The next morning, as soon as the curfew was lifted, Michael and I headed to the dry goods store in the south-west corner of the Plaza. We approached Senora Luna hesitantly, conscious that after her ordeal yesterday she was unlikely to be particularly receptive to visitors from the Governor’s hacienda. She still seemed pretty dazed by recent events and listened with a distracted air to our rather convoluted and not-entirely-coherent explanation for wanting to search her property. But, as Bob had foreseen, as soon as we were able to point out the hidden door she agreed quite readily to its destruction and we assuaged any guilt we felt about bringing further disruption to her life by leaving a generous contribution to the church collection in exchange for Father Esteban agreeing to come along and perform a blessing on the site as soon as was practically possible.
Continue readingEven now, after all this time, I have only to close my eyes and I find myself there once again, standing in the Plaza beneath the burning sun. I was very small then, smaller even than you are now my little Moncho, so I held tightly to my Papa’s hand. Mama stood beside us, carrying your Great Uncle Diego upon her hip. All your other Great Aunts and Uncles, little Moncho, were back then not even a glint in my Papa’s eye.
Continue readingWhen Michael swept into my room almost an hour later, I jumped excitedly up from my perch on the edge of my bed, only to immediately slump back down again when I caught sight of his face.
“It’s no use,” he declared with a despairing sigh. “Don Pedro will not be persuaded to change his mind.”
Continue readingI rose early the next morning so that I might waylay Michael on his way to breakfast. Steering him away from the dining room, I instead took him out into the rear courtyard. The place looked like a hurricane had swept through. The fires had burnt themselves out by now, leaving a charred skeleton of a barn and a heavy pall of smoke. Broken buckets, sodden blankets and various other items of debris lay scattered all around and the ground was criss-crossed with muddy footprints. I paused just a moment to admire the full extent of the devastation left in Juarez’s wake, before heading for the stable block.
Continue readingDinner chez Don Pedro was, as might well have been expected, a quite hideous affair. Even the process of getting ready proved to be something of a chore. Upon retiring to my room, I discovered that, as part of his hostly duties, the Governor had seen fit to provide me with a personal maid from among his staff. This might have been his idea of doing me a good turn but it was one that, quite frankly, I could have done without. There may be lots of people who enjoy being waited on hand and foot but, in my admittedly rather limited experience, I generally find it quite awkward and would really rather just be left to put on my own pants, thank-you very much.
Continue readingThe Captain of the Provincial Guard settled himself into the seat opposite us in the horse-drawn carriage. As the vehicle set off, he leaned towards us with a knowing smile. “You know, you have picked an excellent time to visit the town of Santa Marta,” he cheerfully told us. “For tomorrow is a hanging day.”
Michael and I swapped an uneasy glance. “Lucky us,” I murmured.
Continue readingI’ve discovered my destiny,
I make here my vow.
I must write an epic poem,
I will do it right now.
Or will I?
Continue readingFriar Lawrence demonstrated a quite unexpected turn of speed as he wound his way through the dark, deserted Verona streets. The ever-faithful Adelmo trotted obediently along by his side while Michael and I trailed a little way behind in a somewhat foreboding silence. I could sense that Michael had something to say about the events of this evening, could practically hear his thoughts clanking into gear, but he seemed to be taking some time to work up to it. On the rare occasions that he took to brooding like this I had long since learned it was better not to interfere and to let him get to his point in his own time, however long that might take. It was something of a relief then when, turning another corner, he suddenly burst out with, “I knew it was a mistake to try and push this affair of Romeo and Rosaline. I should never have let you talk me into it.” Continue reading
Travels Through An Imaginary Landscape 