A Ballad of Love and Glory(87)
With Ximena translating the driver’s words, Riley listened to the ancient myth of the beautiful princess, Iztaccíhuatl, who was deeply in love with a warrior under her father’s command. This great warrior, Popocatépetl, was sent to fight a war by the emperor, who promised him he could marry the princess upon his return. But Iztaccíhuatl died of grief while he was gone after believing the malignant rumors that the brave warrior had perished in war. When Popocatépetl returned, and upon finding his beloved dead, he took her body out to the plains where he knelt by her side. The gods, taking pity on them, transformed them into volcanoes—she, sleeping peacefully covered in her white mantle of snow, and he, waking once in a while to rain fire upon the land to release his sorrow and rage.
Gazing at the mountains, Riley thought of Nelly. Would that the gods took pity on her as well. Would that she could lie in serene repose, transformed into a beautiful snow-covered mountain to join the others—Fionn mac Cumhaill, Cú Chulainn, Queen Maeve—who kept watch over their beloved land.
* * *
When they returned to the barracks and went up to their quarters, Ximena prepared them a bath while he sat down to compose a letter that would be smuggled into the Yankee camps a few days hence to entice deserters. They had been invited to a dinner party hosted by Santa Anna later in the week, and he wanted to have it ready for the general’s approval.
Irishmen—Listen to the words of your brothers, hear the accents of a Catholic people. Could Mexicans imagine that the sons of Ireland, that noble land of the religious and the brave, would be seen amongst their enemies? Well known it is that Irishmen are a noble race, well known it is that in their own country many of them have not even bread to give up to their children. These are the chief motives that induced Irishmen to abandon their beloved country and visit the shores of the New World. But was it not natural to expect that the distressed Irishmen who fly from hunger would take refuge in this Catholic country, where they might have met with a hearty welcome and been looked upon as brothers had they not come as cruel and unjust invaders?
… Many Mexicans and Irishmen, united by the sacred tie of religion and benevolence, form only one people.
* * *
The dinner party with the general was at the Palacio Nacional, which occupied the entire eastern side of the great public square. And as Riley and Ximena stood before the imposing building, they felt overwhelmed by its immensity.
“This is where the palace of the great Aztec emperor, Moctezuma, once stood,” Ximena said. “The Spaniards tore down his palace and used the tezontle stones to build this one.”
“This is what conquerors do to the conquered,” Riley said. “They build their empires on the stones and bones of those they defeat.”
Above them, masses of dark clouds were gathering. The rainy season was in full swing, and Riley was surprised by how every night the heavens would pour down on them while they slept, and the next day the sun would come out in all its splendor, and everything would be sparkling with raindrops, the air pure and refreshing. He was certainly loving the cool, wet summers of Mexico City.
He gave Ximena his arm and together they walked into the palace. One of the guards guided them to Santa Anna’s private quarters, which occupied a small section of the palace itself, the rest being devoted to government offices, such as those of the minister of war, the treasury, the House and the Senate, and the chief courts of justice. There were beautiful, quiet courtyards and gardens throughout. As they walked up a flight of stairs, Riley noticed soldiers loitering about the galleries wrapped in their cloaks, and when they reached the landing, Santa Anna’s attendant was already waiting for them. They were escorted to an ornate room with sumptuous furniture and French ceramics, splendid red draperies, and fine oil paintings, where other guests were mingling, illuminated by golden candelabras. Riley saluted the Mexican generals in attendance—Bravo, Valencia, Anaya, Rincón, álvarez, Mora y Villamil, Lombardini, and a few others.
When they were introduced to the generals’ female companions, he felt Ximena stiffen beside him, and he knew the source of her discomfort. The general’s wives were in their finest evening dresses of silk, velvet, and satin and bedecked with splendid diamonds and pearls. It seemed to Riley they were wearing all the ornaments in their possession, and even their heads hadn’t escaped, laden with glittery diadems and large silver hair combs. His beloved Ximena wore nothing more than a modest muslin dress dyed with the cochineal insects harvested from cacti, simple black satin shoes, her gold hoop earrings, and a fresh red rose stuck into her silky hair. To him, she seemed more lovely than ever in her humble simplicity. It was a sacrifice she’d made for his son. Instead of spending his wages buying expensive apparel, Ximena wanted the money to be sent to Johnny, and with padre Sebastián’s help, that is what he’d done.
Though the women were cordial, Riley saw plain enough they were judging his beloved’s appearance, not just her attire but her bronze skin, which in their eyes betrayed an impurity of blood. Luckily, Ximena was spared exchanging further pleasantries with them when the president general made his entrance.
“Welcome, my dear friends and compatriots,” Santa Anna said as he stood at the door in full uniform. With his colossal epaulets and the numerous medals covering his breast, he was more bedizened than any of the ladies in the room. Riley saluted his commander when it was his turn to greet him, thanking him for his hospitality.