Part 118 (1/2)
Mateo fondled his ever-present wine goblet, an expression of smug self-righteousness on his face. He smiled thinly at me through a haze of smoke. ”Do you wish to discuss this matter calmly and quietly or would you rather we trumpeted it to your servants and neighbors.”
I sat down. ”Tell me what madness drove you to visit Don Silvestre. Start at the beginning so I will know whether to leave town... or garrote you.”
He shook his head and tried to look innocent, which hardly rang true: His face was a battlefield of those scars that each bore a woman's name.
”b.a.s.t.a.r.do, my compadre-”
”Ex-compadre.”
”I went to the house of your old family friend, Don Silvestre, a fine old caballero. There is snow on his head, his legs are weak at the knees, not to mention bowed from a lifetime on the saddle, but fire still burns in his heart. He is as you imagined him-mostly blind. I made the pretense of asking to examine his eyepiece. Without it, he could not count my fingers a foot from his nose.”
”I hope you broke the gla.s.s.”
”Of course not. Would a caballero like myself do that to an old knight?”
”Not unless it would a.s.sist you at a cantina's card table or into a woman's bed.”
He sighed and emptied the goblet with a long drink. He refilled it before he went on with his story.
”We shall save breaking the old man's eyepiece to another day,” he said.
”Soto's party has been changed to the viceroy's palace. The old man will probably attend.”
”I already know that. He will not just attend, he is riding with us in our carriage.”
”Santa Maria, Holy Mother of G.o.d.” I got down on my knees and prayed before a stone angel pouring water into the patio fountain. ”Save me from this madman, Holy Madre, and have G.o.d send lightning to strike him down.”
”b.a.s.t.a.r.do, you panic too easily. You must face life's setbacks with equanimity, not hysteria. Now get up off your knees. I am not your priest.”
I got to my feet. ”Tell me how I am to ride in a carriage to the viceroy's ball with a man who will expose me as a fake the moment he sees me.”
”The old man already believes you are Don Carlos because I have told him you are Don Carlos. You do not have to convince him. What you have to do is avoid un-convincing him. It will be dark when we pick him up. The street boy who spies for you will suddenly rush out of the darkness, grab his eyegla.s.s, and run away. Even if, G.o.d forbid, the attack fails, Don Silvestre still will not recognize you. He has to get very close even to see with his eyegla.s.s. Like any old caballero, he is vain about his age and physical condition. He is not only half blind but half deaf. If you speak quietly when you are forced to speak, he will not notice. Also, I will be there to carry the conversation. Don Silvestre does not like you because you have violated the caballero's code of honor. He will not speak to you unless he has to. However, after explaining to him the true circ.u.mstance of the crimes in Spain...”
”Si, the true circ.u.mstance of my crimes. Why don't you let me know those circ.u.mstances.”
He nicked ashes off the end of his tobacco roll. ”What you did, of course, was protect the family honor.”
”I beat my fiance's father with a candlestick and stole her dowry.”
”Ah, b.a.s.t.a.r.do, you believe everything you hear, and so does Don Silvestre. A friend writes him from Spain and says young Don Carlos is a thief and a blackguard. He believes it. But now another friend, me, has come and told him the truth.”
”What is the truth? Will you tell me before I put my sword in my throat.”
”The truth is that you took the blame for your older brother.”
It stunned me. I repeated the words carefully. Than a second time, savoring them. ”I took the blame for my older brother-to protect the family name.”
I paced back and forth, feeling the words, getting into the mood of the comedia that Mateo was constructing. ”Eh, my brother, the heir to the t.i.tle and the family fortune, the possessor of our family's good name and honor, is a scoundrel. He violates my bride-to-be and steals my dowry. What is the honorable thing to do? If I kill him, as he so well deserves, the truth will come out, and our proud family name will be ruined. No, there is only one thing for me to do. I am the younger brother, heir to nothing, possessor of nothing. I a.s.sume the blame for my brother's foul deeds, save the family honor, and incur the punishment.”
I bowed and saluted my friend with my hat. ”Mateo Rosas, you are a true genius. When you told me you had constructed a comedia for the don, I saw only disaster. If we presented this play in Mexico City and Seville, we would be hailed as heroes of the quill and paper. This play would gain us the fortune we never acquired-at least legally.”