An Eagle Flight: A Filipino Novel Adapted from Noli Me Tangere

by José Rizal

  Crisostomo took his hat and followed the guards, leaving his servantsin consternation.

  Elias, after leaving the house of Ibarra, ran like a madman, notknowing whither. He crossed the fields and reached the wood. He wasfleeing from men and their habitations; he was fleeing from light;the moon made him suffer. He buried himself in the mysterious silenceof the wood. The birds stirred, wakened from their sleep; owls flewfrom branch to branch, screeching or looking at him with great, roundeyes. Elias did not see or hear them; he thought he was followed bythe irate shades of his ancestors. From every branch hung the bleedinghead of Balat. At the foot of every tree he stumbled against the coldbody of his grandmother; among the shadows swung the skeleton of hisinfamous grandfather; and the skeleton, the body, and the bleedinghead cried out: "Coward! Coward!"

  He ran on. He left the mountain and went down to the lake, movingfeverishly along the shore; his wandering eyes became fixed upon apoint on the tranquil surface, and there, surrounded by a silvernimbus and rocked by the tide, stood a shade which he seemed torecognize. Yes, that was her hair, so long and beautiful; yes, thatwas her breast, gaping from the poniard stroke. And the wretched man,kneeling in the sand, stretched out his arms to the cherished vision:

  "Thou! Thou, too!" he cried.

  His eyes fixed on the apparition, he rose, entered the water anddescended the gentle slope of the beach. Already he was far from thebank; the waves lapped his waist; but he went on fascinated. The waterreached his breast. Did he know it? Suddenly a volley tore the air;the night was so calm that the rifle shots sounded clear and sharp. Hestopped, listened, came to himself; the shade vanished; the dreamwas gone. He perceived that he was in the lake, level with his eyesacross the tranquil water he saw the lights in the poor cabins offishermen. Everything came back to him. He made for the shore andwent rapidly toward the pueblo.

  San Diego was deserted; the houses were closed; even the dogs hadhidden themselves. The glittering light that bathed everything detachedthe shadows boldly, making the solitude still more dreary.

  Fearing to encounter the guards, Elias scaled fences and hedges,and so, making his way through the gardens, reached the home ofIbarra. The servants were around the door lamenting the arrest of theirmaster. Elias learned what had happened, and made feint of going away,but returned to the back of the house, jumped the wall, climbed into awindow and made his way to the laboratory. He saw the papers, the armstaken down, the bags of money and jewels, Maria's picture, and had avision of Ibarra surprised by the soldiers. He meditated a moment anddecided to bury the things of value in the garden. He gathered themup, went to the window, and saw gleaming in the moonlight the casquesand bayonets of the guard. His plans were quickly laid. He hid abouthis person the money and jewels, and, after an instant's hesitation,the picture of Maria. Then, heaping all the papers in the middle of theroom, he saturated them with oil from a lamp, threw the lighted candlein the midst, and sprang out of the window. It was none too soon:the guards were forcing entrance against the protests of the servants.

  But dense smoke made its way through the house and tongues of flamebegan to break out. Soldiers and servants together cried fire andrushed toward the cabinet, but the flames had reached the chemicals,and their explosion drove every one back. The water the servantscould bring was useless, and the house stood so apart that their criesbrought no aid. The flames leaped upward amid great spirals of smoke;the house, long respected by the elements, was now their prisoner.

  XLVIII.

  GOSSIP.

  It was not yet dawn. The street in which were the barracks and tribunalwas still deserted; none of its houses gave a sign of life. Suddenlythe shutter of a window opened with a bang and a child's headappeared, looking in all directions, the little neck stretched toits utmost--plas! It was the sound of a smart slap in contact withthe fresh human skin. The child screwed up his face, shut his eyes,and disappeared from the window, which was violently closed again.

  But the example had been given: the two bangs of the shutter hadbeen heard. Another window opened, this time with precaution, and thewrinkled and toothless head of an old woman looked stealthily out. Itwas Sister Puta, the old dame who had caused such a commotion duringFather Damaso's sermon. Children and old women are the representativesof curiosity in the world; the children want to know, the old womento live over again. The old sister stayed longer than the child,and gazed into the distance with contracted brows. Timidly a skylightopened in the house opposite, giving passage to the head and shouldersof sister Rufa. The two old women looked across at each other, smiled,exchanged gestures, and signed themselves.

  "Since the sack of the pueblo by Balat I've not known such anight!" said Sister Puta.

  "What a firing! They say it was the band of old Pablo."

  "Tulisanes? Impossible! I heard it was the cuadrilleros against theguards; that's why Don Filipo was arrested."

  "They say at least fourteen are dead."

  Other windows opened and people were seen exchanging greetingsand gossip.

  By the light of the dawn, which promised a splendid day, soldierscould now be seen dimly at the end of the street, like gray silhouettescoming and going.

  "Do you know what it was?" asked a man, with a villainous face.

  "Yes, the cuadrilleros."

  "No, senor, a revolt!"

  "What revolt? The curate against the alferez?"

  "Oh, no; nothing of that kind. It was an uprising of the Chinese."

  "The Chinese!" repeated all the listeners, with great disappointment.

  "That's why we don't see one!"

  "They are all dead!"

  "I--I suspected they had something on foot!"

  "I saw it, too. Last night----"

  "What a pity they are all dead before Christmas!" cried SisterRufa. "We shall not get their presents!"

  The streets began to show signs of life. First the dogs, pigs, andchickens began to circulate; then some little ragged boys, keepinghold of each other's hands, ventured to approach the barracks. Two orthree old women crept after them, their heads wrapt in handkerchiefsknotted under their chins, pretending to tell their beads, so asnot to be driven back by the soldiers. When it was certain that onemight come and go without risking a pistol shot, the men commencedto stroll out. Affecting indifference and stroking their cocks,they finally got as far as the tribunal.

  Every quarter hour a new version of the affair was circulated. Ibarrawith his servants had tried to carry off Maria Clara, and in defendingher, Captain Tiago had been wounded. The number of dead was no longerfourteen, but thirty. At half-past seven the version which receivedmost credit was clear and detailed.

  "I've just come from the tribunal," said a passer, "where I saw DonFilipo and Don Crisostomo prisoners. Well, Bruno, son of the man whowas beaten to death, has confessed everything. You know, Captain Tiagois to marry his daughter to the young Spaniard. Don Crisostomo wantedrevenge, and planned to massacre all the Spaniards. His band attackedthe convent and the barracks. They say many of them escaped. Theguards burned Don Crisostomo's house, and if he hadn't been arrested,they would have burned him, too."

  "They burned the house?"

  "You can still see the smoke from here," said the narrator.

  Everybody looked: a column of smoke was rising against the sky. Thenthe comments began, some pitying, some accusing.

  "Poor young man!" cried the husband of Sister Puta.

  "What!" cried the sister. "You are ready to defend a man that heavenhas so plainly punished? You'll find yourself arrested too. You upholda falling house!"

  The husband was silent; the argument had told.

  "Yes," went on the old woman. "After striking down Father Damaso,there was nothing left but to kill Father Salvi!"

  "But you can't deny he was a good child."

  "Yes, he was good," replied the old woman; "but he went to Europe,and those who go to Europe come back heretics, the curates say."

  "Oho!" said the husband, taking his advantage. "And the curate,
andall the curates, and the archbishop, and the pope, aren't they allSpaniards? What? And are they heretics?"

  Happily for Sister Puta, the conversation was cut short. A servantcame running, pale and horror-stricken.

  "A man hung--in our neighbor's garden!" she gasped.

  A man hung! Nobody stirred.

  "Let's come and see," said the old man, rising.

  "Don't go near him," cried Sister Puta, "'twill bring us misfortune. Ifhe's hung, so much the worse for him!"

  "Let me see him, woman. You, Juan, go and inform them at the tribunal;he may not be dead." And the old man went off, the women, even SisterPuta, following at a distance, full of fear, but also of curiosity.

  Hanging from the branch of a sandal tree in the garden a human bodymet their gaze. The brave man examined it.

  "We must wait for the authorities; he's been dead a long time,"he said.

  Little by little the women drew near.

  "It's the new neighbor," they whispered. "See the scar on his face?"

  In half an hour the authorities arrived.

  "People are in a great hurry to die!" said the directorcillo, cockinghis pen behind his ear, and he began his investigation.

  Meanwhile a peasant wearing a great salakat on his head and havinghis neck muffled was examining the body and the cord. He noticedseveral evidences that the man was dead before he was hung. Thecurious countryman noticed also that the clothing seemed recentlytorn and was covered with dust.

  "What are you looking at?" demanded the directorcillo, who had gatheredall his evidence.

  "I was looking, senor, to see if I knew him," stammered the man, halfuncovering, in which he managed to lower his salakat even fartherover his eyes.

  "But didn't you hear that it is a certain Jose? You must be asleep!"

  Everybody laughed. The confused countryman stammered something elseand went away. When he had reached a safe distance, he took off hisdisguise and resumed the stature and gait of Elias.

  XLIX.

  VAE VICTIS.

  With threatening air the guards marched back and forth before the doorof the town hall, menacing with the butt of their rifles intrepidsmall boys, who came and raised themselves on tiptoe to see throughthe gratings.

  The court room had not the same appearance as the day of the discussionof the fete. The guards and the cuadrilleros spoke low; the alferezpaced the room, looking angrily at the door from time to time. Ina corner yawned Dona Consolacion, her steely eyes riveted on thedoor leading into the prison. The arm-chair under the picture of HisMajesty was empty.

  It was almost nine o'clock when the curate arrived.

  "Well," said the alferez, "you haven't kept us waiting!"

  "I did not wish to be here," said the curate, ignoring the tone ofthe alferez. "I am very nervous."

  "I thought it best to wait for you," said the alferez. "We haveeight here," he went on, pointing toward the door of the prison;"the one called Bruno died in the night. Are you ready to examinethe two unknown prisoners?"

  The curate sat down in the arm-chair.

  "Let us go on," he said.

  "Bring out the two in the cepo!" ordered the alferez in as terriblea voice as he could command. Then turning to the curate:

  "We skipped two holes."

  For the benefit of those not acquainted with the instruments of tortureof the Philippines, we will say that the cepo, a form of stocks, isone of the most innocent; but by skipping enough holes, the position ismade most trying. It is, however, a torture that can be long endured.

  The jailor drew the bolt and opened the door. A sickening odor escaped,and a match lighted by one of the guards went out in the vitiatedair; when it was possible to take in a candle, one could see dimly,from the rooms outside, the forms of men crouching or standing. Thecepo was opened.

  A dark figure came out between two soldiers; it was Tarsilo, thebrother of Bruno. His torn clothing let his splendid muscles show. Theother prisoner brought out was weeping and lamenting.

  "What is your name?" the alferez demanded of Tarsilo.

  "Tarsilo Alasigan."

  "What did Don Crisostomo promise you for attacking the convent?"

  "I have never had any communication with Don Crisostomo."

  "Don't attempt to deny it: what other reason had you for joiningthe conspiracy?"

  "You had killed our father, we wished to avenge him, nothing more. Gofind two of your guards. They're at the foot of the precipice, wherewe threw them. You may kill me now, you will learn nothing more."

  There was silence and general surprise.

  "You will name your accomplices," cried the alferez, brandishinghis cane.

  The accused man smiled disdainfully. The alferez talked apart withthe curate.

  "Take him where the bodies are," he ordered.

  In a corner of the patio, on an old cart, five bodies were heapedunder a piece of soiled matting.

  "Do you know them?" asked the alferez, lifting the covering. Tarsilodid not reply. He saw the body of Sisa's husband, and that of hisbrother, pierced through with bayonet strokes. His face grew darker,and a great sigh escaped him; but he was mute.

  "Beat him till he confesses or dies!" cried the exasperated alferez.

  They led him back where the other prisoner, with chattering teeth,was invoking the saints.

  "Do you know this man?" demanded Father Salvi.

  "I never saw him before," replied Tarsilo, looking at the poor wretchwith faint compassion.

  "Fasten him to the bench; gag him!" ordered the alferez, tremblingwith rage. When this was done, a guard began his sad task.

  Father Salvi, pale and haggard, rose trembling, and left thetribunal. In the street he saw a girl, leaning against the wall,rigid, motionless, her eyes far away. The sun shone full down onher. She seemed not to breathe but to count, one after another,the muffled blows inside. It was Tarsilo's sister.

  The torture continued until the soldier, breathless, let his armfall, and the alferez ordered his victim released. But Tarsilo stillrefused to speak. Then Dona Consolacion whispered in her husband's ear;he nodded.

  "To the well with him!" he said.

  The Filipinos know what that means. In Tagalo it is called timbain. Wedo not know who invented this judiciary process, but it must belongto antiquity. Truth coming out of a well is perhaps a sarcasticinterpretation.

  In the middle of the patio of the tribunal was a picturesque well curbof uncut stones. It had a rustic crank of bamboo; its water was slimyand putrid. All sorts of refuse had been thrown around it and in it.

  Toward this Tarsilo was led. He was very pale, and his lips trembled,if he was not praying. The pride he had shown appeared now to becrushed out; he seemed resigned to suffer. The poor wretch lookedenviously at the pile of bodies, and sighed heavily.

  "Speak then!" said the directorcillo. "You will be hung anyway. Whynot die without so much suffering?" But Tarsilo remained mute.

  When the well was reached, they bound his feet. He was to be letdown head foremost. He was fastened to the curb; the crank turned,and his body disappeared. The alferez noted the seconds with hiswatch. At the signal the body was drawn up, too pitiable to describe;but Tarsilo was still mute. Again he was let down, again he refusedto speak; when he was drawn up the third time, he no longer breathed.

  His torturers looked at each other in consternation. The alferezordered the body taken down, and they all examined it for signs oflife; but there were none.

  "See," said a cuadrillero, at last, "he has strangled himself withhis tongue!"

  "Put the body with the others," ordered the alferez nervously. "Wemust examine the other unknown prisoner."

  L.

  ACCURST.

  The news spread that the prisoners were to be taken to the capital,and members of their families ran wildly from convent to barracks, frombarracks to tribunal, but found no consolation anywhere. The curatewas said to be ill. The guards dealt roughly with the supplicatingwomen, and the gobernadorcillo was more useless than
ever. Thefriends of the accused, therefore, had collected near the prison,waiting for them to be brought out. Doray, Don Filipo's young wife,wandered back and forth, her child in her arms, both crying. TheCapitana Tinay called on her son Antonio, and brave Capitana Mariawatched the grating behind which were her twins, her only children.

  At two in the afternoon, an uncovered cart drawn by two oxen stoppedin front of the tribunal. It was surrounded, and there were loudthreats of breaking it.

  "Don't do that!" cried Capitana Maria; "do you wish them to go onfoot?" In a few moments, twenty soldiers came out and surroundedthe ox-cart; then the prisoners appeared. The first was Don Filipo,who smiled at his wife. Doray responded by bitter sobs, and wouldhave rushed to her husband, had not the guards held her back. Theson of Capitana Tinay was crying like a child, which did not helpto check the lamentations of his family. The twins were calm andgrave. Ibarra came last. He walked between two guards, his hand free;his eyes sought on all sides for a friendly face.

  "He is the guilty one!" cried numerous voices. "He is the guilty one,and his hands are unbound!"

  "Bind my arms," said Ibarra to his guards.

  "We have no orders."

  "Bind me!"

  The soldiers obeyed.

  The alferez appeared on horseback, armed to the teeth, and followedby an escort of soldiers. The prisoners' friends saluted them withaffectionate words; only Ibarra was friendless.