Never an Empire (21 page)

‘Let me ask you a question, Father.'

He nodded.

‘Of course.'

‘Am I a good housekeeper?'

‘Yes, very good.'

‘Why?'

The question puzzled him.

‘What do you mean, why?'

‘What is it that makes me a good housekeeper?'

‘The way you keep house. The way you look after it, keep it clean. The cooking, the washing,' but there his knowledge of domestic routines gave out and he paused for a moment, ‘the way you look after me, your kindness.'

‘I see. Now tell me, Father, would you say that I was a good woman?'

‘What?'

‘A good woman. You're a priest, you've studied these things in the seminary, you've read the books and listened to the teachers. You're educated. Am I a good woman?'

‘Of course you are, a very good woman.'

‘And if I told you that I lied?'

Her question didn't even get a pause. He'd heard it too often in Confessions to do other than trot out the usual sort of answer.

‘Well, everybody has small failings. Telling lies is a sin of course, but not necessarily serious. It depends on …'

But she wasn't making a Confession so she cut him short.

‘But my lie is a big lie, one that I live with every day, one that I care for, look after, cherish.'

That got a pause.

‘Oh, I see.'

‘Do you, Father, do you see?'

‘No.'

‘What if I told you that every Tuesday when I say I'm going shopping in the market I am lying to you. That on Tuesdays I meet somebody, a man, we go to a room and have sex. Sometimes we lie together, he does things with his tongue and I do things with my mouth, terrible things, immoral things. We behave like animals and we enjoy it. And we're careful that there will be no chance of children, all we want is to enjoy ourselves, to roll in the mud for a little while. What then, Father, would I still be a good woman?'

‘Why are you telling me this? Do you want me to hear your Confession?'

Maria laughed.

‘No, to confess I would have to be sorry and I'm not sorry. Next Tuesday I will be there and will take off my clothes and we will …'

Now it was his turn to cut her short.

‘Stop it.' Maria stopped. ‘Is this true?'

Maria waited a moment.

‘No, it's just a story. But if it was true and each Tuesday I did what I said, would I still be a good housekeeper?'

Father Enrique began to understand.

‘Yes, you could still be a good housekeeper.'

‘But not a good woman.'

Father Enrique gave a small shrug.

‘Sin is rarely simple. Those who think it is usually haven't thought about it much, if at all.'

‘Very well, then answer me this, would you rather have a good housekeeper looking after you or a good woman?'

‘Why not both?'

‘True, but if it could not be both? If it had to be either a good woman who couldn't cook or clean or wash or get everything done that needs to be done and got cheated in the market and wasted the money you gave her. Or a woman who knows how to look after things, how to get things done and do them well, but who also liked things that the Church says are sinful. A woman who was a good housekeeper and could keep her sins to herself. What then? Which would you choose?'

‘Are you saying you think I should be the sort of priest who gets things done and keeps his sins to himself?'

‘No, I think you're a good priest but still a young man, and the young must learn and to learn means sometimes making mistakes. Carmen came into your bed and reminded you that you're a man, she let you see what you had given up to be a priest. Well, it would probably have happened one day with some woman and that's not a bad thing. If you never had a woman you would never know what it is to be fully a man. Now you do know, you've learned. Whether it was a mistake, something wrong, sinful, I leave between you and God. That's who we're all supposed to answer to after all. But if you think it was a mistake and a sin then you must learn from it and use it to become a better man and a better priest.'

‘But to turn my back on God, to put a woman's body before the sufferings of Jesus.'

Maria sat back and relaxed. It was over. He had been forgiven and told what his penance was to be, to use his mistake in the service of God and the Church he still loved, to humbly accept his weakness and use it to give him the strength to become a better priest. He was a holy little boy who had fallen down and hurt his little white soul and he had brought it to her to kiss it and make it better. That part was done. Now all he needed was a hug and to be put back on his feet again.

‘Oh, are you so much more important than St Peter, the greatest of the Apostles?'

‘What?'

‘Didn't he turn his back on Christ? Three times, wasn't it? But he accepted forgiveness and used his weakness to give himself strength so he could do what needed to be done. Or are you a Judas? He betrayed Christ but wouldn't accept forgiveness so he hanged himself. Shall I go out tomorrow and buy some stout rope, Father? Is that what you would like me to do?'

She was smiling as she said it and her voice was soft and caring. In reply Father Enrique also smiled.

‘No, Maria, no rope.'

He stood up.

‘It really wasn't true was it, about Tuesdays?'

‘Does it matter what I do on Tuesdays so long as I'm a good housekeeper?'

‘No I suppose not. Good night, Maria, and thank you. You would have made a good priest.'

‘Perhaps, but not as good as you, I think.'

Father Enrique left the kitchen and closed the door quietly behind him.

Maria sat for a moment, then got up, went to the cupboard, poured herself a brandy, and sat down with her thoughts.

He has grown up a little, or maybe he's grown up a lot. Either way it looks like I can kick that slut Carmen out now, send her packing to her village and tell her she can stay there and rot as she deserves and next time he needs a woman, if there has to be a next time, I'll take a bit more trouble to see that he gets the right sort: one who understands men, who knows how to behave like a good woman and a good Catholic.

Chapter Twenty-five

As it happened Maria had no need to send Carmen packing. The morning after their talk in the kitchen Carmen was up early and left without speaking to either of them. Once back in her village she sent to her husband telling him she needed to see him. The reply, when it came, said it would take three days before he could come so she had to wait and while waiting spent her time fighting with her mother-in-law, refusing to do any domestic work, and showing off her new dress by swanking idly round the village. It was hard for the women of the village to bear such behaviour. There were no young men to have their heads turned, but what old men there were smiled at her as she passed and made suitably appreciative comments. It wasn't much but as it was all there was Carmen enjoyed it and the women had to bear it. Everyone knew that she and her husband were doing some sort of secret work for the army in the mountains so no one, not even the head man, made any fuss over her behaviour.

Finally her husband arrived and with him half a dozen of the men from the village who had gone to join the army in the mountains. That night there was a fiesta atmosphere with singing and dancing, but for the returned men it finished quite early. As their womenfolk said, they had had a long journey and were tired; now they had eaten it was time for rest. Once the couples had retired to their huts the women whose men had not returned left the gathering, the fiesta atmosphere having something of a bitter taste as their men had not been chosen to return. The older men and women stayed on and enjoyed themselves and for one night at least Carmen's manners and behaviour were not mentioned and all spoke as well of her as they could.

The following day the men left the village early, as did Carmen soon after them. None too soon for her mother-in-law, though, who had been expelled from her own hut for the night and made to sleep on the floor of a neighbour's. With the parting of the men the villagers' attitude to Carmen more or less reverted and they were all glad to see her leave, excepting of course some of the old men. After she had gone the women, especially those whose husbands had not returned, passed their judgement. She might be a brave woman to do whatever it was she did in San Juan but no one could say she was a good woman. Still, in a war everyone, even the worst of us, might have their uses in serving the cause. God sometimes used strange tools to do his work.

On her return to San Juan Carmen went straight to the police station where she was told to wait. Three quarters of an hour later the American arrived and they went up to the chief's office by themselves.

‘Well?'

‘My husband says it is going better than he could have hoped. General's Sakay's closest commander, General Villafurte, is convinced and only General Natividad really stands against a negotiated surrender on suitable terms.'

‘That's very good. Was there any problem with your husband getting to meet you?'

‘No, he is a favourite of the general now so when he asked if he could take a few of the village men back to see their families he agreed straight away. Nobody in the army suspects anything.'

‘And in the village?'

‘The village. It is full of stupid people.'

‘If you say so, but no one suspects?'

‘They don't like me, they don't like the way I have become someone important, but they think what I and my husband do is for the general and they don't ask questions.'

‘Good. What else did your husband say?'

‘He says that you can send Gomez to the general very soon. The first visit will probably get him nowhere but it will give my husband something to work with. Things are going badly with the army. They are short of food, weapons, and ammunition. If Dominador Gomez was to offer an honourable settlement properly guaranteed my husband thinks Sakay would be persuaded and override any objections from Natividad.'

‘Did he say what would be suitable guarantees?'

‘Written assurances from the governor general.'

‘Saying?'

‘Amnesty for all of them, that none of his officers or men will be treated as bandits and will all be allowed to lay down their arms and go back to their homes as free men.'

Not even I could get that sort of amnesty for the general and his commanders.'

‘No, my husband knows that. He says that if Sakay and his senior officers were given safe conduct and allowed to leave the country he would probably accept.'

‘Yes, I suppose he would, if he trusted us to keep our word.'

Carmen shrugged.

‘What happens after the army surrenders is nothing to do with me or my husband. Our job will be done.'

‘That's fair. Anything else?'

‘My husband says he will come to the village again in two weeks and if things have gone well then Dominador Gomez can go at once, speak with the general and bring back his demands to the governor general.'

The American was pleased. It was all going better than he could have hoped.

‘That's good news, very good news. Your husband has done well: excellently.'

‘Yes he has and so have I.'

The American pulled out his wallet.

‘You both have and you'll both be paid as agreed once Sakay comes in but in the meantime here's something on account, something for you to have a good time with after your hard work.'

He threw two bills onto the desk, twice as much as before. Carmen didn't snatch them up this time. She leaned forward, picked them up, folded them, and slipped them into the top of her dress.

‘It is no more than I deserve. What we do is dangerous work.'

‘What your husband does certainly is. If the general were to find out it would be quick but it might not be pleasant. No one likes a traitor.'

‘He won't be found out. He is too clever.'

The American put away his wallet.

‘Of course. I know that. That's why I chose him. Will you go back to the priest's house now? We have two weeks before your go back to the village and your part in this should be done.'

She stood up and looked down at the dress she was wearing, the one that so little time ago had given her so much pleasure. It was travel-stained, with sweat patches under the arms and a liberal smattering of dust. It had been a pretty dress but also a town one, not one designed for travelling any distance on foot. It might be revived but there again it might not.

‘I might, but first I want a new dress and then to enjoy myself a little. That village is a filthy place and the villagers no better than pigs.'

‘If you say so. It's your village, I've never seen it.' Carmen had reached the door before he spoke again. ‘Just be careful where you spend that money and who you talk to. We're close but we're not finished yet.'

‘I'll be careful. I'm always careful.'

She left leaving the door wide open. The American sat for a moment then stood up, walked across, and closed it.

They were indeed close but Carmen might be turning into a problem. She was getting above herself and might very easily say or do something. He went back to the desk and sat down. What to do for the best? Her part in all of this was as good as over: just one more visit to the village to get the go ahead from her husband. After he got that he didn't need her any more. The two of them had been an excellent choice, well worth the time and effort it had taken to find them and the husband was sound as a bell, definitely the man for the job even if his wife had been a shaky proposition from the beginning. Still everything had gone well because the priest had also proved to have been an excellent choice. That was his real talent, the American decided, almost a gift. To find the right people to use and then using them well. This business had started out as a gamble but because he'd spent time searching out the right people it was turning into a certainty. It wasn't a house of cards any more, it was solid now, bricks and mortar. All that had to be done now was the right terms guaranteed by the right man, the governor general, and when that was done and delivered Sakay would come in peacefully.