THE INSURGENCE of
CHAN SANTA CRUZ
BOOK NINE:
BOOK of the JAGUAR PRIEST
CHAPTER
TWENTY SIX
"So
long as it is not an infant," Almanzar reasoned,
"I suppose that we can handle young Pablito. By the
age of three or four, you can distract a child for hours. All you have to do is
dangle something new and shiny before its nose, something that makes noise is
even better."
"Very
well," the Colonel suggested, "I shall give him my pistol. Such
concern on your part... I cannot imagine," Solis added.
"He
is my friend." the Corporal replied. "And if he has a woman, than her
welfare is also mine, and so shall be that of her child."
"Oh Democracy, breaking out in the most unexpected places!
So, if poor Pablito is afflicted with lice, as most
of the urchins in this place are, I suppose that each of them are your friends
too."
"Certainly,"
Almanzar acknowledged.
The
Colonel cursed and snatched up the documents Carranza had drawn up for the
signature, or mark, of the Tatoob. "A friend
should have been able to conclude such a simple task as acquiring this
signature, shouldn't he?"
"That
wasn't my job," Almanzar answered, inflaming the
Colonel's bad humor.
"No,
it isn't," growled Solis, "and, for the life of me, I cannot see what
is! Somebody, Corporal, has designs on my authority. Otherwise you would have
been returned to your post."
"He wants me here," protested
Almanzar.
"And
who is the authority who states this? Why... it is the Corporal himself."
"No,
it is the Governor. If you do not believe, ask him!"
"How?" They were waiting in a cafe fronting one of
the streets of the Zocalo while the Tatoob was next door with Panopio,
a famous tailor, and a barber, being groomed and fitted for his adventures.
"He will groom himself out of a romance," the Colonel changed the
subject, consulting his watch, and removing a cigar, the length of which
approximated the time that remained until their meeting.
Two
thirds of it had been consumed when the Tatoob
entered, in the midst of a veritable cloud of scent that made Almanzar gag. Even Solis, too familiar with those excessive
toiletries favored by the lajartijas, scowled... the
scent was of a premium brand, but undoubtedly had been applied in four or five
times the desired quantity.
"Stand
by the window," directed the Colonel, otherwise pleased with the
transformation. The ill-fitting overcoat, necessary during the crossing of the
Sierra, was gone... as were the comic opera tails, Silvestro's
peasant sandals and his white trousers. Now the Tatoob
was a General; his boots were blacked, his hair pomaded as greasily as that of
Felix Diaz had ever been and, on his tunic, were the braids... Solis observed
wryly... of a Lieutenant General. The barber had shaved and trimmed him to
de-emphasize his origins and Panopio had provided him
with the further essentials of a Federal officer... monocle, cigarette holder
and handkerchief. "Corporal," Solis said, "your
estimation?"
"All
he needs is a carnation," Almanzar deduced,
leaning as far away from the stinking General as he could.
"Of
course," Solis agreed. "Panopio
clothed all of the Reyistas, as well as many
followers of Pablo Gonzalez. What a pity it is that Villa distrusted him
so when he entered the capital; otherwise the war would have been over months
ago. Panopio's Generals are terrified of soiling
their uniforms! But now, we must be on our way."
They
stopped a taxi to take them to Hidalgo's glorieta,
where Maria waited. "Jesucristo and his saints
have mercy on our spotted souls," exclaimed the Colonel. "That dress
and the General's cologne were made for one another."
"I
don't see any little boy," Almanzar said.
"Do you think something has happened?"
"We'll
see. As our guest," Solis abruptly told the General, "you must wait
here. And he slammed the door of their fotingo.
"Buenas tardes,"
he called to Maria. "It should be a warm night, so let me take your
fur." He reached towards her shoulder but the "fur" began to
wriggle; a pair of dark beads turned upon the Colonel and a set of razor-sharp
teeth snapped out, drawing blood from the thumb of Octaviano
Solis.
"Hush
Pablito!" said Maria. "The nice man was
only joking. He is a very kind man, see?" And she thrust the dog into the
Colonels' arms; Pablito barking still, but raising
his head to sniff the Colonel's cheeks and lick his exposed lips. "See?
Everybody's a friend."
"Have
you... removed yourself... from that place?" Solis asked.
Maria
put one hand to her hip the better to spit and, as the wind was brisk, her contempt traveled all the way to the fender of
the taxi. Pablito yapped and licked the Colonel's
face again. "That horrid man," she said, "he kicked my baby. You
can just imagine how it would have fared had we had a child. But Valentin is out borrowing money and when he returns, he'll
understand what I've always thought of him. I cut all his shirts to rags, and
the sombrero that he alleges Zapata gave to him."
"Do
you think that that was wise?" the Colonel asked beneath his squirming
burden. "The man is, of course, a bandit but, in some respects, as notable
a figure as Santa Anna. That sombrero might someday have been worth a lot of
money after Carranza has him shot or hanged... as a memento of our
Revolution."
"Of
course, were it really so, but Valentin stole it off
the head of one of those Zapatistas two years ago, after the man became drunk. Valentin steals everything and makes up such stories to
impress those pigs... his clients." Pablito
lowered his tongue and the Colonel saw the evil gleam in Maria's eye. "I
poured ink over his books and slashed his paintings, too, even those ones he
says some famous Frenchman left to settle his bill at the bar. More garbage, of course. And I took the knife I did these
things with and it's in the suitcase." And she grinned at her cunning.
"Corporal,
bring the lady's baggage." Solis turned towards the fotingo
with his load. "I hope that you enjoy Bernard Shaw. He does run on in that
English manner, but the company has an excellent reputation."
"What
company?"
"The
Teatro Colon, madam. It is the season's
opening." Almanzar set Maria's cardboard
suitcase on the grass, awaiting orders.
"I'll
need a better dress," she determined, running her fingers through her
hair, using the taxi window as a mirror.
Solis grunted.
"The door, corporal." Pablito
kept up a tirade against passing traffic, which naturally slowed out of
curiosity. "Open this door!"
"At once, sir!" Almanzar
circled the fotingo, leaving Maria's suitcase on the
grass. The Colonel emptied the little dog into the motorcar where he assumed a
defensive posture, glowering at Silvestro, barking at
the Tatoob with such wrath that he shrank towards the
corner.
"Shut
up!" Maria called, slapping the little dog across the back. Pablito howled and leaped into Almanzar's
arms.
"He
likes me!" wondered the Corporal.
"Dogs
love a roll in carrion," Maria acknowledged. "Lirio,
Valentin, all those pigs from the cantina, he loved all
of them." And she crowded into the taxi. Colonel Solis took the empty seat
beside the driver and ordered him to the Hotel Alameda.
"I'm
glad that Pablito likes somebody," said the
Colonel. "They will keep each other company... both being forbidden to
enter the Theater."
"Dogs
aren't allowed?" Maria asked.
"Nor
Corporals," Solis smirked.
It was
not until they reached the hotel that Maria cried "My suitcase!" Almanzar flushed a deep red.
"Undoubtedly
it is gone by now. Probably for the better," Solis shrugged.
Maria
frowned but her expression changed abruptly as she noted a fine Salon two doors
down from the hotel. "You are so wise, Colonel, didn't I say I
would need new clothes? And my General can certainly afford a few presents. She
patted Silvestro on the knee and leaned towards
Solis. "And a better brand of cologne, if possible," she whispered.
"He stinks like a horse."
Some
hours afterwards, the three were situated in the Teatro
Colon, a grand imitation of the Parisian Opera... and only slightly damaged by
bullets... where was being introduced Bernard Shaw's "Man and
Superman". A finer, grander Palacio des Belles Artes
had been ordained by Porfirio Diaz nearly a decade
ago, but it remained under construction and, in fact, would not be completed
for many more years... thus, the gente decente of the Capital endured their drafty Colon. A detour
to the couturier had improved Maria's wardrobe and a good scrubbing had
diminished, somewhat, the effects of the Tatoob's
cologne, though he might still be taken for a Felicista…
one of those supporters of the dictator's exiled nephew whose favoring of
strong pomades and perfumes was deemed a serious impediment to their endeavors
to sneak back into Mexico. But Silvestro, in his
uniform, and Maria, in her gown, now made an admirable couple, and some of
those attending the Teatro... acquaintances of the
Colonel... were favorably impressed by the mysterious nobility of the
newcomers.
It was
also a source of amusement, to the Colonel, how Silvestro's
pretense of ignorance of the Spanish language was rapidly crumbling, like a
Mayan ruin that has been retaken by the monte.
"I have heard many Spanish words," the Tatoob
explained uneasily, "though you may well imagine what manner of words they
were... falsehoods, curses, orders. When I was a peon
with no dignity, no rifle, not even a shirt, the mayordomo
would call out 'Work faster, boys', although the sun was at its height and we
were stabbed by sisal in a hundred places. And I've remembered such oaths the dzulob shouted as they burned our children... as I saw at
the village of Chunchel from the monte,
unable to prevent the slaughter for we were only five with machetes against
forty dzulob. So you may understand that, until I
came to this place, I had not cause to understand the Spanish language, save
those words of the lash and of the gun... I had not met Maria and your fine
President. Now, I have better reason to be attentive."
"You
seem to have gleaned certain words of love, as those of hate," Solis
observed.
"Women,
as well as men, found opportunities to escape from Bravo's colony," Silvestro replied.
They
found their seats and the Tatoob made to his novia a gift of raw chicle.
"Put that away!" the Colonel snapped; Silvestro
was between them, otherwise he would have snatched it from her fingers.
"If you want to represent yourself as a man of good breeding, don't chew
gum in public."
Maria
shrugged, for the Colonel's explications were all in Mayan, a language she
sincerely did not understand. "Gum?" she invited the German
diplomatic minister in the adjoining seat, icy and starched. She tore half the chicle from the wad, put it in her mouth and offered the
other half, but the German looked away.
"Stuck
up people," she whispered to the Tatoob. "Valentin says they are losing that war over there, you
know."
The
play, as Solis feared, was British and tedious. He dozed from time to time,
waking only at intervals and Maria... after an initial excitement over the
ladies on stage and their millinery... fell entirely asleep and snored, the
lump of gum visible in her sagging mouth like an iceberg in a sea of drool.
Only Silvestro sat alertly through all three hours...
fascinated, silently moving his lips in imitation of the bombastic speeches
that the actors made.
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