THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 13/18
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Sat, 3 Mar 2001 09:26:42 -0500
THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 13/18
Chapter 13
La Pampa Humeda, near Buenos Aires, in La Plata (Argentina)
It was really difficult to hide on this plain, and Don Carlos could see his
brother's white horse approaching on the dirt road from quite a distance,
before he even felt the Immortal's approach. Eagerly he waited for Don Lucas
to ride up.
"Well?" Don Carlos asked before Don Lucas had even dismounted. "Did you meet
the woman? Is she an Immortal?"
"I did, and she is, just like you predicted, brother," Don Lucas said
pleasantly. "Not only that--do you remember the Aztec mentioned in the
priest's letter? The one who is supposedly influencing the Senorita?"
"Yes," Don Carlos replied, taking his brother's horse and tying him up next
to his own, to the exposed timber of a small empty shack they had
found--which had at least provided some sort of roof over their heads the
night before. They had deliberately avoided the nearest hamlet, not wanting
any of the Indios* to ride and warn the rancho* of their presence. Now he
was impatient to tell Don Lucas what he'd found, but was willing to wait for
his brother to finish.
Don Lucas unsaddled his horse, then went inside, bringing his saddle, while
his brother took the bridle off the Lipizaner so the stallion could graze at
his leisure. Fortunately the shack was near a small brook, so the animals
would have a place to drink as well.
Coming back to where his older brother sat on a blanket on a cleared area of
the floor inside the shack, Don Carlos sat down, patiently listened to what
Don Lucas had to say, then asked, "So we have one more Immortal to worry
about? I guess the old man didn't leave his daughter unprotected after all."
"Actually, he did." The impression Padre Teodoro had given him ... Don Lucas
took the priest's letter out of his pocket and re-read it, then put it back.
"I'm sure Don Alvaro doesn't know this Indio*, this Corazon Negro, is at his
home. But in any case, he is only a stupid savage. He's big and strong
enough that he might give us some trouble, so we'll have to take care of him
first. Between the two of us ...," Don Lucas said, dismissing his future
opponent. "Now ... about the girl ..."
"What about the girl?" Don Carlos asked, leaning forward eagerly.
"Mariaelena Concepcion Duran y Agramonte. Not a girl at all, but a full,
ripe woman, in the prime of her life. She is a wonder. Beautiful and young,
with long black hair to her waist and very full lips, fiery, innocent, and
quite bold. In fact, even though she is a mestiza*, I was quite taken with
her."
"Really?" Don Carlos asked, quite interested by now. He could feel his
temples throbbing, his entire body burning, just from her description. If
his brother liked this woman--
"So I would like to ask your indulgence this time, brother," Don Lucas
asked, leaning forward and putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I
would like to have her first, because after you're finished with a woman,
she tends to be somewhat ... damaged."
Don Carlos smiled. "Not if she's an Immortal."
"True; nevertheless," Don Lucas insisted.
"Of course, Lucas," Don Carlos agreed, giving his brother a canteen of
watered wine to drink from. "You may have her first; then I will tame her
for your next time. An Immortal woman can last a long time--remember?" Don
Lucas nodded, and the younger man continued, smiling in anticipation, "Once
the old bastard is dead, we can spend several days with her. Or, if he takes
some time to return, we'll use her before we meet him.
"Oh, and I've been busy while you were gone on your scouting expedition,
Lucas. I've found the perfect place for a trap, a tiny grove of about twenty
of these ombu* trees near the river." He got on his knees and smoothed out a
section of the dirt floor of the abandoned cabin. Then, with his dagger, he
drew an approximate map of the rancho*, the river, and the grove of trees he
had found. Don Lucas squatted close to examine the rude map, nodding. "Even
better," Don Carlos continued, "I found very recent tracks of a group of
riders who had watered their horses there this very morning. And at least
one of the horses, perhaps two of them, were big animals, most likely
Andalusians like the ones Don Alvaro breeds--the other three of four were
the small criollos*," he finished.
"It fits with what I found out," Don Lucas said. "It seems the Senorita
Mariaelena goes out riding in the mornings. It was probably her riding party
whose tracks you found by the river." He looked up from the map at his
brother. "Tell me, do you believe this grove of trees is visible from the
rancho*?"
Carlos thought for a moment, making some calculations about time and
distance. "No, but I believe it's close. Why?"
"Perfect," Don Lucas said, smiling and resisting the urge to rub his hands
together in glee. His plan would work out wonderfully. Suddenly he tilted
his head, listening, and Don Carlos, following his brother's lead, heard
riders coming up. "That will be the priest who wrote the letter, Padre
Teodoro," Don Lucas explained.
"The priest? But Lucas, why is a priest coming here?" Don Carlos asked,
truly puzzled.
"Because I asked the old fool to meet me," Don Lucas explained patiently.
~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours earlier, at the rancho*
"Of course I'd love to help you, Padre Teodoro," the fake Don 'Juan'
explained to the priest. "But the Senorita really seems almost enchanted by
this Aztec. He even spoke for her. I honestly don't know what I can do."
"As her father's friend, and as a God-fearing Spaniard, can't you simply
speak out against this idolater?" Padre Teodoro asked, incensed.
"She might not listen to you or to me," Don Lucas replied, getting a sudden
inspiration, "but she must obey her father. I suggest we ride to Buenos
Aires at once and advise my old friend Don Alvaro to come home and see to
his daughter's safety. Surely between the two of us we can convince him of
the urgency of the situation."
"Yes; her soul is in imminent danger," Padre Teodoro stated firmly. "And
since that damned Indio* saved the life of a rider's child, the other
workers at the rancho* will do nothing against him, even when I've insisted
on it."
"What do you expect from Indios* and mestizos*?" Don Lucas said, with just
the right note of paternalistic exasperation. "And impressionable young
women? So. Why don't you make arrangements to leave the rancho* on some
pretext, if you think she might try to stop you--"
"She would not dare to stop me!" Padre Teodoro declared. "I am a man of
God!"
"Of course. But she might try to prevent me, so why don't we meet at the
small shack about fifteen leagues down the eastern road--do you know the
place?"
"Yes, there is a small deserted hut--I know where it is. I will meet you
there as soon as I can get ready for the trip to Buenos Aires. Certainly
before the sun sets."
~~~~~~~~~~
Back on the pampa
"And here he is," Don Lucas said, getting up and looking outside. As he
headed through the opening that used to be a door, he was held back by his
brother.
"But why the priest?" Don Carlos asked again.
"Carlitos! We don't want the Inquisition to find out about Immortals, do we?
Besides," Don Lucas continued over his shoulder as he lowered his head to
walk out and meet the priest, "we need a dead body to be found."
Don Carlos let his brother go and shook his head. Yesterday they had buried
a body to hide it; now Lucas said they needed another body to be found. He
didn't understand it--but as he followed his brother outside and saw that
the priest had brought a young rider with him, he smiled his most joyful
smile, deciding he didn't care.
**********
Next morning
Duran rancho* near Buenos Aires, in La Plata (Argentina)
Elena rose while it was still dark out, unable to sleep. Dressing in her
riding clothes--pants this morning for ease of movement--she slipped down to
the ballroom and picked up a practice sword from the stand at one end of the
room. It was a Japanese katana* Don Alvaro had forged himself. She then
began a fancy sword kata* that Don Alvaro's teacher, a man by the name of Ra
mirez, had learned in Japan many centuries ago. Of course, she couldn't do
it as well as her father could, especially today, when she was tired and
torn in an agony of indecision. When Padre Teodoro had told her yesterday
that he was going to find her father and ask him to come back to the rancho*
immediately and "take care of this heathen," Elena's first instinct had been
to warn Corazon Negro. Padre Teodoro wanted the Aztec to burn, and for that
he'd have to bring the Inquisition to her home. She had also discovered that
the priest had sent little Manuel with a message to Buenos Aires--so who was
that message for? Undoubtedly for a churchman in Buenos Aires--for the
Inquisition? This was nothing but trouble, especially for Corazon Negro, and
it would be in his best interest to get away as soon as possible.
But she had stifled her first instinct. Maybe warning the Aztec was not what
she wanted to do. After all, if he ran off, that would leave an Inquisitor
with no victim, and she knew for a fact that such a man would not make a
long trip for nothing. Another suitable victim would have to be found, and
she felt she would be a good second choice. But letting Corazon Negro burn
instead of her, not even warning him--was that fair? Was it the right thing
to do?
She abandoned her practice before she cut off her own foot or something.
Breathless, she walked over to a table and drank some watered wine, then
leaned against the wall of the ballroom, sliding down to sit on the polished
wooden floor, her sword held out in front of her. She looked down the length
of the sharp curved blade. It was designed to kill--in her case, to kill
Immortals specifically. But even without using a sword, was she effectively
killing the Aztec by not warning him? Corazon Negro had said he would die
protecting her. Maybe this was what his prophecy meant, that he would burn
in her place, burn for her.
"Senorita."
The whisper startled her. She hadn't been paying attention to her
surroundings--and she'd left the door open. This was not good. But it was
only one of the servants, standing respectfully in the doorway, not coming
inside, perky and alert even at this hour. "Buenos dias*, Lupe."
"Buenos dias. Would you like something to eat? Your cafe con leche*?"
It was early for breakfast, but one of the advantages of being the Senorita
was that she could eat when she wanted. "Yes, I'd like breakfast in about an
hour."
"A sus ordenes*, Senorita," the girl replied, with a little bow.
Elena shook her head, wiped the sweat from her face with her sleeve, and
started the kata again. But she got only partway through before she quit for
good, putting the weapon away. Guilt filled her; she believed the Aztec was
an honest and noble man, and she absolutely did not want him to die. But the
guilt warred with her instinct for self-preservation. She couldn't decide
what to do--she had thought about it and prayed about it and gotten no
relief, no sign, no inkling--and she felt ...
She took a deep breath as the answer came to her. She wouldn't have to make
a decision. She would consult with the one person who would know best what
to do--her father. As soon as he came home--and it would certainly be soon,
now, before any Churchman could arrive--Don Alvaro would take charge,
removing the responsibility and the guilt from her. Yes, she thought, that
was the answer. And while she came up with this solution, her heart easing
somewhat in her chest, she realized that she would do anything she could to
influence his decision in favor of Corazon Negro, speak on the Aztec's
behalf, even if it angered Don Alvaro. Because she could do nothing else,
and Corazon Negro deserved nothing less. And that, she was sure, *was* the
right thing to do.
In the meantime, she'd go on her usual morning ride, even if Paco and the
Aztec warned her to stay inside, to be cautious. Because she would not let
the threat of Don Juan or any other arrogant Immortal keep her a prisoner in
her own house.
After all, she, too, was an Immortal.
Notes & translations:
cabecita negra (Spanish): black head, insulting term given to dark-skinned
Indios and mestizos by the white Spaniards
puta (Spanish): whore
Indio/a (Spanish): Indian
rancho (Spanish): ranch
criollo (Spanish): small wild horse of the Argentine pampa, not purebred
katana (Japanese): Japanese curved blade
kata (Japanese): warrior's practice exercise, done with a weapon or
bare-handed
buenos dias (Spanish): good morning, good day
cafe con leche (Spanish): hot milk with coffee
a sus ordenes (Spanish): as you command