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The Promise by
Gail Manfre
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CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN CALM
BEFORE THE STORM As they distanced themselves from the
Visconde de Estrada, Diego considered his “conversation“ with the
Visconde, and the more he ruminated about de Estrada, the more he
agitated he became. He did not realize how his rapid shift in mood
affected his gait, but Selena did. “Diego,” Selena hesitated, seeing the
way her husband stalked away, ramrod straight, although he still kept
his arm around her waist from his enfrentamiento with the
belligerent Glorioso, “I am surprised that you did not disarm the
Capitán and run him through with his own saber!” “Do not tempt me, Selena,” he sharply
retorted, not daring to glance down and subject her to the terrible look
of scorn that marred his handsome face. Her head snapped up at the ugly tone in
his voice as she reached out to touch him. “Diego, do not allow that
despicable porco to control your emotions.” Diego reproached himself for using Selena
to vent his anger with Glorioso. “Querida, lo siento mucho,“ he
whispered into her ear as he pulled her close to him. “Enough
discussion about that vermin Glorioso! Come on, first we shall satisfy
your appetite, although I must say, I can not imagine where you put all
of your food lately. And we still have to find the silver jewelry that
you wanted to see,” he said as he gently kissed her again before they
started back to the vendors’ stalls. “I liked the way the silver
chain you tried on last week hangs on your neck, Selena.” “And I love the man’s hands
that placed the jewelry around my neck!” she whispered, lightly
caressing his ear with her lips. “Selena!“ Diego’s face redden
slightly. “In public, I am scandalized, oh my!” She lowered her eyes in mock regret. “Querido,
I am...” Diego could not maintain his composure
and he chuckled. “Well, maybe just this one time, Selena!
People will think we are newlyweds!” As his laughter gaily colored the air
around her and Selena de la Vega silently repeated the ancient prayer
taught her long ago in Spain by the Franciscan nuns in thanksgiving to
her Blessed Mother for answering her petitions, Hail Mary, full of
grace, the Lord is with thee.... ZZZZZZZZZZ
The morning of November 3, 1821 was full
of sunshine, but with just a hint of fall in the cool temperatures. Here
and there, the scent of marigolds from the Dia de Los Muertos’ fiesta
still lingered, mixed with the appetizing aromas of hot chocolate and
tortillas cooking for breakfast. The merchants were still retrieving the
last wooden remnants of their stalls and any bits and pieces of fabric,
paper, or any trash left behind by fiesta goers. They had to clear the
area as soon as possible, for Capitán Glorioso’s lancers had told the
vendors to be finished by nine o’clock a.m., and no one wished to
displease the commandante on tax collection day. Lancers from the Cuartel busied
themselves with arranging appropriate tables for the collection of taxes
from the caballeros, the tradesmen and finally the peasant class,
which consisted of mestizos and full-blooded Indians. Visconde de
Estrada, as was his usual daily custom, toyed with his bullwhip just
outside his office, flicking it at the hitching post, at lancers walking
by and at anything or anyone else within his eyesight. He ceased his
playing and once again placed his ostrich plumed bicorn hat on his head,
rechecked his reflection in his highly polish cavalry boots, and marched
further into the cuartel’s yard to commence the day’s business. “Open
wide both gates, Sergeant Garcia! And inform me immediately when the
whipping post the carpenter promised me would be finished before noon is
ready!” Glorioso’s harsh voice echoed throughout the cuartel. “At
once, Your Excellency!” replied Sergeant Garcia. “Open
up both of the gates, Lancer Peldar!” Garcia shouted. “And lancers
perform your duties quickly!” Dios! I hope not too many people will
be unable to pay these taxes. The commandante’s temper has become
worse since the day of his argument with the dons and townspeople,
especially Don Diego. Garcia mused as he wiped his sweaty hands on
his uniform. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ As
the citizenry began arriving to pay their taxes, the lancers directed
them to three separate tables, one for each class represented in the
pueblo. Glorioso sat in his ornate mahogany chair which had the flag of
Spain carved into the expensive hand rubbed wood. He perversely wanted
to watch the péons vainly protest that they could not pay their
assessments. The Visconde, of course, would sentence them to prison,
then he would spend hours devising new methods of torture to punish the
scofflaws. He always won these financial battles for several reasons. If
the prisoners survived their appointments with the public whipping post,
he would sell their wretched hides to the mining companies or perhaps to
some unscrupulous sea captains who were not very particular where or how
they obtained a fresh supply of labor. On the other hand, if his
temporary guests died during their jail terms, then no one really cared
about the loss of a few scruffy péons did they? If
the tradesmen could not afford their taxes, he confiscated their goods
and sold them at a considerable profit on California’s enormous
underground economy, the black market. The
Commandante then had the former business owners escorted from the Pueblo
to destinations unknown where they would become someone else’s
problem. Visconde de Estrada never worried about collecting the
assessments from the hidalgos. When they were unable to pay him
in gold or silver, the caballeros would pay him in hides, wine or
other commodities. Time for the tax collections to begin. I am sure
there will be no shortage of amusement for me today! Glorioso crowed
privately to himself. He settled into his very comfortable chair and
ordered the collection process to begin. Outside
the gates of the Cuartel, everyone was lining up in their appointed
places to deliver their bags of reales and pesos to enrich the
Capitan’s already overflowing coffers. Visconde de Estrada decided to
collect the taxes from the hidalgos first. Don Diego strode up to
Glorioso and asked in a tight voice how much his father’s new taxes
were now. Don Alejandro would not come in person, as was his usual habit
because he could not trust himself not to strangle Glorioso on sight. “Two
hundred pesos is the de la Vega portion due for the special tax this
year, Don Diego.“ said Corporal Mendoza. “Muy
bien, gracias, corporal.” Don Diego said as he placed the leather bag
containing the de la Vega taxes directly before Visconde Estrada. The caballero
smiled at His Excellency, revealing his perfectly white teeth. Diego’s
grin had its usual unnerving effect upon de Estrada as the Visconde
mopped his sweating brow with his pañuelo. Dios! Mocking me
as usual, I see. the Visconde slowly counted to ten to maintain his
composure. The
collection of taxes from the hidalgos only took about half an
hour as they usually had the necessary funds to cover their levies. Of
course, he was looking forward to the collection of taxes from the péons
because he knew most of the pobrecitos had no money whatsoever
especially after spending their last reales y centavos at the Dia
de Los Muertos festival just yesterday. After yesterday’s
verbal brouhaha in the marketplace this is just the diversion I need, de
Estrada chuckled to himself. The
pueblo’s merchants today had no problem in producing their taxes.
However, they were quite vocal in complaining about this new levy of
sales tax and inventory tax. Since this was the second tax gathering
this year that they had to pay, the shopkeepers knew that they would
face the new year without any capital to buy manufactured goods for sale
in the Pueblo. In particular, the modisto, Señor Roberto
Ballarias, told the Commandante Glorioso that he would file a formal
complaint with Señor Ulloa, the Minister of Finance in Monterey. “You
may certainly protest to Señor Ulloa, but I can assure you, Señor
Ballarias, that it will do you no good. The Minister of Finance, the
Marquis of Grenada, Hector Gonsalves Perez Ulloa, has promised me that I
have complete authority and jurisdiction regarding tax matters. Do I
make myself perfectly clear?" While the capitán spoke, he tapped
his bullwhip against his free hand and focused his gaze on Señor
Ballarias’s face. Selena
was standing next to Don Diego while Señor Ballarias continued to argue
the onerous burden of these new taxes. “Diego, if the good tailor
persists with this foolish talk,” she whispered to him as she tugged
on his arm, “can you not reason with him, mi corazón?” Her
husband nodded. Diego, who by now knew what the limits of His
Excellency’s patience were, and those boundaries were indeed quite
narrow, saw his opportunity to defuse the situation and plunged in. “Señor
Ballarias,” the young de la Vega said as he placed one of his hands on
the modisto’s shoulders, “no one questions your right
to protest taxes, but there is a proper time and a place to do so. Trust
me, señor.” Señor
Ballarias hesitated. He knew that if he decided to write a letter to the
governor or make a trip personally to Monterey he would find no sympathy
there for the people of the Pueblo the Los Angeles. Many others had
protested taxes in the past and very few in Los Angeles; even some of
the hidalgos had not been successful. Is the Governor really
blind regarding the people’s plight here in our Pueblo? Or, as rumor
in the pueblo had it, was the Marquis de Granada Glorioso’s secret
business partner in the La Casa de Hospitalidad? Ballarias wondered
to himself. He certainly did not want to end up in Glorioso's jail or
receive a taste of the capitán’s whip or perhaps suffer both punishments. “Muy
bien, Don Diego, I shall take your advice,” Before Ballarias withdrew
he cast one last contemptuous look at Glorioso and stalked back to his
store. "Ah.
Your pardon, Commandante," said Sergeant Garcia, “but you did
order me to...” "What
is it now Sergeant?" griped the Visconde. “There is much official
business for me to conduct this day!” He continued
to snap his bullwhip as he impatiently waited for Garcia’s response. Sergeant
Garcia leaned over so he could whisper into the capitán's ear.
"The item that you requested from the carpenter is ready for your
inspection." "Excellente!"
Glorioso enthused, clapping his white-gloved hands together. He ordered
Sergeant Garcia to immediately install the brand-new whipping post. The
carpenter rolled his wagon into the center of the marketplace and, with
the lancers help, unloaded the whipping post and erected it under the
supervision of Sergeant Garcia. A sullen hush fell over the crowd as
they watched the soldiers install the captain's torture device. Don
Diego and Selena were glad they decided to wait around and observe the
remainder of the tax collections. They particularly wished to gauge
Glorioso’s reaction to the fact that the péons would be able to meet
their
assessments and not to beg for food or risk starvation this winter. Let
the Commandante wonder where the people obtained the means to pay their
taxes. And
thank the good Lord that the de la Vegas are financially secure and
could help them! Oh, and guess I should thank that despicable Glorioso
for giving El Zorro an extra two days to see that everyone had enough
money for taxes and food! Selena
said to herself. She nudged Diego. “I know what you are thinking, my
husband.” “Oh,
you have now developed mind reading capabilities, quierda mia?” he
chuckled. “Diego,
please, I am trying to be serious! Selena mildly protested. “Lo
siento mucho, dearest. Please continue,” Diego replied. “As
I was saying, you were thinking perhaps the capitán will leave the péons
alone after this tax collection," replied his lovely wife “Es
verdad, si,” Diego wistfully answered. Selena
de la Vega sternly shook her head, "And perhaps the sun will stop
shining, Diego!" "I
would have to agree with you Selena. One cannot expect a leopard to
change it spots especially in light of the fact that Glorioso has
decided to place the whipping post in the marketplace for everyone to
see. I know that if I were a péon, I would certainly be frightened. We
all know how much Glorioso despises the lower classes. He doesn't
consider them to be human beings at all.” Selena
squeezed her husband’s broad chest. “The Commandante is in a class
all his own, Diego. His domain is the ugly world of bigotry, hatred and
monumental selfishness and I am proud to say I know I very little about
such vile things!” “Amen
to that, sweetheart!” Diego agreed. “But I greatly fear that some of
our beneficiaries, such as the Gonzalez’s family, the Videras and
especially the Tiñtero brothers may have been a little too generous
with their reales at the fiesta. At least that is what I heard from
eaves dropping on a conversation between some péons yesterday.” Selena
rolled her eyes in dismay. “May Dios perish those thoughts. By
the Blessed Virgin, will some men never learn not to over indulge?”
Her handsome caballero tightened his arms around Selena’s waist
and kissed the top of her head. “We shall certainly know in a little
while. It is now time for the péons to pay their taxes.” Doña
de la Vega’s eyes glistened from unshed tears. “Diego, please do not
think I am expressing a foolish women’s fear, but I truly have a “For me, for us?” he shook his head and elevated
both eyebrows. “Surely not for your beloved husband, mi corazón. Do
you not have faith in me, or in Our Savior, that everything in this life
occurs for a purpose? “ Selena was pleased to see the frown he wore did not
extend to those stunning hazel eyes. “Oh, Diego, you are more than a
match for my wit! My answer to both of your questions is the same, ‘sí!’” Nevertheless, Selena began fingering her rosary and
saying the Glorious Mysteries, hoping against hope that her feminine
intuition was wrong, very wrong. END OF CHAPTER 27
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