The Lastoc of the Annumpi: Seeking a Separate Peace (Part 15)

Wednesday, 28 May, 1801

Maria had watched the frantic preparations for war with increasing alarm. She had prepared her medical supplies, but she knew that her medical knowledge was limited. It was mostly gathered in her self-taught training as a natural philosopher. She was not squeamish, but she was sure that removing a bullet from the shattered arm of leg of someone she knew would not be the same as skinning a bird or cleaning a lizard skeleton. 

She could hear the faint popping of the Baker rifles the men were learning to fire. They were somewhere off in the grass aiming at targets.  Last night, all they could talk about was the distance and accuracy provided by the rifled barrel. But none of the men had ever aimed at soldiers. None had stood, loaded, and fired when cavalry were swooping down on them and musket balls were flying all around. None had stood next to someone who was there one moment then gone, his head shattered by a ball. Once again, Maria was left to wonder how this had all come about. How had they moved from a clash with Cupido’s arrogant society bullies to a playing a central role in a complicated political games that, win or lose, is sure to leave many dead in its wake. 

Maria’s job that morning was to walk the river and check if the flooding had subsided enough to create a fording point that must be defended. This was a task she willingly accepted as it allowed her to be alone and think. It seemed like there had been no time to think since that awful night of the shootings. 

“Maria!,” called Eduardo. Maria was called back from thoughts and saw Eduardo carefully urging his horse across the river. The flow of the river had slowed, but it was still deeper than one would prefer to cross on horseback. Also, a flooded river tears at the riverbed and traps debris under the surface making any crossing treacherous.  Maria could only stand and watch while Eduardo, smiling and yelling, drove his horse the final yards. When the horse scrambled onto the bank, Maria realized that she had not been breathing and she noisily gulped several mouthfuls of air.

Eduardo slid off his horse and led the soggy beast over to Maria. The horse gave a tremendous shake and sprayed water onto Maria. Eduardo was already so wet, it was difficult to tell how much water the horse splashed on him. The horse must have realized this as well, as it snapped at Eduardo’s hat, ripping a large section from the brim. Having clearly expressed his displeasure with Eduardo, the horse set about picking through the vegetation looking for his favorite greens.

“That was foolish, Eduardo,” chastised Maria. “You know how dangerous a flooded river is.”

“When I saw you on the opposite bank, all reason, all fear, all prudence, all wisdom, fled in my overwhelming desire to be with you,” answered Eduardo, who then executed a particularly florid bow.

Maria tilted her head and stared at him. “Do have any idea when those needed qualities are going to return, or did you bang your head on something floating in the river?”

“Maria, my love,” Eduardo said embracing her. “Why are you so churlish to you beloved? You are a harsh mistress.”

Maria pushed him away. “Eduardo,” she snapped. “We need to talk seriously. If you are unable to do so, I’ll try your horse. After all I’ve been listened to its rear end since you crossed the river.”

Eduardo held up both palms in an effort to placate Maria. “All right,” he said, his voice resuming his normal tone. “What’s the matter?”

“You mean you don’t know?,” she asked. “Look around you. Our family and friends have decided to play soldiers with real weapons. A war is about to start practically on our doorstep.”

“Maria, Maria,” Eduardo said. “There is nothing to worry about. It will be fine. Captain Rojas and I have set up the ambush. His father is handling matters in the capital. See how he even secured Arena Amarilla? This whole thing has been carefully planned and by nightfall the Spanish will be out and the Republic will be declared. Don’t worry.”

Maria waited before she answered. She was not accustomed to Eduardo patronizing her, but now was not the time to get into an argument. She needed Eduardo to listen to her. Perhaps she could convince him that things were going too fast. Perhaps they could find a way to protect their family and friends.  “I am worried, Eduardo, that we do not know all that is going on. Are we being swept up in something that is poorly planned and doomed to failure? If so, what will happen when Morales brings his army here to subdue us?”

“Morales and his followers will be dead by nightfall,” said Eduardo.

“And we will be seen as the ones who killed him,” said Maria. “And Cupido, will he be dead also? And his followers?”

“Cupido?,” Eduardo said, waving his hands dismissively, “He is nothing. His friends are parasites. They would have died even if this whole matter of Morales and the revolution had not occurred.”

“What do you mean?,” said Maria.

“Why do you think Victor and I went to the capital?,” Eduardo asked. “We went to get rifles. I had arranged to buy the rifles from a friend in the Paris Society. It was bad enough that that buffoon Cupido shows you such disrespect, but when his silk stocking thugs begin to kill our farm animals and burn our houses, it is time to strike back.”

Eduardo had become more animated as his spoke. Maria drew back slightly. “You didn’t talk to me about your plans,” she said flatly. “I am the one who was insulted. I should have ben included in your plans.”

“And what you have said?,” Eduardo replied sharply.

“I would have said that once you start shooting, no one knows where it will end,” Maria replied. 

“That is why I didn’t talk to you,” he said.  Maria could see in Eduardo’s face that it was too late to reach him. He was past hearing. The guns were in control and they would have blood. 

“What will you do after Morales is dead?,” she asked. Eduardo visibly relaxed. He had been growing more tense during the exchange. 

“Major Rojas has requested that I come to the capital with the captain,” said Eduardo. “He wants me to be part of the government, but we have not had a chance yet to discuss what my role will be. Remember how we’ve talked about the two of us moving to the capital?”

Maria ignored the opening about their future. She was too concerned with the present. “Eduardo, how much of Rojas’ plan do you know? Were you involved in shaping the plan? Do you know who is with Rojas and who is not?” Maria stopped herself although the questions kept forming in her mind demanding to be heard.

Eduardo stiffened and looked as if she’s slapped him. “I am a member of the Paris Society, as is Major Rojas and Captain Rojas. All members of the Society are dedicated to the establishment of an independent republic. And all members are equal. I trust the Rojas family with my life.”

“Do you trust them with all our lives?,” Maria asked and just as quickly wished she hadn’t. The words were how she felt, but what was the point saying them now?

Eduardo mounted his horse. “I have many things to do,” he said brusquely. “Please tell Pau that the river may be crossed at this point.” He yanked angrily and reins and rode off.

“You are all equal,” said Maria aloud. “Then why are you told what do and given so little information?” Maria decided to return to the house. Eduardo had demonstrated that the river could be forded and, with the flood waters receding, it would only get easier. 

At the house, Maria saw Eduardo and Pau talking excitedly. Eduardo was holding a note. When he saw Maria approaching there was no trace of the bad feeling that had existed just a short time earlier. Maria wondered if he was hiding his feelings in front of Pau. “He’s coming! Morales is on his way! ,” shouted Eduardo excitedly. Pau looked on in his usual calm and thoughtful manner. Maria realized that the excitement of the coming violence had driven all the questions out of Eduardo’s head that she had tried to place there.

Maria walked away while Eduardo ran through all the details of the attack and defense that the family had been preparing. Eduardo didn’t notice her departure. She went into the house, looking for her father. This was one of those times when she felt the absence of her mother, but there was no time to feel sorry for herself. 

As usual, her father was in the library. He greeted her and sent for a pot of tea. “You look exhausted, my dear,” he asked. “What have you been doing now?” His daughter’s behavior was a source of constant amazement for Don  Hernando. She could have been wrestling alligators or mining for quicksilver for all he knew.

“Just checking on the river,” she said wearily. “I suppose I walked quite a way.”

Lucinda brought the tea, and Maria quickly drank a cup. “Have a cake,” said her father, passing the plate. In between sips of teas and bites of cake, Maria explained about the revolution to her father. He moved to his desk and sat down as she spoke. He fiddled with some papers as an excuse to turn his head away from her. He felt that he should have been the one warning his daughter about the revolution, not the other way around. 

When she finished, Don Hernando said, “I have know General Morales his whole life. I knew his father quite well. Morales in a dangerous man, not to be trusted. I would not like to live in a country with him at its head. But I am not convinced that the Paris Society will make a success of this affair. It is too exact, too mathematical. This substitution of terms to arrive at a different value is too neat. The British have a way of confounding clever plans. They smash them. The British don’t think, they act. We Spaniards feel. The French think. They had to import a Corsican to teach them to act. Do you think our Spanish Paris Society members have learned how to act? I doubt it.”

“The Paris Society needs to remember a simple formula. In war, power beats brains.  Morales represents society, wealth, and land. That equals power. Power means victory. Morales may die today in that ambush, but there will be others. This revolution will not be a nine days wonder.”

Maria listened carefully. She was embarrassed that she had so often acted as if her father were unable to deal with situations. “Father, Cupido and his people are on Morales side,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“I’m worried that no matter the outcome of today’s fight, the de la Vega’s and the Valenzuela’s will be at each other’s throat,” Maria said.

Don Hernando poured himself a sherry. He drank half of it and set the glass  down. “Perhaps it’s time we were,” he said. “They’ve been attacking us for years and we’ve just let them. I’ve just let them. I should have killed that dog Cupido the first time he laid eyes on you.” He reached for his drink.

“Father, please,” she said. “You said this war will not end in one day. I‘m afraid the battle between our family and the de la Vegas will drag on and destroy all of us.”

Don Hernando did not answer. He walked to the window and looked out onto the road over which Cupido would ride to his death.  Finally he said, without turning around, “You will not stop this. It is too late. If you want to try to control the damage go see Senora de la Vega, and go soon. Tell her I have been sadly negligent in my duty for failing to call on her for such a long time. Please offer my apologies.”

An hour later, Maria had changed into her work clothes so she could ride faster, argued with Pau until he relented and ferried her and her horse across the river, and was on her way galloping toward the hacienda of the de la Vegas. Along the way she passed groups of armed men in twos and threes moving toward the road. 

When she arrived at the hacienda of the de la Vegas, Maria decided that she had better go to rear entrance. Her working clothes would be out of place and offensive at the front door. She left her horse at the stable, ignoring the stares of the stableboy who had never seen a woman dressed as a man. Maria knocked on the rear door and was met by a similar stare from a young footman. “What is this then?,” leered the footman. “One of Senor Cupido’s special lady friends? Do you know the back stairs to his apartment or must I show you the way?” He reached out to pat her behind.

“Do that and I shall shoot your hand off,” Maria said. “I am Maria Theresa Camille Valenzuela and I am here to see Senora de la Vega. Is she at home?”

The footman’s hand froze. He slowly pulled it back and stepped away from the strange woman. “Please pardon me, Senorita,” he said with a deep bow. “I was most uncourteous. I mistook you for, no, I made a mistake. I will get the the butler immediately.” He disappeared into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. A minute later, he jerked the door open and said, “I am so sorry, Senorita. Please do come in. I shall show you to a place where you can await the butler.”

The footman lead Maria to a small, pleasant room that looked out over the kitchen garden. Maria thought it might be the sitting room of the butler or the cook. It was in the old part of the house and most likely had been the sitting room when then de la Vega’s fortunes were more modest. She was enjoying the quiet, peaceful space when the butler arrived. His frosty demeanor did little to disguise his disapproval of Maria and the clamor she had already unleashed in the servants’ quarters. 

“Senorita,” he said, with the slightest of bows. “I do apologize for the clumsiness of our new footman. He was understandably confused by your unusual apparel. I, however, applaud the wisdom of your choice of entrances.” 

Maria had told herself on the way to the de la Vegas that she would be polite and inoffensive, but a nonnicing  butler was more than anyone should have to endure. “Yes, he seems to have confused me with Don Cupido’s costumed whores who are quite familiar with the back entrance to his quarters.” Maria waited while the elegant butler winced. “I, on the other hand, came to the rear door out of respect to Senora de la Vega, whom I would very much like to see concerning an urgent matter. Do you suppose you could see if Senora is accepting visitors?”

“Of course, Senorita,” the butler said and hastily beat a retreat.

Maria waited. She expected that it would be a long wait. When the door opened a short time later, Maria was prepared for another round with the butler. Instead Senora de la Vega walked in and sat down on a small chair by the window. Maria jumped to her feet and executed a clumsy curtsey as  heavy canvas pants are not the best for curtseying. 

“Come, come, girl,” said the Senora. “Let me look at you. I understand you have shocked the entire household.” She twirled her index finger in a circle and Maria automatically turned in a complete circle. “I must say, you don’t look so scary to me. Those pants show off your long legs. You have a fine narrow waist, and while some might say you are small breasted, I think it suits you. You carry it off well. You have a fine straight back and a charming face, although a little attention and a few cosmetics can always help. Yes, the outfit is a good choice. I can see why the young men are taken by your novelty. You wear it well, my dear. Why you wear it, I have no idea, but you do wear it well. It is a shame about your hair though. You always had such beautiful hair. Just like your mother’s.”

It took Maria some time to recover from the sudden appearance of Senora de la Vega and the frank assessment of her own attractiveness. She wanted to explain why she wore those clothes, about her field work and interest in science, but now was not the time. Maria wanted to get the conversation onto the important matters, but she had more groundwork to do. “Senora, I am glad I did not offend you with my choice of clothes. I had to ride here and these clothes allow me to cover the ground much more swiftly. I came to the back door because I did not want to show to disrespect by entering through your front door in my work clothes.”

“How thoughtful, my dear. In the future you are welcome to come to my front door in whatever state you find yourself.”

“Thank you, Senora,” said Maria.

“Now, sit down and tell me why you’ve come,” said Senora de la Vega.

Maria sat down on the small chintz sofa and began. “Our families are the two oldest families in this region. Nearly all of the other families in the area are related to us or associated to us in some way. For generations we have guaranteed the security and stability for everyone living here. We are several days away from the capital. Spain is far across the sea. We have come to rely on ourselves to keep the peace and to resolve problems.”

“You are worried about the revolution,” interrupted the Senora.

“I am,” Maria replied. “But I am worried about more than that.”

Senora de la Vega was about to speak, but she closed her mouth and sat back in her chair.

Maria continued. “Do you know General Morales?,” Maria asked.

“Yes, I do. He has spent time here with Cupido. Cupido thinks the world of him. I am not so sure. He is a greedy man who gives in to his passions far more than is good for him. He will likely die in duel at the hands of an ill-used husband or of the French pox.”

Maria was surprised at the Senora’s frankness. “That may be,” Maria said. “But I have heard that it is far more likely that he will die today.”

“No, you are wrong, child,” said the Senora. “The revolution is all planned. General Morales is already on his way to the capital to assume control of the government.”

“He will not make it. He will be killed before he arrives,” insisted Maria. “But that is not why I am here. Is Cupido with him?”

“Of course,” said the Senora. “He will be given control over the grass and the mines by the Morales.”

“Can you call Cupido back?,” Maria asked.

“But why?,” the Senora replied.

“All those with Morales will be killed,” Maria said.

Senora de la Vega’s face tightened and she demanded to know how Maria knew all this.

“I can’t tell you,” Maria said. “I just want to keep your son from being killed.”

“Why are you concerned about him?,” the Senora asked. “You weren’t concerned when that friend of yours shot Cupido in the foot.”

Maria looked confused. “I shot him. He was going to kill a man and I had to stop him.”

Now it was the Senora’s turn to be confused. “You shot Cupido? He told me a strange man shot him. Why would he lie?”

“Please, Senora, we can not talk about this now. We must save Cupido,” said Maria.

“So you do love my boy, my Cupido,” she said, a broad smile crossing her face. “Of course you do. I told him you were just playing hard to get.”

“Shooting his big toe off is not playing, Senora,” Maria said. “I am not worried about Cupido because I love him. I don’t and never will. I am worried about Cupido because if he is killed there will be a civil war right here in our homes. Not in the capital or on the sea, but right here.”

“Why,” Senora asked. “I don’t understand.”

“Because he will likely killed by a O’Brien or a Bryant,” said Maria. She had hoped that she wouldn’t have to say this, but she had. It was too late to wish it away. “And your family will not tolerate such a thing any more than mine will tolerate reprisals. It’s up to you and I, Senora, to stop it before it starts. We must save Cupido.”

Maria was out of words. She could think of nothing more to say to convince Cupido’s mother of the need to act. Senora sat quietly for a long time. She nervously kneaded her small hands and looked away from Maria. Her eyes flicked over to a small painting of her as a young mother holding the baby Cupido. Maria followed her glance and saw the painting for the first time. “Is that you and Cupdio?,” she asked in a soft voice.

“Yes, it is,” the Senora keeping her eyes on the painting. “He wasn’t quite so angelic as the painter made him out to be. few children are. Cupido was a bald, fat little thing with colic. Still he doesn’t deserve to die so young.” The Senora lapsed into silence. Maria waited for her to decide.

Senora de la Vega looked at Maria. She wiped away a tiny tear and spoke. “I cannot call him back. It is impossible. Don’t you see? Cupido has already committed to Morales. He must go through with it. If Morales were killed and Cupido left, it would appear as if Cupido was a coward or a traitor. If Morales escapes, Cupido will be seen as unreliable and will either be killed by Morales or will be scorned by all his companions. Cupido has chosen. He must make his choice be the good one.”

Now Maria brushed back a tear and began to speak, but the Senora stopped her with an upraised finger. “No, child,” Senora said. “My mother told me that when men fight, we women must wait and pick up the pieces. I know you are of a different age, but when the fighting is over, come and see me and we will start to pick up the pieces.”

Before Maria could respond, they heard the faint crack of far off cannons. “It has begun,” said Maria leaping to her feet. “I must get home.” She started to the door. 

Senora de la Vega quickly stood up and blocked her. Come with me.” The Senora grabbed Maria’s arm and pulled her out into the hall where the butler was waiting. “Prepare the carriage, quickly. Have two armed footmen ride on the top. And hurry!,” she said. “I am going with you, Maria. Your father would never forgive me if I allowed something to happen to you.”

“Father!,” said Marie. “He told me to apologize to you for his not visiting you for such such long time. I almost forgot.”

The Senora smiled. “Your father is a good man. Tell him all is forgiven. He is a true gentleman.” The cannons could be heard again. Now they were firing more quickly.  “Wouldn’t it be nice if good manners could solve all this?,” said Senora de la Vega as she waved her arm in the direction of the cannons.