Chapter 7 - Midwinter Night's Dream

Chapter 7 - Midwinter Night's Dream



The great eventful Present hides the Past; but through the din
 Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in.
 ~John Greenleaf Whittier


Until lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunters. ~African Proverb



What's past is prologue.
Shakespeare
Tempest


History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awaken.
James Joyce
Ulysses


"Don't wake him up! He's got insomnia and he's trying to sleep it off!"
Chico Marx
Night At The Opera


                       . . . .



Dawn in the desert.
The sun a crimson ball on the horizon. A slight haze obscures the valley.
  Can one believe what one sees, or does not? A Sleeping
Mountain or a Smoking Mountain?
  To the south, a faint plume of smoke. Is Popo sleeping or gathering strength?

Rafe and Celestino wake and move about camp, eyes to the skies. As Rafe's gaze moves over the area, he listens as he watches, carefully. Just a feeling, but one he trusts. He takes the horses to the river.

On his return, Celestino inquires about Diego and Josephina.
  'Gone,' Rafel answers. 'Horses are still here, though.'

Celestino is now worried. 'How can that be? I heard no sounds...no one could have just taken them both without us knowing!'

  Rafe sighs. He knows what the two young people were thinking: they would have to head back to camp, where there would be problems...perhaps they could not have remained together.

'No one took them.' Rafe decides. 'Look about, do you see any tracks?' Nothing. There were none.

  'They are gone.' It was as he had feared, and hoped.
Deep within, Rafe had only good wishes for his wayward young brother. He knew his wounds would heal, physically. If he lost this girl, though...

 'I wish them all the best.' He mounted Tlaloc, gazing off into the north. 'It is only natural...they were in love. What else could they do?'

                         . . . .

                       

San Francisco.
  A hazy dawn here as well. But, the haze of fog, not a volcanic eruption. No silent desert, but a gradual awakening of city life...vendors opening their shops, horse-drawn wagons delivering milk and produce, trolley bells, seagulls...fog horns.

As Emlyn opened her eyes, she slowly owned the thought that she was not in Mexico any longer.
   She gazed blearily about with one eye at the familiar-yet-not, room about her...where was she? Was it Mrs. Murphy's? Crowley House? Or even Jethro's? Oh, surely not...

...Sounds from downstairs drifted upward to her; the muffled voice of Rosa at the front door, Rosa singing softly, Manuel chopping wood in the back garden...
 
Diosa, she was at Nob Hill House!
  No stranger to time warps by now, Em closed her eyes, thinking: alright, so that takes care of the 'where'...she wasn't so sure she was ready for the 'when', as yet, though.

She threw an arm across her forehead as she shifted her memory back...it was fading quickly, a cursory phantom of the night...but,
  ...She HAD been in Mexico! Mt. Popo HAD just erupted.
She and Diego...had...
  --Diego.

Em sat up; and a wave of dizziness knocked her back on her pillow.
  How, where, had Diego come from? The boy she knew as Diego...her 'Prince Caspian', he was Merlin! She had met with him in Mexico, though...how odd. She had trouble shifting Merlin to Mexico from a Celtic setting.

How had this happened? More to the point, where was Diego, or Merlin, now?
  -- Had it all just been a dream?


                           . . . .


Em made it up, and downstairs.

'Ah, buenos dias, Emlyn!' Rosa called, 'Happy Solstice!'


                        
The Solstice!
  Was it only the day after the Midwinter's Ball, then?
-- Not February, not the Feast of the Magdalena... But, December 21st.
  ...But, there had been a blue moon. How could that be, in February? Only 28 days; it was impossible. You cannot fit two full moons into February! Emlyn's head ached.


                              

                             

'Buenos dias, Rosa...' Em groped for a chair, still reeling mentally.
  'You don't look so good, Em.' Rosa poured tea for them both. 'Here. There is carrot and apple bread nearly done...'

Emlyn gratefully fell upon the tea. 'Oh, diosa...Rosa, this is the best tea...' She drank it all down and poured more.
  Rosa set an orange before her. 'Vitamin C. Ideal remedy. There was much celebration last night!'

Em blinked and began to peel the orange slowly, methodically, as though it was her first.
  'Rosa...did anything, strange, happen last night?'
   Rosa laughed. 'Strange compared to what, Em?' She opened the oven door and removed the aromatic spiced bread. 'It was Solstice Eve, at the Leeks!'

Emlyn felt about to weep. Or laugh. When would this merry-go-round end?

  Rosa divined her mood at last. Cutting some bread, she took her tea to table and joined Em.
  'Eat something, you will feel better,' she pushed the bread plate to her confused friend. 'When we found that you and Diego were gone, we figured you left early, for home or elsewhere. Folk disappearing on Solstice Eve is not so rare.'

'-- Diego...' Em frowned at her apple bread...that's the name that Daryl went by, also...
  Oh, no.

Em put down the bread. She'd been hungry a moment ago.
  How could that be?  She cast her mind back...visions of Diego, Daryl, Prince Caspian and Merlin all swirled about her brainscape. Were they all one and the same? HOW?!

'Oh-oohh...' Emlyn's head fell into her arms as she leaned on the table, groaning.
  'Emlyn? Are you alright?!' Rosa stood, alarmed. 'Shall I fetch Diego?'

'NO!!' Em popped back up. 'I, am fine, Rosa, thank you...it's
just...you're right, I am still suffering after-effects of last night's...party.'

'If you are sure you'll be alright?' Rosa considered her friend, a hand on her shoulder. 'I am going to the market with Manuel...would you like anything?'
  Emlyn shook her head. How about fetching back a case of sanity for her?
  Rosa patted her shoulder and assured her they would return soon.
    
-- Now what?
                        . . . .

Diego awoke some time later, with a head about as clear as Emlyn's.
  Gingerly, he attempted to move. To his astonishment, he felt fine, except for a hazy head. Odd, that.

He put a hand to his abdomen. No tree bark, no broken ribs? He wasn't sore, just...
  Confused, he opened his eyes further. This was his room. His room in the City. Did he even want to know... Madonna, what had he done now?

...Couldn't be...no, no...he ran a hand over his forehead, rubbing his eyes and scratching his hair...
  He closed his eyes. The last recollection he had --  night in the desert, swimming in the river with Josephina. Then they had returned to camp. And, they...

He sat up, holding his aching head. Couldn't be.
  He looked down at himself. Naked, he studied his body.
Old scars, well-healed. It was his familiar 56-year-old body. No luck there, he thought.
  '"Shadows begone! Richard is Himself, again..."' Daryl thought sadly.
                    

                               

 

 

But what the hell had happened?
  He made his way into a robe and went to the window, opening it to the cold morning air. Sea breeze, fog. Fog horns on the bay...
  It was winter here, that was definite. Probably the day after the Solstice party.

                          

Now, it came back to him...the damnable Cup and Box. He'd loosened his demons again...or was it daemon, singular. His.
  His other self, then: Diego, was it? Or just his younger self, back through Time?

He leaned on the window sill, letting the cold seep into his brain and awaken what cells were still firing on all cylinders.
   What had driven him to do this? He ran a hand through his hair. It had been a rash impulse at the last minute; he recalled stalling Rosa and Emlyn as he'd slinked back into the library and opened the Box, and unsheathed the Cup, letting them do their Works.
  Do what thou wilt...

As Daryl/Diego began to awaken and reconcile themselves to himself, he recalled more and more; all seemed unwelcome in the light of day and conscious awareness.

  He recalled being beaten by the Buzzard and his cronies, he knew that was how he'd gotten most of the scars he'd borne into adulthood.
  But Josephina/Emlyn... 
  He leaned his head back. That had been a surprise.

In far memory, nearly forgotten, that was when he had met Anara...  He had been in his twenties, and at some point, he recalled 'landing' near Popo, and being found by Rafel's tribe.
  And, it was there, sometime later, he had met Anara...
  Or the girl he had come to know as Anara, to believe it had been she...the woman of his dreams.

                   

          

He felt cold, and moved away from the window, leaving it open, as he tied his kimono about. Perhaps the chill air would awaken him from this miasma of misjudgment.
  "Mistakes live in the neighborhood of truth and therefore delude us." Tagore had the right of it...

  He couldn't kid himself and say that he had not wished for such a thing to happen. He knew it had been possible, if not probable. But it was Anara, always, whom he sought.

Truthfully, he had had no idea what he'd been doing when he'd opened up the sacred objects to whatever Influences had been present, waiting for their chance, on that magical in-between Eve, which had only been last night.
  Perfect then, for a timewalk between the here and now. An interlocution, a mere parenthetical perambulation, obiter dictum.
  He'd thought he was just having a bit of fun, then?



It was the worst thing he could have done.

Daryl fell back on the bed, groaning.

He should have known, he told himself, putting a hand over his eyes to block out the light, the realisation.
He ought to have, paused. Thought things out. Planned for any eventualities...like any good guardian.
  But no.

Instead, he, or his daemonic other, had done...what, exactly? He'd arranged compositions designed to impress, to stun, to captivate all, and presented them; beguiling jewels torn from the earth's heart, he'd set in silver, glowing with moonlight, and gave them to Emlyn, fully intending to enspell...
  ...and let 'whatever' forces do what they would, eh?

Telling himself that he'd just opened up an old box, given a Midwinter's gift to his ward, and had generously contributed to the evening's entertainment, that was all --
 -- Was certainly not All.

What actually had happened, Daryl now had to admit to himself, was that he and Emlyn had gone back in Time; back to when he was twenty years old, and had first been found at Mt. Popo by Rafel's tribe...

  ...Only, somehow, by Cup or Box, hook or crook, Emlyn had also been there, at age seventeen.
  And, there and then, they had been Diego and Josephina, their other, gypsy selves.
  And that had not been a good thing, surely...?


                             

--Not open to question! Unforgivable!
  He'd enthralled his young ward, whom he was supposed to take care of, and once he'd won her trust, he had -- once again! -- spirited her away from all that she'd known, into a world of danger, death, and Diego...in all his donkey-reeking glory!

His desperation had unmanned him. 'I'm utterly unable to do the right thing any longer...may as well admit it, I'm completely mad...' Daryl paced, heaping recriminations upon himself, as usual.
  Was he psychopathic in his egomania? Or a simple sociopath, so sure was he about his views of the world, so at odds against it.

Congratulations, Daryl: once more you've done it again, he told himself with the firmness and the conviction of a medieval theologian who believes in several contradictory theories at the same time.
  He sighed, '"Another fine mess you've gotten us into, Stanley..."'


                             

                     . . . .


Softly closing his door, Daryl listened at the top of the stairs. Silence. Good.
  Maybe Emlyn was not here. Perhaps she had been returned elsewhere...or, she may still be sleeping.
  He crept down the stairs, a ghost haunting his own house.

Quietly, he poked a head into the parlor. Nada. He could not resist a look at Rossetti's portrait of the Magdalene, however...had she a part in all this somehow?
   The Feast Day of the Magdalena, it had been.
  'What do you know?' he whispered to her. She wasn't saying.


He peeked into the kitchen. Rosa's handiwork was evident by the welcome aroma of warm spice bread on the table. Hm. Tea still warm. He poured a cup and cut a slice of carrot bread. Delicious.
  Gods, this was certainly better than having the daylights beat out of you by a Buzzard and left atop a pyramid as a human sacrifice, he had to admit.
  He swallowed the bread and tea in a gulp.

Alright, then. Have to face it sometime: the study. Taking the teapot, Daryl prepared to do battle.
  Deep inhale, then; Daryl opened the study doors. And, there They were...the Infernal Instruments of his Iniquity.
  He shut the doors behind him, and took his teapot and tea within.

'What did you do now, hm?' He inquired of the Infernal Instruments. Cup and Box were silent. Waiting.
  Waiting for...next time? What then?

Daryl reached up, pulling down the blue shades against the grey phosphorescent fog. He flopped down upon the bay window seat, and drank his tea, frowning at the Cup and Box.

It hadn't gone as planned, if he had even had a plan to admit to.  Always, always, seeking a way to bring himself closer to Anara, and always finding himself further from her...and deeper in dung. He leaned his head upon his hand and sighed.
  He gave up. Again.

They could never be together, he and Anara. Not in this life...isn't that what Emlyn's Merlin had told her? She had seemed reconciled to this fact. Why couldn't he do the same?

Thoughts swirled and danced in his fevered brain...images of himself with Josephina by the campfire, sword fighting with Rafel, hunting deer, and finding the shepherdess at the pools, playing violin that night, and all the stupid things he had done, to win her heart, her coracao...

  Anara/Josephina/Emlyn...all these combined into the mermaid/fox/woman who tormented him, one way or another.
Wasn't there a Japanese folk tale of a woman who became a fox at night? She was feared as a demon, he recalled.
  '...Stop tormenting me...' he groaned, rubbing his head.


                               

 

'Basta.' Enough. He stood and strode to the desk. He shut the Box lid. Covered the Cup. He took the key from a drawer and opened the armoire, stowing the Infernal Instruments away.

He stared at the armoire, closed the doors. Locked it.
Put away the key. Fin de sie'cle. Fini.
   ...As if that would do any good...


                       . . . .

Evening came early.
Or thus it seemed, when one was used to spring already.


Daryl tuned his violin in betwixt attacks on Dvorak, when he heard someone at the door. It opened, and someone entered without a key.
  This could be interesting...


A familiar figure stood in the parlor's entryway.
  'An--Emlyn.' Daryl stared, transfixed. Utterly speechless, for once.

'Yes. Hello, Daryl.' Em removed her coat, her gloves, her hat.

'You...where have you been?' He hardly knew where to begin.
  'Out back. In the garden.' She entered, and as per usual, took a seat upon the sofa and began to remove her boots.
 

It was all so ordinary, it seemed unreal. Daryl was uneasy. 'But, there is nothing there.' He stared at her.
'It is winter.'
   'Yes. It is the Solstice, today.' Slowly unlacing her boots, as in a dream...

                                   

-- No dream this.
Daryl leaned across his wing chair, and set down the violin. He arose and went to the decanters. Everything seemed too uncannily commonplace. It gave him chills.
  By all the gods, if she calls me 'uncle' again, I...
  'A brandy?'

Emlyn paused in her boot removal, considering the fire for a moment.
  'Why not?'

'What were you doing in the non-existent garden?' He brought her a snifter of Armagnac, a deep amber, dark in the midst of mid-winter.

'Oh, you know, there are always small things to weed, to plan for spring. It will be February, before we realise it...' She sipped the brandy, set it on the tea table. 'Being outdoors, even in the cold, and pulling weeds, it helps me to feel more...grounded, as Jack would call it.'

 No sound but the fire crackling and the slow tick of a timepiece. No light but firelight. The parlor stood dark, no candles lighted. Last night's garlands of green and holly strewn the doorway lintels and mantle in the shadows.


'Emlyn, I...' Daryl stood beside the mantle, staring into the flames, thinking... if he could but disappear into them, as he had done once before.
  'Yes, Daryl?'

What should he do? Apologise? Beg her forgiveness? Hold her, take her hand? Or stay the hell away from her, before she smacked him again?
  One never knew...

Better be an optimist and a fool, than a pessimist and right, he told himself.
   He sat beside Emlyn, who had curled her feet under her and was also considering the fascination of fire.


'I honestly did not know what would happen last night. You, you do know we had...traveled, Elsewhere, from the Solstice Ball, yes?' Tentative, Daryl took small strokes into uncharted waters.


'Oh, yes, Diego.' Emlyn retrieved her brandy. 'I am only too aware that we both went Elsewhere. Together.'


Daryl took her words like a slap in the face, he nearly recoiled. He studied the carpet. No one spoke for some time...
Well, best man up, cowboy, Diego told Daryl.

'Emlyn...' he held his snifter in both hands, slowly twirling the liquid round, 'I don't know what I can say to you. I, I can only offer my sincere...apologies, if, at any time, I have, or had, done anything to offend you.'
  Em glared at him across the sofa.

Daryl raised a hand, 'I, I know,' he stuttered, 'that sounds trite, and that we were in real danger, and our very lives were threatened...but, I feel all that was rather beyond my power to control!' He looked over at her at last.


  'I cannot claim power over events, as such. B-but, my actions, toward you...I...' Daryl was coming undone...
his head fell into both hands and he rubbed his forehead, shaking it slowly.  He looked up, and sighed, '...I was twenty years old, Emlyn.'
   And I was in love, he nearly added.


'...I see...' Emlyn said at last. What could any of this possibly mean? Was he...somehow saying that he had no control over himself then? That hormones had gotten the better of him, and it was something best shoved under the rug and forgotten now?
   She moved her legs back onto the floor and sat up straight. She also took her brandy and downed it in a gulp.


Daryl sat back against the sofa, and leaned his head against it, clutching the brandy as if it were his last hold on the world.
  She despises me, of course. How could she not? This is probably the last I shall ever see of her...his emerald enchantress...

                           

 

'"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been."'
  Emlyn stood and went to the walnut bar, bringing the Armagnac to the table. She returned to the sofa and set it before them, pouring a healthy dose for herself.

Daryl raised his head, not sure exactly of what he had just heard her quote, or what it could mean. He ran a hand through his hair, and inhaled deeply, pouring another dram for himself. He drank deeply and set down the glass.
  'You, you do not despise me...?'

Em sipped, and tucked her feet beneath her once more.
  '-- On occasion.'
Now Daryl was completely confused. 'Oh.'


Emlyn let him stew in his juice a while. She leaned over and poked at the fire, adding a small log.
  At last she reached into her pocket, and brought forth a slip of dirty, crumpled paper. This she handed to Daryl.
  'For Diego. From Josephina.'

Daryl stared at the worn, torn paper, eyeing it as though it had appeared out of thin air. He retrieved it, and sat back to read...
  As he did so, Emlyn recalled what she had written:

"Dear Diego:
I received your letter.
Do not despair! You will not be prisoner long.
  I am working on securing your freedom. I watch from afar, and when the time is right, you will be freed.
  I want very much to see you, and for us to speak together of what we know and can recall...
  Have hope!
Yours, Josephina"

Daryl scanned the letter, his face anxious. Finally, he closed his eyes, and folded it, put it into his vest pocket.

Emlyn was not sure how to broach the subject of What Now? But, she had a notion that neither did Daryl. What was obvious is that the man was sorry about something.
He needn't be.
  'Daryl...' Em sighed, 'And I, am not seventeen.' She looked at him, one arm open along the back of the sofa.
  'And, this is not my first Midwinter's Ball.'

She turned toward him, and leaned her head against her arm. 'I am not altogether a babe in the woods, Daryl; merely by going to the ball, with you; all the while knowing what can happen there, well...don't you find me the least bit culpable in this whole caper?'

Daryl merely stared before him, somewhat stunned. -- Unsure.

Em continued, 'Please stop treating me as though I were a china doll, or a child! I'm nearly thirty, Daryl! In my time, I am already an old maid! Please converse with me as though I were adult, do!' Exasperation was starting to show.
  'I'm no longer anywhere near being your ward, now. I am adult, and a free agent. You know I have a mind, Daryl. I'm not afraid to use it.' She paused.

  'I, I was beginning to fear that...you had despised me, for going along with you so readily...that you, you thought me rather forward...and certainly no lady.'
   She lifted her head, gazing at him.
  'Do you regret...our time together?' Hurting, nervous, her voice caught...

'Cara mia...!' It sounded like an expletive.
  Daryl set down his brandy and leaned one arm on his knee, staring at Em. 'You, you...no! Of course not! How could you think such a thing?!'

Em looked down, nerves getting the best of her now. A tear dropped onto her skirt.
  'Non, non, ma cheri...here...' At last, Daryl got a clue, and came to sit beside her, offering a handkerchief, as he put an arm about her shoulders.

Pulling her close, he whispered comforting words into her hair, 'There now, little fox...it will come alright. We are quite the pair, eh?' He looked at her, one finger wiping the tears from her cheek.
  'Whatever happens, yes, you can talk to me, and I will try not to be patronizing. I, I am unsure of, just where I stand, you see. I want to do, to do well by you...and please believe me, I would never wish to hurt you!'

Emlyn sniffed and wiped her eyes. 'It's just nerves...'
  'Of course, querida, we have both been through, what? -- Heaven and hell, and back again, no? It will take time to reaclimate to terra firma...'
  '-- Such as it is, here,' Em remarked, sagely. 'I, I'm alright, Daryl...' She attempted to return his kerchief.
  'Keep it.' He gave it back, wrapping his hand about hers. 'Feeling better?'

  'Somewhat...oh...!' Emlyn leaned her head back against Daryl's arm. 'It will take some time, before we know how to act.'
  'No doubt,' Daryl agreed, 'But until then, let us just take things as they come, step by step...'
  'Pas a pas...' added Em, in Oc.
  'Just so.' Daryl agreed. 'Don't try to second-guess me. Talk to me.  And I, I will try to be more...available.'

They paused then, allowing emotions to settle as the evening deepened. Questions, improbabilities hovered in the air about them. Time enough later, for all that...

'This is nice...just relaxing here, by a real fire, ' Emlyn observed, daring to snuggle against Daryl. Oddly, it seemed not so
strange.

  'It is,' he agreed. 'A real fire, soft cushions, clean clothes!' He began to chuckle. 'I really did stink, didn't I...?'
  Em looked up at him, smiling. 'I truly didn't notice. I think we all did.' She leaned her head against his shoulder. 'I do not think I could live the gypsy life, day after day, no matter the weather...I have been too spoiled here.'

Tentatively, he kissed her hair, 'I hope so.'
  Em sighed. 'But, I will always remember that time, that place, you...as Diego.' She looked at him, and ran a light finger down his cheek. 'I don't even want to wonder about things, how they came to be, or why. Not yet, not now. But I will always remember, and I will keep such memories close to my heart.'
                          
                                    

                       

 

 

Daryl stared ahead, not moving. He was afraid to, fearful of having this moment, this Now, taken from them somehow. Such an air of unreality still seemed to surround things...Emlyn was not running away from him screaming...that was a miracle in itself.
  None of this seemed real...this house, the parlor, the furnishings, and certainly not this girl, here, with him in spite of it all.
  He did not want this moment to end.

'Do you know what I remember most, though?' Em inquired, reaching for her glass. 'Your music. Daryl, you were a prodigy!'
  He shook his head, a crooked smile on one side of his face. 'Hardly that. I was overly cocky and everyone was extraordinarily tolerant of my folly.'
  Em shook her head. 'I adore your playing. As magical and incredible as your arrangements were for the Solstice concert, I loved hearing your Sarasate best!'

                          

 

'Hmm...'  Daryl chewed on that mentally for a while. 'Sometimes, a simple solo can say more than an entire orchestra...'  He smiled, and kissed her hair once more. 'Ragged, but right...I felt the passion of the moment.'


'I could tell. We all could.' 
As Emlyn leaned into Daryl, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arm about his waist, settling in, determined to enjoy the moment, for what it was, and for as long as it lasted.
  Daryl felt the same way. 'Shall I sing for you an Irish gypsy lullaby, Josephina, cara mia?' he whispered into her ear.
  Em 'Mmmm'd,'softly, against his chest.'Si, por favor, Diego, querido...'
 
  Humming a middle 'C', Diego began to softly sing as the fire crackled, and rain began to patter against the windows outside...


   '"We were born before the wind
     C
     Also younger than the sun
     G
     'Ere the bonny boat was won
     G                     C
     As we sailed into the mystic

     C
     Hark, now, hear the sailor's cry
     C
     Smell the sea and feel the sky
     G
     Let your soul and spirit fly
     G          C
     Into the mystic.

     Em               F    
     When that foghorn blows,
              C
     I will be comin' home, Mmm hmm hm
     Em               F
     When that foghorn blows,
            G
     I wanna hear it, I don't have to fear it

         C
     And I  wanna rock your gypsy soul
     C
     Just like way back in the days of old
     G
     And magnificently we will flow
     G          C
     Into the mystic..."'

LISTEN! Into the Mystic Live Van Morrison
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEvsDuJYEnI

Chapter 6 - Bold As Love

Chapter 6 - Bold As Love


Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant's body burrows into you
and makes the sun leap from the depth of the earth.

I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and night swamped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.

Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.

Book: The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems by Pablo Neruda
                    . . . .


 My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
 My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
 The more I have, for both are infinite.
(Romeo and Juliet, 2.2)


                       

                     . . . .


As the party headed north, the weather oddly slackened its downpour and son et lumiere theatrics.  Indeed, they had not traveled but a mile or more, when rain sprinkles were all that was left of the monstrous tempest atop the pyramid.

After a short stop and confab, it was decided all were well enough to keep moving, for a little while at least.
  'If Diego can remain upright, we need to find water,' Rafe told them. 'We will stop and camp early then, perhaps fish or trap something for food. Rest is needed, but not yet.' His eyes were on Diego, slouched over the saddlehorn and uncommonly silent.

Onward into the dawn then...
  And a strange dawn it was; a bright red sun arose in the east behind a sheer curtain of haze.
  'A fire perhaps...' Celestino looked all about them.
As he turned toward the south whence they'd come, his eyes narrowed. 'Look behind us.'

The others reined up and turned in their saddles.  A plume of grey smoke issued from a point far to the south of them. 'I wonder...' Rafe pondered. 'Is that not where Mt. Popo would be?'

  'Popocatapetl has erupted!' Celestino turned their horse, who snorted, shaking his head, whilst the gypsy crossed himself.
  'The gods have been disturbed by the blasphemies of last night. Quetzelcoatel, Tlaloc, all the sacred mothers of our race! And, the Magdalena -- she would not allow such a shadow to darken the day without retribution!'


                          

Josephina stared at the smoke plume, then back to the scarlet sun. It was indeed a display of some sort, and perhaps, just perhaps...her spell of the Magdalena's Anointing Oil, had somehow helped call it into being?
-- she wondered...
                              

Celestino coughed, then tied his bandana about his nose and mouth. 'Better a bandito than to breathe sulphurous smoke from that plume!' He turned back north and he and Rafe headed onward. Jo covered her own nose and tied a kerchief about Diego, who was still groggy from beatings and concussion, she guessed.

  As they headed homeward, she wondered about her new-found partner. Had they really been found on the same day? What did he know? As sympathetic as she was, she wished that Diego's mouth was working now.
  She couldn't know how rare such a thought would be in the future.

                     . . . .


After heading many miles northward, the air became somewhat clearer thanks to a freshening breeze from the west.
  It was now afternoon and Diego was nearly laying upon Tlaloc's neck. It had been a long ride.

'We must stop soon! Celestino!' She called. The others halted.
  'Diego is nearly falling off the horse. I cannot keep him upright. We need to rest!'

The men looked about, Rafe removed his bandana, and sniffed the air. 'Better. I think I smell water too.'
His gaze shifted eastward.  'There,' he pointed to a barely discernible line of cottonwood trees.
  'We are near enough to the river. It won't be long, now...perhaps a few miles. Or, I could ride with you, and let Celestino wrestle with Diego a while?'

'A few more miles will be alright. Let's go, then,' Jo was too tired herself for Rafe's teasing.

At last, the river...
  A larger rio here than the river back at camp, this had no signs of settlement in the area. They made for a small rise to view the outlying area and make certain they would not be bothered when settling down for the night.

It was with much relief unknown for too long, that the company was at last able to dismount and unsaddle the tired horses and water them, hobbling them near a grazing area.
  Celestino set off, knife in hand, intent on setting a trap or two. Josephina spread blankets in the shade and Diego lay down, head on the saddle. After gulping down some water, he promptly fell into a deep sleep.

'Come on, he'll be fine. He needs rest. Let's get some fish, sim?' Rafe smiled tiredly at her.

Josephina and Rafel stalked the river for shallow pools where fish might congregate, then lay down on their bellies and began to fish like gypsies; by tickling.
  As their fingers danced hypnotically in the cool water, Jo and Rafe began to yawn.
  'If my head falls in the water, you will wake me?' she asked, mumbling.

Rafe chuckled. 'You'll be fine. I have watched you, little rojo cabeza...Zorrita would be a good name for you, like a red fox but with a bite! You do not give up easily.'


                      

Josephina let this compliment melt into her mind a moment. 'I couldn't just sit, waiting to see what was happening to...to everyone.'
  'Estar a' vontade...' Rafe dismissed her unnecessary defense of her actions. He glanced at her. 'I would not mind having you around in a fight, Zorrita,' he smiled.

Jo smiled quietly to herself then.
  'Diego...mentioned that...you had said that he and I both showed up,' she sighed, not knowing how else to say it, '--at the same time. From out of nowhere.'

Rafe made his move then. Grabbing a good-sized fish, he emerged triumphant. 'Ah! It's a start...' He thwacked the fish a good one, then helped Jo up.
  'Let's move down a ways. I think there are more pools ahead...'

As they strode, Rafe spoke up, with a sigh, 'Yes...it is so. Carlos and Esperanza found you. Actually, Carlos found Diego, and Esperanza found you. You were found on the same day, it is so. But, Diego...' Rafe's eyes shifted southward, back to the barely discernible plume from Popo.
  'Diego we found farther south.' He nodded, pointing to the mountain, '-- There!'

                        . . . .

Evening at last brought some relief from the sight, at least, of the hazy red sky and glaring bare hills...
  Stars were not visible, with only a wan glowing patch of a blood-mottled moon in the night sky.
  Still, the company felt that they could relax somewhat after putting some miles betwixt themselves and trouble.

Rafel and Josephina returned to find Celestino had a small fire going in their somewhat sheltered campsite, and was roasting two rabbits upon a spit.
  'I nearly had a javelina, but...' he shrugged as he held up a makeshift spear he had whittled out of a cottonwood branch. '...eh, not with this javelin...' As he tossed it, it flew in a crazy serpentine.

'It smells like heaven, Celestino!' Jo told him, 'If we can, save a bit of rabbit, even bones, so that I can make a broth with herbs for Diego...I found some plants by the river we can use. There may have been a settlement near here at one time, I found signs of prior cultivation...ruta, manzanilla...yarrow...and! -- aloe vera!'
  Josephina displayed the found herbs in her kerchief.

                        

'This one is about done,' Celestino cut pieces from the coney. 'You can make your broth, now.'

'Peixes,' Rafe said simply, as he lay the fish upon a wide rock. 'I'll get these cooking also and soon we shall eat as gypsies should!'

                     . . . .

Diego began to stir to the sounds and smells of camp and cooking.
  'Ah, Sleeping Beauty wakes at last!' Rafe teased his young brother as Diego yawned mightily. 'How is it you always know when dinner is ready?'

Diego attempted a small smile and winced. 'Ow...' He probed about with his tongue. 'I think I lost a tooth, or two. Don't think jaw is broken...'
  '--Alas!' Rafe threw up his hands.

Diego frowned at him, working his chin with his fingers,
'...but, close to it...' he began rubbing his head and groaning. 'I feel like a herd of 10,000 donkeys trampled me...' He stretched and gasped.
  Rafe sighed and stood. 'Probably broken ribs from all that kicking you were begging for...let me see.'

  Jo brought a pan of hot water over and crouched upon a rock to watch, as Diego smiled gingerly at her, and Rafel pulled the boy's shirt off. Diego gasped again.
  'Whew!' Rafe exclaimed, 'Aye-yah, meu irmado you smell like that herd of donkeys!' He looked at Jo. 'Any of those sweet herbs left? He needs to soak in them!'

'Actually, yes!' Jo had been busy. She went for another pan (luckily Celestino was usually the camp cook and his pack was well prepared). This contained the herbs cooked simply with water and a little alcohol for topical use. Or otherwise.

'Get the little burrito cleaned up a bit, then coat his wounds and I will bandage those ribs...they may be just cracked, we'll see. When he's decent, I can stand to touch him and find out...' Rafe went back to his fish.

'Obrigato, irmado!' Diego called, rather hoarsely, coughing, and spat. 'Sorry about the donkey smell, mi querida...'
  Jo just shook her head, watching those two one could not be sure if they loved or hated one another.

'We all have been on the road for days now...' she assured him. 'You slept, though. That is good.'
  'I dreamed...' Diego closed his eyes. '...Such dreams!
I dreamed of mountains belching smoke and fire...'

Josephina looked closely at him, then dipped a kerchief in the hot herbal water. 'This may sting a little.'
  She bathed his face, gently as possible and Diego tried to hold still, but winced often. Jo bit her lip as she dabbed at his wounds...what had transpired that had caused all this damage; blood, cuts, bruises, and how was he on the inside? She had to trust that he was young and healthy and could heal, goddess willing...

Sighing, she rinsed the bandana and came behind Diego to work on his back...Oh, even worse! What was all this?
  Jo was sick just looking at it...deep cuts and red welts had been bleeding over the long miles; she simply hadn't noticed, being unable to differentiate between the dark dried blood and mud and dirt on his shirt...

When Rafe removed his shirt however, that got the cuts bleeding again...well, get this all cleaned up best as she could for now. She tried not to shake, but she was so angry...
  'These are bad, my brother...' she told him. 'But you are lucky; I found an aloe plant and you will heal quickly now.' She wasn't going to tell him there would be no scars; no guarantees there.

Gently she bathed him; carefully dabbing over the worst cuts, needing to get them clean but she felt the boy stiffen and heard the sharp intakes of breath and small high sounds escape from him as she did so...
  Her heart ached...

'Alright!' Back to business, there was doctoring to do.
'Let's get some of that aloe on these! Hand to me that long spiky leaf, and it should be enough to cover your back wounds...'
 
Diego handed her a long green pointed cactus leaf which she cut as she went along, oozing out the healing gel from within. 'Truly a miracle plant,' she told him, soothing the thick liquid over the cuts.
  'Aahhh...that's not bad! Um. It feels cool...' Diego dropped his head, feeling the first relief he'd felt in ages, it seemed.

It took some time treating his back, but at last, the worst job was done.  'Now for the front of you, and then when Rafe is done, you can have some broth!'
  Jo took her seat before Diego, and rinsed out the bloody kerchief, then dipped it back into the herb-water.

'I am indebted to your care, cara...' Diego took her hand and kissed it gently.
  'None of that now,' Jo was shy suddenly, facing a half-naked Diego who seemed even more warm and real to her in the flickering firelight here; just the two of them together, so close, in the cool of the evening.

Diego watched her closely, however, as she softly swabbed his shoulders, arms, and hands; she did not resist when he kissed her again, but held up a warning hand, and he backed off.
  'Ah...you know,' he said, as she rinsed the cloth once more, and began dabbing his chest, 'it might have been your punch that dislodged my jaw, mi querida...'
  Jo looked at him deadpan. 'Keep that in mind, then.'

Diego shut up and smiled as he leaned back on his elbows, forcing Jo to move closer to tend him.
  'You do this very well, mi amore!' He told her, purring now, 'I could grow to get used to this treatment...'

'About ready for your ribs to get bandaged?!' Rafe called to him.
  'Nearly so,' Jo answered, then turned back to Diego. 'I will put aloe on your face and front, and you will awaken a new man!'
  'I thought you liked the old one,' he teased her.

Josephina ignored him as she cut more aloe leaf. 'Be still while I tend your face.'
  Diego watched intently as her gentle fingers dipped into the cool gel and softly spread it upon small cuts and welts about his face...

  'Here, it hurts,' he told her, pointing to a small cut on his forehead. She dabbed.
  'And, here, also...' he pointed to a cheekbone which she had tended already, but she relented and gave him a new smear of cactus.
  'And, here...' he pointed to a small cut on his lower lip.
  'It does not taste so good, I warn you,' Jo said softly.

'It will heal me,' Diego took her finger and brought it to his lip, then pulled her closer.
   He stole a soft kiss.
   Jo did not protest.

'Here I come!' Rafe called, standing.
   The two broke their hold on one another and parted, breathing deeply.
   'Uno momento!' Jo called. 'I'm nearly...done.'
   'I am altogether undone,' Diego smiled his crooked half-smile.
   'Stay still a second, will you! Worse than tending a hurt animal!' Jo scolded, her face heating.

'Alright, let's get your chest medicated, then I will leave you to Rafe's tender mercies!' Jo dipped into her cactus leaf once again.
  Diego sighed, smiling no more. But he stayed fairly still as Jo applied the cooling cactus to his abrasions. There were not so many of them on his chest, except for small round red burns which she was very careful of...
  However, lower about his ribs and abdomen, there were some nasty dark bruises. This she was concerned about.
 

She felt Rafel hovering over them then. 'I wish I had some castor oil! He could use plasters all about him, to help heal internally.'
   'I will plaster him.' Rafe sighed, sitting beside Diego, as Jo moved away to rinse out her things.

Diego looked at his irmado with a small silly grin on his bruised and swollen features.
  Rafe snorted, 'What are you so happy about? Was it worth all that for the touch of a soft hand on your donkey-reeking flesh?'
 

Diego did not answer, but his smile remained.
  'Alright. Let's see how badly you have managed to mangle yourself...' Rafe came behind Diego and felt gingerly about his back, sides and front, which left Diego gasping and yelping in several key places.

  'Broken. Two; here and here, I think.' Rafe poked; Diego yelped. 'Maybe just cracked, the others. You have another day's ride ahead!'

   Rafel pulled a wad out of his jacket pocket. 'Managed to scare up some cloth to tie it, but this,' he displayed strips of what looked like tree bark, '...is cottonwood bark mostly. I peeled it from the river trees. It will act as a brace for you, quite well, really.'

Rafe stuffed some sweet grasses and river plants up against the worst bruises, then began wrapping the tree bark about Diego. Josephina came to watch.
  'Hold this here, while I wrap from the other side,' he told her, as Jo took hold of the tree bark while Rafe covered it, wrapping the grasses and bark with strips of cloth. '...Torn,' he told her, 'from the lining of my coat I'll have you know! You owe me, little lobito!'

Diego groaned as Rafe strapped him in, tying off the cloth strips into a snug cocoon about his ribs.
  'There. He won't be able to get into much trouble now, I think! Hmph. Well, eat now, lobito. It will be a long journey manana...' Job done, Rafel strode away.

'Obrigato, Rafel!' Diego called again, ever cheerful at Rafe's taunts.
  His smile was a trifle strained, however, as he tried to move, small yelps emerged from Diego, sounding somewhat like a wolf cub.

'Start with this, it is a healing broth with rabbit and herbs,' Jo gave him the pan of warm soup, which Diego gulped gratefully. 'I will bring you some fish also. Don't leap about!'

Diego felt not at all like leaping. He wouldn't mind creeping however, if he could cosy up to Jo without dislodging the primordial soup of grasses and algae and whatall that was wrapped and oozing about his waist now, thanks to Rafe's ministrations. Ayyy...but his irmado was not making it easy to wage wooing this night...

As he attempted to sit up, however, the pain of his newly cleaned wounds and the stiff bark about his tender ribs, not to mention his throbbing cranium, gave him pause.
  'Here,' Josephina had returned with fish and rabbit.
'And be sure to drink water. It will flush out your system and help you to heal.'

Diego was ravenous he realised, as he tore into the bits of roasted meat. His body craved salt and minerals he could tell...no wonder people would suck the marrow from bones. He could inhale an entire rabbit, he felt, cottontail and all...

  'Tomorrow, we will fish again, perhaps catch more rabbit, before we leave.' Josephina told him, noting his obvious hunger. 'We seem to be safe enough now, and need not run.' She studied Diego, assessing. 'But all are anxious to return to camp.'

  Was he? She wondered. And what then? The Feast of the Magdalena was over, and Emmelina's tribe would be moving on, especially eager to be off, into less hostile territory. Perhaps Rafel and Diego's gypsy band would follow them.

  They were gypsies, after all. Travelers.
  Jo knew that Diego had become part of the tribe, a blood bond. Tribal customs varied, but certain things were demanded by most gypsies everywhere...

  Emmelina was happy with her part, but Josephina had often wondered if she could reconcile herself to gypsy life. It was a rough and ready one, and very hierarchial in some ways, a life where ancient custom ruled. Would Rafel's tribe even accept her, were she to wish to go with Diego?
  Jo blushed then, looking down. What was she assuming?

She looked up, noticing that Diego had finished, and was looking intently at her.
  'Will you take me to the river?' he asked.
                     . . . .

'"Take me to the rii-verr, wosh me in the waaa-tah..."' Diego sang softly as he walked with Josephina, holding onto her shoulder as she put an arm about his...well, his rump, as she dare not touch his tender ribs.
  It's just like tending a wounded animal, she told herself. Do what is necessary.

Diego was well-pleased with the necessity of Josephina's hand on his butt.
  "'Wash-a me down...washa me...hold me! Please me!'"
Diego sang his fool head off. "Love me! Tease me!"'
  'Shh!' Jo shushed him, fearing the night. 'What the devil are you singing anyway?'

'Don't know...' Diego stopped at the river's edge and then kneeled before it, frowning. Jo joined him.
  'I sometimes remember snatches of old songs...funny. I sing them to Rafel sometimes, and the others, but no one knows them.'
  'I have certainly never heard the like!' Josephina was with Rafe on that one.

The couple sat at the river's edge, listening to its soft water-song. Soon the howling of coyotes could be heard across the hills.
  'Your coyote brothers are seeking you. They hear the terrible pain in your voice and know you are badly wounded,' Josephina told him wickedly, but she needed him to cease howling, singing or whatever he was doing.

'Ah-hoo--!' Diego began to howl. Josephina clamped a hand over his big boca and put a stop to that.
  'Ay-yah!'She whispered hoarsely, 'Cease, fool! I should kick you in the ribs myself...'

Diego hung his head, chastised. 'I have been very, very bad. I deserve a good spanking...' said the unrepentant coyote boy.
  Jo simply looked at him, frowning. 'Rafel is right. You stink.' She pushed at him. 'You need a bath. Now.'
  Diego stared at her. 'I don't smell anything.'

Josephina stood and grabbing Diego's arm, hauled him to his feet. 'Go. A nice pool right here...' she led him over to the spot. 'We've cleaned you up some, but you should wash your hair, and, ah, everything from the waist down!'
  Diego looked at her, unbelieving.
  'Now!' Josephina was adamant. 'And don't get the bandages wet around your ribs!'
  Diego grinned, beginning to unfasten his belt.

Josephina turned away and walked downriver...leave donkey-boy to his own devices a while.
  She wandered to the next pool and bent down, testing the water. Not too cold, it had been a warm, muggy storm the night before.
  She wouldn't mind washing off the dust of the road herself...glancing back, she could just make out Diego now waist-deep in water, dunking his head.


Just a quick dip, then, and she could get clean at least; she felt itchy with the grime of long dusty days, not to mention what was probably volcano ash.

  Slipping off her clothes, down to her chemise, she carefully stepped into the water and let herself sink in, relishing the river's cool refreshment. She dunked her head and scrubbed the sand from her scalp.
  Ah, that was better. She felt almost human now after food and the river's gentle soaking.

                                 

Suddenly she heard the sound of something plopping into the water near her. A big fish? She wondered...or other creature.
  It was donkey-boy.
  Diego's head came up next to her.

'Well, you are smelling better, at least,' Jo told him.
Diego took that to mean she needed kissing. He complied.
   Reaching around her cool waist, he pulled her closer and touched her cheek, gazing at the lights reflected in her eyes. 'Meu amore....' he whispered, as he softly kissed her mouth.

The sensations of night, soft breezes, the cool water rushing about them, and warm bare skin on skin was all the refreshment either of them needed. Josephina touched his shoulder.
  'It is good to wash off the ashes...'


'Mount Popo erupted...' Diego said. 'Rafe told me.' He held her closer. 'Do you know the legend of the volcanoes?'
  Jo confessed she did not.
 

'According to the legend, at the beginning of history, when the Aztecs arrived in the Valley of Anahuac, before the mountains had reached their permanent form, a beautiful princess named Mixtli was born, in the city of Tenochtitlan...' Diego was warming up now.
He smoothed Josephina's hair back from her neck, kissing her.
  'She was the daughter of the Tlatoani Emperor of the Mexicas.'
Diego kissed her nose. 'That's you.'
  He continued, 'Mixtli was sought after by many, among them Axooxco, a cruel and bloodthirsty nobleman, who demanded the hand of Mixtli in marriage.  However, Mixtli's heart belonged instead to a humble peasant named Popoca....' Diego paused. 'That's me.'


Jo bussed him a soft kiss. 'What happened to them, then?'


Diego held her closer. 'Popoca went into battle, to conquer the title of Caballero Aguila.  If he claimed this title of nobility, Popoca would be able to fight Axooxco for the hand of Mixtli.
    Mixtli knew the danger Popoca was in, and then, wrongly, heard that he was killed.  But in fact, Popoca was returning victorious.  Not realizing this, Mixtli killed herself, rather than live without him.'
 

'Oh no! Just like Romeo and Juliet!' Jo leaned her head onto Diego's shoulder.
   Diego went on, 'When Popoca returned to find Mixtli dead, he picked her up and carried her body into the mountains. Hoping that the cold snow would wake her from sleep, reuniting them alive, Popoca stayed at her feet, bent over, watching for her to come awake.
    They have remained there ever since, and the body of Mixtli has become the volcano Ixtaccihuatl, the Sleeping Woman, the ever-watchful Popoca has become the volcano Popocatépetl the Smoking Mountain'

                         

'A sad story...I do not want to end like that.' Jo looked up at Diego.
  Another kiss, and then another, longer...left them both gasping. 'It's scratchy,' Jo complained, meaning his rib brace.


  'Madonna...' Diego sighed. 'Finally we are alone together and I am a wounded warrior, a lonely coyote, smelling of donkeys...wrapped like a mummy in tree bark!'
  Josephina laughed, and took his hand, hauling him out of the river.

'We must find your clothes,' she said.
   'Not just yet,' Diego pressed her close. 'When will we be alone, like this, again, cara mia?' He nuzzled her neck, licking her earlobe like the coyote he was...

Josephina moaned softly, leaning into his embrace. 'They will come looking...they mustn't find us, like this...'
  'They are not. They will not,' Diego assured her, kissing her, stopping her protests.

A breeze freshened, and Jo began to shiver.
  'Ah, but you must not get chilled,' Diego reluctantly relinquished her lips. He held her close, once more, then sighed.
  Jo shivered still, but she held on to him, unwilling to leave their private oasis. Diego moved back.
  'Oh!' Josephina observed his ardor. She looked up at him. 'Can you do that anytime?'
  'Anytime I am with you,' Diego was adamant.
  Josephina smiled. 'Good. Let's get dressed, and get back to the fire then!'
   Diego was ready to follow her...anywhere.

                       . . . .

'Ah, I see you couldn't take the donkey-stink any longer, either!' Rafel took note of the return of the soggy river-dippers. 'Hope you didn't scare the fish.'

Josephina was blushing, but as she went to retrieve her coat, she was inwardly grateful that neither of the men said anything about finding the two of them missing, and returning rather en deshabille.
   Wrapped in her coat, she joined Diego and the others around the fire and warmed up.

Celestino yawned. 'I cannot stay awake. I will set more traps, and then check them manana.' He stood, stretching, 'Buenos noches, all,' and then headed into the brush.

'I too have seen more of life than I wanted lately. Suenos, sweet...and sleep. I am for the other world, my young friends. Just keep your coyote howling down tonight, sim?' Rafe tossed more brush on the fire and then took himself off to his blankets and rolling up, was soon snoring.

'Just the two of us,' Diego looked at Jo, the firelight dancing in his eyes. 'Come. I will help get you warm.'
  Josephina, strangely shy out of the water, pulled her coat closer to herself, but edged over beside Diego, who put an arm about her. 'Take off the coat. You need your clothes to dry in the heat of the fire, sim?'

She did. She brought her blanket and saddle over and spread the coat atop. Now the two of them were lying together beside the fire, Josephina before Diego who was spooned up against her back, his arms about her, both heads resting against the saddle.
  'I've never been so comfortable...' Jo was now dangerously close to falling asleep. She had not the long nap Diego enjoyed whilst she was fishing with Rafe.

Diego kissed her, then turned her towards him. 'I will keep you warm, all night long, cara, never fear...'
  They gazed at each other in wonder. Who was he, thought Jo, and Diego surely had the same thought about her...how had they come together here, after falling from the sky?

  '...Little Twin Stars...' Diego whispered, brushing a lock of hair from Jo's cheek. 'Your hair looks like a crimson sunset in the fire...'

   How had this girl come to him, like a gift? A lost little red fox, to cohabit with a renegade coyote like himself? He couldn't fathom it, but like so much of late, whenever strange things happened, he just had to keep going. Be brave and strong, for her. He was no longer Rafe's awkward little gadjo brother, he was becoming a man.

   'Bold as love,' he told her, kissing her fiery hair, as she reached up and, running her hand through his dark curls, eagerly pulled his mouth to hers once more...


                             

                      . . . .


Air That I Breathe -- The Hollies
From: Seeking A Friend For the End of the World
Air That I Breathe - Hollies

Chapter 5 - Sage and Sacrifice

Chapter 5 - Sage and Sacrifice


The thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too
 From hollow trunk the raven's ominous cry.

What could I do? how else from bonds be freed,
Or otherwhere find gods to aid so nigh?

Eclogues
By Virgil



                    . . . .

True love is selfless. It is prepared to sacrifice.
Sadhu Vaswani

                        . . . .

Josephina had been watching the hacienda and its surroundings most of the night, taking note of what the outbuildings were used for, how many men guarded the perimeters, when shifts changed, what weapons were on hand, if there were dogs. There were.

The damnable dogs were her largest problem. She had isolated the building where she believed any prisoners would be held. It was guarded by men, but men roved. Dogs, not so much, and they came running, barking at the slightest strange noise or smell. Men, not so much.
Dogs were the challenge here.

Jo had had her hands full just keeping Tlaloc out of sight, quiet, and safe...she couldn't risk anything happening to Emmelina's horse. Tethering him out of harm's way, she had to content herself for the time being with just taking the lay of the land and staying out of sight. Watching.

                     

Meanwhile, dawn was starting to break. Josephina poured water from her canteen and washed her face to wake herself.
  Then she took a pencil and, upon a paper scrap in the dawn's early light, began to write:

Dear Diego:

I received your letter.

Do not despair! You will not be prisoner long.

I am working on securing your freedom. I watch from afar, and when the time is right, you will be freed.

I want very much to see you, and for us to speak together of what we know and can recall...

Have hope!

Yours, Josephina

It was enough for now. Jo was certain that they had not seen the last of one another.
  She was just folding this in her pocket and wondering how to get such a missive to Diego, when suddenly --

-- at her elbow was a man. With a rifle. Looking hard at her.
  'What are you doing here?!' he asked her roughly, taking her arm.

Jo shook herself free, 'Do not touch me! Who are you?!' She whispered harshly.
  The man's eyes widened at her, 'I am Celestino! We have been watching the hacienda! There are men held prisoner here from the camp.' He frowned at her, 'What are YOU doing here?' He asked again, suspicious.

'I have come for Diego.' Josephina did not see that it was any of his business.
  The man frowned deeper. 'How? How will you find him?'
  Jo simply pointed to a heavily guarded building in a corner near the adobe wall surrounding the compound.

'Come,' the man took her arm again, and stood to a half-crouch. 'Come on! We cannot talk here...'
  Jo decided there was strength in numbers.

                         . . . .

'Tonight then,' the men were saying. 'After the guards have had dinner, then they play cards and drink. Supplant one bottle with another of ours. We can get the dreaming herbs to the dogs in the meat. Once the dogs are asleep, half the battle is won. The men will be heavy with dreams by midnight.'

Josephina had spoken with the men from Rafe's camp and they decided to allow her to remain with them as leaving could draw attention now. But, she should stay here, and stay quiet, allowing them to do what they must.
  'But we will return with your Diego, do not fear.'

And so Jo had taken a rough meal of venison jerky with them, and after a while, she felt tired enough, and safe enough around Diego's tribe, to allow herself a few hours of sleep.
  She awoke just as it was becoming dark.

                        

  'The wind blows against us here...' One man was drawing a diagram in the dirt. 'Be certain to approach
against the wind...' As he detailed who was involved and how the operation would be carried out, his voice became lower and softer, Jo barely heard any more, but she understood the basics and it seemed a sound plan.


She decided to take up her watch, which afforded a good view, whilst she remained concealed by boulders on the surrounding hillside.
  Settling in for the night, Josephina listened and waited.

                          . . . .

                        

Antonio Peron was becoming bored. These gypsies were hardly worth bothering about...he did not understand why his good left hand, Ignacio Valesquez, who was  known far and wide as 'The Little Vulture', was so intent upon such useless dregs of humanity.

The Buzzard was heating a brand in the fireplace whilst he hummed a tuneless ditty, swaying slightly.


  Elsewhere, the room was a simple affair which boasted no barred cells within; nothing here but blooded iron manacles and chains upon the walls, now holding five men who had seen better days; beaten obviously, their heads hung low, and they seemed dead on their feet -- occasionally knees would give way until they'd hang once more by their bleeding wrists and bodies jerked against shoulder sockets until pain again gave them a jolt of unwelcome consciousness.
  And so it went...

Peron thwacked a quirt against his boot, standing. 'I leave them to you, then. Have your fun, then get rid of them! I wish only to give warning that this sort of trespassing and poaching will not be tolerated by the hacienda! I am going back to the house. It stinks in here.'
  The front door slammed as he took his exit.

'Don't let it hit your big backside on the way out...' growled the Buzzard, as he lifted the burning brand, inspecting the white-hot tip.
  'So, muchachos!' His voice crunched around the words  like a heavy hearse rolling over gravel, 'Who wants to go first?!'

                   
Rafel was only half as down as he looked. He had been saving his fight for the right time. Now the odds were better with just this one little troll...
  'First, last and always! Or so your momi tells me...'
Rafe sang out, in answer to the Buzzard's query.
  Diego couldn't believe his ears! What was Rafe doing?
You don't want to goad the toad...

'Oh, so, little thief! You are anxious for the Rod of Dicipline!' The Buzzard smiled a noxious smear of a grin, displaying greenish slimy teeth in Rafe's face.

  'Where is it, eh?' He breathed greenish slimy breath
much too near, 'Where is the gold? I know you gypsies have a secret cache. A cave in the hills, perhaps?'
  He waved the hot brand near Rafe's eyeballs.
 'You will tell me, oh si...before long, you will tell everything...'

'You want GOLD?!' Diego yelled, 'Is that all?'

Distracted, the Buzzard turned slowly toward him. 'Hm.
The little fox cub has a loud bark, heh...' He bent his brand Diego's way.

                         

 

 

  'You know where is gold, then, Zorrito? I think this is still hot enough for you...' He waved the brand before him as he took a key from his pocket and began to unlock Diego's feet and hands.
  The lad felt hope rise momentarily, then the troll quickly began winding rope about his torso binding his hands to his side.
  'A little trip we will take together, I think...'


Rafe managed to move a foot an inch, far enough to trip up the troll, who staggered against the wall, catching Rafel's ankle with his brand.
  Rafe hissed as he tried to kick away the hot iron.

'It burns! Si, it burns still...!' The Buzzard waved the brand about, chuckling. 'Now, Zorrito, I think you might know something, si?' He advanced upon Diego, licking his wet meaty mouth.

Suddenly the front door flew open and in a trice, the room was full of angry gypsies with rifles.
  Alas, they had not been the only ones to act quickly...
 

Although the brand had been dropped, the Buzzard had not been idle; a wicked sharp silver blade was now poking into Diego's neck, whilst he was held from behind.
  'The little cub I will slit from ear to ear! This is fine Spanish steel and sharp as my madre's tongue, heh!' Grated the Buzzard. 'No one moves!'

No one did.
The troll had a grip like iron, and blood already ran from the knife at the boy's neck.
  Slowly, beady red eyes focused upon them all, as the Buzzard backed out of the door, holding Diego.

Celestino raised a hand for silence, as all heard the hoofbeats of a fleeing horse.
  'Let them go. We will go after later. Free these men now and get them out!'


The gypsies bent to their work, hurrying to pry the manacles from the walls and free their brethern before the guards and dogs awoke or the house was alerted to their presence.
  In good time, the men were freed from the jail at least, and back over the adobe wall, heading for the encampment.

'You, you, and I, will follow Diego,' Celestino told the men. 'Two against one, this will not take long.'
   Before the night was over, it would not be such a small matter.

                        . . . .

Josephina had watched from her vantage point, too far to make out exactly what had transpired; but, it seemed that all had gone as planned -- gypsies came in, came back out with men, and were up and over the wall within minutes.
  Two men had left on one horse, but that was surely part of the plan...so it seemed.

She was therefore taken far aback when the men showed up at camp with freed prisoners and began working on breaking the irons in which they were still fettered.
   'Diego? Where is Diego?!' Josephina strode through the men, catching at sleeves.

'Eh? Ah, Rafel! She is asking after the boy!' One called.
  Jo found the man she recognised as Diego's gypsy brother. 'Where is he? I thought Diego was with you?!'

Rafe had finally been freed of his chains and was oiling and wrapping his bloody wrists and ankles with makeshift bandages.
  'Sim. He was with us.' He glanced at Josephina. 'He will be again. There are men who followed him...'

'Followed? Where did he go?' Jo could not understand why Diego had left.

  Rafe sighed, and put his boots back on. 'I wish I knew! The guard asked crazy questions about gold...'
He shook his head, 'Diego...madonna, his mouth! Sorry, but, he talks too much for his own good. He was trying to distract the man, but the Buzzard took him seriously. He took Diego, off to find this so-called 'gold' that the fool was yammering about!'

That must have been the men on the horse Jo saw leaving then. Jo turned then and was stopped by Rafe, holding her arm.
  'I am going after him! You must stay here! There are three men on their tail now, and I will join them. We don't need to be worrying about you, nina. Please.' He let go of her arm. 'We will bring him back, do not fear.'

'They headed west, and south,' Josephina told him.
'Obrigato. Do not worry, we all track well. We will return soon,' Rafe nodded to her, then headed to his horse.

Josephina soon followed...


                           

                         . . . .
Rafe caught up to Celestino and the others.
  Night was getting on now, and it wasn't easy to follow Rafel in the pitch darkness, trying as Josephina might to remain behind far enough to stay silent.

But at last she pulled up on a rise above where the four men were hiding, peering over boulders at a small shack nearly hidden by a stand of trees. It was only visible in the darkness by the dim candlelight shining through the one and only grimy window.

Had Diego been taken here? And why?
She had to know what was happening...
  Slowly, Jo crept down the hill and off to the side of the men, as quiet as a cat. When she was within hearing distance, she froze, and held her breath, listening:

  'We cannot go to Mexico City!' One of the men was shaking his head
  'They are not going to the City!' Rafe growled at them, 'those pyramids are north of town, by miles, but...it cannot be them. Too far.'
  'Exactly. It is too far...'
  'Go, then!' Rafel told them. 'I can do this myself alone! With less trouble!'

Much indistinct grumbling went round amongst the men.
  At last, Celestino spoke: 'I will go with Rafel. The two of you, can return to camp. If you do not hear from us in two days...well, tell my wife to mourn the horses, for she will be happy to know I will trouble her no more!'

Rafe snorted at this poor joke, but the other two men grudgingly conceded that they did not wish to carry on all the way to the pyramids, wherever they were.
  'We will take the news back to camp. Vaya con dios, mi hermanos.' And off the two sped.
  'Just us now. Obrigato, Celestino.' Rafe told him.
  Celestino sighed. 'I am in no hurry to return to my wife...'


Rafe smiled grimly, slapping his back; and then signaling him, they took their horses, Jo following; she watched as they headed into the arroyo nearby. Hobbling the horses, they spread saddles and blankets on the ground and prepared for sleep.
  'Manana, at dawn, will be our best chance,' Rafe told the other man, whose only answer was a soft snore.

Jo decided she should try to sleep as well...
                     . . . .

The sound of hoofbeats woke her.
  Dark still, and just before dawn, the occupants of the shack had sped away. Jo lept up and saddled Tlaloc quickly, then went after.
  She could hear Rafe and Celestino following.

She managed to lose them, and to remain ahead, thanks to Tlaloc. The horse was well-trained and quiet, doing just what she needed done.
  Everyone followed everyone else...

In the growing light, Josephina could make out just three men and Diego. Not bad odds. She hadn't a rifle however. She would need help from the others at some point.

The terrain became steeper, hilly, boulder-strewn, into the mountains. Up and up they went, and then suddenly down into a deep canyon.
   To Jo's amazement, she was seeing what appeared to be a large pyramid carved from the side of the rock canyon, flanked by two smaller ones.
   Into the big pyramid filed Diego and his captors.

'Interesting dilemma, no?' Rafe asked behind her shoulder.
  Jo sighed and spared him a glance. 'Yes. And I am not going back,' she whispered harshly.

Rafel touched her arm and then led the way back to where Celestino was keeping their horses.
  'You will, however, stay here, while I go, alone, to see if there is a way inside that thing. No arguments!'

Jo was tired, and tired of arguing. She let him go, with her blessing. 'Good luck.'
  She and Celestino crept back to the lookout, watching as Rafe silently dove into the brush.

Eventually, they could make out a figure which crept across the flat top of the pyramid and crawled about the various small mesas and stoneworks upon it.
  It disappeared down one of the stonework...chimneys?
Whatever it was, it appeared to be an entrance.

                                  

The figure came back up in short order, running, and hid in the rocks surrounding the hillside from which the pyramid was carved.

Two men appeared out of the chimney or tunnel entrance atop the pyramid, and, armed with hammers, began pounding something into the ground.
  As they did so, the figure Jo assumed was Rafel, approached one of the men, apparently with a rope or wire, and tried to garrote him from behind.
  They struggled, and the man yelled, alerting the other, who had Rafe's arms behind him in short order.

Soon, Rafe would be joining Diego in bondage.
  'He didn't plan that, did he?' Jo asked Celestino, who sadly shook his head.
  'Now what?'
  Celestino sighed. 'We wait until dark.'
                      . . . .

The Buzzard and the Brujo were at odds.
  'What has any of this has to do with gold?' asked the Buzzard, looking, if possible, even meaner and more disgusting than usual, tightening the wrist ropes around the prisoners. 'How does this place bring us any closer to a treasure?'

'It depends upon the treasure being sought,' a dark voice sounding as if it issued from a deep cave rang hollowly in the bare, echoing chamber.
  From the back of the dark came a glow, as the Brujo lighted a torch and emerged into the room. Tall, thin, and covered in a black hooded robe, one couldn't tell much about him, except that empty voice like the last echo of a discordant hell's bell.
 'It is time. Take them up.'
                     . . . .

From their new, closer vantage point, Josephina and Celestino watched, puzzled, as they saw two men lighting torches atop of the pyramid. An eerie glow arose as firelight lept and trembled about the shadows.
  'I don't like the look of this...' Celestino whispered.

Back down the tunnel went the men, and soon a tall dark figure bearing a torch emerged, followed by Diego and Rafe, each held by one of the men, the Buzzard following, rifle at the ready.

The men shoved the prisoners to their knees, and then, grasping their struggling forms, tied their wrists and ankles to stakes in the ground. These were what they had been pounding earlier.
  'I don't like this at all!' Celestino frowned at Jo.
He sighed, then. 'Come on...' Reluctantly, he cocked his rifle and led them closer...

The tall hooded figure held the torch against a pile of wood which blazed up quickly into a sortof blue-green fire.
  Holding his arms aloft, he stared heavenward as the hood fell from his head revealing long strands of white hair which stood out from his head like matted bits of moss...


'Welcome O Evening Star! Welcome in, Kukulkan!' The Brujo lifted his voice to the stars, as he turned slowly in a circle, lighting torches to the four directions:
  'In the West: Kukulkan! God of light, wind and justice! In the South presides the Blue Tezcatlipoca, Huitzilopochtli, the god of war. Over the East presides the Red Tezcatlipoca, Xipe Totec, the god of gold. And over the North presides the Black Tezcatlipoca, known by no other name than Tezcatlipoca, the god of night,
judgment, deceit, sorcery and the Earth...'

                           

'This looks very bad, indeed!' Celestino gulped.
  'Shhh! This makes no sense!' Jo listened carefully, trying to figure out what could possibly be happening here at this strange place.
 

Just as it seemed things couldn't get any worse, it did; Diego opened his mouth:
  'Quetzalcoatl, lord of the star of the dawn! Hear me!' Diego yelled, '...Known as the inventor of books and the calendar, the giver of life and of maize to mankind...the Morning Star is my brother! He will not allow his name defiled in a ceremony of death!'

The Buzzard began to laugh mightily.

 'Silence, fool!' The tall be-robed figure pointed the torch his way. He then strode to Diego and stood over his head.
  'Kukulkan is your brother is he? And, he, over here? Is he your brother, as well?'
   Diego shut up then. Too late.

'Not one, but two great gods have we here!' The Brujo announced as he strode slowly between Diego and Rafel.

 Josephina had seen enough. Diego's big boca would ensure his death if she did not act quickly...
  'We can wait no longer!' She told Celestino, and he groaned softly as they turned, heading into the brush behind them.

Soon they had come up behind the others, staring from the boulders just over the pyramid's mesa.
  Here, closer to the firelight, they could perceive the situation as it stood: Rafel and Diego both spread-eagled, tethered hand and foot to spikes in the ground while two men stood guard with rifles. The Buzzard and the Brujo stood over them bearing torches and ugly smiles. No, it did not look good.
  'And this on the eve of the feast of the Magdalena...' groused Celestino softly. 'Blasphemers!' He spat.

  What could the two of them possibly do? Jo wondered.
Oh, Emmelina! What would her gypsy sister do, if outnumbered and out-gunned so?
  Josephina felt her pockets desperately...her letter to Diego, a vial of oil from Emmelina...well, desperate times call for desperate acts.

Jo turned around and uncorked the oil. Pouring a drop into her hands, she rubbed them together, heating it.
  'Lady with the Alabaster Jar, Magdalena, hear me, please...' Josephina entreated, '...let this oil be your oil; may it annoint my beloved, as it did yours. Thee in me, and I in Thee, so mote it be...Magdalena hear my plea.'

Josephina turned back around.
  'What is that smell?' whispered Celestino.
A distant rumble shook the air.
  'What is that sound?!' he looked around.
  Clouds were amassing suddenly, all bout them.
  'Thunder!' Josephina's eyes lit up. Perhaps the gods would lend a hand, or a bolt...

Meanwhile, the principal players were becoming restless. The Buzzard looked skyward. 'Now we have a storm brewing! Enough talk! We must hurry!'

   The Brujo looked down at Diego. 'Perhaps you are right! Perhaps Tlaloc, the god of thunder, lightning and the rains is here now with us in ceremony!'
  He held his head back, relishing the raindrops beginning to fall from the roiling black masses of thunderheads gathering just over this canyon, just for this night...


'Come spirits of the Ancients! Come, Kukulkan, come Tlaloc! Give unto us your power, fire and might! Hear me and speak to me now!' Bellowed the Brujo, arms open  wide to receive the blessings of the gods.

                           

 

 

An almighty crack split the darkness sending a flash of lightning below...it connected atop the Brujo and the Buzzard, one long arm joined to each; there it hit, and then was gone.
  Also there and then gone were the two guards; after seeing the burnt and sizzling wretched forms where their masters had been, the two fled their posts like the very wind...

The rain began in earnest then.
  Josephina hesitated but a second, and then, finding what she had sought in her other pocket, lept out onto the mesa, unsheathing her knife.
  She bent over Diego, who lay unconscious, and began sawing at the ropes which bound him.

Celestino followed, glancing uneasily over his shoulder at the sky which still swirled about them like the smoky arms of a galaxy, lightning flashes erupting.
  He also carried a knife, as all good gypsies did, and went to work on Rafe's bonds.
 

'Help me get him up! He is out cold...' Josephina yelled over the increasing wind, thunder and downpour.
  Celestino saw that Rafe was sitting up by himself, and so helped Jo get Diego to his feet. 'Get him out of this cursed place, then go get the horses. We cannot leave here soon enough!' Celestino told her.

Jo complied, racing down the hill and back across the arroyo where the ponies had been hidden, bringing them back to the men.
  'We'll have to ride Templar style...Diego is with me,' Jo mounted Tlaloc, and leaned over, 'See if you can boost him up before me, I'll hold onto him.'

Diego was groaning softly, so he was not quite the dead weight that he had been, soon he would be fully conscious. As Rafe and Celestino mounted, Jo turned Tlaloc around and headed northeast, back to camp and whence they'd came. Back home.

  'I'm taking you home, Diego,' she told him, 'you are with me now.'
  'Josephina? Josephina...' Diego put his hand over hers holding the reins. 'Don't leave me!'
  'I will never leave you...' she assured him.

                        

                      . . . .



Romance In Durango
(dedicated to DH Lawrence, if he's out there...)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fmjX91QZBU

Hot chili peppers in the blistering sun
Dust on my face and my cape
Me and Magdalena on the run
I think this time we shall escape
Sold my guitar to the baker’s son
For a few crumbs and a place to hide
But I can get another one
And I’ll play for Magdalena as we ride

No Ilores, mi querida
Dios nos vigila
Soon the horse will take us to Durango
Agarrame, mi vida
Soon the desert will be gone
 Soon you will be dancing the fandango


Past the Aztec ruins and the ghosts of our people
Hoofbeats like castanets on stone
At night I dream of bells in the village steeple
Then I see the bloody face of Ramon


Was it me that shot him down in the cantina
Was it my hand that held the gun?
 Come, let us fly, my Magdalena
The dogs are barking and what’s done is done


No Ilores, mi querida
Dios nos vigila
Soon the horse will take us to Durango
Agarrame, mi vida
Soon the desert will be gone
Soon you will be dancing the fandango


At the corrida we’ll sit in the shade
And watch the young torero stand alone
We’ll drink tequila where our grandfathers stayed
When they rode with Villa into Torreon


Then the padre will recite the prayers of old
In the little church this side of town
I will wear new boots and an earring of gold
You’ll shine with diamonds in your wedding gown


The way is long but the end is near
Already the fiesta has begun
The face of God will appear
With His serpent eyes of obsidian


No Ilores, mi querida
Dio nos vigila
Soon the horse will take us to Durango
Agarrame, mi vida
Soon the desert will be gone
Soon you will be dancing the fandango


Was that the thunder that I heard?
My head is vibrating, I feel a sharp pain
Come sit by me, don’t say a word
Oh, can it be that I am slain?


Quick, Magdalena, take my gun
Look up in the hills, that flash of light
Aim well my little one
We may not make it through the night


No Ilores, mi querida
Dios nos vigila
Soon the horse will take us to Durango
Agarrame, mi vida
Soon the desert will be gone
Soon you will be dancing the fandango

Copyright © 1975 by Ram's Horn Music; renewed 2003 by Ram’s Horn Music

LISTEN BOB DYLAN ROMANCE IN DURANGO
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NtptM75SFZU