Amor Eterno: A Historical Fantasy Romance, page 6
The kerosene lamp on the table made the food more appetizing as it emanated light throughout the whole comedor.
Doña Guada came out of her room in a new set of clean clothes. Her camisa had a collarless and translucent chemise made from pineapple fabric, with sleeves shaped like bells. The pañuelo covered the low-necked camisa. Her saya was an ankle-length skirt that shaped like a bubble and was hugged by a tapis, a muslin knee-length over-skirt. She sashayed her way to the dining table with her hand swishing her feathered fan. The maids secretly made fun of her by sneaking glances at each other.
Tamales, a dish made of corn-based starchy dough filled with pork meat, cheese, vegetables, herbs, and spices; and Paella Valenciana, cooked with white rice, vegetables, chicken meat, beans, and seasoning, were the main attractions of the night. They also had a bottle of Mexican wine and watermelon and mango for dessert.
Don Jaime discussed raising the farmers’ pay by 10% by the end of the year, and by inviting a doctor to conduct free medical check-ups for the farmers and their families. But his wife declined to listen. She started talking about the new fashion trend in Spain and expressed her excitement over the arrival of her older sister.
“I couldn’t wait to have my dresses recreated!” she stated theatrically. “Consuelo will certainly bring new fabrics from across Europe. Oh, I just can’t wait to show them to my amigas! For sure, Jaime, they will envy me!”
“Hold your horses, Guada!” Jaime warned leniently. “You have to tone down your expenses. Wealth is not eternal.”
“Who cares about money, Jaime, when we’re financially secured?” She laughed confidently. “I can have whatever I want. You cannot make me stoop down below my level! And I will not conform to your unnecessary generosity towards the indios. They are as good as savages and infidels! In my body runs the blood of Spain, and through my actions shall reflect that I am above anyone else!”
Jaime ordered the maids to leave the comedor for a while. His wife condemning the indios in front of these humble servants was too much for his conscience to handle.
“You must not forget that you married a man with savage roots! If not for my paternal grandparents’ Spanish blood, I could have been the indio you hate the most!” Though he knew he was still an indio in the eyes of some aristocrats despite his wealth.
“But my love!” Her voice rose. “Your grandparents are insulares! They might have been born and raised in this place, but they are still Español! That’s why you’re wealthy. It’s because you have their money and legacy! And we are rich because I have got money too, which these poor indios don’t. That’s the difference between them and us. Don’t you agree, Clarissa?” She turned to her daughter who was mum while watching them argue.
Guada continuously boasted her full Spanish ancestry to the people whom she thought to be beneath her. Her kind considered themselves as blanco, or people with full Spanish blood who were either born in Spain (Peninsulares) or in the Philippines (Insulares). Guada’s family was from the rich region of Catalan. They had a tinge of nobility as their ancestors were dukes and duchesses, marquises and marchionesses, and barons and baronets, a long, long time ago. Guadalope Diaz Vargas had been proud of this her entire life.
Her family moved to the east via the Manila-Acapulco Trade. Since then, they kept the sanctity of their blood by marrying to fellow Espanyol. The Vargases started their own businesses, owning hectares of lands all over the country, but fate altered the story of the Vargases. Guada had to marry the half Spanish, half Filipino, Jaime del Fierro.
The reason for the intermarriage was unknown to many. Only Guada and her mother knew why she had to marry a man who could have been an indio because of his pure Filipina mother, a savage in their dictionary. However, Jaime’s inheritance from his Spanish father tamed the superior and arrogant Vargases and made the former more than marriageable.
Jaime was a grandson to a gobernadorcillo, and this connection gave him a reputable name. He had always adored the love story of his parents. His father was a good and intelligent man, had studied in Madrid for years, and traveled to the Philippines to spend a vacation with his grandfather, who was then a high ranking official. In one of his trips to the barrio, he met this beautiful and simple girl whose hair was as black as a raven and whose skin was sun-kissed, almost golden. They fell in love with each other and got married. There was a little rebellion from the family over this marriage, but love overpowered everything. Jaime’s father settled in the country and died in old age after his beloved wife left him two years earlier.
He had always dreamed of this kind of romance, but Guada was a different woman. She had changed over time. The sweetness and kindness she bore when they first met gradually vanished. Despite this transformation, Jaime remained faithful to her.
More importantly, Don Jaime believed that he was fortunate to have a daughter like Clarissa—a young, sweet, and charming girl of eighteen. This gift made up for not being able to have the perfect wife. He was grateful that Clarissa did not get her mother’s pomposity. She was neither rude nor insensitive to the people around her. As a matter of fact, she was friends with the servants of the house, and she barely mingled with aristocrat children.
Clarissa was homeschooled. Her mother taught her to read and write. Women didn’t have the privilege of receiving a university education like men did. Neither did they have the right to get involved in civic matters. They were taught to be excellent housewives and mothers. But her mind was as deep as the ocean like an empty jar ready to be filled with just anything. She read everything that interested her. Her father’s library was the best place in the house for her, her favorite as a matter of fact. Doña Guada would sometimes tell her off for reading too much. She preferred to have Clarissa study needlework and music than waste her time with reading and writing poetry.
Dinner ended with Doña Guada emerging as the victor. Her husband chose to seal his mouth and not to aggravate the conversation any further.
Chapter 6
A Daughter’s Run
In the morning, when the sky was free from dark angry clouds and eccentric rings, Clarissa and her mother went to the barrio to attend mass. Guada, like the townspeople, was so keen to hear about the priest’s opinion about the peculiar astronomical phenomenon. They flocked the church in time for Padre Cito’s sermon.
The stout and short priest in brown robes assured everyone that last night’s phenomenon was just one of the universe’s wonder. He was so confident about it that he kept laughing throughout the mass. Assurance from the Dominican priest was what the townspeople needed. They regarded him as the prophet of the sacrilegious doctrines, and whatever that came out from his mouth was the truth and would always be the truth.
They peacefully marched out of the church in high spirits. The ambiance of the vicinity instantly filled with good energy. Fear was erased from everyone’s faces.
Clarissa waited for her mother inside the kalesa, watching the latter laughing with her amigas. They were probably talking about dresses or gossiping.
“I don’t think I can wait for mother!” she complained as she took the white laced veil off her face.
“Where are you off to, señorita?” asked Maying who was sitting at the driver’s seat as she saw her lady mounting off the carriage.
“I think I’ll go for a short walk.” She scuttled away from the kalesa before Maying could stop her.
She lifted her long, heavy skirt and train to avoid the quagmires on the muddy road. Last night’s heavy rain left craters on the ground jammed with rainwater. Her bakya or wooden clogs adorned with floral carvings were quickly sullied with dirt. Nonetheless, Clarissa went on to achieve her transient freedom. She just felt like a free bird.
Getting away meant not being in her mother’s circle of rich friends. It meant not behaving according to norms. She just wanted to be her real self. Her high spirits screamed for freedom every time she curbed herself with propriety. Exploring the woods and the barrio, and driving the kalesa were just a few of the things she wanted to do, which she could hardly do if Guada’s iron claws were clutched around her neck. She grew tired of acting docile and prim.
She did not care about the dirt that gathered around the hem of her skirt or the sweat that was dripping down her forehead and neck. She continued running away anyway. She reached the streets of the busy market where the natives and the sangleys, or Filipinos with Chinese ancestry, ruled trade and business. People used copper coins or barillas for purchasing products. Obviously, the rich people had their purses and pockets filled with it and could just buy anything they wanted.
The houses in the barrio were so close to each other that neighbors often talk through their large windows, but none surpassed the regality of the del Fierro’s stone house. Some were built in wood and stones with large windows on the upper level while stores opened at the ground floor.
At one store, abaniko fans were sold. The fans were of great help especially to mothers who needed to tend to their crying infants because of the warm weather. The abaniko fans were made by skilled craftsmen working in Aling Lucing’s shop. She thought of buying one for her mother, but then she realized that the latter would prefer silken embroidered fans from New Spain.
Clarissa enjoyed watching maidens hold their abanikos close to their chest whenever they were praised by the elders for their beauty and wit, while she enjoyed more seeing them whiff their fans in rapid movements when they encountered cocky young men teasing them for their looks.
There were headgears made from pearls too, but she was not interested in them at all.
It was the first time she toured the barrio market alone, and she massively enjoyed it. Her short walk did not turn out to be short as she lost track of time. There were just so many things around that fed her hungry eyes, and time seemed so short to see everything.
She was hurrying back to the church when she met a female native from the uplands. If her mother were here, she would probably make a scene and embarrass the native woman by calling her a savage. She knew by the time the native blocked her way that she was in trouble.
The native glared intently at her.
Clarissa smiled at her in return instead.
Fear is not an option at the moment, she thought.
The native seemed tame. She stood petitely, and her skin was like the color of the mahogany tree. Her eyes were large and dark, and her curly hair was made into a small bun at the back of her head.
“What a beautiful necklace you have!” exclaimed the native with her eyes ogling the piece of jewelry on her neck.
“Oh, thank you!” Clarissa replied as she touched the necklace with her fingers. “My grandmother gave it to me.”
“You should guard it with your life.”
She fell into silence and wondered. She knew she must take care of it. It was her beloved grandma’s heirloom.
“It does not look like an ordinary piece of jewel.” Her voice was monotonous, yet something uncanny in it bothered Clarissa.
The native could not be referring about the cross pendant and Christianity because the former had no recognized religion. Their kind flew to the uplands to avoid Spanish friars from converting them. Clarissa did not just believe it was about religion.
“It might help you with the answers you’re desperate about.”
“What do you mean?” she asked as nicely as possible.
“Eternal sufferings shall you bequeath to your children until the heavens cease from turning red. One mistake from the past shall hound you, and you cannot get out of it unless you sacrifice the one thing you desire the most!” she uttered gravely after pushing Clarissa to the wall.
Her fingers slid to the cross on Clarissa’s necklace. Clarissa’s face turned ashen white, and her lips trembled with fear. The native’s sudden act bewildered her. The native’s stare looked ferocious and scary, dark and piercing like a vulture’s.
The native persisted with her breath almost suffocating the trembling young lady, “You must spare no room for mistakes! You must not repeat history! You must end this eternal misery! It’s desire against destiny all over again.”
Clarissa gripped the woman’s hands and thrust them away. As soon as she got her breath back, she immediately ran off, securing the necklace with her fingers. Her heart was skimming with every breath she puffed out. The woman petrified her. What she blurted out seemed to be complete nonsense. Clarissa did not believe any of it.
Natives were against Christianity, and they always attacked people who followed the Christian laws when they happened to meet one. What she experienced was plain savage brutality. Now, she understood why Padre Cito was so adamant on converting the upland natives. He wanted them to learn discipline, to be taught manners and the divine power of one God, and to recognize the church as the instrument to salvation.
As she reached the pavements leading to the church gates, she paused for a while to calm her nerves down at a corner. She had been walking and running for most of the morning, and her legs started to feel exhaustion. She felt her right ankle get swollen from twisting it while running.
“Señorita?” A voice emerged from the other side of the corner.
“Alejandro?” A tinge of hope in her voice surfaced.
A man in camisa de chino—a thin fabric shirt with long sleeves—and loose trousers appeared.
“Oh, Alejandro!” Clarissa heaved a sigh. Dread immediately dispersed as the man’s familiar face greeted her.
Alejandro noticed Clarissa touching her ankle.
“Did you hurt yourself?” He sounded anxious.
Clarissa brought down her skirt right away to hide her reddened ankle.
“Where’s Mama?” she asked.
“I drove her and Maying back to the mansion,” replied Alejandro whose eyes were still on her feet. “What happened to you, señorita? You look appalled when you saw me.”
She cleared her throat, and said, “I was attacked by a native in the market.”
“Attacked?”
“Don’t fret, Alejandro! She didn’t hurt me. I twisted my ankle while running away.”
“You must have it checked by a doctor,” he suggested.
“No! I will be fine. Mama must not know about this,” she told him. “You must not tell anyone, Alejandro.”
He nodded.
“Now, if you will be so kind as to take me home. I can’t let people see me in this state.”
“Can you walk?” He offered his hand.
“Yes, I can. Just watch me from behind,” she answered as she declined his hand. Young women must always be wary of men and Alejandro was not an exception. “People might see us, and you would not want to be the center of gossip.”
“Okay.” He silently followed her from behind.
***
She told Alejandro to get the kalesa through the gates as quietly as possible. She did not want to catch her parents’ attention. Her mother must be in her room crying over the idea of losing her only daughter. Her father might be in the barrio seeking help from the officials to find her.
“Señorita!” Maying came running to her as she went down the kalesa.
Her ankle was hurting so bad.
“Where have you been? Doña Guada flew into hysterics when you disappeared. I just could not say you ran away. Now, they all thought you were abducted by the savages!”
She eyed Alejandro who was listening to the conversation. She expected him to keep quiet.
“I was in the market,” she told Maying. “And I, unfortunately, hurt myself.”
“Oh, señorita!” Maying’s face sparked with worry.
“But I’ll be fine!” she assured the worry-stricken Maying. “Now, if you would just please help me walk up the stairs?”
Maying brought a bowl of herbal decoction to Clarissa’s bedside. It would take more than a day to rest her foot, but the herbs would help in easing the pain.
“Did Ayang help you with the decoction?” asked Clarissa as she lay down on her bed.
“Yes, señorita,” replied Maying. “She went to the woods to get the herbs.”
“I should be studying more about plants,” commented Clarissa as she read the book of prayers. “And Mama?”
“She’s in bed. She said she’d talk to you over dinner.” Maying laid warm leaves above Clarissa’s ankle and wrapped it with a clean piece of cloth. “Alejandro went to the barrio to inform your father.”
“Oh, Maying! Mama’s voice will surely deafen me tonight!”
Maying chuckled.
“You cannot blame her, senorita. You’re her only child.”
“Oh, how I wish I were a boy!” the words unconsciously came out her mouth. “Then, I will not have to follow what Mama says. I can travel to Europe on my own and go to universities, and she will not have to say that I always have my nose buried in a book!”
“I’ll bring your lunch over, señorita.”
“Not here, Maying. Bring it over to Papa’s study.”
“You are well aware that people know that that’s a known secret?”
She bobbed her head enthusiastically and jumped off her bed. Her ankle ached after her feet landed on the floor, but it went away quickly. Her papa’s library was the best place to be herself.
“I still have four books in my list before this month ends.” She hurried out of her room.
Maying warned her not to run to prevent straining her foot, but Clarissa was as hardheaded as a toddler as she can be. She entered her papa’s study rather silently to avoid waking her temperamental mother up.
The study was not big, just enough for three big shelves attached to the walls, and three smaller cabinets with plenty of books in fragile binding.
She hurried to the chair near the window and started reading a pocket-sized book, which she hid inside a secret chamber in her father’s desk. It was a book about legends and myths that was banned by the Catholic faith as it contained stories of the pre-Spanish Philippines, which could cause a revival of pagan beliefs.
