The Saga of Fray Paco
Book 2: The Formidable Dona Esperanza
Chapter 3: The Long Night
Dona Esperanza de Montebello was endowed with the type of beauty Sandro Botticelli; the Florentine Renaissance painter would have sold his soul to immortalize on canvas. Pale, nacre skin, so translucent one could almost trace the veins on her hands, feet, face, bosom and abdomen. She had long, wavy, golden hair, which she wore rather defiantly when she wasn’t attending a royal ball or a zarzuela (Spanish musical) with her devastatingly attractive husband Count Daniele de Montebello.
“For you, vida mia,” Count Daniele de Montebello declaimed, “Boticelli would have continued painting his delectable, erotic masterpieces – pagan masterpieces – instead of those insipid saintlier-than-thou themes he painted when he found religion. He wouldn’t have been content with ‘The Birth of Venus', ‘The Birth of Spring’, and ‘Mars and Venus’. Boticelli would have been inspired by you to create other themes like Salome dancing the Seven Veils for her lecherous stepfather King Herod. Ahh … let’s see … a quite undressed Hamadryad astride a branch of a majestic olive tree … or … Esperanza mia … I see you as Bathsheba bathing on the roof of her villa unaware she was tantalizing King David who watched from a latticed window, like the voyeur he was, hidden from view.”
“That story in the Old Testament has always puzzled me,” expressed Esperanza. “Bathsheba surely knew, sooner or later, King David would have seen her. I think she hoped he would. The King’s palace was close by after all.”
Dona Esperanza and Don Daniele were lying deliciously naked in the Roman tub made of porphyry, smoking cigarillos wrapped in rich tobacco leaves. Her husband was drinking out of a silver goblet; his lips had turned slightly green. Dona Esperanza cupped a hand with the water opulently sprinkled with pure ylang-ylang oil and threw the water into her husband’s face. “I like you better with your red lips.”
“Don’t be jealous of my Green Goddess, vida mia,” her husband replied with amusement.
Dona Esperanza was giddy from the champagne at the Presentation Ball. The scent of ylang-ylang and the tuberose on the vase near their porphyry tub had gone to her head. Smoking her short cigarillos had been naughty. Her husband’s comment had gone unnoticed. She was reveling in her own sensations.
“I love the character of Bathsheba, so free, uninhibited and original. Bathing in blinding light must be as exciting as lying in our Roman tub surrounded by beeswax candles longer than your sword and scented with myrrh.”
“Which sword do you mean? The one made of metal or is it the one of flesh?
Dona Esperanza stood up sinuously; the circles of oil clung to her translucent skin. She let her husband desire her with his dark eyes; she tiptoed up the steps of the tub, taking her time (no one was pursuing them), certain Daniele would find her ankles, legs, buttocks, her long wet golden hair covering her back, irresistible.
Daniele had never seen his wife of 40 days snake around so naked. The sight of her inflamed him. He ran after her up the steps onto the purplish marble tiles. Dona Esperanza giggled, cupping her small breasts, and broke up at the sight of her Daniele with his engorged organ. She slid to her knees on the carpet from Shiraz and then stretched out. “I can’t decide if you look muy macho or a little odd with your … protuberance or both.”
“And,” Daniele replied, sliding down on top of her, “I can’t decide whether we should go back to our heavily scented tub, lie inside our warm covers in bed, or have a cuerpo a cuerpo (body to body) experiment with you on the Shiraz.
“The bed has been christened many times, the Roman tub idem. The Shiraz carpet is still a virgin. I like it here,” declared Esperanza. “But querido …” Dona Esperanza hesitated.
“What?” queried Don Daniele, lifting her back to smooth out all her long hair above her head.
“I’m cold. Would you put some more wood into the fireplace?”
“How thoughtless of me,” uttered Don Daniele, striking the tips of his fingers to his forehead. He vaulted up towards the fireplace.
How beautiful he is, Dona Esperanza thought as she beheld her naked husband. He had high cheekbones which were highlighted by the fire from the logs, almond eyes the color of her sable cloak, light brown hair which she loved to run through her fingers, a small boned, lithe frame gracefully tall (he was a mixture of Spanish, Italian, and Austrian) but not as regally tall as her Uncle Cesar. Don Daniele was the quintessence of a gentleman.
“You Filipinas have crystal water running through your veins. This type of temperature in Madrid takes acclimatizing. Forgive me, my darling?” Don Daniele asked, kissing her lips, cheeks, the tip of her nose and her ear lobes in between each word.
“I’ll think about it,” replied Dona Esperanza, running her nails lightly down the length of his back.
“While you’re making up your mind, let’s make some sorcery in love,” Don Daniele suggested in hushed tones. “Sposa, te deseo (My spouse, I desire you).”
“Si, sposo, ven aqui (Yes, my spouse, come to me).”
Madrid Spain, highest capital in Europe, March, 1919
In the most sumptuous suite of the lavish Ritz Hotel, 15-year old Dona Esperanza de Montebello, known as “La Bella Filipina,” trembled at the sound of the wind whistling through the Plaza and its connecting streets.
A portent? she asked herself.
She could not sleep. She had slowly edged her body, clothed in a costly light, sheer golden pina fabric (hand loomed and hand woven in the Philippines) away from her husband of 40 days, Count Daniele de Montebello, to have more room to stretch her muscles, which had become rigid from the strain of lying still.
I wanted to be seductive and alluring. Esperanza rebuked herself. The entreaties of her mother Dona Eufemia and her father Don Augusto to include warmer clothing in her bridal lingerie were ignored. Her husband Count Daniele had whispered ardently tonight before falling asleep clenching her gossamer pina-clad body against his naked body.
“My love will keep you warm. Good night, vida mia.”
So much for that poetic declaration. Dona Esperanza realized. It wasn’t true. She stopped herself in the middle of a sigh; fearful she might disturb her husband who was sleeping soundlessly, although she perceived his rhythmic breathing. She wondered if a Tiger sounded like that.
The draughty bedroom suite with its 35-foot vaulted ceilings were chilling to Dona Esperanza, who had grown up in the Philippines and considered herself a hot house waling-waling orchid.
I have very thin blood, she told herself silently. She was lying with her back towards her husband on their gilt Venetian bed with the heavy moss green velvet draperies, which ran the entire length of the four-poster bed. Dona Esperanza loathed them. Tonight she would have to choose between the unbearable sensation of suffocation which the closed curtains gave her or dying a young death from the influenza which seemed to be killing thousands of people in Europe and in America.
Dona Esperanza could see the velvet curtain was open by the foot of her side of the bed. She and Daniele must have accidentally brushed against it in their frequent couplings tonight. She gingerly stretched an arm out of the goose down quilt to feel how cold the temperature in the room really was. She quickly brought it under the covers.
There was another irritating decision to make. Hanging in the hallway which led to their bedroom were her fur cloak, ermine lined coat, a floor length sable ensemble, Spanish Merino wool capes, and a black shearling cloak which belonged to her husband. Anyone of these, placed softly and gently on her side of the bed, would relieve the cold, which seemed to be gripping her body bit by bit.
A sensible woolen tunic to wear to bed would not be a bad idea either, she scolded herself.
The baby Matthias the foundling was now their first - born son. He lay in a beautifully carved crib they had found in Genoa in an antique shop in Galleria Mazzini. Chita and Jing looked after him at night so that their dear Dona Esperanza could sleep. But something was terribly wrong tonight because she could not sleep.
We are going to resort to bribing officials in Barcelona in order to have a proper birth certificate for Matti as well as proof of his baptism. Every document must prove that he is our newborn son. I don’t care how costly it is. I shall sell a jewel or a gem. I’ll see to it that Matti will always be a Montebello and an Ortigas Nieto. I hope to have a brood of children but he will be the special light of my heart.
Her Filipina maids, Chita and Jing, were sleeping in the next bedroom with the infant Matti. Very comfortably no doubt, she considered. They had heavy woolen gowns to sleep in, two goose down covers on each bed. Count Daniele had been firm in his instructions to the Ritz’s hotel staff to be unsparing in dispensing blankets, towels, and linens.
“In the Philippines,” Count Daniele informed them, “everyone, rich and poor, showered and bathed every day, sometimes several times a day in the hot and dry season.” This statement shocked the hotel staff!
Dona Esperanza could see the lapis lazuli fireplace with its embers slowly dying on the left hand corner of the room. Next to it was the ormolu dresser with its matching mirror reaching up to the ceiling. Her crushed chartreuse pina ball gown lay by the side of the dresser. More than 10 meters of pina fabric had been used for her presentation at court to King Alfonso and Queen Victoria Eugenia at the Zarzuela Palace last night. Dona Esperanza walked imperiously in the Filipino national dress with the famous butterfly sleeves. Over the chartreuse pina fabric she had layers of matching chartreuse silk satin which her mother Dona Eufemia had purchased in Paris at the haute couture House of Molyneaux in 1914 just before the Archduke Ferdinand had got himself killed by a 17 year old Serbian fanatic in Bosnia Herzegovina. She was becoming annoyed with herself.
Was it a Bosnian or Serbian fanatic? I can never get it right. All the same, it had been harebrained bravery on the part of the Archduke to ride in an open Benz car in a country full of kill-you-quick desperadoes. Out of that incident, the boiling cauldron of oil that was Europe exploded into World War I.”
At the presentation ball, Dona Esperanza whirled and waltzed around the ballroom. She had overheard snippets of conversation from old dotty dukes, haughty generals and conceited Condesas.
Millions of soldiers dead, millions more wounded. Famine and pestilence are everywhere. Robberies are so commonplace the newspapers never even report it. Murders are considered ho hum too.
Just as the apostle John wrote in Revelations, thought Dona Esperanza. The Apocalypse is upon us.
She was shivering more with these dark thoughts.
Stop it! she urged. You are on your honeymoon. Here you are…young! (but not so carefree).
She forced herself to think about last night’s ball. She had been a sensation in the embroidered chartreuse ball gown. Seven women in Manila had painstakingly labored over the gown, hand stitching and embroidering over the entire 10 meters tiny designs of Kentia palms 6 hours a day for 100 days. Her emerald necklace was a stylized version of the Kentia palm; it covered her neck entirely and went all the way down to her cleavage, if she had wanted to show it. Esperanza had small pointed breasts. She hoped they would grow by the time she was 20.
“Aren’t you cold in that flimsy looking number?” asked Carlotta, her husband Daniele’s oldest sister who was nothing if not candid. She looked stunning in a black lace gown against a scarlet background. Carlotta was in her middle twenties, a widow and about to remarry a wealthy businessman who intended to buy himself a title of Duke from the Spanish Bourbons for a tidy sum of gold.
“No, not at all,” Dona Esperanza had lied, hoping Carlotta would not look too closely at her arms and notice her goose pimples.
“Liar,” countered Henrietta playfully. Sister-in-law number two as Dona Esperanza had called her, though not to her face.
“Catty meow, meow,” Dona Esperanza had replied laughing merrily at her sister-in-law. Henrietta had married a rich Filipino Chinese financier who was closely linked to the ON (Ortigas Nieto) family’s Banco Hispano Filipino.
Lauretta, sister-in-law number three, husband Bartolome, and their three children were convalescing from the influenza epidemic. It had been a stressful time for the Montebello clan. By the time Dona Esperanza and her husband Daniele had arrived in Barcelona on board the family-owned De La Rama Steamship Liner flagship “Nemesis” after 3 weeks at sea; the telegram had been waiting for them from Daniele’s mother, Dona Cosima or as Dona Esperanza referred to her within the Ortigas clan “the Virago.” Lauretta and family were out of danger, God be praised!” Count Daniele had lifted his wife with joy and danced around the room. Dona Lauretta was (secretly) his favorite sister.
Enough of this indecision! Should I get up quickly, or get out of bed gracefully and then make a mad dash for the wardrobe closet in the hallway, remove one of my fur coats (my favorite is the Russian sable), dash back and put in on top of the bed so I can get some sleep at last? I must have dark circles down to my navel! I had better make up what passes for my mind soon.
She lifted the goose down cover, just so, draping them delicately and diagonally so as not to disturb her husband’s sleep of the just.
Dona Esperanza sniffed the air. She had sprinkled costly oil of Neroli, distilled from perfect to the day ripe Valencia oranges into her transparent pina nightgown. No. This was a different scent. The wind had ceased so she could hear without difficulty. It was more of a perception of danger.
Something feral was out there. She paused, her heart was thumping crazily. Daniele was still asleep; she had felt her husband turning over on his left side. There was another thing, which had kept her awake. It was the horrendously lumpy bed. Its metallic springs were creaky, which is why Dona Esperanza kept stiffly still. In Manila their beds were made of Philippine mahogany slats three inches wide, and God forbid their mattresses should be soft and mushy. Why! They were not only frequently aired out in the noonday sun for three hours; the mattresses were replaced after a few months.
Dona Esperanza heard a soft thud in the Salon. It was past the hallway and foyer where the wardrobe closet and a large round oak table were situated. The embers in the fireplace had died completely. She was in darkness. Beyond the closet in the salon, the valet had forgotten to close the shuttered windows that blocked out the light. She could see slivers of light. What caused that thud? It sounded as if someone had unexpectedly stumbled into what? Por Dios (For God's sake)! Dona Esperanza remembered now. In her haste to undress and to make a grand exit while her husband smoked his cigarettes out of a long malachite holder in the salon, she had casually let her chartreuse cloak lined in ermine drop on the floor close by the door, which opened into the corridor of the Hotel Ritz.
The feral scent she had detected was cheap tobacco, rancid oil and garlic: an unwashed body on filthy clothes worn repeatedly. A man or men were out there! What were they doing here? To steal! To kill!
In the shaft of light, Dona Esperanza, "La Bella Filipina" as Madrid society (the Madrilenos in the press corps) called her, saw a black shape cross the salon towards the wardrobe closet in the hallway. It was a man! She prayed her husband would not wake up. She turned into a stone. Only the nervous blinking of her eyes, if the dark shape had been a cat, betrayed the fact that she was not only awake, she was watching his every move. Another rat crossed the salon. He did not move with stealth and practiced ease. The monster opened the double doors of the wardrobe and was handing the cloaks to the second rat. The rat would disappear into the salon, stay there for a bit, and then re-appear empty handed. There were three thieves in their suite! The monster knew exactly what he was going to find.
All my sable and fur-lined cloaks, capes, and Daniele’s costly military coats. He was going to steal everything he wished to steal. I cannot do anything to prevent it.
Each time the monster gave the rat one of Dona Esperanza's cloaks; he would swiftly glance towards their bed to see if he could detect any noise or movement. Dona Esperanza was watching his every action, her heart beating so loudly she could hear it blasting through her ears.
Count Daniele continued his blissful sleep.
Benedicite omnia opera, she prayed silently.
Please don't wake up. In this particular moment I am wishing that the thieves do not inadvertently make any sound, which might startle Daniele.
As an officer at the Military Academy of Toledo where the crème de la crème of Spain learned the Art of War (I am not sure what that means and don’t really want to know), Daniele would react as my brave and fearless Protector.
If he wakes up I can picture the scenario and it won’t be pretty. My cavalier will leap out of bed, naked and vulnerable, sans sword because at my insistence he left his sword in the walnut armoire in the elegant salon of our suite. While my husband struggles with the monster, one of the other villains will hold me as a hostage in my transparent nightgown. They will not threaten to violate me because they will just do it.
Daniele was the sort of man who would tear off the thief’s mask and yell, “fight like a man”.
By his actions they will have to kill us by slitting our throats from ear to ear. We have seen them and can identify them. Please don’t wake up.
The monster moved with a fearful purpose. This was a man who not only knew the dregs of society and moved with ease among them, he was one of them himself.
He took every coat, cape and cloak, leaving only Dona Esperanza's woolen housecoat. And then abruptly, he tore it out of the wooden hanger. It made a slight noise like the wings of a predator. He handed it as well to thief number two.
Ah My God! I can hear and feel my heart at the base of my neck. The monster is turning his head and body and he is looking straight towards our four-poster bed. I cannot see his face and now I understand why. He was all in black, with black gloves, and a black mask over his face except for his eyes.
He intends to steal the jewelry next which means that he is going to enter our bedroom!
Dona Esperanza had never been more certain of anything or of anyone in her life.
What can I do to stop him? Nothing! Nada! I am alone and helpless but we might survive the night if I keep quiet and do not lose my control.
Her chartreuse pina ball gown was still lying crumpled where she had stepped out of it on the floor, close to the ormolu dresser.
Don't stumble! Any of you. Above all you must not do anything that will wake up my husband. The monster had spotted the gown lying on the floor. As calculating as he was cold and cruel, he paused by the doorway, studying the topography of the bedroom.
Dona Esperanza could not see what was going on from where she was lying with just a 5-inch crack in her velvet curtain at the foot of her side of the bed.
I am more than a stone now. I am a corpse in shock.
The monster had a thick rope draped around his neck. It looked like some sort of noose; the better to strangle his victims. That means us. That I am still capable of reasoning at a moment like this, which might be our last night on earth keeps me going. I am filled with resolve that Daniele and I will survive.
And then Daniele sighed. The monster froze. He moved swiftly without making a sound towards his right hand side where Count Daniele was sleeping. Dona Esperanza closed her eyes and waited. An eternity went by. She opened her eyes a crack. The monster wasn't there. She swiftly closed her eyes again. Then she heard the rustle of her pina ball gown as the thief picked it up and moved it, closer to their bed.
The emeralds! They were lying right on top of the gold marble topped ormolu dresser. The complete parure was there. The kentia designed necklace, pendant earrings, two cabochon rings, and two baguette bracelets. No! Not my emeralds!
Dona Esperanza locked her jaws ‘til they ached.
I can’t even bring myself to imagine what would have already occurred if the baby Matthias lay in his crib in our bedroom. That is God’s providence at work.
I had placed my wondrous pearls from Bahrain to rival the slain Czarina Alexandra's pearls in the safety deposit box of the Hotel Ritz. Uncle Cesar had gifted me with the pearls on my wedding day. They had belonged to his beloved sister, Aunt Urraca. I am told she wore the pearls everywhere, even to bed because she was frequently ill. She died a few weeks before I was born in Kyoto, Japan. Aunt Urraca was the one who chose the name Esperanza (Hope) for me a month before her death in Manila of malaria and dengue fever.
Daniele and I are not ready yet to join her tonight, but our lives are in the hands of God, she prayed.
He wanted it all. Her husband had several sets of gold cuff links and chains. He took them. Dona Esperanza heard the soft clink as he dropped them into a pliant pouch.
She was in terror, her trembling heart told her the thief would be looking for her 25-carat flawless diamond which had been worn by La Virago (mother-in-law) Cosima until Daniele, her only son, had married her.
Everyone in Spain had seen that diamond. The King and Queen of Spain, the grandees, the gypsies begging in the streets of Madrid, the urchins at the Retiro Park, and all the staff at the Ritz Hotel.
How flighty of me. What a ninny innocent abroad. I have more gems than I have brains she rebuked herself harshly. I'm lying here in terror and in a state of undress, watching a black-hearted thief and killer violate our bedroom and our property.
Slowly at first, then swiftly, Dona Esperanza instinctively flicked her left thumb over her ring finger and let the ring fall in between her legs as she lay like a mummy.
Thank the Lord that I had the intuition to pull the goose down away from me before the monster penetrated our foyer or he would have surely heard the swoosh sound of a heavy silk cover being removed. Hours have gone by it seems. Would this horror never cease? I have lost all feeling in my body. I have rendered myself numb and paralyzed.
The thief was certainly going to take a look inside the four-poster bed to see if she was wearing the diamond.
"Chances are the snooty bitch has the diamond and she's wearing it."
I would wager my emeralds, which the monster already has in his possession, that the thought going through his mind is exactly that.
There is no way out. I can smell the fiend crawling on the floor to my side of the bed. Can he smell my fear? Thanks to the rare drops of Oil of Neroli which I have sprinkled extravagantly on my pina nightgown, I hope that this action on my part to increase my alluring persona to Daniele; will render the beast unable to scent and detect my terror so easily.
What am I going to do? Any minute now his black-clad face is going to appear out of nowhere, perhaps he’ll yank me with the thick rope and then snap my neck. His predator’s scent was so close. Dios! Dios! Dios!
Now I know how the monster is going to execute his maneuver.
He will lift the heavy green moss velvet curtain and with all the time in the world, he was going to wind himself up like a serpent, from the floor.
Dona Esperanza had a desperate inspiration. She was going to repose her ringless hand on her lower left thigh. The thief was not interested in her as an individual. He did not care for humanity except as rich pickings. He was greedy. He wanted to steal everything valuable he could take from his victims.
How could Daniele sleep so peacefully? Could he not hear her heart careening wildly? Please don't wake up my darling!
Dona Esperanza was ready to face the monster.
Remember. You are a mummy, a mummy, a rigid mummy.” She kept repeating silently.
He is a thief and a killer. Whatever happens, do not betray yourself. He won’t see that you’re naked underneath the pina gown. It's dark. He's looking for a scintillating, phosphorescent diamond; only rare diamonds emit that greenish blue light. Thank the Child Jesus of Prague that I had read Aunt Urraca's books on flowers and the poems and odes she had written on gems. It might save our lives tonight.
Dona Esperanza smelled the predator’s breath; the cheap acrid nicotine, the shabby Manzanilla beverage, and the unbrushed and rotting teeth on her neck and face. He moved imperceptibly as a water serpent glided in water. Her hand was the object of his hunger. The predator’s antenna was on high alert. His breath was coming in spurts.
The unexpected has occurred. The 25-carat diamond ring is not on her finger! The hateful rich bitch is not wearing it. Ay Demonios! I could kill her for that, he thought.
She sensed that the fiend who was an evil but intelligent creature was trying to figure out whether the rose cut diamond ring had been deposited in the bank vaults of the Hotel Ritz.
For the sake of everyone you hold dear, don’t move a muscle not even your eyelids, and don’t forget to breathe slowly and silently!
She heard another footfall. This one smelled of horse manure. The monster snaked down slowly and crawled towards his companion. He stood up and walked back towards the hallway and conferred with his partner. He presented him with the black leather pouch, which had belonged to Dona Esperanza, filled with the emerald parure, the gold cuff links and chains, ah! Daniele’s Breguet watch. All elegant officers and gentlemen, since Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington had worn them in the Battle of Waterloo: they would not have considered dying in battle without a Breguet.
The Monster was shaking the fetid thief violently and spat in his face. He too wore a black mask over his face. Not a cry came out of his throat, not even a whimper, even when he was hit in the stomach and he went down on his knees in pain. The Predator and Monster dragged him out of the hallway into the salon. All this was done without a sound.
The monster walked back to their bedroom with a dangerous determination. He began examining the bottles of liquor on the gold marble top of the ormolu dresser. He put one into a sack very carefully.
“That must be the Chartreuse from the Benedictine Monastery of La Grande Chartreuse near Grenoble France, a green and yellow liquid.”
He scrutinized a small bottle of cut crystal. He opened the stopper. Took in the aroma, hungrily took a long swig straight from the bottle, stopped the bottle and placed it in the pocket of his jacket.
I am certain what this crystal bottle of green liquid contains. From the way the thief and murderer has drunk ravenously out of the bottle, it must be something magical.
Her favorite drink was a Rosa Solis cherry cordial, flavored with the juices of sun dew, then sometimes drank with various spices – cinnamon, cardamom, cloves of nutmeg or even fresh vanilla sticks. It was costly and only women and homosexuals preferred them.
Dona Esperanza had forgotten about the Sevre decanter in the bathroom.
Go into the Roman bathroom! She urged silently and repeatedly and desperately.
I could try to lock the Demon in the bathroom; there was a padlock on the other side of the bathroom door, which faced us. I think it is dangerous for me to even think of such a thing. He is too cunning and vigilant to walk into a trap. He knew every inch of the Ritz Hotel very well indeed.
The feral creature stood before the crack in the curtains of the bed, studying her. She was still outside the covers, on top of the linen sheets and she remained a perfect mummy.
Be still. Be still. Be still.
A soft pat, almost a caress was tapped on her instep.
The monster has touched me! I am going to die! I think my heart has stopped! I am frozen; I feel as if I have been covered in ice for thousands of years.
Out of a deeply ingrained sense of self-preservation and deadly fear for her life as well as for her new husband’s life, Dona Esperanza did not react and continued feigning sleep.
Don’t move! Don’t twitch! Don’t be afraid. The monster will surely abuse you, rape you in front of your husband and then kill you both in gelid blood.
She heard his now familiar footsteps walk back to the salon.
Why had this monstrous thief broken into our suite knowing we were sleeping? He knew where everything was placed and kept. He could have easily entered while we danced the night away at the Palacio de la Zarzuela.
A sibilant orgy of whispers took place in the salon. One by one she heard the door leading to the corridor of the hotel open as the thieves hauled out all their loot. And then there was only a deadly silence. She allowed herself the luxury of relaxing a little.
Dona Esperanza did her utmost, holding in her breath, so she could hear and be noiseless.
There is nothing and no one in our suite. The foul smelling stink is still hovering in the air and on the furniture and furnishings like an evil caress. I shall light myrrh crystals doused with sandalwood oil to decontaminate the entire place. I have a better idea. Why not check out of the Ritz today? What if he returns to complete the job? Indeed why should he not do it? I am afraid that I could not pull it off a second time. I can’t even cope with the thought.
More light was shining through the window of the salon. The heating in the rooms were turned off at 9:00 p.m. and restarted around 5:00 in the morning. The cold was leaving her bones degree by degree. Dona Esperanza swiftly crawled back under the goose down covers. The top of the goose down quilt had created a wonderfully warm spot for her side of the bed. A stronger light was shining through the window of the salon.
What a harrowing night! The horrible Predator would not have allowed anything, least of all a young couple to get in his way. There was a murderous and a merciless streak to this thief.
I believe that this monster would steal the last piece of moldy green bread from his mother if there were nothing else to eat.
With impunity, the murderous assassin and thief, penetrated our salon and our bedroom suite – the most expensive suite in the hotel called “the Sun King” after Louis XIV.
It was disconcerting to have a stranger in your bedroom. Someone devoid of any conscience or scruples who would not think at all about robbing you blind and then slitting your throat or garroting you to death.
I never saw their faces nor could I identify them by their voices. Yet the bandits knew almost everything there was to know about me. They must have accomplices inside the hotels that cater exclusively to the rich and famous.
Since the “Nemesis”, flagship of their family owned shipping line, had docked in the damp, slimy port of Barcelona, 10 days ago it had been a series of shocks to Dona Esperanza coming from the rarefied, stable and political environment of the Philippines under the able administration of the United States with commerce run by the Chinese to visit a devastated and plague-ridden Europe.
In Spain, which had kept its neutrality, anarchy, new governments and new concepts of Communism under Karl Marx and Lenin were being experimented and elaborated.
What if the monster comes back? Dona Esperanza repeatedly argued with herself.
This time I don’t care if Daniele wakes up.
She bounded out of the creaky bed, ran towards the hall, came to a dead stop and listened attentively, as still as a statue. No sounds were coming from the salon. She dashed towards the door, which led to the hallway of the Hotel Ritz.
Oh! What utter fools we are. There was nothing left to steal! Not quite right. Except for my emerald parure, the most valuable objects are in the hotel’s vault and safety deposit box. The monster could return and hold Matthias and I as hostages. Daniele would be constrained to give that smelly and murderous ruffian everything that’s in the vault. Worse, if he can penetrate a hotel and any room he wishes, what’s to stop him from entering a vault in a hotel like the Ritz which is almost empty of guests because of the constant upheavals taking place through out Spain? I’ll wager my head that these vaults are in no way comparable to ours at the Banco Hispano Filipino. We also have Sikh guards and Gurkhas guarding the outer and inner perimeters of the bank day and night.
Without thinking, Dona Esperanza leaned on the oak table in their salon by the side of the door. Fortunately the marble mosaic floor would render it easy for her to slide the table against the door. Oof! It was heavier than she thought. There! She was going to make it even more difficult. She tried to heave the high-chaired Cervantes on top of the oak table but she couldn’t manage that. She looked around the salon. She spotted the two heavy Capodimonte porcelain vases, high about 30 inches. She carried them one by one over to the table and placed them just so.
If that Demonio tries to move the door with the oak table behind it, the Capodimonte vases will topple onto the marble floor. I’ll skewer him with Daniele’s ceremonial sword and kill him dead again with Daniele’s service pistol.”Dona Esperanza was working herself up into a cold fury.
And still her husband slept! Did the young die in their sleep? She knew old people and infants did. What a gruesome thought. She would be a widow without any proper clothes to wear to her husband’s funeral. She shook her shoulders and her arms.
Stop thinking these thoughts, she commanded herself.
How had the monster penetrated into their intimate space? Dona Esperanza was curious. She peered at the lock; it looked perfect to her. What did she know about picking locks? That evil smelling creature had more than three or four men working for him. One of the staff of the Hotel Ritz surely was collaborating with him? How could she be sure? The society pages of all the newspapers had written about the wedding and union of two great moneyed houses, one a blueblood, the other a merchant and banking family. Her maids Chita and Jing had been thrilled at starting a scrapbook with all the clippings about Dona Esperanza and Don Daniele. The most talked about topics were Dona Esperanza’s toilette and her bijou.
A truly wicked man needed only to read the comings and goings of the wealthy Americans and Filipinos traveling to Spain. Why rely on hotel staff? They could be coerced or intimidated to talk. The Guardia Civil were often brutal during interrogations, pondered Esperanza.
"I’ve been a flibbertigibbet. A silly, flighty and flibberty-gibbety idiot!"
“Sposa! What are you doing all by yourself talking out loud to a door and a table? Why does the salon look so odd and queer?”
“Amore! Cutthroats robbed us as we slept. They took everything they could carry.”
Dona Esperanza sobbed into her husband’s chest. He lifted her in his arms, walked to the burgundy colored silk divan and set her down on his lap.
Showing posts with label 1919. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1919. Show all posts
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Genoa
The Saga of Fray Paco
Book 4: The Formidable Dona Esperanza
Chapter 2: Genoa
“We are in Genoa. heart of the Italian riviera,” announced an elated Don Daniele.
The Nemesis was there to unload tobacco, textiles, Manila rope, coconut oil; rice (although Italians preferred their Arborio rice from the swamplands of the Padania to make their risotto) In these perilous times there was no one to tend the risaie – rice paddies. The government was forced to import whatever rice they could get their impoverished hands on. Don Cesar had obtained an excellent price because the American government was paying and then selling the goods at a subsidized price in Europe. The average Italian needed all those goods desperately.
“That’s wonderful news! We’ll eat genuine pesto Genovese. I hope our Chef Chu Li takes all the ingredients necessary so that we can have it every day even after we have departed the port of Genoa,” said an elated Dona Esperanza, smiling at her husband.
Chita and Jing stood outside the door of their suite.
“Good Morning Dona Esperanza and Don Daniele. We have compiled a list of the baby’s needs.”
“Thank you chicas. Genoa was known for its shopping district before the War. We’ll make the most of it. I’m sure we’ll be fortunate and find most of what Matti requires. The most important item are “Las tetas” the teats. We are going to need dozens of them,” opined a serious Dona Esperanza as she adorned herself with a series of never ending pearl necklaces.
Don Daniele chuckled loudly. He had never heard his wife use these terms for one’s intimate parts uttered with such simplicity and candor.
“You remind me of the beautiful Czarina Alexandra of Russia who also could not bear to be parted with her pearls,” he told her.
“Are you referring to the Czarina who met with a tragic end?”
“Indeed, Lenin ordered the slaughter of the Czarina, the Czar and the entire family, including as many members of the Royal and aristocratic families as his commissars could round up,” he said.
The ‘Nemesis’ was stopped about a mile before entering the harbor. A stiff Italian naval officer who only spoke Italian and German told Captain Rocha and First Officer Kolleck that the Italian naval authorities were still in the process of clearing and removing the mines from the Genoese harbor.
“One of the owners of the shipping lines is on board. Please inform them yourself,” Captain Rocha said very politely.
The ‘Nemesis’ had goods to unload and even more goods to load. He did not want that responsibility on his shoulders alone. Of course, he would rush a telegram to Don Cesar, but … as long as one of the shareholders was present, no better opportunity etc. etc. etc.
There was a look of surprise on Officer Del Turco’s face when he saw a mere slip of a girl, albeit very beautiful, receive him in the small salon of the ship owner’s suite. Captain Rocha and First Officer Kolleck flanked Officer Del Turco.
“Parliamo Italiano (We speak Italian),” declared Don Daniele de Montebello. He rose to welcome them. Dona Esperanza remained seated. She had been brought up with the gramophone recordings of the Great Caruso, the magnificent Verdi operas, the lyrical Puccini, the marvelous Rossini, the bel canto of Donizetti and Bellini. She expected charm and passion from Italians. Her husband was the best example. Officer Del Turco was dour and sour. She could not follow his cadenzas at first; he was not speaking High Italian. He had a heavily accented Southern Italian patois. He looked devoid of imagination.
Dona Esperanza knew enough about business to understand that the ultimate ones who would suffer if the ‘Nemesis’ could not load or unload its cargo would be the Filipino people on one end of the world and the Italian people on this end. Lloyds of London insured the De La Rama Shipping Lines. The Great War had ended. The Armistice had been signed in September 1918.
“Che problema c’e (What is the problem)?” Dona Esperanza inquired tersely.
Officer Del Turco did not mince words. “During the war, the port of Genoa was heavily mined by the Austrians and the Germans. Ships were blown up. Thousands of people died.”
“Officer Del Turco,” Don Daniele stated rapidly, “part of the conditions of the Armistice were that the Austrians and the Germans consign the maps of the mines. Making allowances for currents, it shouldn’t be so difficult.”
“We’ve just come from Hamburg. Considering they lost the war, everything was off and running,” added Captain Rocha.
“Italy fought on the side of the Allies, is that correct?” asked Don Daniele. “So if the maps of the sea and land mines have been handed over to the relevant Italian authorities, what is the problem? I repeat my wife’s question.”
Officer Del Turco looked even more ill at ease and sour.
“Bene (Good). Ah… the point is we… that is… Italy also filled the port and the surrounding area of mines. In fact, most of the mines are ours.”
“Surely, that should be relatively easy for your people then,” proffered Captain Rocha.
Officer Del Turco swallowed. “That is the problem… ahm… sirs ah… and Dona Esperanza. We can’t find our maps!”
Dona Esperanza felt like laughing, but she forced herself to remain composed. “How could that happen?” she asked herself. Her husband, Captain Rocha and First Officer Kolleck would not believe what they had just heard. “Did you just say, Officer Del Turco, that you can’t find your own maps?” Captain Rocha ventured to ask.
The Italian naval officer was the color of an eggplant. “I don’t know how to say it. Dona Esperanza and Gentlemen, the answer is yes!”
At this point Dona Esperanza could not resist it. She broke into peals of laughter. “What a way to fight a war. That is just as bad as killing people,” she opined. “Perhaps worse. In battle, they only die once; in a mess such as this, people will die slowly. They can’t export and they can’t import.”
Don Daniele looked at his young wife in amazement. Sometimes Esperanza could be eloquent and opinionated (in a good sense, of course).
Captain Rocha persisted. “Did all the authorities in charge of the maps die? I mean, were they all killed?”
“How could maps of such importance be lost?” demanded First Officer Kolleck.
“Does anyone have any idea? Perhaps they have simply been misplaced?” stated Don Daniele.
“Look here, we can’t be cruising all over the Mediterranean hoping the maps will turn up. What do you suggest?”
“Boh!” replied the Italian officer. “I don’t know.”
Captain Rocha, a Filipino-Portuguese, requested the First Officer of the ‘Nemesis’ Kolleck to escort Officer Del Turco to the deck while they conferred.
“Can this be true?” queried Dona Esperanza. “How could they lose all their maps? Who’s not governing the country?”
“I’m afraid it’s true, querida. Captain Rocha will agree. These are very confusing and chaotic times for most of the world.”
“Dona Esperanza, this may be way off the mark, but I don’t think the maps have been unwittingly lost. Several political factions are competing and quarrelling among themselves. You mustn’t think that maps or documents are misplaced as in an operetta or an opera buffa, with everyone running around on the stage not knowing whether they’re coming or going. This is probably a deliberate act of sabotage by one of the factions to destabilize the government or what passes for a government. I am sending a telegram immediately to Manila to Don Cesar, informing him of this farcical situation, if it wasn’t so tragic,” Captain Rocha remarked.
“Doesn’t the U.S. flag on the ‘Nemesis’ carry any weight?” asked Don Daniele.
“I’d demand a written document from whoever’s running this circus declaring their own maps can’t be found and I’d inform the U.S. Department of Commerce, the State Department, and the President of the United States Woodrow Wilson of this trade crime perpetrated against an American vessel,” spoke Dona Esperanza.
Don Daniele and Captain Rocha were dumbfounded. Dona Esperanza sounded like a young female version of the Tycoon Don Cesar. It was uncanny!
“By God! Dona Esperanza, that’s exactly how I think Don Cesar, is going to handle it. I am going to telegraph him right now. In the meantime, I shall categorically inform Officer Del Turco of our intentions to involve our American powers and our American officials. That should sober up those behind him pulling the strings,” Captain Rocha avowed strongly.
“Don Cesar sued the Roman Catholic Church in 1903. He challenged certain factions within the Vatican Curia. This Italian tragicomic stalemate should be a piece of cake,” Don Daniele gave voice to his convictions.
“When one speaks clearly, there is always a risk that one will be understood,” Dona Esperanza gave utterance to Niccolo Machiavelli.
After the Tycoon had won the lawsuit against the Dominican friars of Santo Tomas in Manila, Don Cesar Ortigas Nieto had 300 copies of “The Prince,” “The Discourses,” and “The Art of War” written by the incomparable Niccolo Machiavelli printed in Spanish and in Italian. Anyone who received the books from the Tycoon with a hand written dedication, considered himself or herself very honored and privileged.
Don Daniele turned to his wife and proposed, “I would like to talk to the Italian Officer alone before Captain Rocha meets with him. Excuse me, my darling, whatever you say will fall on deaf ears or he will dig in his heels. This is a Latin country par excellence. You represent what he hates, authority and oppression from the North. As far as he’s concerned the Philippines is some exotic country near Borneo just as Sicily is a far off place close to Northern Africa. ” He bent and kissed his wife tenderly on the mouth.
On deck, First Officer Kolleck was smoking a cigarette in silence next to Officer Del Turco who felt the icy atmosphere in the air which his statement had caused about the misplaced or so called lost maps of the mines placed in the harbor of Genoa. Don Daniele ran his eyes over the placid Mediterranean Sea and the crystalline blue sky over Genoa. What a pity it was going to be spoiled by the unpleasant things he was going to tell Officer Del Turco.
“Please leave us, Officer Kolleck. I have something to say to Officer Del Turco.”
“My superiors are expecting me back,” the Officer replied nervously.
“This won’t take long at all, Officer.” Don Daniele went right to the heart of the matter. “The De La Rama Steamship Lines will never, I repeat, never pay money under the table to your party or to your cohorts or to anyone else to smooth the waters and oil the wheels of bureaucracy. The steamship company is already overpaying all the port charges.”
Officer Del Turco became indignant. “You are insulting an officer of the state!”
“Shut up, you pompous little jackal. You people overlooked several important details. One, this is an American vessel. Two, the De La Rama Steamship Lines will inform the President of the United States. Three, the Department of Commerce will lodge a complaint against your Ministry of Industry. Four, the American Legation in Rome will formally present a protest against this ridiculous situation since you are not going to be allowed to leave this ship until you put in writing what you have so far only blathered to me about. This protest will be done in person to His Majesty King Victor Emmanuel II. Five, our telegraph on board the ‘Nemesis’ is in perfect working order. We shall send telegrams to the New York Times, the Corriere Della Sera (Italy’s most prestigious newspaper), Le Monde, the London Times and other newspapers too numerous to mention. Listen carefully now. With the civil unrest in all Italian cities, horrendous riots in Genoa are occurring everyday; people are breaking into warehouses just to steal flour. How long do you think you can bury in the sand the story of TraLaLa officials unable to locate vital maps? That’s a complete fabrication. I am calling you an Infame (a betrayer, a low life) and a Bugiardo (a liar).
The officer’s facial muscles trembled. Don Daniele continued his righteous tirade. “I know you’re Sicilian. I can tell by your cadenza. What do you think the Padrino (Godfather) of your village will say or do when he finds out your own people Sicilians all, are jobless, begging for scraps of anything, walking like the undead in the docks and waterfronts of Genoa? Sicilians who could be working and getting paid fairly and squarely unloading the goods at the Genoese docks for the ‘Nemesis?’ Last but not least, with the misery that is ever present, if the head of the De La Rama Shipping Lines Don Cesar Ortigas authorizes Captain Rocha, he could well hire the tugboat to pull the ‘Nemesis’ into the harbor. And don’t even think of threatening to fire on our ships. What are you going to use? Olive pits? Assuming there are any left?
Officer Del Turco’s face was white. He steadied himself against the railing. He was shocked to hear this blueblood use the sacred language of the Mafia. Infame and Padrino – where did he hear these words? His sour expression had turned to pure vinegar.
“I’m only following orders. It wasn’t my idea, Don Daniele. I Padri Eterni or those who consider themselves Padri Eterni (eternal fathers, i.e. the masters) decided on this line of action. The ‘Nemesis’ was the first ship in a long line of ships for 60 days (or so they hoped).” The Italian kept looking over his shoulder.
“I’m afraid they’ll have to invent another money grabbing scheme. International shipping is anathema. The war ended less then 60 days ago. It cries out for justice. The head of the De La Rama Shipping Lines will not stand for it – and neither will the Filipino and the Italian people. I’ll remind you again this is an American vessel.”
Captain Rocha joined them together with Officer Kolleck. He was almost jovial. “I’ve just sent the telegram to Don Cesar Ortigas in the Philippine Archipelago informing him of the circus here. Del Turco, please be kind enough to leave your written declaration before you disembark from the ‘Nemesis.”
Don Daniele saved the moment. “Officer Del Turco was just saying that if he takes the launch now, he might be able to convince the authorities to allow the ‘Nemesis’ to unload this afternoon. Don Cesar will authorize the ‘Nemesis’ to enter the harbor clearing the port authorities of any responsibility in the remote possibility the ‘Nemesis’ hits a mine. Isn’t that so, Del Turco?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Captain Rocha and I can prepare a communiqué to present to the port authorities once I’ve received the beneplacet (authorization) from my superiors, pursuant of course to Don Cesar’s agreement.”
“Well, then, I’ll leave you seafaring men. I have a new wife to attend to,” declared Don Daniele, taking their leave. He singled out the Italian officer Del Turco as if nothing had happened. Del Turco was a small cog in a skewed wheel. He had thick skin. His superiors had tried to pull a despicable fast one – it hadn’t worked. Time to move on.
“For a man such as the Tycoon Don Cesar Ortigas, tangling with a group of demented and callous political clowns in Italy would have been a piece of cake compared to the monumental lawsuit he had mounted against the Dominican priests of Santo Tomas, the murderous De La Rama clan, the subsequent take-over of the colossus De La Rama Shipping Lines,” Don Daniele mentioned soberly to his wife as she sat quietly on his lap on the salon of the ship owner’s suite.
“Now all we do is wait for Don Cesar’s reply which should not take long.”
By late afternoon the ‘Nemesis’ was astride the dock at the port of Genoa. Dona Esperanza could hear the crowds assembled with shouts of “Viva! Viva (Hooray)!”
As the ‘Nemesis’ glided closer, she could see well dressed men on crutches, scruffy looking women holding onto even more raggedy children chanting “Vogliamo lavoro (We want work)!” over and over.
There were suitcases made of cardboard piled 10 feet high against what looked to be a warehouse. Wooden planks were laid out on the pavement. Thankfully Genoa was blessed with sunny and mild winters.
“Amore, are those people living on the streets?” a pained and disbelieving Dona Esperanza queried.
“It looks that way Tesoro. Officer Kolleck tells me there are thousands of people in these circumstances living in the docks. They are waiting for the passenger ships, which will take them to New York City. These poor people have paid for their passage one way or another.”
“I don’t know what you mean?” asked a perplexed Dona Esperanza as she twisted and untwisted the pearls as large as cherries around her neck.
“Some of the poor folk have had their trips paid by their relatives who are already living and working in America. The Italian government under the aegis of the Ministry of the Interior is assuming all the travel costs for those who are deemed undesirable and lawless.”
“They look angry and unhappy. So would I if I found myself in that same position.” Dona Esperanza’s twisting and tugging caused her to pop her necklace, scattering the pearls from Bahrain all over the cabin floor. Don Daniele and Dona Esperanza were on their hands and knees scrambling to pick up the pearl beauties.
“Oh, amore, those poor Italians out there have upset me. I didn’t realize how hard I was pulling on my necklace.”
“Don’t be too upset, darling,” her husband comforted her. “Most of the people leaving do not consider themselves Italians. They are Sicilians, Neapolitans, Barese and Calabrese. Italy as a nation is very new; it was unified in the 1860’s. Prince Metternich said Italy was more of a geographic expression rather than a sovereign country.”
Don Daniele had one hand full of pearls, which he emptied into his silk handkerchief. Dona Esperanza was still searching, her mind partly on the desperate people on the dock.
“There is a great divide in Italy between the industrial North and the rural South. The Royal House of Savoy in Piedmont Northern Italy, rules Italy from Rome, and the former Bourbon Kingdom of Naples and Sicily now forms part of a united Italy. The people of the South fought Garibaldi and his French, English and Genoese army. Unification was never their dream, independence was. Southern Italy is a hotbed of secret societies, of men of honor called Mafiosi, of blood feuds, smuggling and contraband, and thievery and banditry. The government can’t cope with them; it’s easier to force them to emigrate to America by threatening them with prison.”
“Vogliamo lavoro,” the cries continued.
Captain Rocha knocked on the door and announced himself.
“Do you hear them?” he asked. “Those are people who have passed their limit long ago. But we can’t hire them. The dockworkers called Camalli are strong men and sailors. They are the ones who by tradition control everything that moves in or out of the docks of Genoa. They should be here any minute. There are bound to be fights. We can’t unload until the dock is cleared of all those people.”
“I wouldn’t put it past the port authorities to have stirred up the would-be immigrants,” pondered Don Daniele.
“Let’s stay away from the porthole,” he urged his wife, pulling her gently out of harm’s way.
“I can’t believe this,” declared an outraged Captain Rocha. “Germany lost the war yet the port of Hamburg was functioning efficiently. Italy fought alongside the English, the French and the Americans. Just look at their most important port- Genoa!”
“As history teaches us, victories can be pyrrhic,” stated Don Daniele. Let’s be a little more patient. The Italian penchant for chaos and confusion is only surpassed by their ability to improvise last minute successes.”
“I hear them!” exclaimed Officer Kolleck. “The dock workers/Camalli are marching in.”
“Calma. We’ll let them negotiate this among themselves; they won’t come to blows (I hope not). We won’t interfere. It isn’t our business. As an American vessel, we don’t want the authorities or the politicos to claim we were throwing our rich weight around,” Captain Rocha reminded them.
We have already thrown our rich weight around. That is the reason why we are able to unload and load our cargo. I hope this ruckus does not wake up the baby, thought Esperanza.
Both the dockworkers and the common people started screaming and yelling at once. This lasted for 15 minutes. Dona Esperanza embraced her husband and covered her face. Then there was silence. “Do you think those poor people might be dead?” Dona Esperanza asked in a voice full of worry.
“No Cara Mia,” Don Daniele replied, soothing her, “More likely they are wheeling and dealing.”
Captain Rocha volunteered to look out since he was the Captain of the ‘Nemesis.’ Um … hmmm … hmm … the people are carting away their cardboard suitcases. They’re lugging away the wooden planks closest to the ‘Nemesis.’ It’s good. They’re leaving.”
“The head dock man probably promised them a cut of their pay. Works every time,” expressed Officer Kolleck.
“You mean the poor people were bribed?” an indignant Esperanza demanded to know. “Uncle Cesar says bribing is the worst thing which can happen to a business.”
“Absolutely right, Dona Esperanza,” thundered the Captain of the ‘Nemesis.’ “Now watch as the workers in turn attempt to raise the hourly rates we’re paying them. We’ll comply of course – within reason.”
“Don Cesar had foreseen this. The De La Rama Shipping Lines will still make a huge profit,” Don Daniele ventured to say.
There goes the Pesto Genovese I was so looking forward to tasting and enjoying, Dona Esperanza told herself.
Dragons vomiting fire could not drag her out of the ‘Nemesis.’ It was almost dark out. There were few electric poles and even fewer oil lanterns. The ‘Nemesis’ had come prepared. They had torches lit with oil and pitch. They expected these emergencies. There was supposed to be peace in Europe but the aftermath of World War l brought many aftershocks.
Don Daniele offered to assist the Captain and the First Officer. “It might be several hours,” he informed his wife.
“Go on, querido. Chita and Jing will keep me company. I’ll go over and see them. They must be terrified. I expect Matti to wake up as hungry as a wolf,” replied Dona Esperanza.
She found her two maids huddled together while the baby Matthias; Matti for short was still sleeping serenely in his makeshift cot an open Louis Vuitton suitcase.
“Oh, Dona Esperanza, we were so afraid. In the Philippines the only noises occur during our barrio fiestas with all of us singing and dancing or when a swain serenades a dalaga (maiden).
“I know! I know!” Dona Esperanza quickly comforted them. “See? Nothing happened. Sometimes people yell and scream at each other but they work things out in the end without acts of violence. Come to my suite. We’ll smoke the Tabacalera cigarillos, drink some Rosa Solis mixed with Manila water and gossip. Let’s keep it light. What a fearsome day this has been.”
Then she thought of the baby. “I have a better proposal. Let’s stay here. Soon it will be time to feed the baby. I don’t think we should smoke the cigarillos but the Rosa Solis should do very nicely.”
Book 4: The Formidable Dona Esperanza
Chapter 2: Genoa
“We are in Genoa. heart of the Italian riviera,” announced an elated Don Daniele.
The Nemesis was there to unload tobacco, textiles, Manila rope, coconut oil; rice (although Italians preferred their Arborio rice from the swamplands of the Padania to make their risotto) In these perilous times there was no one to tend the risaie – rice paddies. The government was forced to import whatever rice they could get their impoverished hands on. Don Cesar had obtained an excellent price because the American government was paying and then selling the goods at a subsidized price in Europe. The average Italian needed all those goods desperately.
“That’s wonderful news! We’ll eat genuine pesto Genovese. I hope our Chef Chu Li takes all the ingredients necessary so that we can have it every day even after we have departed the port of Genoa,” said an elated Dona Esperanza, smiling at her husband.
Chita and Jing stood outside the door of their suite.
“Good Morning Dona Esperanza and Don Daniele. We have compiled a list of the baby’s needs.”
“Thank you chicas. Genoa was known for its shopping district before the War. We’ll make the most of it. I’m sure we’ll be fortunate and find most of what Matti requires. The most important item are “Las tetas” the teats. We are going to need dozens of them,” opined a serious Dona Esperanza as she adorned herself with a series of never ending pearl necklaces.
Don Daniele chuckled loudly. He had never heard his wife use these terms for one’s intimate parts uttered with such simplicity and candor.
“You remind me of the beautiful Czarina Alexandra of Russia who also could not bear to be parted with her pearls,” he told her.
“Are you referring to the Czarina who met with a tragic end?”
“Indeed, Lenin ordered the slaughter of the Czarina, the Czar and the entire family, including as many members of the Royal and aristocratic families as his commissars could round up,” he said.
The ‘Nemesis’ was stopped about a mile before entering the harbor. A stiff Italian naval officer who only spoke Italian and German told Captain Rocha and First Officer Kolleck that the Italian naval authorities were still in the process of clearing and removing the mines from the Genoese harbor.
“One of the owners of the shipping lines is on board. Please inform them yourself,” Captain Rocha said very politely.
The ‘Nemesis’ had goods to unload and even more goods to load. He did not want that responsibility on his shoulders alone. Of course, he would rush a telegram to Don Cesar, but … as long as one of the shareholders was present, no better opportunity etc. etc. etc.
There was a look of surprise on Officer Del Turco’s face when he saw a mere slip of a girl, albeit very beautiful, receive him in the small salon of the ship owner’s suite. Captain Rocha and First Officer Kolleck flanked Officer Del Turco.
“Parliamo Italiano (We speak Italian),” declared Don Daniele de Montebello. He rose to welcome them. Dona Esperanza remained seated. She had been brought up with the gramophone recordings of the Great Caruso, the magnificent Verdi operas, the lyrical Puccini, the marvelous Rossini, the bel canto of Donizetti and Bellini. She expected charm and passion from Italians. Her husband was the best example. Officer Del Turco was dour and sour. She could not follow his cadenzas at first; he was not speaking High Italian. He had a heavily accented Southern Italian patois. He looked devoid of imagination.
Dona Esperanza knew enough about business to understand that the ultimate ones who would suffer if the ‘Nemesis’ could not load or unload its cargo would be the Filipino people on one end of the world and the Italian people on this end. Lloyds of London insured the De La Rama Shipping Lines. The Great War had ended. The Armistice had been signed in September 1918.
“Che problema c’e (What is the problem)?” Dona Esperanza inquired tersely.
Officer Del Turco did not mince words. “During the war, the port of Genoa was heavily mined by the Austrians and the Germans. Ships were blown up. Thousands of people died.”
“Officer Del Turco,” Don Daniele stated rapidly, “part of the conditions of the Armistice were that the Austrians and the Germans consign the maps of the mines. Making allowances for currents, it shouldn’t be so difficult.”
“We’ve just come from Hamburg. Considering they lost the war, everything was off and running,” added Captain Rocha.
“Italy fought on the side of the Allies, is that correct?” asked Don Daniele. “So if the maps of the sea and land mines have been handed over to the relevant Italian authorities, what is the problem? I repeat my wife’s question.”
Officer Del Turco looked even more ill at ease and sour.
“Bene (Good). Ah… the point is we… that is… Italy also filled the port and the surrounding area of mines. In fact, most of the mines are ours.”
“Surely, that should be relatively easy for your people then,” proffered Captain Rocha.
Officer Del Turco swallowed. “That is the problem… ahm… sirs ah… and Dona Esperanza. We can’t find our maps!”
Dona Esperanza felt like laughing, but she forced herself to remain composed. “How could that happen?” she asked herself. Her husband, Captain Rocha and First Officer Kolleck would not believe what they had just heard. “Did you just say, Officer Del Turco, that you can’t find your own maps?” Captain Rocha ventured to ask.
The Italian naval officer was the color of an eggplant. “I don’t know how to say it. Dona Esperanza and Gentlemen, the answer is yes!”
At this point Dona Esperanza could not resist it. She broke into peals of laughter. “What a way to fight a war. That is just as bad as killing people,” she opined. “Perhaps worse. In battle, they only die once; in a mess such as this, people will die slowly. They can’t export and they can’t import.”
Don Daniele looked at his young wife in amazement. Sometimes Esperanza could be eloquent and opinionated (in a good sense, of course).
Captain Rocha persisted. “Did all the authorities in charge of the maps die? I mean, were they all killed?”
“How could maps of such importance be lost?” demanded First Officer Kolleck.
“Does anyone have any idea? Perhaps they have simply been misplaced?” stated Don Daniele.
“Look here, we can’t be cruising all over the Mediterranean hoping the maps will turn up. What do you suggest?”
“Boh!” replied the Italian officer. “I don’t know.”
Captain Rocha, a Filipino-Portuguese, requested the First Officer of the ‘Nemesis’ Kolleck to escort Officer Del Turco to the deck while they conferred.
“Can this be true?” queried Dona Esperanza. “How could they lose all their maps? Who’s not governing the country?”
“I’m afraid it’s true, querida. Captain Rocha will agree. These are very confusing and chaotic times for most of the world.”
“Dona Esperanza, this may be way off the mark, but I don’t think the maps have been unwittingly lost. Several political factions are competing and quarrelling among themselves. You mustn’t think that maps or documents are misplaced as in an operetta or an opera buffa, with everyone running around on the stage not knowing whether they’re coming or going. This is probably a deliberate act of sabotage by one of the factions to destabilize the government or what passes for a government. I am sending a telegram immediately to Manila to Don Cesar, informing him of this farcical situation, if it wasn’t so tragic,” Captain Rocha remarked.
“Doesn’t the U.S. flag on the ‘Nemesis’ carry any weight?” asked Don Daniele.
“I’d demand a written document from whoever’s running this circus declaring their own maps can’t be found and I’d inform the U.S. Department of Commerce, the State Department, and the President of the United States Woodrow Wilson of this trade crime perpetrated against an American vessel,” spoke Dona Esperanza.
Don Daniele and Captain Rocha were dumbfounded. Dona Esperanza sounded like a young female version of the Tycoon Don Cesar. It was uncanny!
“By God! Dona Esperanza, that’s exactly how I think Don Cesar, is going to handle it. I am going to telegraph him right now. In the meantime, I shall categorically inform Officer Del Turco of our intentions to involve our American powers and our American officials. That should sober up those behind him pulling the strings,” Captain Rocha avowed strongly.
“Don Cesar sued the Roman Catholic Church in 1903. He challenged certain factions within the Vatican Curia. This Italian tragicomic stalemate should be a piece of cake,” Don Daniele gave voice to his convictions.
“When one speaks clearly, there is always a risk that one will be understood,” Dona Esperanza gave utterance to Niccolo Machiavelli.
After the Tycoon had won the lawsuit against the Dominican friars of Santo Tomas in Manila, Don Cesar Ortigas Nieto had 300 copies of “The Prince,” “The Discourses,” and “The Art of War” written by the incomparable Niccolo Machiavelli printed in Spanish and in Italian. Anyone who received the books from the Tycoon with a hand written dedication, considered himself or herself very honored and privileged.
Don Daniele turned to his wife and proposed, “I would like to talk to the Italian Officer alone before Captain Rocha meets with him. Excuse me, my darling, whatever you say will fall on deaf ears or he will dig in his heels. This is a Latin country par excellence. You represent what he hates, authority and oppression from the North. As far as he’s concerned the Philippines is some exotic country near Borneo just as Sicily is a far off place close to Northern Africa. ” He bent and kissed his wife tenderly on the mouth.
On deck, First Officer Kolleck was smoking a cigarette in silence next to Officer Del Turco who felt the icy atmosphere in the air which his statement had caused about the misplaced or so called lost maps of the mines placed in the harbor of Genoa. Don Daniele ran his eyes over the placid Mediterranean Sea and the crystalline blue sky over Genoa. What a pity it was going to be spoiled by the unpleasant things he was going to tell Officer Del Turco.
“Please leave us, Officer Kolleck. I have something to say to Officer Del Turco.”
“My superiors are expecting me back,” the Officer replied nervously.
“This won’t take long at all, Officer.” Don Daniele went right to the heart of the matter. “The De La Rama Steamship Lines will never, I repeat, never pay money under the table to your party or to your cohorts or to anyone else to smooth the waters and oil the wheels of bureaucracy. The steamship company is already overpaying all the port charges.”
Officer Del Turco became indignant. “You are insulting an officer of the state!”
“Shut up, you pompous little jackal. You people overlooked several important details. One, this is an American vessel. Two, the De La Rama Steamship Lines will inform the President of the United States. Three, the Department of Commerce will lodge a complaint against your Ministry of Industry. Four, the American Legation in Rome will formally present a protest against this ridiculous situation since you are not going to be allowed to leave this ship until you put in writing what you have so far only blathered to me about. This protest will be done in person to His Majesty King Victor Emmanuel II. Five, our telegraph on board the ‘Nemesis’ is in perfect working order. We shall send telegrams to the New York Times, the Corriere Della Sera (Italy’s most prestigious newspaper), Le Monde, the London Times and other newspapers too numerous to mention. Listen carefully now. With the civil unrest in all Italian cities, horrendous riots in Genoa are occurring everyday; people are breaking into warehouses just to steal flour. How long do you think you can bury in the sand the story of TraLaLa officials unable to locate vital maps? That’s a complete fabrication. I am calling you an Infame (a betrayer, a low life) and a Bugiardo (a liar).
The officer’s facial muscles trembled. Don Daniele continued his righteous tirade. “I know you’re Sicilian. I can tell by your cadenza. What do you think the Padrino (Godfather) of your village will say or do when he finds out your own people Sicilians all, are jobless, begging for scraps of anything, walking like the undead in the docks and waterfronts of Genoa? Sicilians who could be working and getting paid fairly and squarely unloading the goods at the Genoese docks for the ‘Nemesis?’ Last but not least, with the misery that is ever present, if the head of the De La Rama Shipping Lines Don Cesar Ortigas authorizes Captain Rocha, he could well hire the tugboat to pull the ‘Nemesis’ into the harbor. And don’t even think of threatening to fire on our ships. What are you going to use? Olive pits? Assuming there are any left?
Officer Del Turco’s face was white. He steadied himself against the railing. He was shocked to hear this blueblood use the sacred language of the Mafia. Infame and Padrino – where did he hear these words? His sour expression had turned to pure vinegar.
“I’m only following orders. It wasn’t my idea, Don Daniele. I Padri Eterni or those who consider themselves Padri Eterni (eternal fathers, i.e. the masters) decided on this line of action. The ‘Nemesis’ was the first ship in a long line of ships for 60 days (or so they hoped).” The Italian kept looking over his shoulder.
“I’m afraid they’ll have to invent another money grabbing scheme. International shipping is anathema. The war ended less then 60 days ago. It cries out for justice. The head of the De La Rama Shipping Lines will not stand for it – and neither will the Filipino and the Italian people. I’ll remind you again this is an American vessel.”
Captain Rocha joined them together with Officer Kolleck. He was almost jovial. “I’ve just sent the telegram to Don Cesar Ortigas in the Philippine Archipelago informing him of the circus here. Del Turco, please be kind enough to leave your written declaration before you disembark from the ‘Nemesis.”
Don Daniele saved the moment. “Officer Del Turco was just saying that if he takes the launch now, he might be able to convince the authorities to allow the ‘Nemesis’ to unload this afternoon. Don Cesar will authorize the ‘Nemesis’ to enter the harbor clearing the port authorities of any responsibility in the remote possibility the ‘Nemesis’ hits a mine. Isn’t that so, Del Turco?”
“Yes, that’s correct. Captain Rocha and I can prepare a communiqué to present to the port authorities once I’ve received the beneplacet (authorization) from my superiors, pursuant of course to Don Cesar’s agreement.”
“Well, then, I’ll leave you seafaring men. I have a new wife to attend to,” declared Don Daniele, taking their leave. He singled out the Italian officer Del Turco as if nothing had happened. Del Turco was a small cog in a skewed wheel. He had thick skin. His superiors had tried to pull a despicable fast one – it hadn’t worked. Time to move on.
“For a man such as the Tycoon Don Cesar Ortigas, tangling with a group of demented and callous political clowns in Italy would have been a piece of cake compared to the monumental lawsuit he had mounted against the Dominican priests of Santo Tomas, the murderous De La Rama clan, the subsequent take-over of the colossus De La Rama Shipping Lines,” Don Daniele mentioned soberly to his wife as she sat quietly on his lap on the salon of the ship owner’s suite.
“Now all we do is wait for Don Cesar’s reply which should not take long.”
By late afternoon the ‘Nemesis’ was astride the dock at the port of Genoa. Dona Esperanza could hear the crowds assembled with shouts of “Viva! Viva (Hooray)!”
As the ‘Nemesis’ glided closer, she could see well dressed men on crutches, scruffy looking women holding onto even more raggedy children chanting “Vogliamo lavoro (We want work)!” over and over.
There were suitcases made of cardboard piled 10 feet high against what looked to be a warehouse. Wooden planks were laid out on the pavement. Thankfully Genoa was blessed with sunny and mild winters.
“Amore, are those people living on the streets?” a pained and disbelieving Dona Esperanza queried.
“It looks that way Tesoro. Officer Kolleck tells me there are thousands of people in these circumstances living in the docks. They are waiting for the passenger ships, which will take them to New York City. These poor people have paid for their passage one way or another.”
“I don’t know what you mean?” asked a perplexed Dona Esperanza as she twisted and untwisted the pearls as large as cherries around her neck.
“Some of the poor folk have had their trips paid by their relatives who are already living and working in America. The Italian government under the aegis of the Ministry of the Interior is assuming all the travel costs for those who are deemed undesirable and lawless.”
“They look angry and unhappy. So would I if I found myself in that same position.” Dona Esperanza’s twisting and tugging caused her to pop her necklace, scattering the pearls from Bahrain all over the cabin floor. Don Daniele and Dona Esperanza were on their hands and knees scrambling to pick up the pearl beauties.
“Oh, amore, those poor Italians out there have upset me. I didn’t realize how hard I was pulling on my necklace.”
“Don’t be too upset, darling,” her husband comforted her. “Most of the people leaving do not consider themselves Italians. They are Sicilians, Neapolitans, Barese and Calabrese. Italy as a nation is very new; it was unified in the 1860’s. Prince Metternich said Italy was more of a geographic expression rather than a sovereign country.”
Don Daniele had one hand full of pearls, which he emptied into his silk handkerchief. Dona Esperanza was still searching, her mind partly on the desperate people on the dock.
“There is a great divide in Italy between the industrial North and the rural South. The Royal House of Savoy in Piedmont Northern Italy, rules Italy from Rome, and the former Bourbon Kingdom of Naples and Sicily now forms part of a united Italy. The people of the South fought Garibaldi and his French, English and Genoese army. Unification was never their dream, independence was. Southern Italy is a hotbed of secret societies, of men of honor called Mafiosi, of blood feuds, smuggling and contraband, and thievery and banditry. The government can’t cope with them; it’s easier to force them to emigrate to America by threatening them with prison.”
“Vogliamo lavoro,” the cries continued.
Captain Rocha knocked on the door and announced himself.
“Do you hear them?” he asked. “Those are people who have passed their limit long ago. But we can’t hire them. The dockworkers called Camalli are strong men and sailors. They are the ones who by tradition control everything that moves in or out of the docks of Genoa. They should be here any minute. There are bound to be fights. We can’t unload until the dock is cleared of all those people.”
“I wouldn’t put it past the port authorities to have stirred up the would-be immigrants,” pondered Don Daniele.
“Let’s stay away from the porthole,” he urged his wife, pulling her gently out of harm’s way.
“I can’t believe this,” declared an outraged Captain Rocha. “Germany lost the war yet the port of Hamburg was functioning efficiently. Italy fought alongside the English, the French and the Americans. Just look at their most important port- Genoa!”
“As history teaches us, victories can be pyrrhic,” stated Don Daniele. Let’s be a little more patient. The Italian penchant for chaos and confusion is only surpassed by their ability to improvise last minute successes.”
“I hear them!” exclaimed Officer Kolleck. “The dock workers/Camalli are marching in.”
“Calma. We’ll let them negotiate this among themselves; they won’t come to blows (I hope not). We won’t interfere. It isn’t our business. As an American vessel, we don’t want the authorities or the politicos to claim we were throwing our rich weight around,” Captain Rocha reminded them.
We have already thrown our rich weight around. That is the reason why we are able to unload and load our cargo. I hope this ruckus does not wake up the baby, thought Esperanza.
Both the dockworkers and the common people started screaming and yelling at once. This lasted for 15 minutes. Dona Esperanza embraced her husband and covered her face. Then there was silence. “Do you think those poor people might be dead?” Dona Esperanza asked in a voice full of worry.
“No Cara Mia,” Don Daniele replied, soothing her, “More likely they are wheeling and dealing.”
Captain Rocha volunteered to look out since he was the Captain of the ‘Nemesis.’ Um … hmmm … hmm … the people are carting away their cardboard suitcases. They’re lugging away the wooden planks closest to the ‘Nemesis.’ It’s good. They’re leaving.”
“The head dock man probably promised them a cut of their pay. Works every time,” expressed Officer Kolleck.
“You mean the poor people were bribed?” an indignant Esperanza demanded to know. “Uncle Cesar says bribing is the worst thing which can happen to a business.”
“Absolutely right, Dona Esperanza,” thundered the Captain of the ‘Nemesis.’ “Now watch as the workers in turn attempt to raise the hourly rates we’re paying them. We’ll comply of course – within reason.”
“Don Cesar had foreseen this. The De La Rama Shipping Lines will still make a huge profit,” Don Daniele ventured to say.
There goes the Pesto Genovese I was so looking forward to tasting and enjoying, Dona Esperanza told herself.
Dragons vomiting fire could not drag her out of the ‘Nemesis.’ It was almost dark out. There were few electric poles and even fewer oil lanterns. The ‘Nemesis’ had come prepared. They had torches lit with oil and pitch. They expected these emergencies. There was supposed to be peace in Europe but the aftermath of World War l brought many aftershocks.
Don Daniele offered to assist the Captain and the First Officer. “It might be several hours,” he informed his wife.
“Go on, querido. Chita and Jing will keep me company. I’ll go over and see them. They must be terrified. I expect Matti to wake up as hungry as a wolf,” replied Dona Esperanza.
She found her two maids huddled together while the baby Matthias; Matti for short was still sleeping serenely in his makeshift cot an open Louis Vuitton suitcase.
“Oh, Dona Esperanza, we were so afraid. In the Philippines the only noises occur during our barrio fiestas with all of us singing and dancing or when a swain serenades a dalaga (maiden).
“I know! I know!” Dona Esperanza quickly comforted them. “See? Nothing happened. Sometimes people yell and scream at each other but they work things out in the end without acts of violence. Come to my suite. We’ll smoke the Tabacalera cigarillos, drink some Rosa Solis mixed with Manila water and gossip. Let’s keep it light. What a fearsome day this has been.”
Then she thought of the baby. “I have a better proposal. Let’s stay here. Soon it will be time to feed the baby. I don’t think we should smoke the cigarillos but the Rosa Solis should do very nicely.”
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Matthias
The Saga of Fray Paco
Book 4: The Formidable Dona Esperanza
Chapter 1: Matthias
The dirty and skeletal urchins with black sunken eyes and rotting toothless mouths assaulted Dona Esperanza as she descended the ramp of their ship. Their bluish-black nails and shriveled and disjointed hands tugged at the fine cashmere sleeves of her couture jacket.
“Wasser, Wasser,” they croaked.
“Scraps of food.”
“Alms for the love of Jesus.”
“Anything. Give us anything.”
‘Some of us are still strong. Give us work.”
The “Nemesis”, flagship of the De La Rama shipping lines, now owned by Uncle Cesar Ortigas Nieto, Don Cesar as he was affectionately known, had landed in Hamburg.
World War I had ended a few months ago on paper. An Armistice of some kind was about to be signed.
“The aftermath of a War lasts for generations. Uncle Cesar said untold millions died. I can’t imagine millions of corpses. I don’t want to. These little children tugging at my sleeves are really touching my heart. What can I do?” asked a grieving Esperanza turning to her husband.
She gave all the coins and paper money she had in her purse. Still they came. Don Daniele her husband had already exhausted his supply of coins. The officers of the “Nemesis” had seen this display and dashed madly down the ramp to drive the urchins away.
“Good Lord, just look at that sight. One of the shareholders of our shipping lines is being attacked down there,” said the First Officer.
“Herr Gott!” bellowed the Captain in German. “What will our Master, the Tycoon, do when he finds out? Get that crowd out of there now!”
“Why can’t we feed these poor children?” Dona Esperanza asked desperately.
Her husband Don Daniele replied, removing the onerous from the embarrassed officers. “There are thousands upon thousands of them, my darling. When the ‘Nemesis’ leaves next week, what will these wretched children do then?”
“At least they would have had one week of decent food,” retorted Dona Esperanza in protest.
“Dona Esperanza, that’s not the way things work. The ‘Nemesis’ is not equipped to handle these masses of people,” the First Officer explained, leading them towards the Benz car with the uniformed driver who was waiting for them by the side of the car. He was also shooing away the urchins. The driver clicked his heels, saluted Dona Esperanza and Don Daniele and said, “Guten Morgen.”
Dona Esperanza was too discomposed to reply. The military officer Count Daniele de Montebello answered for both of them. He took his wife’s elbow and assisted her up the steps leading to the high Benz car. She seemed lost in her own thoughts. Don Daniele thanked First Officer Kolleck and entered the car.
“I think that we are not behaving charitably. Don’t ever forget that Uncle Cesar had that 'unsinkable' ship in mind, the Titanic, when he named our flagship The Nemesis. It will remind us always not to be uncaring and unkind. Most of all Hubris must never possess us lest we meet our Nemesis,” said a distressed Dona Esperanza.
Her husband Don Daniele was struck by her lucid comment and took her gloved hand into his in silence.
The Nemesis had an inscription on its bridge and in the main Dining Room. It was a prayer, which every child in the Ortigas clan learnt at the knees of their parents the instant they could speak.
“Oh God. We are in your hands. Thy sea is so vast and powerful and my ship is so small and weak.”
Dona Esperanza reflected on the inevitable retribution of the fates. So far she had seen the innocent pay the price of their Leaders hubris. The Leaders came away unscathed.
I am afraid that Justice is not just at all.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
First Officer Kolleck was grateful that he had a job and that his employer was a Filipino tycoon whose country was a colony of the United States. The ‘Nemesis’ and all the ships of the colossal De La Rama Shipping Lines flew the flag of the United States of America. His wife reminded their two children everyday to be thankful to Don Cesar. But for Herr Cesar, they would be begging for scraps of bread and peelings from apples like so many of their friends, homeless and devastated. First Officer Kolleck did not believe in God. He and his wife had begun to be interested in the socialist teachings of Lenin in Russia. As he waved to Herr Graf (the Count) and the Benz passed him by, he looked up at the sky. “Whoever you are, whatever you are, Danke Schoen.”
The golden treasures of Heinrich Schliemann, the famed scholar and magnate who had discovered Troy, had entranced Dona Esperanza. Yet in every in every priceless object she gazed at she saw the reflections of the dying children.
“I must stop this. These events are beyond me. I am a 15year old bride on her honeymoon. I must make an effort to concentrate on these marvels. The Schliemann Museum surely needs money and man does not live by bread alone, she paused to reflect on the words of Jesus.
“To think that artisans and craftsmen created this 5,000 years ago!” she exclaimed gleefully though her heart was crying.
Her husband and the Director of the Hamburg Museum, Dr. Reitmann shared a profound sadness for their remembrance of things gone awry. Yet the young girl’s wonder at the beautiful creations of Man was infectious and they allowed themselves to be swept into her cauldron of Magic.
“Oh Graffen Esperanza, we are talking about more than 5,000 years. Dr. Schliemann calculated the Trojan War may have taken place 7,000 years ago,” Dr. Reitmann explained enthusiastically.
“Feast your eyes on this pectoral, Esperanza,” Don Daniele called out. Everything around them was in pure gold. The pectoral was so light, “Why! I could even wear it to sleep,” she declared.
There were helmets carved out of gold, masks, diadems, crowns, combs, wide belts with ivy designs carved deeply into them, earrings of roses which fell to one’s shoulders, necklaces representing sea anemones, coral reefs, sea shells, roses, laurel leaves, spiders, and scorpions. There were endless rings, some massive ones which covered half of one’s forefinger, seals, rings, signet rings, love and explicitly sexual rings and the power rings – all distinct and unique.
Dr. Reitmann pointed out the rings in the shape of sea monsters all connected to one another through fine gold mesh. There were five in each set. “These are toe rings, Frau Graffen,” he told her.
“How can you tell?” she gasped.
Dr. Reitmann was pleased to show the young and full-of-life Graffen (Countess) how they had been executed.
“You see this set I am holding is for the hand.” It consisted of five dragon’s heads set on each finger with the thinnest gold mesh covering the entire upper part of the hand reaching up to one’s wrist. “Would you like to try it on?” queried Dr. Reitmann, Curator and Director of the Schliemann Collection.
Dona Esperanza stretched out her long tapered hands. Dr. Reitmann handed the meshed gold rings to Don Daniele and said, “Bitte.” Don Daniele very deliberately and surely placed the rings over his wife’s fingers, and then he stretched and elongated the gold mesh over her hands. Dona Esperanza moved her hands sideways and tapped her fingers in the air. She saw that the gold filaments below her forefingers until her thumbs had been crafted in such a way as to allow the greatest of movement.
“Ah! Now I understand how you could tell the finger rings from the toe rings.”
Don Daniele was interested in the gold armor plates, the shields, spears, lances and daggers. All the hundreds of pieces on display were intricately carved. Dona Esperanza had admired them too.
“Since the war begun in 1914, we have been closed on orders of the War Ministry. We have still not opened to the public. When I received the telegram from Manila, you cannot have imagined my joy. May I ask how you came to know about the Schliemann Collection?” Dr. Reitmann was curious.
“My wife’s the culprit. She read the Homeric poem ‘Iliad’ in an English translation and then the account of the discovery of Troy by Schliemann, which he published. My wife’s uncle is a bibliophile. He has an important first edition of Heinrich Schliemann’s archaeological digs,” Don Daniele expounded.
Dona Esperanza had observed the thick dust, which had collected on top of some of the glass cabinets and on the masses of papers on desks. The trim of her purple skirt must be a dirty grey by now. How could she have the heart to even mention this? Dr. Reitmann was wearing a rather faded jacket with frayed cuffs. Her heart went out to him. What could she and her husband do? She promised herself she’d think of something if Daniele became too involved in his work. When they left the Museum, Don Daniele handed a thick Manila envelope containing German marks to Doctor Reitmann and stated quickly, “It’s for your time and trouble, Herr Doktor. Curators of museums have to eat too.”
The curator thanked them with great dignity. “These are tragic times. You have seen?” They nodded and walked down the wide corridors doing their utmost not to stir up great clouds of dust beneath their feet.
“Where is the good doctor Reitmann? Is he behind us?” Dona Esperanza inquired nervously.
“Why do you ask?” Don Daniele wished to know.
Dona Esperanza removed a handkerchief from the inside pocket of her jacket and covered her nose and mouth. She spoke through the linen. “I am going to sneeze. I can’t breathe.” Don Daniele did the same with his handkerchief. By the time they were in the courtyard, both were wheezing and sneezing. “Oh! For a little bit of Manila air.”
“Let’s hurry,” urged Don Daniele. “I am going to start coughing any minute.”
Dona Esperanza could no longer hold the taut muscles in her throat. She blasted out a series of coughs. They were contagious. Don Daniele was sputtering and gagging.
When they were in the car Dona Esperanza affirmed, “Querido, I don’t know about you but the visit to the Schliemann Collection was worth every cough and sneeze,” as she coughed and sneezed.
“Let’s do it again soon,” Don Daniele replied in between a coughing attack.
There were so many men without arms and legs on the streets, it was sheer happiness to see whole men appear out of nowhere, although on closer inspection you could see they were pale, skeletal, and walked with difficulty. Don Daniele looked distressed. Indeed Dona Esperanza was gaily chattering away in vain to distract her husband.
His grandfather and his father had both been Field Marshals for the Austrian Hapsburg Emperor. Now everything was in tatters.
“No one, not even its leaders, especially its leaders,” emphasized Don Daniele, “knew why this horrifying destruction came about. These people have been left with nothing but their eyes for weeping.”
“I am afraid they have no more tears left,” murmured his wife.
The next day and the day after that, Dona Esperanza stayed on board the ‘Nemesis,’ reading and doing needlepoint in their cabin, which was known as the ship owner’s suite. Chita and Jing, her two maids, had both been seasick for most of the crossing. They elected to stay in their cabins the first day. After Dona Esperanza’s descriptions of the exquisite Schliemann Collection, they were sorry they hadn’t made the effort; when Dona Esperanza told them of all the casualties of the Great War - the crippled, the mutilated, the orphans, the widows, the homeless and the prostitutes – they opted to keep her company on board.
So Don Daniele who was, after all, an officer of a renowned military academy for bluebloods and was “used to such things” thought Dona Esperanza (she was wrong, he was not) took on a few sights and went shopping for her. His wealthy mother, Dona Cosima, had given them a great deal of money as a wedding present. Don Daniele could not resist giving his wife the magnificent sable cloak and ensemble which fit her beautifully, an ermine lined cloak, and various seal lined capes with matching brimmed hats and muffs in heavy red, blue and black wool.
In her sumptuous bridal suite on board the Nemesis, Dona Esperanza relived the moment when her attractive husband looking flushed and animated brought the sable ensemble covered in a linen blanket wrapped over his arms to their suite.
“Close your eyes, vita mia. I have a surprise for you.”
Dona Esperanza truly loved surprises, unlike some people. “One should always be happy with any gift, no matter how humble and give thanks,” she would tell others throughout her life.
As she gazed at herself in the full length gilded 17th century Venetian mirror, clad entirely in sable, the images of the starving and emaciated women and children stared back at her from the mirror.
“It does not feel right that I should be in such extravagant luxury while so much of humanity have nothing to eat or clean water to drink. Selling my sable coat will only be a temporary solution. But I think my prayers to the Infant Jesus of Prague have enlightened me.”
“I would like to send a telegraph to my Uncle Cesar proposing we obtain the exclusive right to copy the necklaces, earrings and pectorals in the Schliemann Collection. We’ll use 22 carat gold because our gold is plentiful in the islands and we own a couple of mines.”
“Cara mia, the Americans own your family’s gold mines. The Ortigas Nieto is a minority partner. In addition, they receive a handsome royalty for the right to be exploited by a foreign power - their Colonizers,” interrupted Don Daniele.
“We have to work with what we have Querido, however disagreeable,” she replied. Allow me to continue Daniele. For an upfront fee and certain royalties that will form part of the kiao-kiao, our craftsmen in the Philippines, China and Vietnam can copy the most dazzling creations, which Schliemann unearthed. We’ll create a label, perhaps ESPE. Why ever not? There’s ERTE, BAKST and BENOIT using only one name. The proceeds of the sale of all the jewelry can be used to feed the hungry and the needy in Germany and Austria. I’m sure Uncle Cesar will agree.”
Daniele de Montebello was in awe of this proposal by his young spouse. He wondered if he had gotten more than he bargained for when he had married her in a lavish ceremony at the Cathedral of Manila.
The ‘Nemesis’ had a schedule to follow. As the ship pulled away Officer Kolleck thought he heard a faint cry like the mewling of a kitten or a young cat.
“At least it is not a rat. I shouldn’t think there are hardly any left. People must be eating them to put off dying of starvation. Sadly there may not be many domestic animals left either. What has the world come to? I’m needed at the bridge with the Captain. I’ll deal with the cat later. That is one lucky cat.”
A full hour had elapsed when Dona Esperanza ventured out on deck. Don Daniele was on the bridge following the maneuvers of the Nemesis.
I like being alone. The silver waters of the Baltic Sea are striking the ship in a slow syncopated rhythm. It’s comforting to know that the Sea was and will always be on earth. Ah! What is a cat doing on board? I can hear it meowing. But how did it get here? They can be resourceful creatures.”
The cries continued, although they seemed to be diminishing in volume and frequency.
Poor little thing, it must be in an even worse condition than the children and the men and women I witnessed on the streets and at the pier.”
Like Officer Kolleck, she too was puzzled as to how a kitten could have survived in these dark days of hunger and hopelessness.
Now that I think about it, I never saw a horse, donkey or a dog roaming the streets. I can’t blame the people. I would kill any and all domestic animals to feed my family and myself if God forbid I should ever find myself in such a predicament.
Dona Esperanza followed the direction of the cries. Her heart pounded against her chest and her neck. They grew weaker and fainter.
Oh! If only I could save even just a kitten, I will have been of some use today, here in Hamburg. I will give thanks to the Christ Child Jesus who is my dearest traveling companion, she prayed.
She espied a bundle behind the steel steps that led towards the bridge. All the steps on the Nemesis had been painted white which gave the ship a look of Light.
The cries increased as she neared the bundle, which she now realized was enveloped in a dark blue woolen blanket
“I am terrified. I suspect that this is not a cat at all,” she whispered to herself.
As soon as she touched the object squirming in the blanket she knew what the creature was.
“It’s an infant. What a wondrous thing. An infant.”
She parted the folds of the blanket slowly and delicately. The baby stopped squirming and gazed at her with its round eyes the color of blue marine.
“Oh! You beautiful baby doll,” she cried out scooping the infant into her arms.
“Where did you come from? I know eagles devour babies. Our Philippine eagle has that reputation but neither eagles nor storks deliver babies that is a certainty. Well, you are here. Let’s get you out of the chilly air and into a warm cabin. Then we shall decide what to do about you.”
“Jing! Chita! Open the door,” she said loudly.
“Look what I found,” she cried out, holding the baby aloft for them to see.
They screamed and made the sign of the Cross.
“Dona Esperanza what does it mean? Was the baby on the ship,” asked Jing.
“Silly Jing, where else could the Dona have found the baby? Let’s examine the baby. Usually the mother leaves a note,” replied an older and more experienced Chita.
How did Chita come to know about these things? Never mind. I’ll ask her at a more opportune time.
The baby was clinging to her arms. She could feel its little heart beating so fast against her breast.
“Chita, please take a good look at its blanket. Jing, search gently among its clothes while I clasp it tightly. Be careful as you remove the clothes, the mother or father might have inserted a medal or a letter in between the undershirt and the jacket,” said Dona Esperanza.
A piece of paper fluttered to the Persian carpet. The baby was now nude and it begun to whimper at being exposed
Jing, please bring me one of my cashmere shawls to wrap around the baby.”
She opened a cupboard overflowing with shawls and scarves and ran to hand it to Dona Esperanza.
“Now, you darling baby first things first. Let’s take a good look at you. Am I talking to a boy or a girl?”
Dona Esperanza lifted the babe and told them” It’s a beautiful boy. He’s painfully thin. How old could he be?”
“Not more than a month or two at the most,” said Chita.
“Ah! I forgot about the letter. Chita please take a look. Is it in any language you are familiar with?
She bent to pick up the paper and perused it. “Dona Esperanza I don’t recognize the language written on the paper. I’m sorry,” she apologized.
“Never mind. Don Daniele is fluent in German. We’ll find out soon enough. Just place the letter on the desk,” she said.
“Jing, please take one of my linen pillowcases inside the camphor chest, cut it half and bring it to me. He needs nappies.
“My God Esperanza, what is the meaning of this?” gasped a stunned Don Daniele.”
“Daniele, don’t you see? It is a beautiful baby boy.”
“Of course I see it Esperanza. It’s a baby probably not older than thirty days. How did you come by this creature?
“I found it darling. It was behind the steps, which lead directly to the bridge. I mistook it for a cat at first. I am happy beyond belief.”
“Senor Conde, there is a letter which came with the boy. Dona Esperanza said it is in German,” explained a breathless Chita.
Daniele de Montebello strode over to the desk made of carved narra wood and began to read the letter in silence. The tension was palpable.
“I am going to read the letter slowly again and translate it into Castilian,” he declared in a tone, which betrayed no emotion one way or the other.
“Matthias is his baptismal name. His mother died a week after he was born. His father was an Officer in the German Artillery and died in France. I am his aunt and sole survivor. I cannot look after him because I have become a prostitute in order to eat. There is no one left alive in our family. Both his maternal and paternal grandparents died during the influenza epidemic, as did my sisters and brothers and their children. I saw you dear blessed Lady together with your spouse give money to all those who asked for it. You are his only hope. May God bless you and may he forgive me.”
For a few minutes everyone in the room was mute except for the baby who begun whimpering.
It is hunger gnawing at his little insides. We need to get him a wet nurse immediately. Failing that a goat who has just birthed her kids. I pray she has enough milk for her kids as well as for Matthias. In the meantime what am I going to do?
Dona Esperanza turned to her husband, “Perhaps the Captain and the Officers might have ideas which can help us look after Matthias.”
The maids Chita and Jing had unobtrusively left the cabin. They did not wish to intrude in a discussion, which was about to take place regarding the foundling.
“I hope Dona Esperanza keeps the baby,” said Jing.
“Dona Esperanza will prevail. She always does. I haven’t the slightest doubt,” declared Chita.
Daniele gazed at his wife. There was no diplomatic way to soften what he was about to say.
"Tesoro, after Hamburg our next stop is Genoa. We can place the child with the Sisters of Saint Ursula. There are several good Orphanages there. We’ll send money every month for his upkeep and education.”
There is no such thing as a good Orphanage. I think we should keep Matthias. He will be our first-born son. The Ortigas Nieto never turns away any living creature that is given to them by the Gods.
Many years ago, Uncle Alcibiade found Fray Paco chained to a branch of an ylang-ylang tree during the most terrifying typhoon, which wreaked so much death and destruction in Manila. He brought it to Great-Uncle Cesar and he has been a part of our family ever since.
“But Esperanza, we are newly weds. How are we going to explain a foundling?
“You are right. We must not say he is a foundling. It would break Matthias’s heart if he ever found out. He will be the subject of derision and humiliation.”
“What do you suggest then?” asked a resigned Daniele.
Well, we need your Mother’s complicity in this series of actions. We can say I was with child when we married. You will be even more of a heroic figure than you already are with your background in the military Academy at the Escorial.”
“What about Don Cesar and the rest of your clan?”
“The only ones I truly care about are your Mother and Uncle Cesar and my parents.”
“No one will think anything of it even if they will surely gossip about it for months and maybe years. Many marriages are nothing but reparatory ones in case you did not know.”
“I do know that. I am only thinking of you and your welfare. Are you absolutely sure that you can bear the slurs and innuendos as well as the judgment of a gossip soaked Manila?”
“I don’t care about the opinions of others. If I had been born poor or even middle class it would have had a serious repercussion on my life. As I am a rich heiress it will not matter one iota,” she replied with conviction.
The baby was now bawling and showing off its strong lungs.
“Officer Kolleck is still on the bridge. I shall go to the kitchen and talk with the Chef. We must have taken in fresh cow’s milk today from the German countryside. The Lord will provide Esperanza. Isn’t that what we are told?”
“Daniele, Daniele,” she murmured lifting her face so that they could kiss on the lips and they kissed ardently.
“I love you. Thank you for your kind and noble heart my beloved husband.”
“Esperanza, I always knew your enthralling beauty was as beautiful on the outside as it was o the inside. Until this day I had no idea just how radiant your spirit is. I am so happy you are my wife,” he said clasping both Esperanza and Matthias to his heart.
The Chinese chef Chu Li had cow and goat milk. One of the young sailors was a Norwegian whose digestive apparatus could not tolerate cow’s milk. So on the orders of Don Cesar they always had goat milk even if it cost more. “I will not tolerate skimping on food for my officers and sailors. It costs money to train them properly. I do not like turnovers. It is a sign of bad management.”
A small bottle was found in the pantry, which Chu Li set to boiling immediately.
“What shall we use for a nipple? He asked silently.
“I know Officer Fisher used to be a medic and a surgeon on the battlefield. He also doubles as our Doctor. This is a small challenge for him. He must have dozens of sterile rubber gloves. He must be able to sew one of the fingers into a presentable nipple, at least until we dock in Genoa,” he told Don Daniele.
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