As he rode into the farmhouse clearing, men tumbled out of the house and raised rifles at the oncoming Hernando. As he prepared to charge into the throng, sabre swinging, Minda ran between two soldiers, holding her hands out imploringly. “No Hernando! No! It’s okay. Don’t hurt anyone, they will accept you.”
Hernando pulled back at the last minute and reined his horse to a crunching stop just in front of two very frightened farm boys. Jumping down from his horse, he embraced Minda, before turning and facing a sea of angry and threatening faces. He drew her a little tighter into his embrace and slipped his right hand behind him, ready to grab his pistol at the first sign of any untoward movement.
Minda quickly turned to him and placed her hand, warningly on the one gripping his pistol. “It’s okay Hernando. I’ve sorted it all out, really.”
Leaning close to her ear, he hissed, “well, tell that to those guys, they look like they want to string me up.”
She chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, you may have a point there darling, but they did agree to at least hear you out. Now come inside and we’ll talk about it.”
After she had coaxed him into the farmhouse, Hernando looked around. There was a large table, with chairs around it, several of the rebels taking seats, whilst others stood against the wall, their faces unreadable as they continued to stare at him. Minda led him to one end of the table where she bid him to sit down beside her. Looking down the long table, he noted the man seated at the far end, who he assumed to be the leader of the group. He was relieved to see this man’s face was at least smiling gently, rather than scowling, like his compatriots. Sure enough, he confirmed himself as the leader, when he began to speak.
“Good morning, Captain de Abreu. It is Captain, isn’t it? I won’t pretend that we are not shocked by your sudden appearance here, but Minda has told us what happened and how you sacrificed your career for her and perhaps, more importantly, how you killed two of your fellow soldiers in your rescue of her.”
Hernando swallowed deeply at the reminder of his act of treason. He began to reply, “well, I’m not really sure myself how…” Carlos de la Cruz halted Hernando’s words, by holding up his hand.
“You will have plenty of time to speak later Captain, but for now, I need you to listen to me and to understand what I am saying. Firstly, my name is Carlos de la Cruz and for better or worse, I am the leader of the Santa Maria faction of the KKK. When Minda arrived here with her unbelievable story, my initial reaction was total disbelief. I’ll be honest with you Captain; my first instinct was to execute her as a potential spy or double-agent.” Hernando blanched visibly at the man’s frank honesty, but noticing Minda seemed totally unconcerned by it all, gave him some solace. Carlos continued on. “I like Minda and I’ve been impressed by her commitment to the cause ever since she joined us.” He chuckled softly, “actually, I think my little brother, Arturo, probably likes her even more.” His gaze flicked over to the wall where Hernando noticed a young man slouching against the wall, his eyes, like daggers piercing at Hernando’s soul. The expression, “if looks could kill!” quickly passed through Hernando’s mind. Hmmm, he thought, I’ll definitely have to keep my eye on that one. He already hates my guts and I have no doubt he’ll be out for my blood.
“The long and short of it,” Carlos carried on. “Is that her story rang true, for me anyway and the idea that we might be able to inherit a Spanish soldier, an officer no less, to join the ranks of the revolution, was simply too good an opportunity to pass up.” Carlo paused and looked intently down the table into Hernando’s eyes. “I’m only going to ask you this once. Captain Hernando de Abreu, are you prepared to join the revolution and more importantly are you prepared to fight and die for the Philippines, bearing in mind that you will be asked to fight and kill your fellow countrymen?”
Hernando never broke Carlos’ gaze and continued to stare into the man’s eyes – eyes that appeared, to Hernando, to radiate a kindness and a compassion that belied his words. He broke the eye contact to look at Minda and was moved to see tears in the corner of her eyes. She reached for his hand, under the table and squeezed it tightly, giving him an almost imperceptible nod of her head. He looked back at Carlos and smiled broadly. “I do wish to join the revolution and help to drive out the Spanish from your land, but I do have one condition.”
Carlos stiffened noticeably and several men who were previously slouching against the walls snapped to attention and at least one drew a pistol from his belt, pointing it directly at Hernando. Carlos scratched his chin, raised one eyebrow enquiringly before speaking. “Hmmm, I’d hardly say you were in any sort of position to be making demands or laying down conditions,” he stated, gazing around the room at all his men. “But,” he continued, “I’m a fair man, if nothing else, so I’m prepared to hear just exactly what this condition is that you require to be satisfied.”
Hernando sat back, totally relaxed and squeezed Minda’s hand, which was still holding onto his, tightly. With a grin creasing his face, he spoke. “Nothing major, I just want you to organise something for me. I want you to find someone who is qualified to perform a marriage ceremony and I want you to organise the paperwork to make it all legal. Do that and I’m all yours to command and use as you see fit.” He turned to Minda, “that is of course if the lovely Minda is happy with that?” The return grin told him everything he needed to know.
Carlos burst out laughing and couldn’t contain himself, slapping his bare hand onto the table in unrestrained glee. He was laughing so hard he broke into fits of coughing and it took him a good minute to get himself under control. They both sat quietly, waiting, she squeezing his hand periodically to convey her excitement. Finally, Carlos gathered himself together and sat back, wiping dribble from his chin, his face flushed bright red. “Now that’s what I call a real commitment to our cause – getting married to it. Ahhhh, I think we can probably organise that. My father is the Mayor of Santa Maria, so the paperwork will be no problem. Getting a priest prepared to marry two revolutionaries might be a bit of a stretch though. There are some Filipino priests, but whether they would be prepared to go against the Friars is an issue.”
Minda spoke up. “No!” she shouted. “I don’t want some damn Catholic priests marrying us. For God’s sake Carlos, the priests are the main problem in this country. I may be a Catholic by birth, but I am sure as hell not one in my heart. No, I don’t want a Catholic wedding. There must be some Presbyterian or perhaps Baptist missionaries around who could do the job, surely?”
Carlos smiled, “funny you should mention that. I do know an old Baptist minister. He’s retired now, but he is very much in sympathy with our cause and I’m sure I could convince him to come out of retirement to perform just one more ceremony. So, if that’s your only condition Captain de Abreu, then you are in, comrade.”
“Hernando, please. I’m not a Captain anymore and I really don’t need reminding of my army association. I’m just plain, simple, Hernando, husband-to-be of Luzviminda Torres. Thank you, Carlos, for accepting me.”
Carlos stroked his chin again. “Hmmm, well, you’ll still have to prove yourself, but we’ll talk about all that at a later time. For now, we need to think about where you and Minda can hide. The whole Spanish Garrison is ripping the town and the countryside apart looking for you two.” He leant over and whispered something to the man seated to his right. After a hurried conversation, Carlos again looked up at the pair. “Okay, so I’m going to have to let the leadership structure, in Manila, know about these developments, but I’m certain they’ll be as excited as I am to have a Spanish Officer on board. It’s great publicity for our cause if nothing else. I suspect Hernando, you are about to become a ‘cause cèlébre’ for the “Katastaasang Kagalanggalangang Katipuanan ng mga Anak ng Bayan”.
It was decided Hernando and Minda would hide out in a barn, at the rear of the farmhouse. “Minda will need to school you in the history and rituals of the KKK, Hernando,” Carlos advised him. “You will still be expected to u
ndergo the same initiation ceremony as everyone else, so you will need to know the responses and more importantly know why and what we stand for.” Carlos revealed there was a hidden chamber beneath the barn that was capable of holding twenty people, at a stretch. “If there is any sign of soldiers coming to the farm and I have no doubt they will come, you two must hide in the chamber for as long as necessary.” He chuckled. “Now that we’ve got such a prize possession as you, Hernando, I’m damned if we are going to let you go.”
Carlos took Hernando around the room introducing him to the rest of the rebels. The names all blended into one, after a while, but he knew he would come to know and respect these tough, rebel farmers, in time. Finally, they reached Arturo and Hernando stuck out his hand to offer it. Arturo scowled and slapped his hand away. “I don’t shake hands with Spaniards, no matter who they say they’re fighting for.” He spat loudly at Hernando’s feet and stormed out through the door.
Carlos chortled a little. “You’ll have to forgive Artie, Hernando. Like I said, he was a bit sweet on your future bride, so I think he might be just a little bit jealous.”
Hernando smiled back at him, but his eyes followed Arturo’s exit and he stored away in his mind to beware of that angry young man.
***
LUZVIMINDA:
Their accommodations in the barn were hardly luxurious, but Minda could not have cared less. She was with the man she loved and together they would fight for freedom. She had never been happier in her life, although occasionally she did feel a pang of guilt for her family and what they must be going through, wondering and worrying about her. Despite the fact they were deeply in love, both Minda and Hernando began to realise the large gulf between their cultures, during the many weeks they spent hiding in the barn. Everything, up to that point had been so rushed, so passionate, that they reluctantly had to admit they really didn’t know a hell of a lot about each other. The weeks they spent isolated away was put to good use in discovering as much as they could about their partner.
It was only when Hernando began to relate to Minda the story of his family, that the enormity of what they were doing and in particular what Hernando was giving up, began to hit home for Minda. “Oh, my darling,” she cried, tears running freely down her face. “You have sacrificed so much for our love. You were an important man in Spain, from an aristocratic family. What have I done to you?”
Hernando smiled sadly and reached over to brush the streaks away from her cheeks. “Oh Minda, do not fret and certainly do not cry for what might have been. Yes, it’s true I miss my twin brother and even, at times, my domineering father, but the truth is, Spain held nothing for me. That’s partly why I came here – to find myself, my true purpose in life.” He kissed her passionately and chuckled. “Not only have I found my purpose, I’ve found you… and you are all I need. All I’ve ever needed.”
Her heart had melted at his words and she had lain in his arms, content and secure in his love. When they were not discovering special things about each other, they would spend their time usefully; with Minda teaching Hernando their language, Tagalog. Languages had always come easily to him and as well as the compulsory Latin from school, he was fluent in several European languages, specifically French, German and a smattering of English. He seemed to have an ear for learning linguistics and before the months were passed, Minda and he were quite capable of holding simple conversations in Tagalog. Hernando was amused and pleasantly surprised at just how many Tagalog words were the same as their Spanish equivalent. This certainly made the learning easier and coupled with Minda’s cunning and super-sensual reward system, he was well on the way to becoming a native speaker.
In addition to language, Minda introduced Hernando to the background and structure of the KKK. She also gave him two of José Rizal’s seminal novels outlining the Spanish abuses in both the socio-economic and religious life of the Filipino; ‘Noli Me Tángere (Touch Me Not) and El Filibusterismo (The Filibuster)’. Written in Spanish, Hernando devoured both books with a passion. He had always known, deep down, that the Spanish occupation had been difficult for the average citizen, but the abuses and oppression that Rizal alluded to in these two books took him completely by surprise and some degree of revulsion. On more than one occasion he was moved to comment to Minda, “I made the right decision to join your revolution. I am ashamed to be Spanish, as I read these words.” This only strengthened the love and respect she had for her man.
Their peaceful, perfect, existence was only interrupted the once, during the third week of their hiding, when they could hear the hoof-beats of many horses approaching the farmhouse. Chancing a look through the slightly ajar barn door, Minda saw a group of at least ten Spanish Cavalry officers pull up and dismount. The man, who actually owned the farm, the KKK was using as its headquarters, was at the back of the farmhouse feeding the chickens when the soldiers arrived. He rushed to greet them effusively. “Good afternoon, good Sirs, how can I be of service to you this fine day?” the farmer offered to the Sergeant who was leading the group.
The Sergeant’s response was to smack the poor farmer across his face with the back of his hand, causing the man to fall to his knees. Reaching down and dragging him up by his shoulders, he hissed at the farmer. “I’ll tell you exactly what you can do for us peasant! We’re looking for a Spanish Captain and a young girl, who we think are hiding around here somewhere. Have you seen them?”
The farmer, visibly shaking by this time, looked beseechingly at the soldier. “Please Sir, I’m just a poor farmer. I know nothing about anything. I just do my work and…” His pleas were interrupted by a solid right cross to the side of his head that sent him sprawling in the dust again. This time he didn’t move. The Sergeant shouted to one of his men to fetch a bucket of water.
Once the water arrived the Sergeant tossed it in the man’s face, who spluttered and flailed on the now muddy ground. Reaching down, he again hauled the man to his feet and grabbing him by his shirt lapels, got right up into his face. Snarling, he said, “I’ll ask you just one more time, old man, have you seen our Captain and his young lady friend?”
The farmer reeled from the Sergeant’s bad breath, which stunk of alcohol and garlic. “N… n… no S… s… sir, I haven’t seen nobody, Sir. We never get visitors out here, Sir. It’s too far out of town.”
The Sergeant thrust him down to the ground forcefully, “Well then, you won’t mind if we have a little look around, will you?”
Lying on his back on the ground, the man spread his arms and nodding his head, acquiesced. “Yes Sir, no problem. Please go and search.”
Minda turned to Hernando and whispered, “we’d better get into the cellar and hide, honey?” They quickly gathered their things together and opening the trap door slid down into the narrow space dug out of the dirt, beneath the barn. The hole smelt of dirt, mould and damp and although large and spacious, was still claustrophobic in the darkness. Hernando lay down on the damp ground, with Minda lying beside him, in the crook of his arm, as they waited for the inevitable sound of the men searching the barn. Hernando was worried they might find the spot where the trap door opened, but he knew it was quite cunningly concealed behind some old barrels and given the lack of much natural light in the barn, he hoped the men would only give a cursory look behind the barrels in their search. To be on the safe side, he had removed his pistol and now lay, with his pistol pointed at where he knew the trapdoor to be, the cold metal of the gun, just touching Minda’s beautiful, soft face.
She shuddered, as she felt the cold steel rub against the side of her face. Leaning close to his ears, she whispered softly, “Alright, total quiet now sweetheart. We even have to try to regulate our breathing. Take slow, shallow breaths, my love.” Hernando didn’t answer, but she heard his breathing quieten as he followed her advice. She added quickly, “I love you”. They settled down to wait.
When they heard the crash of the barn door swinging open and the sound of men stomping around, poking into the various things tha
t lay strewn around the barn, both of them, intuitively, held their breaths. The search didn’t seem to be terribly thorough and after a while, the noise seemed to stop. “I don’t know why we’re bothering doing this Seb,” they heard one of the searchers say. “I mean the Captain and his little whore aren’t going to be stupid enough to hang around here, now are they?”
They could hear a man cough and hawk noisily on the floor before a reply came. “Damn right Enriqué, if they have any sense, they’ll already be in Manila and looking for a ship to take them as far away from this Godforsaken place as they can get.” They heard the man chuckle slightly. “I almost envy our Captain actually. She’s one hot, little, tamale, that woman of his. I wouldn’t mind trading places with him.” Minda had to stifle a laugh at that. Finally, they heard the two men leave the barn and slam the door shut behind them. Although they collectively let out a breath, they knew they weren’t supposed to move until the farmer came to get them and give them the all clear. Minda just hoped the elderly farmer had not been too badly hurt by the Sergeant. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, they heard the door to the barn squeak open and suddenly their hiding place was flooded with light as the trapdoor was opened. Blinking furiously to try and regain some sight in the dazzling light, Hernando breathed a sigh of relief as he gazed up at the toothless, old farmer’s grin.
Making their way out, Minda, solicitously inspected the old man’s face. He had cuts on both lips and blood was dripping down from a severe gash just above his eyelid. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed loudly, “those bastards really hurt you.”
Love Beyond: Walang Hanggang Pagmamahal Page 16