Never an Empire

by James Green

  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.


  His mind turned back to Carmen. He still needed her for that last message but she was increasingly a weak link in the chain he’d so painstakingly forged. If she talked too freely she could still bring his house down. He let his mind run over ways the message from her husband might be collected without using her but he came up empty. He had laid the groundwork oh so carefully. No one suspected anything, no one. But it meant he was stuck with her to the end. It would be better if he could be sure Carmen’s mouth would stay shut but he was damned if he could see any way to make it sure. He got up. He’d go back to the hotel, have a drink, and give it a little thought. Two weeks was a long time and anything might happen, anything. He stood for a moment in thought. No, it looked like he was stuck with her for two long weeks. Maybe he should make it a couple of drinks and a lot of thought.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Carmen looked at her reflection in shop windows. She didn’t care that her dress was now shabby and soiled. The truth was it had been a disappointment. The problem with having nice things to wear was that you needed to show them off to people who could appreciate them. That cow Maria was too spiteful and jealous to say anything nice about her no matter how pretty she looked, and, as for the people of the village, they were cattle as well, stupid beasts who worked, ate, and slept. They knew nothing and couldn’t appreciate anything. No, to enjoy wearing a dress a woman needed a proper audience, people educated in the ways of fashion. And today, she decided, she wouldn’t hurry making her choice. Last time she had been too excited and paid too much attention to the smooth sales talk of the woman who owned the shop. This time it would be her own choice, and it wouldn’t be just a dress. To look really well dressed a lady needed other things, the right hat, the right shoes. These things mattered to people sophisticated to know about them.

  Carmen went back to the same shop she had bought the last dress and was welcomed by the owner. The last dress had been a good one but not one of the more expensive, the sort a superior servant might buy to wear on Sundays. She had recommended it because she had pigeonholed Carmen as a young woman who had saved hard to buy one good dress and it would have to serve her on her day off and on Sundays for several years. It had been smart and durable. On seeing Carmen again the shopkeeper was puzzled and intrigued by its condition, as if it had been worn for a long journey on foot, a very long journey. When Carmen announced she wanted a new dress, a better one, the shopkeeper’s surprise and curiosity both grew.

  ‘My dear, what happened to your dress?’

  Carmen gave her a look.

  ‘My dear, it’s none of your business. Now, if you have anything better than this, much better, then I will stay and consider what you show me. If not I will take my custom elsewhere.’ And she walked to a chair, sat down, and folded her hands on her lap.

  The shopkeeper paused only for a second. She was a proud woman and had been rudely snubbed, but while she was in her shop she was a shopkeeper, so she forced a smile to her lips; after all this woman seemed determined to pay well. ‘Yes, Madame, I think I can show some things you may like.’

  ‘Very well: begin.’

  When she finally settled on a dress it was one of deep red with puffed out shoulders, a tight waist, flared skirt, the bosom edged with fine, white lace, and an embroidered, stiff collar. She also bought a small straw hat trimmed with feathers. She had enough money but the shop, alas, didn’t sell shoes. She decided, however, that shoes weren’t too important as the dress came to the floor and her feet would hardly be seen at all. Shoes could wait until another day. She decided to wear her purchases straight away and show them off on those streets of San Juan where she was sure she would turn the heads of any gentlemen who could appreciate beauty when they saw it. Having paid she told the shop owner to keep the dress she had left. If it was properly cleaned and mended at the hem it might be of use to some poor servant girl who couldn’t afford to buy a new one. The shop owner thanked her fulsomely and showed her to the door all smiles and compliments. Carmen had suddenly become a good customer: two dresses in just over a week, the second one of her most expensive. Having closed the door she turned back into the shop.

  ‘Slut.’

  Carmen made one more purchase: a pretty and quite impractical white parasol, all lace frills and ribbons. She opened it outside the shop where she had bought it and set out to enjoy her walk through the smarter streets of San Juan. Her leisurely stroll was a great success from the very beginning. San Juan had its social elite who did their best to keep up with Manila fashions and the shop Carmen had used to buy the dress was the one most favoured by ladies of fashion. Fortunately for Carmen the dress she had chosen had only come in the previous day and was the very latest design; having made its debut in Paris only eighteen months before. As she walked Carmen was more than gratified to see that she had, as she thought, been able to turn more than a few heads: ladies as well as gentlemen. The dress, hat, and parasol were a great success. But soon the first flush of pleasure began to wane. What to do now? If she went back to Enrique’s house there would only be Maria and she knew how she would behave. Enrique might be there but he probably wouldn’t be much better. Look at how he’d behaved last time, hardly noticed her and when she had gone to his room that night the door had been locked. He might be Spanish and educated but he still had no taste. That was his trouble: being a priest had knocked all the taste for beauty out of him. Look at the way he was in bed, fumbling, too hurried, all pushing and grunting. It was passion without pleasure. He took and she gave, but it wasn’t exciting or beautiful or anything like it was with her husband who knew how to make love. With Enrique there was nothing for her except hard work. Of course he was a priest and that must make a difference: all the time he was pushing and grunting he knew he was pushing and grunting his way to hell. Oh well, he was the priest, she wasn’t: it was no sin for her. It may be wrong to let a man who is not your husband get inside you but this was different. Her husband knew and had agreed it was the only thing to do, the only way for them to get out of the Philippines and to America with enough money to start a little business. Everyone became rich in America, she knew that, everyone succeeded. That was where she belonged, on the streets of some American city wearing the latest fashions. In America they could be happy and she would have a nice house and servants and all the dresses she wanted …

  The man who stood before blocking her way raised his hat, held out a white handkerchief and smiled.

  ‘Excuse me, Señorita, but is this yours? Did you drop it?’

  Carmen looked at the handkerchief and then at the man. He wasn’t very good looking, nor particularly young, but he was very well dressed, expensively dressed, in a white suit of fine cut. From his head to his feet everything about him spoke of money added to which, from his accent, he was Spanish.

  With some regret she answered his question.

  ‘No, it’s not mine.’

  But how she wished it had been.

  ‘A pity. It is always a pleasure to do a kindness for a stranger, especially when that stranger is so pretty.’ Carmen wasn’t sure what to do. Such words from a casual meeting on the public street almost amounted to a crude insult, not a compliment. The man, though obviously aware of the situation, continued. ‘I apologise of course for speaking as I do but I am an artist, a painter, and we painters must be allowed a little latitude, surely? If I create a thing of beauty I want those people who see it to say so, to let me know they appreciate what I have done and what I am. So, when I see something of beauty I must say so, I cannot let the petty restrictions of social convention restrict my natural instinct. For the artist beauty comes first, everything else,’ he made a small gesture with his hand which encompassed all that surrounded them, ‘all of this which people call life, is nothing more than a blank canvas awaiting the hand of creation, awaiting the eye of the artist to bring it truly to life.’ Without having realised it Carmen found she had begun walking beside this man. She liked his looks, his voice, and what he was saying. Of course if
he was an artist, a painter, then what he said was true: you are allowed to be different if you are an artist. But what she liked most was what he said about her, that she was beautiful. ‘Have you ever been to Paris?’

  She was almost ashamed to have to answer.

  ‘No. I have never left the Philippines.’

  ‘Ah. In Paris you would be appreciated. In Paris you would have been a muse, the inspiration of someone like myself.’ Here he paused, pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket by its chain, and flicked it open. ‘Excuse my boldness but I am on my way to dine, early, yes, but in food as in fashion I make my own rules. You would not by any chance care to join me?’

  Maria knew what her answer should be. Artist or no, respectable women didn’t go and dine with total strangers whom they had met quite casually on the street. On the other hand she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which was a long time ago, and it struck her with some force that she was hungry, very hungry indeed.

  The struggle was as brief as the outcome was inevitable and when he held out the crook of his arm she shamelessly slid hers into his.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  ‘She’s back all right; Margarita Mendez, a friend of mine, came round to tell me. Did I know what my cousin’s daughter was up to, she said. Did I know that she was walking arm in arm out in the street with a man old enough to be her father?’

  ‘She was sure it was Carmen?’

  ‘There could be no mistake. And she was wearing a red dress that Margarita said looked brand new and expensive.’

  ‘Who was the man?’

  ‘She didn’t know him but she said he looked a well-off sort.’

  ‘Not a young man though?’

  ‘No, but not so old as to be past taking an interest in what women like Carmen put on display.’

  ‘She said she was going to her village to see her daughter.’