New Fanfiction: THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 3/18
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Fri, 2 Mar 2001 01:26:19 -0500
THE BLACK FLOWER: An Elena Duran Story 3/18
Chapter 3
Corazon Negro was fascinated. Never before in his life had he felt this
sensation. He hung onto the back end of the saddle in front of him, looking
over the shoulder of the young man, Fulgencio, whose horse he was sharing.
Once he got somewhat used to the horse's stride, and was less concerned with
falling, he could feel the wind moving his hair in all directions. The
combined horses' hooves released a sweet grassy smell as they rode. But
there was a more pungent animal smell of horse sweat.
"What is her name?" Corazon Negro asked Fulgencio.
"Who, the horse?" Fulgencio said over his shoulder. "Her name is Mirasol."
"Mirasol," he repeated; and a beautiful, poetic name it was.
The pampa extended before him like an infinite red dream. He had never
expected to ride one of these animals, and he contemplated the grass before
him with ecstasy. He remembered his surprised sensation when he had seen a
horse for the first time. And now at last he felt the great animal's power
underneath him, the muscles of Mirasol's rump pumping between his legs. And
this was a small horse, not anything like the larger beast which belonged to
Curi-Rayen. The black flower. If she was really the black flower.
His first reaction when the woman had told him that he could join her and go
back to her rancho* was to stay on the ground and walk to her house. By the
Gods of Mictlan*! Him, an Aztec, riding along the pampa on a horse brought
by the Spaniards! He had always wandered on foot, but he was an stranger in
a strange land, and he wasn't offended by Mariaelena's invitation. After
all, he had been a warrior, not that long ago, and it was fitting that he be
atop one of the mounts that the hated conquistadores had used to ride his
people down.
But Corazon Negro had no illusions about the beautiful and fiery Curi-Rayen.
He knew very well that she had invited him only to keep him an eye on him.
She was young, but obviously not foolish, and she had been well taught to
keep her enemies close to her. On the other hand, the Mapuche half-breed
Senorita had been very clear: she didn't believe in prophecies.
Her beliefs didn't matter. What did matter was, of course, *was* she the
black flower of the prophecy, the one on his plaque? After all these
centuries, had he finally found it--or rather, her? He had to admit he was
pleased by the thought that the object of his father's prophecy was not a
plant, or even an object like a city, but a real person. A woman. A
beautiful woman. He glanced at her. A beautiful immortal woman. He had to
have faith, had to believe that she was the one. If she was, sooner or
later, she would believe it also. And if she wasn't ... well, he'd soon find
that out, too, and continue on his quest. Serene in this belief, he once
again lost himself in the joy of riding.
After eating up many leagues on horseback, he could feel a pain in his back
and legs, but he ignored it--the thrill of being on horseback had not
abated. They had ridden in silence, pausing only once to watch a galloping
far-away herd of wild horses.
But finally Mariaelena, who had been studying him the entire time, brought
her mount closer to Fulgencio and Corazon Negro's. "Where exactly are you
from?" she asked him. "You look like you have been traveling for a long
time."
"Longer than you can imagine," Corazon Negro answered vaguely, knowing what
she was asking. "I came from the north, from a region that is now called
Mexico. Surely you have heard of it."
Mariaelena nodded. "Yes, I have. My father told me that Cortes conquered
that land."
Corazon Negro turned his gaze away from her, not wanting her to see the
reaction on his face at the mention of Cortes' name. For a moment his eyes
narrowed. Then he turned back to her, his face calm, and stated, "Cortes
conquered nothing. He butchered a lot of my people. I believe there is a
difference between conquest and slaughtering helpless women and children."
Mariaelena studied him closely as the horses jostled them. "You are very
sensitive on the subject of Cortes," she said firmly.
Corazon Negro's smile returned to his face. "It doesn't matter anymore. He's
long gone, and it is ancient history."
Mariaelena turned back to the trail and pointed to her rancho*. "We are
home," she said.
Corazon Negro could see the main house in the distance. A group of workers
labored in the many acres of sugar and wheat and coffee--which the Spaniards
had brought with them--and of his old friend, his beloved corn, that
surrounded the rancho*. A herd of mixed horses, small and large, ran in
several large paddocks beyond the house, and the stables that housed a great
number of those animals--or other animals--were to the right of the main
building. As they rode closer, chickens scattered, complaining loudly, or
dug in the earth looking for worms to eat. A little further were a number of
shacks that might be storage sheds, or perhaps workers' housing.
A couple of dogs started barking when the groups of riders came close to the
main house. But what most amazed Corazon Negro were the strange animals
that ran on two legs inside yet another enclosed field. They looked like
birds with huge legs, surely too heavy to fly with their puny wings. "What
are those?" he asked, intrigued, as he pointed at them--then immediately had
to grab the back of the saddle again to keep from falling.
Fulgencio answered him. "They are nandues*."
"I thought I'd seen some of those running free on the pampa. They are like
the huexolotl*, turkeys that we used to keep in our houses, but much
bigger," Corazon Negro said, smiling. It was good to see something familiar.
The house itself was big, of a typical Spanish construction, with
whitewashed stone walls, a red tile roof, and several shaded courtyards.
This, too, was familiar, although not necessarily pleasing to him.
Meanwhile, Mariaelena reflected that not everything was new to him. She
realized that the other Immortal didn't seem much surprised with the size of
her house or with the number of workers surrounding the farmstead, as if he
almost expected them. But the horses and the nandues* were different. She
could tell that Corazon Negro had never been on a horse before, but he had
jumped on, not even using the stirrups, with neither fear nor hesitation.
He'd even managed to stay on the horse's back for the long ride home. Now
she saw a spark in the Aztec's eyes when he looked at the large birds,
almost like a child with a new toy.
The riders arrived at the front of the house, where a young man received
them and caught Samson's reins. Unhappy at being held, the stallion snorted
and raised his head, but between Mariaelena and the young man they held him
down on the ground.
"!Que animal mas salvaje!*" she exclaimed, although she couldn't keep the
fondness out of her voice. "Hang onto him, Manuel, or I'll fall off!"
After a moment of effort, the horse calmed down. "Did you have a good ride,
Senorita?" Manuel asked smiling, pulling on the reins, and looking sidelong
at the stranger.
As she was finally able to get off Samson, Mariaelena answered, "Yes, I
did," and thought, <I found more that I was looking for.> Then, turning
towards her new-found guest, she asked him, "Are you hungry? Do you want
something to eat?"
"I prefer to clean my body first," Corazon Negro answered as he slipped off
the back of his horse. Then he did something Mariaelena did not expect.
Going to the front of the mare, he patted her on the nose. "Thank you for
the ride, Mirasol," he said, and nodded at Fulgencio, who was staring down
at him with a small, puzzled smile.
All the riders but Paco rode toward the stables, taking the horses with
them. Paco was staying near her, being overprotective as usual, she noticed,
fondly. The pair of Great Danes who had been barking at their approach came
running, tails wagging, and jumped up on Mariaelena, nearly knocking her
down. She laughed and caressed the animals' snouts. For a moment, the two
dogs stayed with her; then they discovered Corazon Negro's scent and,
leaving Mariaelena, cautiously approached the stranger. He offered his hand
carefully and let the animals smell it. The hounds sniffed him thoroughly,
started to lick Corazon Negro's hand, and after a few moments their tails
started wagging again. One of the dogs jumped up, putting great feet on his
chest.
"They approve of you," Mariaelena said, approving herself. She firmly
believed that animals were often better judges of people than other people
were. "Romulo, Remo, come here." The dogs came to her immediately, and she
patted each of them on the head and thumped them on the back. "Paco, please
have someone show our guest where he can take a bath."
"I'll show him myself, Senorita," the foreman said, and turned to Corazon
Negro. "This way, hombre*.*"
Corazon Negro said sincerely to Mariaelena, "Thank you," and followed Paco.
Mariaelena Duran stood watching the warrior walk away from her, her doubts
resurfacing. Had this been a good idea, to bring a foreigner to her home?
And especially an Immortal? Then she noticed the club sticking out of his
pack again, and called him back.
"That is a weapon, isn't it?" she asked him, seriously.
Corazon Negro nodded, removed his backpack, and carefully pulled the club,
wrapped in several layers of leather, out.
As he finally unwrapped it, Mariaelena resisted taking a step back as he saw
that the club, about the size of a man's arm, was encrusted with shards of a
shining, coal-black stone sharpened to razor sharpness. It looked like it
could cut a man to pieces--maybe even cut off a head. Out of the corner of
her eye, she saw Paco approach the Aztec from behind. Her rancho* foreman
had his hand on his knife. Again.
Sensing the changed mood, Romulo growled, and Remo's hackles rose.
"Calmense*," she told the animals, rubbing their heads again.
"This is a Maquahuitl*, the weapon of my people," he explained calmly,
making no aggressive move.
"Looks deadly," she commented. She wanted to ask him to give up his weapon,
but realized she couldn't. He was an Immortal--he wouldn't allow himself to
be disarmed, especially in a house where there were other Immortals. So she
put steel in her voice when she said, "If you want any chance of staying
here you must put that weapon away," she ordered. "I don't want to see it. I
don't want anyone in the rancho* to see it. Do you understand?"
The Aztec nodded, put his Maquahuitl* back in his pack and closed it. "I
understand perfectly," he said.
But what he hadn't said, she filled in, was that if threatened, he had quite
a dangerous weapon at his disposal--and the willingness and experience to
use it. How bad a mistake was she making? She desperately wished her father
were here, taking the burden for this decision as he did for all others,
protecting her--but she was an Immortal, too. And she had to learn to make
her own decisions, and to protect herself. Still, she wondered: what would
her father say?
Well, there was only one way to find out, and at that moment she realized,
with a start, that she hadn't sensed her father's presence as she rode up.
She went inside the house. "Fernanda! Fernandita!" Mariaelena called out
from the hall that ran the width of the house. Fernanda Morales,
Mariaelena's aya*, came from the bedroom she shared with her charge, a piece
of colorful embroidery in her hand. <Always working,> Mariaelena thought
fondly, as she looked at the plump, dark woman. "Where is my father?" she
asked.
"El Don had to leave soon after you did, Mariaelena. He said it was urgent,
and he left you this note," the aya* said, handing Mariaelena a piece of
paper from her pocket.
Squeezing the woman's arm, Mariaelena said, "Gracias, Fernanda." She decided
to read the note instead of questioning her companion about her father's
temper or the reason for his abrupt departure. It wasn't like him to go
traveling without her. As Fernanda started to leave, Mariaelena made a quick
decision. "Oh, and please have another place set at the table. I have a
dinner guest tonight."
"Si, Mariaelena," the Spanish woman said, then she went toward the kitchens.
Mariaelena read the note, confident that her companion, although completely
trustworthy, even with the secret of Immortality, had not read what Don
Alvaro had written, for the simple reason that Mariaelena, her father and
the priest were the only literate individuals at the rancho*.
"My child, an arrival from Spain forces me to leave for Buenos Aires on
dangerous and important business. I trust you can manage all in my absence,
and I urge you to be especially alert. I'll be back soon.
Your Father."
He had signed it with his usual flourish.
"Dangerous and important business." She immediately guessed that an Immortal
from Spain had arrived in Buenos Aires, and Don Alvaro had felt compelled to
leave her and intercept the intruder. Mariaelena breathed a small sigh of
relief. At least the Immortal her father was worried about was definitely
*not* the Aztec; she could rest easy on that score, for the moment. Until
Don Alvaro returned, that is.
"I urge you to be especially alert." She would be alert, and she would let
Paco know, too.
"I'll be back soon." Her father was confident as always. She took a deep
calming breath. Good.
Meanwhile, Paco had taken Corazon Negro outside one of the workers' huts and
pointed to a wooden bathtub half-filled with mostly clean water. It was set
behind a wooden wall to provide a little privacy. "You can bathe there and
use this," Paco said abruptly, handing the Aztec a soft piece of brown soap
and a large, clean drying cloth. "If you need something else, just
call--someone will come."
"Thank you. I'll be fine," the warrior said, putting his backpack on the
ground and removing his tattered clothes, letting them fall in a heap beside
him. He noticed the rancho* foreman looking at his hard muscles and his
bronzed skin, shining in the sunlight. After a moment, and without another
word, Paco turned and left. Once alone, Corazon Negro lowered himself slowly
into the bathtub. The water was by no means hot, and it had obviously been
used by someone else, but it was wet and felt good after the long, dusty
trip. Leaning his head back against the wooden rim, and closing his eyes,
the Aztec felt himself almost float in the liquid, relaxing. He smiled at
the thought of the strange way his fate had revealed itself--he hoped. For
many years he had been looking for a sign, a thing perhaps--but never for a
person. And surely never for another like him. <Give me a sign, father. Is
this woman the one from your prophecy?> He found that he wanted her to be,
and that was not necessarily good. He sighed. All he could do was trust his
instincts, and they told him that Curi-Rayen was indeed the black flower. He
sighed again and reached for the soap. Slowly he began to soap up, then
rinse his long hair, dipping his head under the water.
Through slitted eyes he saw a small Indio* child came towards him from the
back of one of the huts. "Buenos dias, nino,*" the Aztec said when the boy
got close enough. "Who are you?"
The child approached calmly and without fear. "My name is Joaquin," he
answered, smiling.
"Greetings, Joaquin. How old are you?" the Aztec asked while he rubbed the
harsh soap over his chest and back.
"I'm almost five," the child answered. Then, his eyes burning with
curiosity, he asked, "Who are you?"
"My name is Corazon Negro." The warrior could see that the boy's shirt and
dark pants, although humble and worn, were patched and relatively clean,
unlike the rags he had seen throughout his travels on most Indian slaves.
Like the rags he'd worn himself. The rancho* workers, although dirty from
the trip, had looked decently dressed also, and relatively well fed. It
seemed that this rancho's* Immortal owner took a special interest in his
slaves' health and welfare.
He almost missed the child's next question. "What kind of a name is that?"
the boy asked, obviously intrigued.
Amused, Corazon Negro answered, "It is the name that my father gave me a
long time ago."
"Is your father still alive?" Joaquin asked, looking directly to Corazon
Negro's eyes.
Corazon Negro stopped washing and studied the child. "I'm afraid not. He and
my mother died long ago. Why do you ask?"
"My father died too, a year ago. A rattlesnake bit him, in the cornfield.
Since then, they don't let me play there. But I want to go to the cornfield,
find the snake that killed my father, and kill it!" Joaquin exclaimed. He
paused, then added more softly, "I miss my father, Senor."
"I see," Corazon Negro said in a sad whisper. "Sometimes, I miss my father,
too. But I'm pretty sure that you will see him again one day, as I will."
"Si. Padre Teodoro says I'll see my father when I die," Joaquin answered.
Corazon Negro knew the tentacles of the Church had reached this landhold,
and remembered noticing the small chapel not too far from the house.
Smiling, he shook water from his hand and reached to rub Joaquin's head.
"Sometimes, you don't need to wait so long. I believe that in the night, my
father watches over me from the stars, cares for me and loves me. Perhaps if
you close your eyes, your father could touch you too."
"Touch me? How?" A new light illuminated Joaquin's eyes.
Corazon Negro smiled once more. "When you feel the wind in your face, that's
your father caressing it, loving you. And you can reach out your hand to the
sky and salute him. That way, he will know that you received his message."
Joaquin thought about it for a while, trying to understand the Aztec's
words. "I think I'll try that. Gracias, Senor."
"You don't need to call me Senor. You can call me by my name, Corazon
Negro."
Joaquin smiled and started to walk towards the Indians' houses. But suddenly
he turned and asked, "Do you know how to recognize a rattlesnake? I don't.
I've never seen one."
"Yes, I do. Here--hand me my deerskin backpack."
Joaquin gave Corazon Negro the heavy backpack. Leaning over the edge of the
tub, he searched briefly inside. He pulled out a tiny pouch, carefully
opened it, and put a small rattlesnake tail in Joaquin's hand. "Shake it,"
the Aztec said, and the boy did, smiling at the rattling sound. "When you
hear that sound, a rattlesnake is nearby--and warning you to stay away.
Freeze, try not to panic, and slowly back away in the opposite direction."
The boy shook it again, and Corazon Negro said, "From now on, when you hear
a rattlesnake, you'll recognize it."
The child was fascinated, and he shook the tail vigorously. Then, he handed
it back to Corazon Negro, who shook his head. "Keep it. It's yours." Joaquin
smiled again and ran back to his house. With a smile, Corazon Negro watched
his new small friend, stood and finished soaping himself, then rinsed clean.
Almost immediately, the rancho* foreman, Paco, approached the bathtub. Paco
looked suspicious and disapproving, and Corazon Negro was sure the old man
believed Mariaelena had made a serious mistake inviting a dangerous stranger
to her house.
"La Senorita wants you to join her for dinner," the old man said, throwing
an old but clean shirt and pants and a pair of boots on the ground near the
bathtub. "It seems she wants to get to know you better. And I'd like to know
what you gave my grandson," Paco demanded.
"Just a toy, a rattlesnake tail," the Aztec said. Sternly, he continued,
"Maybe you should teach your grandson how to recognize the dangerous animals
around here." Corazon Negro looked at the clothes on the floor and turned
his gaze to Paco. Then he stood to his full height. "Tell your mistress that
I'll be honored to join her for dinner. And don't throw anything at me
again."
He towered over the old man, but Paco, still strong and quite proud, put his
face close to the Immortal's. He obviously did not trust or like Corazon
Negro. "Don Alvaro is not at the rancho* right now, but I am, and I know
your secret, hombre*. Whatever you want here, I'll be watching you very
carefully, and I will not permit you to harm the Senorita. I don't trust
you."
"Then you are doing your job," the warrior answered, as he stepped past Paco
and out of the tub. He was surprised that the foreman knew about Immortals,
but at least that explained, in part, the man's special hostility and
mistrust. The Aztec dried himself on the cloth, then bent down to pick up
the clothes, a white shirt and dark plain pants--standard fare. He left the
boots on the floor--he'd never worn them, and didn't intend to start now.
Finally he looked back to the other man. "You don't need to trust me,
hombre*," Corazon Negro continued, a little angry that Paco had threatened
him and was interfering in Immortal business. "You just need to stay out of
my way."
Notes & translations:
Mictlan (Nahuatl): Hell
Nandues (Spanish): 1.65 m. tall South American running birds, relatives of
the ostrich.
huexolotl (Nahuatl): Aztec name for turkey.
!Que animal mas salvaje! (Spanish): What a savage animal!
hombre (Spanish): man
aya (Spanish): female companion to a young noble Spanish woman
calmense (Spanish): calm yourselves
Buenos dias, nino (Spanish): good day, child