THE INSURGENCE of
CHAN SANTA CRUZ
BOOK NINE:
BOOK of the JAGUAR PRIEST
CHAPTER
THIRTY
And so
Sunday arrived - that day upon which had been arranged the marriage of the
General Silvestro Kaak... Halach Uinic of the Cruzob and Jefe Politico y Militar of Santa Cruz del Bravo... to Maria Morelos... cabaret
virtuoso and twice virtuous widow, late of El Pozo Afligado. Carranza's office had sent the President's
blessings and a silver plated pistol, an antique, according to his
representative, a saturnine Major named Prieto who
seized the opportunity to question Solis mercilessly on the matter of the
documents Carranza desired. It was a day of unfavorable aspects for the
Colonel. Innumerable acquaintances of Maria had packed the church; actors and
prostitutes, lottery vendors, the dregs of Mexico's slums who shared a common
solace found at the bottom of a glass at the Well of Sorrows.
Maria
had even effected a reconciliation with Valentin for
the keeper of the Well... eager to exploit a seeming connection with the world
of the powerful far above the Street of Coffin Makers... had closed his
establishment, bathed and presented the matrimonial party with a bottle of
champagne. Almanzar's eye roamed the spaces behind Valentin
for a sign of his lajartijas but the Texan was not
there, nor his deadly entourage.
The
vows were sealed by a bishop, well compensated for any distaste he may have
felt, and the church invaded by a touring party of Americans and Europeans
attracted to its facade. These were accompanied by amateur photographers, who
entreated the bride and groom to pose upon the steps. "Snap! Snap!
Click!" went their newfangled cameras from Switzerland while the
photographers reveled in their good fortune to have discovered an authentic
Mexican wedding taking place. "Snap!" Maria and Valentin
had already opened the bottle and she strutted boastfully, now, before the
tourists and her contemporaries of the Street of Death, and gloried in the
flowers strewn upon her, lifting her dress to the knee to dance a little step
down the cathedral stairs while Silvestro... who
seemed frozen, a piece of driftwood... was carried along by the crowd like a
marionette with broken strings.
"That
poor fellow's never been to a Christian wedding like this, let alone his
own," muttered the Colonel to Almanzar, who struggled
with the detestable Pablito.
But,
had either of these military men a power to read minds, they would have known
that it was not the ceremony that was clouding the eyes of the Tatoob. He had been married before, if not by Catolicos, and all fiestas began and ended in the same
manner... the only question being whether somebody would get in the way of a
bullet. Silvestro, as the saying goes, had his head
in the clouds. His destiny, to fly with eagles, was near.
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