Lost Mission by Athol Dickson

Author:Athol Dickson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howard Books
Published: 2009-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CAPÍTULO 18

DIA DE LA CANDELARIA, FEBRERO DE 1773

THE WOMAN AND HER BABY were dead. So too was the father. All three of the neophytes who had so reminded Alejandro of the Holy Family died at Candlemas, the day devoted to the memory of Joseph and Mary’s redemption of the baby Jesus at the temple. The good friar spent little time in contemplation of this irony. He was far too busy tending to the nine newly afflicted neophytes.

Together with Fray Benicio, he bathed the feverish wretches with soft cloths soaked in cooling water. He had also found a kind of cactus similar to aloe, which yielded a clear sap. This he harvested from the surrounding countryside and applied to the victims’ spreading boils in hopes of soothing them a little.

At Fray Guillermo’s insistence, smoldering punks were carried through the refectory every hour. Although Alejandro did not believe the smoke gave any benefit, it seemed to cause no harm except for stinging eyes and a slight irritation of the nose and throat. Prayers for the sick were offered by the brothers when they gathered for the canonical offices, and Alejandro entreated God for mercy at many other times throughout the day and night. None of this availed. Fray Alejandro expected at least four more deaths within the week.

Several times while crossing the plaza from the well to the refectory, the Franciscan felt he was the object of someone’s particular attention. He cast covert glances left and right, but it was impossible to identify the source of this sensation. In a plaza filled with dozens of neophytes and soldiers engaged in the constant work essential to the mission, anyone or everyone might watch him pass.

Then, late in the afternoon Alejandro saw the Indian again. Like any neophyte the man was short and broad, very dark, and dressed in simple sackcloth. There would have been no reason to notice him among the others, save for the curious shimmer in his hair. Rather than a mere reflection of the sun, it seemed as if a strong light glowed behind his head.

Their eyes met. The man lifted a hand as if offering a blessing or a benediction. In a sudden rush of memory Alejandro thought of the Cochimí who had paused upon a hilltop to turn and gesture in that same way after carrying Fray Guillermo’s unjust burden. Fray Alejandro’s common sense insisted this comparison was false. The Cochimís lived far to the south. The Indian before him was from a different tribe, and only one more neophyte among many.

Still, something stronger than mere curiosity made the friar forget his duty to the ill. He began to cross the plaza toward the man. Just then a pair of mounted leather-jacket soldiers rode between them. By the time his path was clear again the Indian had vanished.

During the following days the homely friar thought often of that man. The unfortunate Cochimí who was so poorly used by Fray Guillermo had remained in his mind, and inexplicably the Indian across the plaza merged with that memory.

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