Entry #17

Adan.

I awoke in the infirmary. It was empty, save for the sunlight straying through the open door. Outside, I could hear voices, but none of them were distinguishable, just obnoxious and with varying pitches. I looked down. I had slept in one of the beds, propped against the headboard with a pillow under my neck and back. Pepita’s head was on my thigh, her arm was around my waist. Her appearance was child-like, innocent. After the attack last night, she was brought here, and Olvida soon followed after being sedated. I remember helping Doctor Gil after laying Pepita down.

“Just keep handing me the bandages. We need to clean these wounds, and dress them.”

Olvida was stripped of her clothing, and her skin was a patchwork blend of flawless and flayed flesh. Doctor Gil cleaned the wounds, which bubbled upon having any solution applied to them. The slashes were deep, and some required stitches, while others were shallow, and looked as if the skin had been peeled away from. I never knew skin looked like that when removed, red and dense. The cross shape had been burned into her neck, but Doctor Gil was of the opinion that the charred flesh would mend. We dressed her wounds and I went to one of the empty beds. I pulled aside the curtain, and dropped onto the mattress.

“Nieve,” my name was whispered shortly after, and my breath caught in my throat. Oh, Lord. What now? Who was that? I tilted my head, and saw, through a crack in the thin curtain, that Pepita was sitting up in bed, beckoning me. “Nieve, please.”

I dragged myself out of bed, despite how much my body protested for sleep. The distance was trudged one step at a time, and the back of my fingers cleared away the curtain. Pepita was sitting up, laying against her bent knees, her hands folded around her neck.

“The things she called me,” she whimpered. “In front of them. The things she called me back there.”

“Pepita. Olvida was not in control of herself.”

“I do not care,” Pepita wailed, rocking back and forth. “I am no whore. I am not.”

I settled on the bed beside her, took her shoulders and eased her hands from her neck. A bedside table was adorned with a bowl of water, a pitcher, and a couple of rags. Usually, this was used to rinse the patient’s face, or to clean blood off Doctor Gil’s hands as he worked. I dipped the rag in the water, twisted as much moisture out as I could, and then shifted on the bed so I was in front of Pepita. I began to dab her neck where the swelling was worst, or where I saw a cut. I touched the cloth to her cheeks and her forehead, carrying her tears away as they rolled down her face.

Pepita’s calm broke, and she tilted forward. I held her, balanced her brow on my shoulder with ease and rubbed her back. I had never seen Pepita so broken and conscious of herself. The pain in her neck was nothing compared to the blow her pride had taken.

“Do you want me to stay?” I asked.

Now, in the morning, she looked calm again. I cradled her head carefully, and slipped off the bed. I lay her head back down on a pillow. She stirred, her eyes opening briefly to take me in before she nestled deeper into the cushion under her cheek. When I came out from behind the curtain, I noticed that Olvida’s bed was empty.

“I have made myself clear!” I heard someone bark from outside, and retreated from the infirmary. I kept low in the garden as I walked the short path, and knelt behind a bush of tomatoes. Captain Gonzalo, with a couple of his own officers that escorted him and Olvida from the coast, was facing Father Leoncio. All of them were mounted, including Olvida. She was hunched in her saddle, holding a cloak around her shoulders. A hood was pulled over her head, hiding any other wounds. All she was not to me now was the point of her nose, and a glimpse of her eyes from around the edge of her cowl. Father Leoncio was dwarfed by the mounted posse, and surrounding him were the other soldiers.

“You have,” Father Leoncio gave in, probably reaching the end of a longer argument I had missed as I came to in the infirmary.

“We will ride for the coast, and I will be setting sail for the Yucatan within the week.”

“Hear me out,” Father Leoncio protested. “Leave us behind all you wish, Captain, but until you have finalized such arrangements with your general in Yucatan, leave us a unit. We do in fact rely on their support here within the mission.”

“Why? In case you progress? Father, your mission has been sitting like a wart on this hill for four years. There has been no progress into the mountains or into the jungles. You have made no effort to dominate these territories, so why would you need soldiers?”

“The King himself has requested that missions are protected, no matter the elements. Some times these elements cannot be predicted. Be reasonable. We are men of God, not of War. We would not know how to protect these people if something were to occur here.”

Captain Gonzalo began to circle Father Leoncio, seemingly capitalizing on some insistence he must have been mistaking as weakness. I know that the man refusing to drop to his knees and beg the Captain was stronger than any soldier I had seen since coming here. The light I saw my Father in was a bold one, and I felt invigorated, energized. More than anything, I prayed that Father Leoncio succeeded.

“You are lucky I do not flush this entire place away after what transpired with my wife, though do not mistake me. The question of whether or not you and Father Alvarelo are fit to run this mission will be brought to the attention of those in the Yucatan. I will take it to Mexico if I have to, Father. Do not worry, you will be able to state your case. I promise, you will be granted an opportunity to salvage what you can of your name and state.” Captain Gonzalo’s head whipped about, and he pointed in Lope’s direction. “Private Romero.”

“Sir!”

“You are in charge until we return with replacements.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Until then?” Father Leoncio asked, squinting at the Captain in the sunlight.

“Until then, do what you do best. Pray.” Captain Gonzalo snorted, and whipped his horse about. He trotted from the courtyard with his wife and other officers in tow. Olvida did not even look back, and slowly the soldiers began to fade back into the mission, many of them encircling Lope to pat him on the back. I stood and watched them go. Lope had hooked his thumbs on his belt, there was a swagger to his step. They disappeared into the mission, calling for someone to fetch them a drink. Of all people… Lope. Lope Romero was chosen to be in charge of the soldiers here in the mission. I had my doubts, and above those I had my fears, multiple horrors at what the mission soldiers would be like under his control. Already they stayed up late, roaring at the Tairona servants, bedding who they pleased, drinking beyond their capacity, forgoing sobriety and control for lushness and discord.

Father Leoncio was left to stand alone in the courtyard. My gaze slipped back to him, and I approached gingerly. I was not sure what mood I would find him in, but his tightly shut eyes, and his stiff posture offered me a pronounced look at a mounting frustration. I turned to leave him, but he stopped me.

“Nieve,” he called, I halted in my tracks, my habit swayed about my ankles, and I glanced over my shoulder at his still frame. “Will you pour us some tea?”

“Of course, Father Leoncio.”

“You have your class resuming soon, yes?”

“Yes, Father.”

“We will take our tea in the library then. I will call on Father Alvarelo and we will plan the curriculum from now until summer. How does this sound?”

“I am pleased with it, Father.” I ventured closer now, I was unaware that I had started to wring my hands. “However, are you happy with it?”

“Come,” he refused to answer, though I could see he longed to unleash every bit of pent up agitation he could muster. Perhaps it was best for him to find a different place - such as the schooling - to release these energies. “We will convene in the library, and hopefully our tea will not be cold.”