A Ballad of Love and Glory(88)
The general kissed Ximena’s hand and proceeded to flatter her as he did the other ladies. “My lady Ximena, you look lovely in carmine. It is a perfect color for you, indeed.”
The servants rang the dinner bell, and they were escorted to the adjacent room, where a handsome mahogany table had been set with French porcelain dishes, alabaster trays, and crystal bowls trimmed with gold and silver. There were a series of platters laden with meat, fish, and fowl, cheeses and summer vegetables, and goblets of wine and champagne.
Riley’s military uniform and rank, his fair skin, and blue eyes gave him an advantage in this country he’d never had before. The Mexican elite prized such things above all else, and looking at his blue eyes, they didn’t see a man who had more in common with the Mexican landless peasant than with the higher born. Under their admiring glances, Riley’s hands shook once dinner began as he reached for the solid silver flatware next to his plate. He’d never in his life had a silver spoon in his mouth, and he stared at it for too long, admiring the intricate details etched on it. Very demurely, Ximena coughed into her napkin to get his attention and stop him from making a fool of himself. He mimicked her movements and smiled at her as she ate her soup daintily, her gestures as elegant and refined as those of the other ladies in the room. And once she had a little wine in her, Riley watched her transform into a Tejana belle, as Ximena once told him her mother had hoped she would be. She chatted amiably with the ladies with ease, her impeccable Spanish revealing her good breeding, and little by little, he noticed that the women put their prejudices aside.
“A toast to the great República Mexicana,” Santa Anna said, and everyone stood and raised their glasses. “Today, my heart palpitates with joy in these happy days in which we have come together for combat in defense of our firesides and our outraged rights. The national dignity has been condemned, justice derided, our holy rights trodden underfoot. War to the invaders! ‘Liberty or death’ should be the cry of every generous bosom in this city!”
“Liberty or death!”
* * *
A lavish spread of sweetmeats, cakes, custards, fruit, and ices was served. Riley could no longer stuff anything into his mouth but out of politeness partook of a meringue, which melted heavenly on his tongue. After the sumptuous repast, the gentlemen retired to Santa Anna’s office to drink and smoke Cuban cigars. He could see Ximena’s reluctance to go off into another room with the women to talk, perhaps, about trivialities.
In the president’s office, the men soon pulled out their cigars while Santa Anna’s attendants filled their glasses with the finest brandy Riley had ever tasted.
“Now, gentlemen, we have important matters to discuss,” General Santa Anna said. “I have received intelligence that after all these weeks in Puebla, General Scott has finally given the order to his troops to advance on the capital. His vanguard has left the city of Puebla today.”
Riley listened carefully, grateful that in the sixteen months he’d been serving under the Mexican flag, he’d learned enough of the Spanish tongue to get by, yet he struggled to keep up with the rapid and heated conversation. The generals spoke quickly and angrily, critical of the state of Puebla for not putting up a fight against the Yankees in May. The second most important city in the country, Puebla de los ángeles was the last defense before Mexico City and had so easily come into the possession of General Scott, without the inhabitants firing a single shot, that now there was nothing standing between the Yankees and the capital.
“There are eighty thousand poblanos in that city!” Santa Anna said. “Enough to defend themselves from the enemy. Instead, those cowards handed it to Scott on a silver platter.”
“If the poblanos hadn’t betrayed the republic,” General Anaya said, “this war would have been over by now.”
“They will rue the day they welcomed the enemy with open arms,” General Rincón added.
“Scott is on his way to us now, and I aim to confront him at El Pe?ón,” Santa Anna said.
“Perdón, ?mi general? Do you mean to permit him to approach the capital completely unopposed?” General Valencia asked. “Are we no better than the poblanos then?”
Once again, the generals began to shout among themselves, and Riley could see that Valencia was getting more and more agitated, his countenance reddening as he and the commander had a shouting match.
“Give me twelve thousand men and see if I don’t have the Yanquis running back whence they came with their tail between their legs!” Valencia insisted.
Santa Anna berated him for his insolence and threatened to court-martial him if he didn’t change his tone.
“I will not leave the capital undefended!” Santa Anna said. “We will all go to meet Scott and his troops once they reach the Valle de México, and we will bury their corpses there.”
Valencia scoffed and shook his head but held his tongue. Instead, it was Ampudia who challenged the commander. “Ask him,” Ampudia said, pointing at Riley. “Ask capitán Riley what happened when Taylor was allowed to march down to Matamoros.”
They all turned to look at Riley. He fixed his gaze upon his commander and said, “With all due respect, your Excellency, there is truth in what your generals say. General Taylor was given a great advantage when he encountered no opposition on his way down from Corpus Christi, and even when he settled across from Matamoros, he was unmolested, uninjured, and allowed to build up his defenses as well as he pleased. Perhaps it would be wise to consider a different course of action with General Scott.”