A Ballad of Love and Glory(90)
“I can’t accept this gift,” she said. “Thank you but—”
“But nothing,” he said, taking it out of its box and pinning it on her cream-colored mantilla, a simple wedding gift from John, but one that she would treasure more than any jewel. She was afraid to look at it. Never had she received such an extravagant gift. She wanted to hate it, but as she glanced at it, the golden eagle resting against her bosom, it gave her an immense pride to be wearing the Mexican crest.
But then, upon seeing his satisfied smile, she remembered her anger, her fear. She walked over to the window to put some space between them.
“You must order John to not go to battle with you.”
His grin was immediately replaced with a scowl. “?Perdón?”
“It won’t end well for him and his battalion. Assign them to sentry duty. Have them guard the Catedral Metropolitana, or the Palacio Nacional, or your own private residence, or your favorite brothel, I don’t care! Just don’t take him with you.”
He limped to where she stood by the window and took her hands in his. “It’s your wedding day, and I’m sure you’re nervous and getting the jitters, so I shall forgive your strange behavior. But I must confess, this is not like you. Not like you at all.”
“It’s not jitters!” she snapped. “Por el amor de la Santísima Virgen, General, you need to believe me. Something is going to happen to the San Patricios. They will be hanged at the gallows unless you put them out of harm’s way, as far away from the Yanquis as possible.”
“I cannot do what you ask. General Scott is marching to this city as we speak, and I need Juan Riley, and I need his men. I understand he will be your husband now, and no wife wants to see her husband go off to battle, but my lady, if you cannot handle it, may I suggest that you not marry a soldier?”
“I will hold you responsible if anything happens to my husband,” she said, and then, unable to stop herself, she burst into tears. He held her in his arms and whispered words of comfort to her, and though she knew they were lies, she listened to them. His voice was kind, gentle even. He spoke to her with the same tenderness as he did his precious gamecocks.
He sighed and took out his handkerchief to wipe her face. “Basta. Stop crying now,” he said, changing his voice, the sweetness gone. “You don’t want to get married with tear-stained eyes, do you? Now come, I will deliver you to your betrothed and after the ceremony ends, I shall take my leave. The battle is nearly upon us.”
She put her arm through his, and he guided her out of the room.
Ximena and John had chosen to have an intimate wedding in the small chapel at the barracks, and though its walls were crumbling, its pews falling apart, she didn’t care. The San Patricios got to their feet as she and Santa Anna entered. She avoided looking at them, trying not to think about her dream, about the nooses around their necks. She simply forced herself to smile and keep her eyes facing forward. John was up front with padre Sebastián and Patrick Dalton. He smiled as he watched her walk toward him. He stood proudly before her wearing his new uniform, the dark blue of a man of his rank, a major in the Mexican Army. If truth be told, she would have rather seen him dressed in regular clothes, at least for today, their wedding day. She would rather not think about the war and the fact that at this very moment General Scott and his army were heading down the National Highway to the Valle de México and soon the battle would ensue.
“Mayor Juan Riley, aquí está su amada,” Santa Anna said. John saluted his commander and then took Ximena’s hands in his. As padre Sebastián began the ceremony, they both knelt on pillows. They kept their heads bowed as the priest united them by wrapping a white silk cord from Ximena to John. The soft Latin prayers of padre Sebastián echoed against the old stone walls. Finally, it was time for their vows and they rose to their feet.
“Se?or Juan Riley, ?acepta a Ximena Salomé Benítez y Catalán, aquí presente, como su esposa, según el rito de la santa madre Iglesia?” padre Sebastián said.
John looked at her and smiled. “Sí. Acepto.”
The priest turned to her and said, “Ximena Salomé Benítez y Catalán, ?acepta a Juan Riley, aquí presente, como su esposo, según el rito de la santa madre Iglesia?”
Just then, a cannon from the ramparts of the citadel boomed, shaking the fragile walls of the chapel. Ximena looked at John, at Santa Anna. The San Patricios stirred in the pews, whispering among themselves. John clutched her hand and didn’t let go, but they both knew what that sound meant. The Yanquis had reached the valley. They were a mere twenty-five miles away. She could hear the drums summoning men to their posts, the bugles sounding the alarm. Why couldn’t they have today, at least today, to enjoy their wedding?
Padre Sebastián looked at her tenderly and asked if she wished to continue. She looked at John.
“Lass, do you desire to stop? D’ya not wish to go on?” he whispered into her ear. “I would understand if you’ve changed your mind.” Yet his eyes were pleading for her to not give up on him. Not now when he was about to put his fate in God’s hands once again. She thought about her dream of the San Patricios hanging lifeless from the gallows and turned to look at Patrick Dalton, the best man, standing by John’s side, watching her with puzzlement. She looked at the men on the pews—Lachlin McLaghlin, Elizier Lusk, John Appleby, John Benedick, and that big lovable bear of a man, Kerr Delaney. Was their fate sealed? Was there anything that could be done to change it?