When the Elephants Dance (53 page)

We did not speak immediately. It was as if we both knew we teetered on the brink of credibility in each other’s eyes. The sky began to rumble, and a light shower overtook us. We walked in the rain in silence, with only the gentle tapping as it touched the palm leaves in descent. Virgil’s neck was gnarled from two large scars that crisscrossed and traveled down into the back of his shirt. His hands were marked with scratches and cuts. The texture of his skin would someday be like hardened leather, so brown was it from toiling in the sun. I saw nothing of Divina in him, except perhaps in the wiseness of his eyes.

“I will have the friar transferred. He will bother your family no more.”

Virgil laughed, then pinched his eyes shut with his fingers. “They will only replace him with another. I would rather keep him; at least I can anticipate his evil. To gain a new friar would be to throw ourselves in the dark.”

“What is it that you want, Virgil?”

“I want our land back. Why must we toil every day on our land, only to have the Spaniards reap the profits? I want respect for our people. I want to smear the condescending looks from the faces of the Spaniards who collect our money and eye our women. We want to be left alone to govern ourselves. We have no voice. I wish us to be heard. There are reforms that need to be made.”

“You ask a lot for a servant,” I said.

“You risk your life by calling me that.”

“I have saved your hides. This burning of the church would have been blamed on your family, and your father would be in chains by morning. I know one thing. If you let your personal hate interfere, you will bury your cause.”

We parted each with a new understanding of the other. I felt assured he would not risk the lives of his family.

A
S
I
EXPECTED
, word of my antics had reached Oscar. He was smoking a cigar, his back leaning against the opening that divided the dining room to a large balcony. He accosted me the minute I walked through the door.

“Fredrico, this is really too much. You cannot make a habit of protecting this girl’s family. If the man stole the money—”

“He did not steal the money, Oscar. The friar lies.”

He studied me. “Be careful, baby, this girl is starting to affect your thinking.”

I
WOKE WITH
an image so compelling that I rushed to my easel. It was a very domestic scene, villagers gathering corn and chopping wood. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the Spaniard I sketched at the top of the rise, a priest by his side. The Spaniard stood with his arms folded arrogantly; he was taking payment for the people’s land. Land that was theirs before the Spanish had arrived. Nothing worth noting, as I said, except that when I sketched the Spaniard’s face, I realized that I had drawn my own.

There was a pounding on the front door and I shouted for someone to answer it. When the pounding continued I remembered that the house was empty except for me. I got up slowly, my eyes still fixed on my sketch. I threw my brush aside in irritation.

“It is prayer time, everyone is at church!” I shouted as I opened the door. It was the constable and three other men.

“Señor Basa, my apologies.”

I looked to their rifles. “What is it you need?”

The constable cleared his throat. He crooked his finger and loosened his collar. “Señor, I know this is a grave mistake, but I must take you to Fort Santiago.”

“Fort Santiago?” I barked. “What has happened now? If Friar De Guzman has bothered that family, I swear—”

“Señor, I must take you in under suspicion of arson.”

I stared at the constable with utter astonishment and fury.

“Señor, Friar De Guzman’s church was burned last night. Several of our people saw you walking with Virgil Zamora, the subversive, the upstart. Furthermore”—he took a deep breath—“it was rumored your group carried sticks. Señor, it is simply a formality until the matter is cleared. There is no need to put you in chains.”

I laughed threateningly. “The four of you could not manage that. I will come. I will know who is behind these accusations.”

At the fort the constable asked me to step into one of the cells, again for formality’s sake. I had never been in a prison cell, and the thought was intriguing to me; but once I stepped inside and the key was turned, the matter grew serious. The constable backed away and almost stumbled onto the floor. He backed out into the dark, cavernous hall. I could hear his footsteps resound against the walls. The cell was cold and the passageway lit by lanterns. The sound of water trickling gave the room a colder feel. I remained standing. There was a simple cot, the sheets yellowed and no doubt infested with lice. I could not help but chuckle at the situation. My uncles would tell this story again and again. I shook my head.

“The situation is amusing to Señor Basa?” a voice asked from the darkness.

“Show your face,” I ordered.

“Perhaps the burning of God’s house is also funny?” The man stepped into the light, and I could see his well-polished shoes beneath his dark robes.

“Ah, Friar De Guzman. You have me on another fool’s errand.”

“They hang people for lesser crimes, Señor Basa. Of course, a formal trial must be held, but that is a trivial matter. Several people saw you burn down this church.”

“Who are these cowards? Let them show their faces to me.”

There was movement behind the friar and two other men stepped forward, both in the robes of their organization.

“I am Señor Rodriguez, and this is Señor Ricardo. We were walking home after prayer last evening and we did see you light the fire.”

At their words, I remembered Virgil’s warning: “An enemy of one friar is an enemy of the whole.” I knew a moment of fear. “Where is my brother? He will
straighten this matter out. Do you know who my family is? You risk your churches by fooling with me.”

“Again he threatens the churches,” De Guzman said.

The others nodded. “We have heard the threat with our own ears.”

Friar De Guzman inclined his head. “The trial is set for this afternoon, Señor Basa, whether your family arrives or not.”

When they had gone, I paced the cell. I laughed, I thought of how I would repay the friar. Later I watched as the sun began its descent in a glorious veil of muted rose and orange through a small window. I closed my eyes and imagined the way the dirt outside would turn a warm clay color and how the pace of the day would begin to slow on the islands. People would breathe in the scent of the
sampaguitas
and purple lilacs. They would smile softer in greeting to one another. They would sit on their steps and drink wine, or the thick sago, with the sweet sugared balls I could almost taste.

When there was still no word from my family, I began to grip the metal bars in irritation. “Has there been any word from my brother?” I shouted. “Constable, I demand to hold the trial until my family is notified. Constable!” I roared.

I could hear footsteps. I imagined they were above me, cleaning the gun barrels for my execution.

W
HEN THE DOORS
finally opened, the sun was already past the horizon and the gentle night had begun to temper the heat of the day. I craned my neck to watch who it was that approached. Though my confidence had diminished, I still felt that the matter would be resolved and I would be set free. The only show of my nerves was the shaking of my hands, which I shamefully could not control. Momentarily I shoved them into the pockets of my trousers. “I am ready to have all your heads.” I shook the bars of my cell, then walked to the corner and forced myself to remain still. When I caught the first glimpse of Friar De Guzman’s robes, and those of his cohorts Ricardo and Rodriguez, I had trouble catching my breath.

The friar surveyed me with a pious smile. I locked eyes with him. “Has news reached my family?” I asked.

“News has reached your family.” He smiled.

I searched the shadows behind him but could see no one.

“I am afraid they have declined to come,” he announced with pleasure.

“What?” I shouted, causing the friar to step away from my cell, but not before I was able to stick my hands between the bars and clutch at the neck of his robe.

If not for the sound of sudden laughing and the grinning faces of my three uncles, my cousin Edgar, and my brother revealing themselves from the shadows, I swear to you, I would have strangled the man.

“Let go of the friar, Fredrico,” Oscar said softly.

My uncles continued to chuckle, folding their arms before them as they shook their heads. My uncle Juan Benito stepped forward and pried my hands loose from the friar’s hood. “See what happens to you when you do not attend church, youngest?”

“Unlock the cell,” Oscar ordered.

As soon as I stepped out, the three friars stepped back with their hands out before them.

“Come, Fredrico.” Oscar clapped me on the back. “It was our idea to joke with you.”

“This is true.” Friar De Guzman nodded, his eyes nervously watching my every movement.

“What took you this long?” I shoved Oscar’s hand away.

This, of course, brought more laughter from my uncles, who immediately clapped me on the back, locking my neck with their arms in play. “We just now arrived, as soon as we heard. We were half a village away. You know they fear our family name. These priests would instantly have been executed had anything happened to you. Have you no faith in your uncle?” Juan Benito asked.

“Well, has the matter been cleared?” I demanded.

Oscar could see my foul temper and stopped my uncles from further joking. “Yes, of course. Your name has been cleared; they are hunting several Filipinos. They still think possibly the brother of the girl you have been visiting. Several people have come forward to say you were not present.”

“Where were these people earlier?” I walked upstairs, and the procession of robes and chuckling relatives followed me.

“It was a terrible mistake, Señor Basa, our apologies, but I was overwrought at the damage to my church. Surely the señor understands?” De Guzman asked, holding out his hand. But I could see in his eyes the challenge.

I ignored the outstretched hand. “You will catch the hell you preach if I am ever placed in this position again, Padre. Is that understood?”

De Guzman bowed his head.

“YOU SEE
, F
REDRICO?”
Oscar asked as the carriage bumped and swayed. “De Guzman is showing you that he too has power. You can be assured you were
never accused. He wanted to show you the extent of his hand within the community. He is not without force. He has the whole Catholic organization behind him. You would do well to follow my advice and not cross paths with him. He wants this girl; let him have her. Finish your portrait and move on to the next face. Besides, you have been neglecting Zoila.”

“And the brother?” I asked.

“Whether he caused the fire is not the issue. It is just a matter of time before he commits a crime. De Guzman will do all in his power to take any obstacles out of his path. You have already seen how he has humbled the father and the youngest boy.”

“And this sits well with your conscience?” I asked.

Oscar sighed. “These people are beneath us, Fredrico. They are not our business. Why do you court trouble? Our life is easy, why make it hard? We have so much before us. Turn your head, bury it in another beautiful woman. We can go to Spain again, Italy. Wherever you like. It was my mistake in taking you whoring in the gutters. Let me make it up to you.”

“Listen to yourself,” I sneered. “Do you know how it felt to be trapped in that damned cell with lies piled against your person? They could have decided to kill me at any moment. These people, Divina’s people, experience this daily.”

“They would not have killed you.”

“I thought better of you, brother. I never realized how you prefer to sit on your throne and act the rich lord.”

Oscar’s temper flared. “Do not judge me. I give excuses to no one. I am a Jacinto-Basa.”

D
IVINA AND HER
mother greeted me at the door. “Señor Basa …” Divina grabbed my arm. The contact was jolting. “Señor, we have just heard this morning of what happened to you. Are you hurt?” She searched my face.

“Where is Virgil?” I asked, walking past her.

“He is in the back. Señor Fredrico …” Divina hurried to catch up with my pace. “He has done nothing. I promise you. He explained how you …” Her voice trailed behind me.

I walked to the back of the house and flung open the door. Virgil was kneeling to help the younger brother tie his shoes. He stood when I approached.

“You bastard!” I shouted, and immediately we were rolling on the ground. “I warned you to leave the church standing. I could have been killed.” I grabbed his shirt and shook him. Divina fell down trying to pry us apart.

“Listen to what I have to say.” He struggled and shoved me back. “They did it without me. They burned the church at Roland’s instigation.” I hit him twice in the face and we wrestled some more before his words soaked in.

“And you let him live? This man is a danger to you. Why do you risk your life by coming home? You should be in hiding until the matter is cleared.”

“It will never be cleared. De Guzman has his loins set on Divina. I cannot leave my family. I must help my father work the fields. I will sleep in the forest until the matter is resolved. This is how we live, under the constant threat of the friars. Like ants walking beneath a suspended heel.”

“What are your plans?”

“Not of your concern,” he answered, his jaw set. His youngest brother called out to him and jumped into his arms. He hugged the boy and placed him back within the fenced enclosure, then disappeared into the blanket of trees.

“Is it true? You finish the portrait today?” Divina asked softly.

“After today, señorita.” I inclined my head. I had stayed awake the entire night, letting Oscar’s words penetrate my mind. He and Virgil were both correct; I was bringing too much attention to their family, and I needed to return to my own life. I had a mural to finish and Zoila to think of.

Divina bowed her head.

“This saddens you, of course, since you are so enamored of me,” I teased.