Chapter 32

32

August 1847

Mexico City

After mass one Sunday, Riley hired a carriage to take them on a ride around the city. With the invasion of the capital looming over them, this period of calm was sure to be brief, and he wished to spend it doing things that they might have done had Ximena’s country not been at war. The carriage ride was enough for now, but someday, perhaps they could visit the museums or the Botanical Garden, the Shrine of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, the famous Chinampas oating gardens, the pyramids in Teotihuacán. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close to him, enjoying the beautiful trees and lush plants and owers on either side of the road, the sharp outline of the two volcanoes in the distance rising above the plains of the Val ey of Mexico, and the stone arches of the two aqueducts that bisected the city. As the carriage rumbled past Chapultepec Hil , he looked at the formidable castle on the summit, which was visible through the trees, and at the Mexican ag ying from its ramparts. The castle was home to the country’s military col ege, the Mexican West Point, and he wondered if there was stil time for him to obtain permission to visit it.

As they traversed the Paseo de Bucareli, the driver told them how in times of peace, there were a thousand carriages on the avenue in the evenings, ful of people dressed in their nery out for a bit of fresh air and socializing. But the city was about to be under siege, and so even though the day was perfectly bril iant, the Paseo was mostly deserted. The driver pointed to two of the mountains surrounding the city and asked if they wanted to hear the story of their creation,

according to the Aztecs. These snow-covered volcanoes dominated the horizon and were named Iztaccíhuatl and Popocatépetl.

With Ximena translating the driver’s words, Riley listened to the ancient myth of the beautiful princess, Iztaccíhuatl, who was deeply in love with a warrior under her father’s command. This great warrior, Popocatépetl, was sent to ght a war by the emperor, who promised him he could marry the princess upon his return. But Iztaccíhuatl died of grief while he was gone after believing the malignant rumors that the brave warrior had perished in war. When Popocatépetl returned, and upon nding his beloved dead, he took her body out to the plains where he knelt by her side. The gods, taking pity on them, transformed them into volcanoes—she, sleeping peaceful y covered in her white mantle of snow, and he, waking once in a while to rain re upon the land to release his sorrow and rage.

Gazing at the mountains, Riley thought of Nel y. Would that the gods took pity on her as wel . Would that she could lie in serene repose, transformed into a beautiful snow-covered mountain to join the others—Fionn mac Cumhail , Cú Chulainn, Queen Maeve—who kept watch over their beloved land.

When they returned to the barracks and went up to their quarters, Ximena prepared them a bath while he sat down to compose a letter that would be smuggled into the Yankee camps a few days hence to entice deserters. They had been invited to a dinner party hosted by Santa Anna later in the week, and he wanted to have it ready for the general’s approval.

Irishmen—Listen to the words of your brothers, hear the accents of a Catholic people. Could Mexicans imagine that the sons of Ireland, that noble land of the religious and the brave, would be seen amongst their enemies? Well known it is that Irishmen are a noble race, well known it is that in their own country many of them have not even bread to give up to their children. These are the chief motives that induced Irishmen to abandon their beloved country and visit the shores of the New World. But was it not natural to expect that the distressed Irishmen who fly from hunger would take refuge in this Catholic country, where they might have met with

a hearty welcome and been looked upon as brothers had they not come as cruel and unjust invaders?

… Many Mexicans and Irishmen, united by the sacred tie of religion and benevolence, form only one people.

The dinner party with the general was at the Palacio Nacional, which occupied the entire eastern side of the great public square. And as Riley and Ximena stood before the imposing building, they felt overwhelmed by its immensity.

“This is where the palace of the great Aztec emperor, Moctezuma, once stood,” Ximena said. “The Spaniards tore down his palace and used the tezontle stones to build this one.”

“This is what conquerors do to the conquered,” Riley said. “They build their empires on the stones and bones of those they defeat.”

Above them, masses of dark clouds were gathering. The rainy season was in ful swing, and Riley was surprised by how every night the heavens would pour down on them while they slept, and the next day the sun would come out in al its splendor, and everything would be sparkling with raindrops, the air pure and refreshing. He was certainly loving the cool, wet summers of Mexico City.

He gave Ximena his arm and together they walked into the palace. One of the guards guided them to Santa Anna’s private quarters, which occupied a smal section of the palace itself, the rest being devoted to government o ces, such as those of the minister of war, the treasury, the House and the Senate, and the chief courts of justice. There were beautiful, quiet courtyards and gardens throughout. As they walked up a ight of stairs, Riley noticed soldiers loitering about the gal eries wrapped in their cloaks, and when they reached the landing, Santa Anna’s attendant was already waiting for them. They were escorted to an ornate room with sumptuous furniture and French ceramics, splendid red draperies, and ne oil paintings, where other guests were mingling, il uminated by golden candelabras. Riley saluted the Mexican generals in attendance—Bravo, Valencia, Anaya, Rincón, Álvarez, Mora y Vil amil, Lombardini, and a few others.

When they were introduced to the generals’ female companions, he felt Ximena sti en beside him, and he knew the source of her discomfort. The general’s wives were in their nest evening dresses of silk, velvet, and satin and bedecked with splendid diamonds and pearls. It seemed to Riley they were wearing al the ornaments in their possession, and even their heads hadn’t escaped, laden with glittery diadems and large silver hair combs. His beloved Ximena wore nothing more than a modest muslin dress dyed with the cochineal insects harvested from cacti, simple black satin shoes, her gold hoop earrings, and a fresh red rose stuck into her silky hair. To him, she seemed more lovely than ever in her humble simplicity. It was a sacri ce she’d made for his son.

Instead of spending his wages buying expensive apparel, Ximena wanted the money to be sent to Johnny, and with padre Sebastián’s help, that is what he’d done.

Though the women were cordial, Riley saw plain enough they were judging his beloved’s appearance, not just her attire but her bronze skin, which in their eyes betrayed an impurity of blood. Luckily, Ximena was spared exchanging further pleasantries with them when the president general made his entrance.

“Welcome, my dear friends and compatriots,” Santa Anna said as he stood at the door in ful uniform. With his colossal epaulets and the numerous medals covering his breast, he was more bedizened than any of the ladies in the room.

Riley saluted his commander when it was his turn to greet him, thanking him for his hospitality.

The general kissed Ximena’s hand and proceeded to atter her as he did the other ladies. “My lady Ximena, you look lovely in carmine. It is a perfect color for you, indeed.”

The servants rang the dinner bel , and they were escorted to the adjacent room, where a handsome mahogany table had been set with French porcelain dishes, alabaster trays, and crystal bowls trimmed with gold and silver. There were a series of platters laden with meat, sh, and fowl, cheeses and summer vegetables, and goblets of wine and champagne.

Riley’s military uniform and rank, his fair skin, and blue eyes gave him an advantage in this country he’d never had before. The Mexican elite prized such things above al else, and looking at his blue eyes, they didn’t see a man who had

more in common with the Mexican landless peasant than with the higher born.

Under their admiring glances, Riley’s hands shook once dinner began as he reached for the solid silver atware next to his plate. He’d never in his life had a silver spoon in his mouth, and he stared at it for too long, admiring the intricate details etched on it. Very demurely, Ximena coughed into her napkin to get his attention and stop him from making a fool of himself. He mimicked her movements and smiled at her as she ate her soup daintily, her gestures as elegant and re ned as those of the other ladies in the room. And once she had a little wine in her, Riley watched her transform into a Tejana bel e, as Ximena once told him her mother had hoped she would be. She chatted amiably with the ladies with ease, her impeccable Spanish revealing her good breeding, and little by little, he noticed that the women put their prejudices aside.

“A toast to the great República Mexicana,” Santa Anna said, and everyone stood and raised their glasses. “Today, my heart palpitates with joy in these happy days in which we have come together for combat in defense of our resides and our outraged rights. The national dignity has been condemned, justice derided, our holy rights trodden underfoot. War to the invaders! ‘Liberty or death’

should be the cry of every generous bosom in this city!”

“Liberty or death!”

A lavish spread of sweetmeats, cakes, custards, fruit, and ices was served. Riley could no longer stu anything into his mouth but out of politeness partook of a meringue, which melted heavenly on his tongue. After the sumptuous repast, the gentlemen retired to Santa Anna’s o ce to drink and smoke Cuban cigars.

He could see Ximena’s reluctance to go o into another room with the women to talk, perhaps, about trivialities.

In the president’s o ce, the men soon pul ed out their cigars while Santa Anna’s attendants l ed their glasses with the nest brandy Riley had ever tasted.

“Now, gentlemen, we have important matters to discuss,” General Santa Anna said. “I have received intel igence that after al these weeks in Puebla,

General Scott has nal y given the order to his troops to advance on the capital.

His vanguard has left the city of Puebla today.”

Riley listened careful y, grateful that in the sixteen months he’d been serving under the Mexican ag, he’d learned enough of the Spanish tongue to get by, yet he struggled to keep up with the rapid and heated conversation. The generals spoke quickly and angrily, critical of the state of Puebla for not putting up a ght against the Yankees in May. The second most important city in the country, Puebla de los Ángeles was the last defense before Mexico City and had so easily come into the possession of General Scott, without the inhabitants ring a single shot, that now there was nothing standing between the Yankees and the capital.

“There are eighty thousand poblanos in that city!” Santa Anna said. “Enough to defend themselves from the enemy. Instead, those cowards handed it to Scott on a silver platter.”

“If the poblanos hadn’t betrayed the republic,” General Anaya said, “this war would have been over by now.”

“They wil rue the day they welcomed the enemy with open arms,” General Rincón added.

“Scott is on his way to us now, and I aim to confront him at El Peñón,” Santa Anna said.

“Perdón, ¿ mi general ? Do you mean to permit him to approach the capital completely unopposed?” General Valencia asked. “Are we no better than the poblanos then?”

Once again, the generals began to shout among themselves, and Riley could see that Valencia was getting more and more agitated, his countenance reddening as he and the commander had a shouting match.

“Give me twelve thousand men and see if I don’t have the Yanquis running back whence they came with their tail between their legs!” Valencia insisted.

Santa Anna berated him for his insolence and threatened to court-martial him if he didn’t change his tone.

“I wil not leave the capital undefended!” Santa Anna said. “We wil al go to meet Scott and his troops once they reach the Val e de México, and we wil bury their corpses there.”

Valencia sco ed and shook his head but held his tongue. Instead, it was Ampudia who chal enged the commander. “Ask him,” Ampudia said, pointing at Riley. “Ask capitán Riley what happened when Taylor was al owed to march down to Matamoros.”

They al turned to look at Riley. He xed his gaze upon his commander and said, “With al due respect, your Excel ency, there is truth in what your generals say. General Taylor was given a great advantage when he encountered no opposition on his way down from Corpus Christi, and even when he settled across from Matamoros, he was unmolested, uninjured, and al owed to build up his defenses as wel as he pleased. Perhaps it would be wise to consider a di erent course of action with General Scott.”

Santa Anna nodded and lamented the lack of funds and provisions and his untrained troops, then once again cursed the poblanos for not helping to defend their nation’s honor. “Very wel , I wil give it some thought,” he said, rising to his feet. “Now, gentlemen, enough with the bickering. Let us conclude with an act of celebration, shal we?”

“Major?” Ximena said, embracing him.

“Aye, can you believe it, darlin’?”

As they returned to the barracks in the rain, the carriage making its way along the slippery cobblestoned streets, he told her how at the conclusion of the meeting, Santa Anna had cal ed up a few of the men to his side, including Riley, and bestowed new promotions. And so he had walked out of the Palacio Nacional with a rank no other European foreigner in Mexico’s army had ever attained. Final y, he informed her about the most important news of the evening

—that Scott had given marching orders to his troops to move against the capital.

Taking her hand, Riley asked, “Wil you marry me, Ximena? Before the battle ensues, wil you unite yourself to me?”

She kissed him tenderly and put his hand on her bel y. “I love you, John. To cal you husband, for our child to have you as a father, makes this wicked war less so.”

“I wish I could give you a proper weddin’, with owers and a grand celebration, but there is no time, and I must go o and ght your country’s enemies. But after, my darlin’, when the war is over, I shal build you a home and plant you roses.”

The carriage pul ed up to the barracks, and as they walked along the path toward their chambers, they held on to each other, laughing while the heavens poured down on them. He kissed her hungrily, urgently, tasting the rain on her lips.“My shoes are soaked through,” she said, bending to take them o . But then, as she began walking barefoot over the wet cobblestones, her smile disappeared and her eyes became blank, as if in a trance.

“What’s the matter, lass?”

“Time is running out,” she said.