|
 Menu
|
|
|
|
|
Social
|
|
|
|
|
Margarita XLIX
Contributed by
ramfire
on
Wednesday, 30th March 2005 @ 10:23:01 AM in AEST
Topic:
fantasy
|
The coach halted at San Laurius Hill little past midnight. Sound of guitars and violins came from the hacienda's upper courtyard. Hand clapping accompanied music.
" Jose, they are dancing a fandango!"
" The vaqueros welcome Margarita back home."
" I have always loved a fandango. You know that, Jose." She began clapping her pudgy hands together keeping time.
Father Cheliso smiled at Theresa's ebullient spirit. Jose spoke. " Did you know Theresa plays the castanets, Father?"
" No, I didn't know that. I learn new things about Theresa every day."
" Oh yes. In Spain she danced the flamenco. I played the guitar and she danced."
Theresa's dancing seemed barely possible. " You must have been very good, senora," he said giving her the benefit of the doubt.
Theresa stopped clapping. " I'm sorry Father. What did you say?"
" Jose tells me you danced the flamenco. You must have been very good."
A shade of sorrow crossed her face. She pursed her lips nodding her head. " Yes, Father. I was very good. Jose talks too much."
" I would love to hear the castanets again.. Not since Guanajuato days have I heard the castanets. Do you still have them?"
" I have them. I'll always have them. They are in my trunk."
" Maybe some day you will use them again.".
" I don't know. "
Jose continued his revelation about his wife's dancing days as a young woman. " She has all her costumes too. They are brilliantly colored and fanciful."
" Will you be quiet, Jose! Father Cheliso's not interested in such things."
" But I am, senora. All these years I didn't know you danced. It comes as a sudden surprise. I must confess though my incomplete understanding of flamenco music. Perhaps you could enlighten me a little more, Jose, about this musical form."
Jose jumped at the chance to parade his knowledge of music before this learned man.
" It's a tragic type of music, Father, originally created and sung by prisoners many of whom were gypsies. It has affinities with old Adalusian's "cante jonda" and the wailing Sephardic Jews. Meaning of its name is obscured, some saying flamenco means Flemish, others,
flamingo-colored. The dance is characterized by hand and body gestures with much foot stamping. It is in marked contrast to typical Spanish dances."
" Jose," Theresa interrupted his explanation. " Why do we stop here at the bottom of the hill?"
Theresa's interruption irritated Jose; he wanted to talk more about music -- one of his life's great passions. With much self control and good manners he patiently answered his wife.
" The driver is resting the horses, dear. They are tired and can't pull hill right now with such
a heavy load."
" I'm getting out. I want to see the fandango."
" I'll go with you, senora," the priest added opening the door for her to exit the coach. " With two less in the coach, the animals will have an easier time to pull the grade."
Theresa directed a question to her husband. " Jose, are you coming?"
" Yes dear."
When Theresa was safely on the ground, she raised her voice for help. Her words cut the black night air like a sharp knife blade. " Senor Silva! I need your help."
The skinny horseman came to her aid. He dismounted Bravo and stood before her with his sombrero in hand. " Si, Senora," he said holding high the lantern in his other hand to better see what his Excellency's wife wanted.
" How can I help you?"
" I need you to help me up the hill."
" With much pleasure, senora," he said wondering if he were able to do that thing. Together they stumbled up the hill with Theresa holding on to his hand.
Jose and Father Cheliso followed some distance behind slowly walking the dark rutted trail. The music grew louder as they approached the hacienda, clapping more intense. Father Pico asked Jose a question. " I have heard you play the guitar, Jose. You play extremely well. Who was your teacher?"
" Fernando Sor."
" Such a distinguished man! It's no wonder your technique is flawless. Last year during the fiesta of Saint Didacus I heard you play Variations on a Theme of Mozart. Never in my life
have I seen such finger work, heard such sounds. Knowing your teacher was Sor himself, it's understandable you were able to play his composition so well.
" I enjoy playing the guitar, Father. Long ago, Theresa danced as I accompanied her. It is not so now. Then she was young and beautiful. Looking at her now it is hard to believe, but it is so."
" You still love her, eh Jose."
"She is the wife of my youth. I still love her, but her tongue hurts me."
" I saw what she did to you in the coach."
" She didn't like my snoring."
" It was cruel, Jose."
" She was half asleep. She didn't know what she was doing."
"She knew. 'It was cruel."
" You must speak to her, Father."
" You must speak to Margarita."
" I will. I have made up my mind about that. It will be difficult, but I will do it. My conscience has given me no peace since out talk."
" When?"
" Tomorrow."
" Good."
" She is too happy tonight. I can't talk of things like this to her in the midst of a fandango."
" Of course not."
" I'll do it tomorrow when there is no music."
" That will be soon enough."
" You will still talk to Theresa about her bad tongue and to Miguel about accepting the anglo as Margarita's husband?"
" Yes, Jose. That is why I'm here."
" Then let's be happy tonight, Father. Tomorrow comes soon enough."
" That's good philosophy. But tell me more about the guitar, Jose. It is my favorite instrument."
The men continued their conversation about the guitar and music until they where at the top of the hill much out of breath. At the top of the hill they followed Segundo and Dona Theresa to the hacienda's main gate. The area was well it with torches. Clapping men, women, and children were crowded close together. There was much happiness present. Music came from the north part of the hacienda's patio area where musicians sat on wooden chairs with leather backs and bottoms. Miguel stood talking to several men; the woman next to him was Dona Luisa looking sullen, disinterested in the festivities.
Patrona was of small stature with large round eyes; eyes filled her face. Eyes were not happy eyes. They were eyes wishing other things. They wished Margarita were not the center of attention. It was not Patrona's idea to have a fandango. If permitted, she would stop the music; she would send the people back to the pueblo. It was too soon for such things. It was too soon because she didn't know if Margarita was repentant. Can a single hug and kiss on cheek
tell anything?
Now her eyes glowed with pleasure because they gave her the sight of Theresa. She put a hand on
Miguel's arm drawing his attention away from his conversation with the men.
" What is it, Luisa?"
" They are here."
" Where?"
" Here comes Theresa."
Miguel excused himself from the men. He walked over to meet the wife of his brother. Bowing, he took her hand and kissed it " You get lovelier each time I see you."
" Liar, but tell me more. I love it."
" How was your `jornada'? Where is Jose?"
" The trip was hard as always. Jose is coming. Father Cheliso is with him. Don Huerra's is seeing that the coach gets up the hill. He will be here later."
" Don Huerra is here? That is a surprise. But then again, maybe not. He probably wants to talk
about the money I owe him. Come sit. You look tired."
" I had help coming up hill, but I am tired."
Miguel led her to where Luisa waited. He found a chair for his sister-in-law. Bowing in respect, he made a request to leave.
" With you permission, I think I will go and find my brother."
Theresa gave him an approving head nod. " Do that. Luisa and I have much to talk about." She took a hand fan that Luisa offered her. Theresa tried to make herself cooler with quick fan flurries. She asked an important question between deep breaths. " Where is Margarita?"
Luisa gave her a quick answer." She is dancing. See, over there with Pedro."
Theresa looked to where Luisa pointed. She made observation. " Margarita seems to dance well enough. Three years haven't made her forget the steps or the desire to dance."
Patrona's eyes followed Margarita as she glided across tiles. Anger filled Luisa's eyes.
" No sister. She hasn't forgotten how to dance."
Theresa decided to relate Sunday conversation to Luisa. It made good talk. " Last Sunday on way home from church Margarita told me she still loved the gringo."
Luisa blinked several times in quick succession. She turned to her sister-in-law, face ashen, body shaking. " She did what?"
" She told me she still loves the gringo. She said that when the time is right she will run away with him."
Luisa gripped the wood column next to her with both hands trying to stop shaking. Her knuckle turned white.
" What --- what did she thay?" she now lisped with extreme anger.
" She said her heart's sick because of what you did to her. She resents your placing her in the convent. She said she still loves the gringo and plans to run off with him."
Luisa couldn't stand any longer. She made a musician give up his chair. She sat down next to
Theresa. The musicians could see Patrona was angry. They decided to move to the opposite side of the patio.
When the musicians stopped playing, Margarita and Pedro stopped dancing. Laughing together, they came to stand before the two women. Pedro bowed before his aunt.
" Aunt Theresa," he said with courtesy, " it is good to see you. I hope you will enjoy your stay
with us. If I can do anything for you, please let me know. My pleasure's only to be of service to
you." He smiled broadly.
Theresa looked at the man before her. She hadn't seen Pedro in three years -- since he was a boy with a runny nose. This new person was heavy set with big shoulders. Black mustachio met sideburns in muttonchop fashion. There was strength in him -- a sense of power that almost made her feel young again. Her first impression in the carriage was right -- this was no longer a boy. He must be talked to differently.
" Senor," she ventured hesitantly, " I have one question to ask.
" Si, senora?"
" Where is Pedro the boy?"
Strong man laughed. It was a good laugh. It was a loud laugh. Laugh made people look at him. He drew an imaginary outlines of a box in the air. " I put him in a box, Aunt Theresa, with his silly games and childish talk. I floated it down the river and now he is far away."
" Luisa, look at him! He's not your Pedrito any more. He is one grand vaquero!"
Luisa managed a smile for Pedro. For Margarita she could not smile. She could not endure looking at Margarita. She answered her sister. " Yeth, Pedro hath grown up. Miguel leavth the work of the rancho to him."
Patrona continued lisping because she remained angry. Once angry, she didn't recover quickly. Her temper was like burning oak logs -- hot and long lasting. Margarita asked her a question.
" Mama, can I get you a cool drink of water? You look warm."
" That isth a good idea child. You leave uth and bring me thome water."
Luisa looked at her sister in law; it was all she could do to keep from grinding her teeth together. Margarita left. Patrona asked her Theresa a question about Margarita still loving the gringo.
" Are you thure?"
" My dear, I heard her. Don Huerra's foreman was the driver of our carriage so he must have heard her words too. Ask him."
" I will. I will thend her to Thpain tho fatht her head will thpin."
Pedro asked a question. " What's wrong, Mamacita? What has Margarita done?"
" Thee thill loveth the gringo. Thee ith unrepentant."
Pedro doubled his right fist smacking it into the palm of his left hand. " Por Dios! How do you know?"
Theresa answered. " She told me, nephew. Last Sunday on our way home from church she said she would have no other man but him."
" I'll talk with her, Mamacita. I'll find out if it is really so."
" If you find out hith name, what will you do?"
" I have not forgotten father's vow. I'll kill him!"
Theresa smiled; Luisa relaxed, her heart filled with gratitude. Pedro was a good man.
Miguel suddenly appeared. He had returned with Jose and Father Cheliso. He asked a question. " What are you three talking about?"
Theresa thought it not wise at this time to tell Miguel about Margarita for Miguel was very close in his affection to Margarita and this news would terribly upset him and ruin the party. She gave him an untrue answer. " Things in general. Nothing important."
Jose took Luisa's hand and kissed it. " You had a good idea, Luisa, opening your home to the pueblo families. Such a welcome for Margarita does you honor."
Luisa made an unhappy remark. " Ith too much for her, I think, Jose. But I thee you have brought Father Chelitho."
The priest gave Luisa a smile. " I hope my arrival hasn't inconvenienced you, senora. I wanted so much to be part of Margarita's homecoming celebration and when Jose invited me, I couldn't say no. Your daughter's return must give you great happiness."
Luisa masked her true feeling.
" Many people are happy, Father. Margarita ith enjoying the welcome. Thay ath long ath you like; my home ith alwayth your home."
Margarita returned with water. She handed the cup to her mother. " Here is your water, mama."
" Thank you child."
" Senores," Pedro said entering the conversation shaking hands with both Uncle Jose and the priest, " I hope I didn't frighten you earlier, but I was in a hurry and a horseman was trying to block me."
" That horseman was Don Huerra, nephew."
" Don Huerra? Holy Virgin! " Pedro, realizing his error of speech, quickly apologized to the priest. " I'm so stupid, Father. Forgive me. First I offend Don Huerra earlier this night and now I
profane the Blessed Virgin. What will become of me?"
The priest shook his head to show he thought nothing bad would happen to him. He gave Pedro a few words. " I should think nothing bad, Pedro. Your apology is penance enough for the Holy Mother. As for Don Huerra, `Quien sabe? I think though he understands and also forgives your impoliteness."
Jose spoke. " Don Huerra didn't seem offended, nephew. You can asked him when he gets here. You will soon have the opportunity. He is on his way up the hill."
Theresa made mention of their trip." Huerra certainly helped us. He gave the the driver good directions in avoiding holes and ruts. He and his foreman led the way with lanterns. Without them we would be camped in fields tonight. The most exciting thing of the trip was when you and your vaqueros came to meet us. When Pedro opened the coach door, I thought I would faint."
Miguel burst out in laughter." You hear that, Pedro? You frighten people because you look so mean."
Pedro smiled at his father. " She's just saying that. It is not really true that I look mean." Pedro continued, giving his aunt a big wink. "I almost took you, Aunt Theresa, instead of my big sister. It was very dark and I couldn't see too well."
Theresa gave a little laugh. Margarita spoke to mamacita." Mama, it was so exciting riding Diablo. He remembers me. When I started to get on him, he nuzzled my hand. I didn't have to use spurs at all. He can run like the wind. It is so good to be home again."
" You've alwayth had a way with animalth. Your grandfather hath many animalth in Thpain - thuch a wonderful country."
" We have many animals here too, mama."
Luisa changed the subject. " I with thenor Huerra would get here, Miguel. Did you thee him?"
" He was directing the driver to the stable when I last saw him. He should be here soon. Here he comes now!"
Huerra and Segundo threaded their way through the crowd laughing and joking with the vaqueros. They avoided the dancers. Approaching the seated ladies, each removed their
sombrero bowing low. Huerra took Luisa's hand kissing it gently. Segundo backed off a short
distance.
Huerra spoke." Is it not true that the most valuable treasures in this world come in small packages? Dona Luisa, looking at you I am reminded that you are the real treasure of
San Laurius."
" It ith a nice thing you thay, Don Huerra. I am very happy to thee you. My houth ith your houth."."
" Thank you, senora. I can't think of any place on earth I'd rather be." He courteously nodded his head acknowledging Theresa's presence. He directed a question to her. Are you enjoying the fandango, senora?" he asked politely.
" Yes, Senor Huerra. Margarita enjoys the fandango too.You should have seen her dancing with Pedro."
Huerra returned a few gracious comments about Margarita. " It comes as no surprise to me that senorita dances well. She is so graceful, so light on her feet. Dancing with her would be a rare privileged not often granted to a mortal man."
Margarita's blush was seen by all. Dona Theresa made a comment about Margarita's blush.
" I think you embarrass her, Senor Huerra."
" I hope not, Senora Hernandez." Turning contritely to Margarita, Huerra apologized. " I am forever saying the wrong things to you. First it was in the church about your patron saint, and now it is about your dancing. Forgive me again, senorita. I didn't mean to embarrass you. It is so easy for me to get carried away with your praise."
Margarita dropped her eyes taking her father's arm for comfort and support; she hated this slippery tongue lizard with his pretty words and oily manner. Huerra continued.
" Senor Hernandez, I think this is a happy day for you. Margarita is back home and your family is complete once again."
" Si, Senor Huerra, now we are complete. May I thank you for giving them an excellent escort from Santa Peralta. I've been told they would be camped in the fields tonight if it were not for you."
" A simple matter of using lanterns, nothing more."
Miguel gestured to Segundo. " You stand too far away, vaquero. Come closer!"
Segundo obeyed. He took a position at Huerra's side. Don Miguel complimented the skinny foreman. " You did well tonight, vaquero, helping Don Huerra see my daughter home safely. Maybe later you would like a drink, eh?"
Segundo smiled. " Thank you, Patron. You honor me."
" Good! We will see to it."
Huerra spoke to Pedro. " Hombre, I thought you were going to ride over me."
" I didn't realize it was you, Don Huerra."
" Segundo was about to shoot you."
" I'm glad he didn't, Patron. I wouldn't have liked that."
Winking at Segundo, Huerra baited the man. " You wouldn't have liked that eh, muchacho."
" No, Patron. It would have gotten my new shirt bloody."
Huerra laughed. Shaking Pedro's hand, he slapped him on the back in friendship. " Perhaps we can have a drink together too, amigo. What do you say?"
Pedro admired and respected the older man. He was flattered to have his invitation." With much pleasure, Patron."
Huerra gave him good words. " I hope your father has enough tequila for all of us."
Copyright ©
ramfire
... [
2005-03-30 10:23:01]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
Advertisments:
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry, comments are no longer allowed for anonymous, please register for a free membership to access this feature and more
|
|
All comments are owned by the poster. Your Poetry
Dot Com is not responsible for the content of any
comment.
That said, if you find an offensive comment, please
contact via the FeedBack Form with details, including poem title
etc.
|
|
|
|
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
