THE INSURGENCE of
CHAN SANTA CRUZ
BOOK NINE:
BOOK of the JAGUAR PRIEST
CHAPTER
THIRTY THREE
The
Colonel cleared his throat. "Very well. The
fourth provision is particular to Quintana Roo and is
entitled Abolition of those Customs Contrary to Law. There is but one such
custom specified... the penalty of flogging. Our Constitutional and Progressive
administration shall henceforth address the matter of criminal correction by
confinement in a scientific institution, by fines or, if necessary, by death,
but the lash is to be outlawed. The whipping post of Santa Cruz shall be taken
down and, with it, those of all the other pueblos. Flogging is a Catholic
atavism that has no place in modern Mexico.
"How
will order be maintained?" Silvestro asked with
a puzzled expression. "It is true that, in the days before the War of
Castes, azotes were rarely given, save on the haciendas. But, since that time,
Mexican customs have come among the mazehualob;
usury, robbery, the dishonoring of women. The Jefe without
the lash is a poor thing, the power of jefes rest
with the strength of their arms."
"There
are other means of keeping order," the Colonel suggested. "For the most heinous of crimes... the firing squad. And for the rest, imprisonment for a time appropriate to the nature
of the offense."
"I
shall allow no prisons in the territory," the Tatoob
determined. "Your treaty is unacceptable. Take it away!" he thundered, raising his right arm to his
face as if offended by a plate of rotten meat set before him.
Solis,
suppressing an angry scowl, pointed a finger at the General's heart as if it
were a pistol. "Learned men," he said, "penologists
from all over Europe, not only in the Republic, agree that..."
"No prisons!" the Tatoob again declared. "When one has cut his leg with
a machete do you think that he would recover by wrapping the wound in dirt and
dung, keeping it dark and damp like your Mexican prisons? Why... such is the
soonest way to poisoning of blood, then death. Such wounds are to be cleansed with
fire and aguardiente, as an evildoer is purged of his
sins. What is the use of prisons... save to make
bandits of thieves, and murderers of bandits? The lash purifies where prisons
putrefy, corrupting small sins into mortal dreams of revenge. Look to your own
experience! Our discussion of this is ended."
Octaviano Solis felt his stomach lurch and sniffed a ghost
of the air of Bravo’s cathedral. The Tatoob was
right, but Solis had his orders, and he proceeded upon a second track.
"Justice is often depicted as a blind woman," he acknowledged,
"and never so blind when turned towards those who make and who enforce the
law. The Governor of Quintana Roo shall maintain prisons, such is the President's will. But do you think
Carranza will himself ride through the territory to see prisons filled or
whipping posts pulled down? After all,
discipline may be maintained within the
prisons by means short of execution. He will provide money for prisons, but
these buildings may be used for other things."
"For
Christian churches, in which evildoers may be rehabilitated?"
suggested the Tatoob, and the Colonel's guttering
hopes flickered anew.
"Why not? Certainly, I won't deny that a prison can be
a terrible place, although it does not seem to reform men so much as to provide
a college of criminality." The Colonel showed a jackal's grin of his own.
"Under the American system perhaps... where one is not permitted to see
his wife or his family and does no work, nor is allowed to mingle and converse
with others for a period of ten or twenty years... such natural horror might
prove deterrent. Even in Quintana Roo there are few
deserving of such a fate, which leaves us, instead, with the imposition of
fines."
"Those
are contemptible things," Silvestro replied,
"things of the estanciónes. Before I attained
freedom in the territory, I was under one such mayordomo
who could not let one day by without devising more fines for the affliction of
the mazehualob, to keep them in their poverty and
slavery."
"And
this mayordomo, he must have been a very wealthy
man."
"Him?" Silvestro
blinked. "Well he paid a portion of his fines to don Antonio, but..."
the Tatoob recalled, "in other respects you are
right, he was richer, perhaps, than the master who hired him."
"You
must learn what he knew. The little bite, the mordida
of our police is a moon, reflecting the confiscatory power of the fine. A
smuggler of chicle may escape either the lash or
prison by taking his boat. The irreligious man may have his horse or mule
confiscated, the slanderer shall lose his pigs, and any man who incurs the
displeasure of the Jefe shall forfeit his silver. The
application of fines decreed by the law is limited only by imagination. And a
portion of all derives to the Governor - it is his to keep or spend as he
wishes."
The Tatoob had listened with growing interest, but now
objected. "That may be well for Mexico, in which wealthy bandits are
numerous. But in the territory, few of the mazehualob
have possessions. Many of them," he sighed, "spend all the money that
they make on drink or gamble it away, or are the victims of peddlers who are no
more than swindlers."
"For
these paupers," the Colonel was ready to reply, "there
is obligatory service. The Republic will provide you money for a road or
school, to pay those who construct it. But if there are fellows already
indebted to the Territory for their crimes... why, you can make them work their
fines off and the money..."
And at
this, Silvestro smiled with Solis.
"I
shall need a record-keeper to keep track of such fines and obligations,"
said the Tatoob. "At Idznacab,
the mayordomo's craft was to keep a book, in which
the names of each man was written and his obligations."
The
Colonel nodded. "Such record keepers are found in all the Ministries and
are pleasing to the President, who wishes to extend to our states the
scrupulous keeping of accounts. Our post-revolutionary Constitutional
government is still in a state of evolving, and I cannot promise such
allotment, but it will be possible to pay your records-keeper out of the
proceeds of fines and have much left over for other uses. Now, given that the
President will require prisons, though he cannot come to Santa Cruz to see how
it is used, is this provision acceptable?"
"Does
it permit the Governor to set and to collect these fines?"
"Hmmm..."
said the Colonel, scanning the page. He removed a pen and added a footnote,
showing this to the Tatoob. "There! That is
done. We come, now, to the fifth and last provision, one of greater length than
the others and, since much of it is repetitive and constructed in the language
of law I shall, with your consent, provide its essence."
Silvestro's face hardened further.
"You
trust me, don't you?" Solis asked.
"Have
I a choice?" asked the Tatoob. "I cannot
read these papers... who will read them for me? You? The President?" Silvestro spoke
no more and, after moments of uncomfortable silence, the Colonel resumed his
explanation.
"The
President is naturally concerned over the differences among Maya chiefs. It is
known to him that Juan Bautista Vega is suspicious of May and likewise. Your
presence here is owing to that distrust for, while May
and Vega will not speak with one another, either may appeal to and reason with Silvestro Kaak."
"They
distrust me less than they distrust each other," Silvestro
acknowledged.
"It
is not the President's desire that the territory be consumed in civil
war," Solis stated. "To commit the Republic to either of those jefes would be to invite the occasion. He sees you and your
followers as the third force, one whose numbers would certainly swing the balance
should it come to fighting. Now this fifth provision substitutes a council of
the jefes for their armies; divided equally among
tribes that favor May and those that favor Vega. The deciding votes would be
yours... as representing the President."
"That
is agreeable," said the Tatoob. "There
cannot be agreement between the others. If General Vega was to state the fact
that the sun rose in the east, General May would be obliged to hold that it
rose in the west. When there were Mexicans in Santa Cruz, the tribes could make
a common cause, but even then..."
"Yours
will not be an easy task," the Colonel warned before Silvestro
could reveal anything further. "That is why President Carranza is most
lenient upon the means by which you gain your gold. You will be earning
it."
Silvestro stirred. "The others will also keep their
ranks?"
"I
expect they will," Solis admitted, "unless they are so foolish as to
displease the First Chief. In the Mexico of don
Venus," he shrugged, "what are a few more Generals? They will have
pensions too... the President holds by the proverb that fat dogs are less
likely to bite. And each tribe will be permitted to impose a tax on chicle gathered in the lands they control; the territorial
levy, your tax, is added on the top of that and the export duty of Mexico atop
that. I foresee an increase in the price of chewing gum," the Colonel
acknowledged.
"And
what are the duties of this council?" asked Silvestro.
"Anything," Solis said, "and everything.
Conditions of education, public improvements... the militia, as you have asked
after... all of this is to be determined by the council. I should not have to
tell you that it will benefit to hold your sympathies close, to side with
neither May nor Vega at all times but, rather, according to your interest, lest
the losing tribes grow envious and bitter, and turn their intent from gaining
your support to your replacement. This is what the intelligent jefe does to prevent conspiracies, and your term will be
concluded without bloodshed."
"And the length of this term?"
"That
is yet to be determined by the laws of the Republic... which have not yet been
drafted. Two years? Four? Ten?" The Colonel
shrugged. "All things are possible! In any instance, you would be in
position to dictate your successor and, sometimes, it is found preferable that
men of true power remain in the background and have others carry out their
wishes. Another factor is in your favor... geography. Let me read this to
you."
Solis
cleared his throat and lifted the document. "The territorial capital shall
be situated in the District of Santa Cruz del Bravo
and all members of the Council shall be domiciled there. At the center of your
influence, in other words... is something troubling you?"
Not
even the tinted spectacles could hide the hatred oozing from the eyes of the Tatoob which, suddenly, were the hard and unblinking organs
of a viper. "I shall never sign such treaty,"
hissed Silvestro, "nor would May or Vega.
You have given legal title to our lands to Mexico. Such a condition will not be
tolerated, Colonel. Return to Carranza with your treaty! Tell him to make
preparations for war."
"I
don't understand," Solis replied. "We have determined every condition
to be favorable. And while title to the Territory does belong to the Federal
Government, the right of the pueblos to use it is clearly stated... very
clearly stated. What is this talk, then, of renewal of the war?"
"If
a man from the pueblo that is known as dust," said the Tatoob,
"and this pueblo is situated at the heart of the Republic of blood-vomit,
then all who know this man and his origins will know that he is a creature of
contempt, to come from such a place. Was it the intent of your Carranza and his
educators, all this time, to trick the mazehualob
into writing their names down in the book of Santa Cruz del
Bravo? That they show pride to have been born in the city of
he who murdered their parents, with the gun and, by craft, with diseases and
his secret treaties? Why cease your infamies at the outskirts of the
capital... why not rename the whole Territory for San Diablo? Our pueblo of
Chan Santa Cruz is eternal, Colonel, the place of Juan de la Cruz. Would the Cristianos in Jerusalem change the name of their pueblo to
San Judas? No, Colonel, I see at last the trick you and your President have
designed to play on me.
"I'll
never sign your treaty!" vowed the Tatoob.
"Santa Cruz del Bravo is to sleep the
never-waking sleep of don del Muerte, it sleeps with
Troy and Egypt, with Atlantis and those other dead pueblos Juan Kui speaks of. It sleeps in Hell with the Yucatecan city of T'ho, upon
whose ruins the Spaniards built what they are pleased to call Merida. It is
with the bones of Tenochtitlán beneath this very
hotel, with the cities of the past for... with these very hands, Colonel... I
helped to destroy it once and shall again, completely this time. Chan Santa
Cruz slept for a while in Gloria but, after thirteen years, it has arisen.
General Bravo is an old and forgotten man in a place that does not even belong
to Mexico any longer, and his city is dead. Venustiano Carranza shall breath
no life into its ashes. There's no more to say!"
The
Colonel had leaned back in his chair, which gradually slipped upon its legs
towards the wall. Now he caught himself, righted his chair and opened the cigar
box while he thought. Silvestro shook his head at the
invitation as though offered poison. Solis let the warm smoke fill his lungs
and exhaled, taking the cigar from his lips as if it were a dagger.
"The
use of the old name is unfortunate and, I am certain, accidental. Bravo was no
friend to me and I do not wish to see him honored, any more than you. It is the
right of the victor to decree whose struggles shall be commemorated and by
which means.
"Watch
this," he said, and turning the treaty around so that it faced Silvestro, he drew his pen to the name of Santa Cruz del Bravo and scratched it away. Above, he wrote in ink the
name Chan Santa Cruz.
"History
is vindicated," the Colonel said, and passed the document across the
table. "The name of the usurper is gone, that of the true pueblo restored.
I'll have the matter fixed with don Venus, he'll sign.
Just make your mark on both copies... here," and he extended his pen to Silvestro, "... and here. They will be returned to the
President and one returned with you for the archives of Quintana Roo. Do not hold this matter against Carranza. Mexico is
large, some things escape his notice. He would be as insistent as I that no
honor accrues to Huertistas and that the Territorial
capital should be called by its rightful name... some of those under his
command lie in their graves because of Ignacio Bravo. It was an oversight,
without significance, and now all is as it should be.
Silvestro made his mark upon the treaties and handed them
back to Solis.
"How
does it feel?" the Colonel asked. "That a tribe of thousands
vanquishes a nation of millions is not the usual run of circumstances. Such
victory has not been seen since Cortes. Imagine!" he smiled. "Tell me, aren't you surprised... just a little... now that the
moment is at hand?"
The Tatoob shook his head, removing the Carrancista
spectacles and placing them upon the table. "I always knew that, in the
end, the mazehualob would regain their lands. Even if it took another hundred years, colonel, even a thousand.
Remember, I have flown with eagles. Nothing is impossible... nothing!"
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