by Texas
Days later, as the Saldanas approached Potosi, Trinidad rode with her grandfather and confided: 'I shall pray tonight that Rene-Claude's negotiations have kept him here longer then he intended.'
'I doubrt, dearest child, that you could ever marry a Frenchman. They're not dependable. I've never believed that they're serious Catholics.' He poured forth a century of Spanish apprehensions about their northern neighbors, ending with a prophetic warning: 'I even doubt that New Orleans will remain Spanish till the end of the century.'
'What possibly could happen 7 ' Trinidad asked. 'Rene-Claude himself told me they have no armies in America.'
'With the French something always happens. Do not count on young D'Ambreuze.'
'Don't you like him?'
'Too much,' her grandfather confessed. 'And I see that you like him too much, also. Be careful, Trinidad. He comes with the wind. He goes with the sunrise.'
But his granddaughter's ardent hopes were realized. By one device and another, Rene-Claude had managed to linger on in the mining town, attending to business which he did not have and wasting so much time that his two companions had proceeded to Mexico City without him.
Each day he had watched El Camino Real for signs of travelers :ommg down from the north, and on a bright July day two men, :raveling without military guard, rode into town with the exciting lews that Don Ramon Saldaria from the distant town of Bejar in
Tejas would be arriving, if his current slow speed held, on the morrow.
Upon receipt of this news Rene-Claude saddled his horse, hired three companions, and rode north to escort the travelers properly. Trinidad had supposed that this might happen, for she had paid the two men to seek out the young Frenchman and inform him of her coming. She was therefore at the head of her column when she spied the four horsemen, and without waiting for confirmation she dashed ahead, waved vigorously when she saw Rene-Claude, and brought her horse close to his so that she could kiss him.
When the two groups met formally, Don Ramon said brusquely: i had hoped you were in Mexico City.'
i should be, but I had to see you and your daughter again.'
'Let us not deter you. You've made your welcome. You will show us to our inn, I feel sure, and then you will hurry on.'
That I shall, Don Ramon, but first I must speak seriously with you.'
That can wait till we've cleaned up,' he said, and he would speak no more until he had seen his women properly ensconced in their quarters at the inn. It was a place of thick walls and many rooms, in one of which the two men met over drinks of cool pomegranate juice.
'Don Ramon, I seek your permission to pay serious court to your granddaughter.'
'She's not fifteen.'
'She will be when you've returned to Bejar and I stop by to claim her.'
'What are your prospects?'
The best, Don Ramon, as you will find when you inquire about me in the capital. I am a younger son, it's true, and my older brothers have the vineyards. But I've done well in New Orleans. And in Saltillo. And Potosi. And I'm sure I'll do even better in the capital. For that you need have no concern.'
'In Saltillo you seemed quite enamored of the innkeeper's daughter.'
'In spring the birds inspect many trees before they build their nests.'
'They do, they do,' Don Ramon said, recalling his own casual courtships. But then he spoke forcefully: 'I'm a Spaniard, and I'm taking my granddaughter to the capital so that she can meet Spaniards. French and Spanish, it's never been any good.'
'You've had Frenchmen as your kings.'
'And that's been worst of all!'
There in Potosi the battle lines were drawn: it was obvious that
the young Frenchman would continue to pay ardent suit to Trinidad, while the old Spaniard would do all he could to keep the young lovers separated, or at least under close surveillance. Don Ramon, accepting the challenge, said: 'I doubt that a granddaughter of mine would ever want to marry a Frenchman.'
'With all respect, Don Ramon, I disagree.'
'I doubt that 1 could ever give my consent.' But he liked the young man's spirit and did not try to prevent him from taking rooms at the same inn.
Now began a clever game of cat and mouse, with the Frenchman testing every gambit to place himself alone with Trinidad, and her grandfather using his talents to outwit him. Alas, Don Ramon's own grandchild sided with the enemy, exchanging surreptitious messages of love and stolen kisses. But with Engracia's determined help, Saldana did succeed in protecting his child's honor.
After four days of this he suggested bluntly that D'Ambreuze move on: 'Your business waits,' and to his surprise the brash young fellow said: 'It does indeed. But I also shall wait ... in the capital.' And he was off, this time without escort, for south of Potosi, El Camino Real became a major road in the silver trade, and soldiers guarded it on a permanent basis.
Two weeks later the Saldanas started their own hundred-and-twenty-league trip south, which they took at a pace more leisurely than before, so that it was early August before they entered upon that splendid final plateau on which stood the marvel of the New World.
If Trinidad had been impressed by Saltillo as a major center, she was dumfounded by the capital, for it exceeded even the stories that soldiers had recited during the long journey. The cathedral was three times the size of the lovely church in Saltillo, the plaza fifteen or twenty times larger, and if the shops in the northern town had been lavish, the ones in Mexico City were true cornucopias, crowded with elegant wares from all over Europe: brocades and silks and intricately woven cottons and hammered gold for women; guns and silver-handled swords and burnished leather-ware from Toledo and fine suitings for the men.
What made the capital even more exciting was that on the second morning Rene-Claude appeared at the Saldanas' inn, prepared to escort Trinidad and her mother to various parts of the metropolis: the bullring, where masters from Spain performed; the concert halls, where fine singers from all over Europe entertained; and those unique taverns which started serving delectable dinners at eleven o'clock at night. Here Trinidad could listen to the wan-
dering Negro poets recite impudent impromptu verses cataloguing the scandals of the day. Standing before her table one night, the best of the black poets cried with obvious joy:
'Little girl with the laughing smile, Please stay among us for a while. Mexico is criminal, it's true, That's why we need a prettv little . . That's why we need a witty little . That's why we need a lovely little girl like you.'
The poetry wasn't very good, but it was delivered with great enthusiasm and considerable boldness. To Don Ramon, the poet declaimed:
'While you spend money wildly in the city,
The clerks back home are checking on your books.
They scratch their heads and say "The pity:
These figures prove that you're the chief of crooks." '
At this sally the crowded tavern applauded, and other diners pointed their fingers at Don Ramon and chided him for being a thief. He was required to nod and smile and tip the insulting poet handsomely, for if he failed to do any of these things, the black man would remain there shouting really damaging verses. However, on this occasion the minstrel achieved his greatest success with the lines he launched at Rene-Claude:
'My fine young lad with eyes of blue, I see you come from France. But our police are on to you, So do not take a chance.
'For if you try to steal our girl This entire town will rise. And knock your head into a whirl And boot you to the skies.
'Take my advice, young man of France, Forget the old man's threats. Lead forth your lady to the dance And you will cash your bets.'
With this, he threw his arms wide, reached down and kissed Trinidad, embraced Rene-Claude, and after gathering coins from the latter, danced his way through the restaurant, a figure of whirling grace, black as the night and free to exercise privileges no
one else in that room would have dared. At the exit he leaped, turned in midair, and threw the ent
ire assembly kisses with his long, agile fingers.
There was nothing in Tejas like this black poet, nor was there anything like the grandeur of Mexico City or its university more than two centuries old, and as Trinidad came to know the metropolis in which she would remain for half a year, she also came to understand something of Spain's glory. She knew now why her grandfather was so proud of his heritage and wanted her to share it with a Spanish husband who might even take her back to the homeland. One night, after they had attended one of the city's dozen theaters for a program of one-act plays and singing, she confided: 'It seems so old and so learned and the buildings so important . . . It's not at all like our poor Tejas,' and Don Ramon said: 'Spain itself is even better.'
But his search for a Spanish son-in-law was not going well, and he was relieved when D'Ambreuze announced that he must go down to Vera Cruz to supervise the arrival of mining equipment from France, but was appalled when the young man suggested that the Saldanas accompany him, for it would be a distance of some seventy leagues through fever-ridden jungle. However, Trinidad made such an outcry about wishing to visit Puebla, one of the most gracious cities in the entire Spanish empire, that he did agree to lead his family that far. There, in what was called the City of the Angels, with the great volcanoes looming over the myriad churches —three hundred and sixty-five in outlying Cholula alone—they said farewell to D'Ambreuze. Don Ramon saluted him, Engracia allowed him to kiss her, and Trinidad clung to him as the horses were brought up for the dangerous journey down to where the ships from Europe arrived almost every week.
Back in the capital, Don Ramon made serious inquiry concerning D'Ambreuze, and learned from officials who had served in both Spain and New Orleans that he did indeed come from an excellent family and that his people in Louisiana had been among the first to accept Spanish rule back in the 1760s.
One diplomat said: 'We had to hang a dozen French leaders, you know. They were stubborn, would accept nothing Spanish, so we strung them up. But the D'Ambreuze clan were different. Good Frenchmen. Good Catholics. And now they're good Spaniards. There's been talk that Rene-Claude's father, or perhaps Rene-Claude himself, in due course, might be our Spanish governor in New Orleans. So the young man is not a nobody, of that you can be sure, Don Ramon.'
Over the weeks Saldana pondered his problem, and one after-
noon when Trinidad was out with friends visiting the architectural masterpieces of the capital, he said to her mother: 'By sixteen our precious little lady ought to be married. I'm afraid my dream of Spain was fruitless. I have the sad feeling that our good friend Veramendi was correct when he predicted that the real power would be coming down El Camino Real from the north and not up from the south.'
'Are you saying . . . ?'
'I'm saying that when I study the decline of Spain in the New World, our young French friend begins to look better every day.'
'Oh dear.' Engracia was not prepared for a French son-in-law, nor for the French to have a foothold of any kind in Mexico, especially Tejas. 'In the old days things were so much simpler.'
When D'Ambreuze returned from Vera Cruz, bronzed and temporarily underweight because of fever, so that he seemed almost a wraith, he insisted that everyone accompany him on an expedition to the ruins of some pyramids north of the city. A field trip involving many horses and servants was arranged, and when the Saldanas stood at the base of the major pyramid, its sides encrusted with growing trees and small shrubs, they marveled at the building talents of the ancients. For the first time Don Ramon contemplated the fact that before the Spanish came to Mexico, Indians of great ability must have lived here, capable of building edifices ten times more grand than anything yet seen in Tejas. It was a disturbing thought to a man who had always scorned Indians, but the impact of the pyramids was even greater on Trinidad, for she could not believe that these wonders looming out of the wasteland could have been built by the ancestors of the Indians she had known, and a most strange thought occurred to her, which she shared with her parents. 'They must have been different Indians from the ones we see. That Indian maiden who married the Spanish soldier Garza, she must have been quite different.' And when she returned to the city she began looking into the faces of the Indians, staring at them impolitely, trying to find in them any indication of the master-builders who had constructed those pyramids.
When the Saldanas returned to the capital from this excursion, Don Ramon slumped in a chair and told Engracia: 'I don't think we're going to find a proper husband for Trinidad.'
'Not here,' she agreed. 'It looks as if Spain has already surrendered Mexico. She's surely not sending any young officers here.'
Therefore, Don Ramon did not immediately reject Rene-Claude's impertinent suggestion that he accompany the Saldana expedition back to Bejar, but something the young man said
alerted the old man to the fact that the young couple were rather more deeply in love than he had anticipated: i had planned to sail back to France, report to my uncles, and return to my job in New Orleans.'
'Why did you change your plans?'
'I wrote my uncles that I had found in Mexico the girl 1 wanted to marry, and that I would seek to go home your way.'
'You may join us,' Don Ramon conceded, without enthusiasm, but the young man realized that to win Trinidad, he must please her grandfather, so he said brightly: 'In Vera Cruz a man at the port told me to ask when I next saw you . . .' And here he took out a worn slip of paper: 'Are you really an Hidalgo de Bragueta?'
Don Ramon straightened as if he were about to salute the king: 'I am indeed.' Then he chuckled: 'Self-appointed, you might say.'
'And what is it? The banker wouldn't tell me.'
'It means that the king himself would have granted me the right to use the title Don, if I lived in Spain.'
'For what?'
'For siring seven sons in a row. No daughters.' But as soon as he said this he added: 'I did have seven sons, and all died, but not one of them gave me the extreme joy my granddaughter does.'
D'Ambreuze rose, stood at attention, and said: 'Don Ramon, I salute you, and I hope that I shall be allowed to give you seven great-grandchildren.'
But Ramon de Saldana was no fool, and he knew well that young men often woo young girls with faithless promises, then leave them in despair, and both he and Engracia began telling Trinidad, when they had her alone, of that endless chain of tragedies in which unsuspecting girls were betrayed: 'There was the Escobar girl in Zacatecas when I was young. This high official of the court in Madrid came out to try a case of thievery from the silver mines . . .' It mattered not who was doing the preaching, the histories were all the same: 'Shortly after my father took command at the presidio in Bejar ... I was just a boy, but I remember this girl Eufemia, sent up from Postosi to stay with her brother, who was our lieutenant, while she had her baby. It was a baby boy, and after Uncle Damian christened him, with her brother attending . . . Well, the lieutenant asked for leave. My father granted it and three months later the young man returned to Bejar with the simple announcement "I killed him," and we were all happy that his honor and that of his sister had been restored.'
In conjunction with his moralizing stories Don Ramon kept a severe watch upon his granddaughter, and this was effective in San Luis Potosi and during the long march north of there. But now,
as the young people approached Saltillo, a magical city even if one were not in love, it was obvious that the lovers had reached a point of commitment; they were determined to marry and they wanted that mutual promise publicly announced, so Don Ramon watched with extra diligence.
As they entered the city and Trinidad saw once more the plaza where she had met Rene-Claude, a frightening thought overtook her, for she remembered that it had been Dorotea Galindez whom he had kissed in Saltillo, and she wondered what might happen when the two met again. But when they reached the inn she heard Dorotea's hearty cry: 'My dearest friend Trinidad! Meet my husband!' So that danger dissolved.
It had been a long day's
ride, this final stage to Saltillo, and at midnight Don Ramon was truly fatigued; he slept so soundly that he did not hear Trinidad slip down the tiled hall and out through a window where D'Ambreuze was waiting. They walked back to the plaza where they had met and saw two beggars, their clothes in tatters, sleeping in a doorway. They saw the verger swing shut the gates of the church and wend his way home. They heard the nightwatchman, who would query them if he found them in the streets, and then they discovered an alleyway leading to a sheltered garden, and when they were under the trees Rene-Claude put cupped hands to his mouth as if he were going to shout. Instead he whispered: 'Don Ramon, heaven is my witness that we are not in your castle!' Then he told Trinidad: 'I am free to make you my wife,' and there they sealed their love.
One day south of Bejar, when Don Ramon had about decided that he must soon discuss with Rene-Claude the size of Trinidad's dowry, most of the soldiers galloped ahead to inform the town of the Saldanas' return, and while the reduced caravan was in the process of fording the Medina prior to reentering Tejas, the Apache struck. There were more than two dozen warriors, and Trinidad would have been carried off had not Don Ramon defended her valiantly, but the Apache, having seen how young she was, stopped fighting the soldiers and tried again to capture her, for she would be a prize among the campfires.
But now Rene-Claude, only twenty years old, galloped directly at them, drove them back, and took three arrows through his chest. His horse ran blindly on, taking him closer to the Indians, who sought to take him alive for the protracted tortures they enjoyed, but with his dying strength he struck at them until they had to cut his throat to subdue him.