orozco's candle was pinched out on the next to last
day of August, 1915. A historian of Ciudad Juarez, Benjamin Herrera, recalls
that, when his body was brought back to El Paso, the casket carried a sign that
said "Mexican cattle thief".
The
previous afternoon, a cowhand on the Dick Love Ranch in the mountains south of
Van Horn reported that some Mexicans had paid him thirty cents for shoeing
their horses and a meal, which was interrupted when Love and two others, including
a Deputy Sheriff, approached in a car. The Mexicans took off and the
Americans... angered by reports of cattle rustling in the Big Bend country...
raised a posse of sixteen, including U.S. Customs inspector Herff
Carnes and Culbertson County Sheriff John Morine.
According to Carnes' official report, the posse trapped five suspected rustlers
in a canyon and, after a short battle, killed them all, with no casualties to
themselves. Carnes justified the shootings because, he said, the Mexicans had
butchered a calf on the Love Ranch and their horses were stolen. The dead...
including Orozco and Huerta's personal secretary, General Delgado... were
returned by train to El Paso, where Mayor Lea called out his entire police
force to prevent demonstrations.
His
sister, Serafina Orozco Blanco, disputed the story of
the ranchers and Texas Rangers and her son, Servando Blanco... who would become
El Paso's deputy chief of police many, many years after... recalled:
"Here's a group of guerrilla fighters, expert shots - they'd made it
through the revolution. The others didn't get a scratch, yet they wind up
dead."
An
illustrated "Historia Grafica
de la Revolucion Mexicana" shows three Anglos on
horseback, each holding a rope tied to a corpse on the ground. One is alleged
to be Orozco, but the bodies are so mutilated that it is impossible to verify
the claim. Servando Blanco said his mother "...saw bruises on his face and
body and one indentation in the forehead, apparently like a blow with a rifle
butt. She saw indentations of handcuffs on wrists."
Benjamin
Herrera alleged Orozco had gone to the town of Marfa with fifty thousand
American dollars to purchase guns and ammunition; the gun-runners decided to
kill Orozco and keep the money.
Rumours that he had been accompanied by a man in a brown
hat during skirmishes on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande never were
confirmed.
Woodrow
Wilson finally recognized Carranza on the nineteenth of October... three days later, Germany set nurse Edith Cavell before a firing squad
for having aided the escape of wounded Allied soldiers at her hospital in
Belgium, denouncing "weaklings" who protested the legality of the
execution. American isolationists lost ground as, for an example, the New York
Times reprinted a composition of Leipzig, "Chant of the German
Sword", part of which was translated as follows:
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"It is no duty of mine to be either just or
compassionate; it suffices that I am sanctified by my exalted mission, and that
I blind the eyes of my enemies with such streams of tears as shall make the
proudest of them cringe in terror under the vault of heaven. "I have slaughtered the old and the sorrowful;
I have struck off the breasts of women; and I have run through the body of
children who gazed at me with the eyes of the wounded lion. "Day after day I ride aloft on the shadowy
horse in the valley of Cypresses; and as I ride I draw forth the life blood
from every enemy's son that dares to dispute my path. "It is meet and right that I should cry aloud
my pride, for am I not the flaming messenger of the Lord Almighty? "Germany is so far above and beyond all the
other nations that all the rest of the earth, be they who they may, should
feel themselves well done by when they are allowed to fight with the dogs for
the crumbs that fall from her table. "When Germany the divine is happy, then the rest of the world
basks in smiles but when Germany suffers, God in person is rent with anguish,
and wrathful and avenging. He turns all the waters into rivers of
blood." |
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Fifty
automobiles formed a funeral procession for Pascual
Orozco when his remains were finally released for burial on All Saints Day and
placed in a vault in El Paso's Concordia Cemetery. Mourners heaped
chrysanthemums on the grave and made speeches in his memory.
A week
later, the Nobel Committee divided its prize for physics between Thomas Edison
and his bitter rival, Nikola Tesla. Speaking in London, Tesla predicted a
future of unlimited energy, without wires...
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"We will deprive the ocean of its terrors by
illuminating the sky, thus avoiding collisions at sea and other disasters
caused by darkness. We will draw unlimited quantities of water from the ocean
and irrigate the deserts and other arid regions. In this way, we will
fertilize the soil and derive any amount of power from the sun. "I also believe that ultimately all battles, if
they should come, will be waged by electrical waves instead of
explosives." |
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The quarrelsome
Edison, notified of his share of honors and his adversary's opinions, could not
help but fire back a fusillade of his own...
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"I don't look for electricity to play such an
important part in this newer slaughter. It's going to be a struggle of
explosives. That will be the all important element. "Science is going to make war a terrible thing
- too terrible to contemplate. Pretty soon we can be mowing men down by the
thousands - or even millions - almost by pressing a button. The slaughter will
be so terrible that the machinery itself will virtually have to do the
fighting." |
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